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amoscontorta · 3 days

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Wine time with Sylus | ao3 | other stories in this 'series'

Summary: Sylus invites himself over, helps himself to your first aid kit and your kitchen, manipulates you into tasting wine with him, discusses his latest business venture, and gifts you more than one present before he's good and ready to finally leave.

Notes: Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, second person pov, no use of y/n

This story contains: fluff, banter, angst, mc with obvious self esteem issues, grief, self-destructive behavior, profanity, alcohol use, criminal activity, allusions to violence, sleepy kissing, biting, inappropriate thoughts regarding kitchen tools, the mental gymnastics mc engages in to avoid acknowledging or recognizing feelings on either side should come with their own warning to be honest, one very thirsty mc whose thoughts are NSFW. This part ends with a misunderstanding that you can bet Sylus will not put up with for long.

In the days following Sylus’s latest little… visit, you’re called out more frequently than usual to counter wanderer attacks. You’re barely home, and the few times you stumble home late into the night, you peel your sweat and sometimes blood-stained hunter’s uniform off right in the entryway, promise yourself you’ll do laundry soon, and drag your aching body to the shower. Then you usually spend what little night you have left lying there with your eyes closed, carefully keeping your mind blank as sleep remains elusive. You have to admit to yourself that the few times Sylus kept you company overnight, you slept like the dead, but you refuse to go so far as admitting that you wouldn’t mind if it were more frequent. If you were to admit it to yourself, which you will not, you only yearn for it strictly for the sake of your sleep schedule, and absolutely not because you’ve come to crave his warm, comforting bulk against your body.

Tonight is no different, but you’re both looking forward to and dreading the next few days, as Captain Jenna has ordered you to take some time off to rest and recover from the brutal schedule you’ve been keeping for months now, capped off by the recent spate of increased attacks. All of your wheedling to let you keep going, that you’re fine, that the people of Linkon need you, that you need the constant distraction, has proven useless. Apparently the frequency with which you are getting injured remains acceptable, but she is finally at the end of her patience reading your barely coherent, misspelled reports with unfinished sentences that you only manage to submit before Association mandated deadlines by the skin of your teeth.

“Go home, get your head on straight, and come back rested … and literate again, please.�� She looks back down at the tablet on her desk, trying to dismiss you, but you stubbornly remain at attention at her desk.

“That’s discrimination, Captain. I can be a perfectly functional hunter without being able to read or write,” you protest, while Xavier winces behind you. “I mean, obviously I can read and write, I’m just a little tired, that’s all. Still able to destroy wanderers!”

Jenna’s already formidable expression begins to darken, but you’re not cowed. You open your mouth to helpfully point out that wanderers don’t care about how well you can spell, when you feel Xavier’s gentle hand on your arm. “Come on, why don’t we go together to get some snacks on the way home? I think they’ve started re-issuing that wasabi flavored chocolate bar we tried at the beginning of the year,” he says softly, and Jenna shoots him an appreciative look before proceeding to ignore you both.

You glumly follow Xavier out into the early evening. Rush hour is over, but the sidewalks are still bustling with life. You weave through the mass of humanity, resisting the urge to drop-kick anyone who cuts you off or brushes against you accidentally. I am a role model for the Hunter’s Association, even when I’m off the clock, I am not allowed to arrest someone for bumping into me…. I am not allowed to arrest someone for…

Xavier tries to distract you from your obvious frustration by describing the plot of the latest manga series he’s reading that he thinks you’ll like as you two make your way home. You listen absently, feeling slightly calmed by his soothing voice, despite its graphic descriptions of violence in the manga that you are pretty sure you’re going to really like.

“Are there any hot guys in it?” you ask as the mass of people begins to thin the closer you get to your building.

“Hot… guys?” he blinks in confusion, his impossibly blue eyes flashing in the streetlamps that have just turned on.

“Yeah. Like that other one we read, Help, I, a lowly office worker, went to sleep and woke up as the Queen’s assassin in the book I fell asleep reading. The main guy in that was super hot.”

“Well, it is by the same mangaka, so you’d probably like the way they draw the main character in this one too,” he says uncertainly, but with a strange expression on his face, like he suddenly doesn’t want you to read it with him anymore.

“Okay, I’ll give it a try. Have you finished the first volume yet? Can I borrow it?”

You’ve reached your building, the trees surrounding the courtyard rustling in the soft end-of-summer breeze.

“…Great,” he says after a brief hesitation. He holds open one of the entrance's doors for you to enter the your building’s foyer. Your boots and his echo on the polished floor as you make your way into the lift. “I’ll be finished by tomorrow. How about we go the bookstore and afterwards you can come over and read since we have the day off? You can start volume one, and I’ll start volume 2. Does that sound good? We can make fancy ramen,” he says, his normally sleepy energy spiking with the idea of adding a boiled egg and some frozen vegetables to the normally plain ramen the two of you consume more often than not while on the go. Xavier’s idea of fancy has always been adorable to you.

The idea of not just sitting in your apartment alone on the first day of your forced leave is a welcome one, and you agree that he can come find you when he’s woken up, so that you don’t risk waking him up. He likes this plan, because obviously, you’re hardly sleeping at all, and he sleeps longer than you ever would have imagined possible for humans until you met him. As the elevator approaches your floor and the doors slide open, you’re about to step out when Xavier’s soft voice behind you has you turning to look back at his pretty face.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs, eyes searching yours. “I know you feel like you’ve lost everything right now, and that the pain seems unbearable.”

You quickly turn your head—you were not expecting this sneak attack of sympathy and kindness from him. You nod jerkily, trying not to let his warmth sink into you, or else you might start crying.

“It sounds cliché, but with time, even this pain will fade. And you have so much time ahead of you. I can promise you that. One day you’ll wake up, and it will be slightly less unbearable. That doesn’t mean you forget about what you’ve lost. But you can think of it without… without feeling like you’re destroyed again, every time.” He’s looking at you, but you also have the feeling that he’s looking at something else, from a great distance. Knowing how secretive he is, it’s unlikely you’ll ever know what it is he’s seeing.

You nod again, and whatever he sees in you profile seems to satisfy him as he offers you a soft ‘Goodnight,’ and you scurry from the lift to your front door. You tuck away his words, and push them down deep. You know they’re well intended. But you can’t handle crying right now. Not yet. Not yet. So you focus on possible plans for the days stretching ahead of you.

There is a part of you that’s looking forward to possibly being able to rest, it’s true. But the stretch of empty days, without work and battle and the social interaction of colleagues, had been filling you with anxiety before your plans with Xavier were made. But even after tomorrow, you’ll try to make the best of it. You can… try to remember what hobbies you had, before your life blew up. Maybe you can take up a new hobby! Within the span of a few days. Yeah, you can teach yourself to crochet,or make stained glass art, in a day, right? Online videos are super helpful. Maybe you’ll even deep clean your apartment, and go grocery shopping, properly, for the first time in weeks. You’ll buy vegetables that have to be prepped instead of the hottest insta-ramen you can find and slurping packets of applesauce while telling yourself that it counts as fiber, right? You can cook, and bake! You just haven’t in… a really long time. Maybe you’ll bake an entire cake, and then eat the entire cake. Yeah. You have plans, you think to yourself, pressing your fingerprint to the scanner under your flat’s door handle and pushing the door open when it beeps.

As soon as the door closes with a soft whump, you carefully hang up your blades and pistol holsters on your wall-mounted weapon rack, and then you’re furiously undoing the laces on your knee high leather boots, hopping from one foot to the other as you try to kick them off without actually having to sit down and pull them off. You yank off your socks, then shimmy out of your pants, which you also kick off unceremoniously. You’re going to be positive about this little holiday! You’re so close to being comfortable and staying that way for days. You almost rip your buttons in your haste to remove your shirt, and just as you’ve gotten the last one undone, you finally notice the dark, looming figure in the shadows at the end of your foyer.

You’re in your fucking underpants, barefoot, and your weapons are out of reach due to your current strangulation by your own shirt sleeves.

Heart racing, you throw yourself backward against the door, prepared to make a strategic retreat and escape into the building’s hallway to buy yourself some time to free yourself from your shirt, no matter the cost to your pride at being caught out in your underwear, when familiar scarlet-ink tendrils of energy gently wrap themselves around your waist and softly lift you in the air. You find yourself kicking and squirming like a kitten picked up by the scruff of its neck.

“The fuck, Sylus?” you choke out.

“Why are you still struggling, when you can clearly see that it’s me? Cease, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Why are you using your evol on me without my consent?” you retort, wriggling some more for good measure simply because he told you to stop.

“To prevent you from giving your neighbors the show of their lives without even charging admission,” he responds languidly, eyes the color of sunlight filtering through a glass of wine drifting from your probably red, sweaty face down your barely clothed body.

“Oh, they don’t get a free show, but you do?” you sneer, continuing to struggle to no effect.

“Look at yourself,” Sylus commands, and turns his head as if bored. You note absently that he’s wearing a ruby stud earring in his ear... the one that matches the earring in your own ear. So you never bothered to take it out. That doesn’t mean anything—you’re just lazy. You refuse to think about it anymore deeply than that, and then notice that Sylus not only looks bored, but also looks almost… offended? You do as he asks, and see that his evol is wrapping itself around your body in such a way that its bright-dark tendrils are covering all of your exposed, sensitive areas like a fluid robe.

“Oh,” is all you can think to say.

“Oh, indeed.” He continues to look away from you, aggressively bored, but his evol gently lowers you enough so that your bare feet rest on the ground, and then it loosens, but remains swirling around you.

“Then I’ll… just go get dressed.” You begin making your past him, but stop when you see him nonchalantly hold up a large, elegant shopping bag. It’s black, with some brand name you don’t recognize written in flowy silver script. “What is this?” You look from the bag to his face. He deigns to look at you again. Your eyes drift to his other ear, and you see that where it is pierced is empty.

“Wardrobe options,” is all he says, jerking you out of trying to puzzle out this opaque maniac’s intentions. You take the bag from him and quickly walk to your bathroom. No way you’re going to put on new clothes while feeling filthy from a long day and night of annihilating wanderers. His evol dissipates the moment your bathroom door shuts behind you.

It’s becoming a pattern. Thinking the worst of him, only to be proven wrong. But you don’t know how to overcome the cognitive dissonance of Sylus from your first meeting, and this Sylus who seems intent on taking care of you better than you take care of yourself.

You rinse off as quickly as you can in the shower, towel yourself dry, and take a peek in the bag that he gave you. The first thing you see is a black…? You lift it out of the bag, and it unfolds into a very large sweater. It’s thick, the fabric obviously of high quality. You touch it gently, running your hands along a sleeve—is it cashmere? It’s unbelievably soft. It’s probably a nightmare to wash. On impulse, you lift it to your nose, and take a deep breath.

Your suspicion is confirmed. It smells like him. This isn’t a brand new piece of clothing. This is one of Sylus’s own sweaters that he has worn before. The scent of his clean skin, the sharp tang of gunmetal, the bright burst of citrus, probably from some ridiculously expensive shampoo or body wash. The mix sends a thrill through your entire body: after only a few encounters, you already have bone-deep associations with the way Sylus smells. Fear and adrenaline, yes, but also anticipation—and bizarrely, safety. Instead of feeling terrified, you feel the way you would before riding a roller coaster. Yes, you’ll be screaming and holding on for dear life the whole ride, but you are also inexplicably convinced that in the end, you’ll have your feet firmly planted on the ground, safe again. A part of you whispers that it’s safer to avoid the roller coaster altogether—bolts come loose, wheels pull free from the track, tragic accidents happen all the time. But standing here in your humid bathroom, bone-weary from the day behind you, sniffing Sylus’s unwashed sweater makes you feel more alive than you’ve felt in a very long time.

You pull his sweater over your head, and you’re basically swimming it, it’s so big. The collar is big enough that it threatens to fall off one shoulder. But it’s so soft. And cozy. You hug yourself, and peek into the bag again. There are a few more sweaters, each dark with varying degrees of dramatic flair. This is part of Sylus’s wardrobe, after all. But there are also little sleep shorts, like the ones you were wearing the last time he invaded your home. You pick up a pair—no way would they fit on his big ass. You try, so, so, so very hard not to picture his thick cake stuffed into these tiny shorts.

You fail.

Your brain short circuits for a few seconds.

When it comes back online, you lift out a pair, and the fabric glides silkily along your skin. You’re pretty sure these are silk. They’re black, because of course, but they also have little red … happy pomegranates? Dotted along the hems. They’re adorable. You pull them on over your own bare ass and the sweater-shorts combo is probably the softest thing you’ve ever had on your body. The sweater swallows the shorts and makes it look like you’re wandering around without bottoms on.

You look at yourself in the mirror, silently telling yourself that you shouldn’t get on this particular ride. You don’t know where the track leads, and it scares you. What if it ends over a cliff, and the last thing you ever see is Sylus’s triumphant, cruel face looking down at you as you fall? There are other, less risky rides, certainly ones without wanted posters, right? Right? On second thought, you don’t even have to go the amusement park at all. You’re just fine with trying to get some fucking sleep, with continuing to hone your combat skills, with just trying to be a good person despite really liking knives and being an enthusiastic hunter.

But maybe you can just. Be friends with the roller coaster? Like, you don’t have to ride him. IT. THE ROLLER COASTER. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO RIDE THE ROLLER COASTER. You can just, watch it from a safe distance. You might indulge in little fantasies about what it’s like to ride… the roller coaster. And honestly, fantasies are almost always a hell of a lot better than the reality ever turns out to be. Not to mention! Sylus has never directly expressed any desire to ride … your roller coaster. Sure, he shows up unannounced and cares for you in ways that no one ever has, and he touches you a lot for someone who has no physical interest in you, but physical isn’t necessarily sexual, right? Maybe it’s an evol thing, and the way he touches you has to do with why you both find yourself inexplicably connected for periods of time. Like charging a battery. The point is! There will be no tickets to either ride, thank you, you aren’t open for business and he definitely does not have the proper safety inspection certificates in order, so. No.

You nod firmly to yourself in the mirror. This should be fine. You can be friends with Sylus. You don’t have to let him drag you over a cliff. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from him—he seems to be pretty competent at a lot of things that might be useful for certain aspects of your job. Like intimidating people. And exploding people with a thought and twitch of his fingers. And convincing them to do things they don’t want to do by sheer force of obnoxiousness.

Having sufficiently deluded yourself into believing that your plan of action has a chance of success, you slip out of the bathroom and find Sylus in the kitchen, next to a pretty wine glass that you certainly do not recall owning on the kitchen island.

He’s slicing strawberries with a very sharp knife that you do recall owning, because you do spend quite a lot of time sharpening the set it belongs to. They’re not kitchen knives, per se; you actually have them for work and they are really nice to throw. You already had so many knives before you moved into this place that you didn’t see the necessity of spending more money on probably inferior kitchen knives. But the large, really nice butcher block-style cutting board that he’s chopping the fruit on is not yours. And neither are the delicately arranged variety of cheeses, thinly sliced meat, and savory tarts set in puff pastry that fill up most of the cutting board. And lastly, you do not recall purchasing two bottles of what look like red wine sitting next to the wine glass, nor cleaning your kitchen so thoroughly that Zayne could probably perform surgery in here without worrying about risk of infection.

Despite your presence standing at the island before him now, he continues to serenely slice the ever-growing pile of fruit.

“Sylus?”

“Have a seat,” he says, not looking up.

“Oh, why thank you for offering such hospitality to me, in my own home,” you mutter, pulling out one of the wooden bar stools at the kitchen island. You’re about to sit down when you realize that the repetitive chop of the knife has stopped, and you look up to find Sylus frozen with the knife mid-slice in a fat strawberry. His eyes drift from your neck and exposed shoulder, down the soft expanse of sweater, to your bare legs, and then back again. You’re suddenly self-conscious—he’s the one who gave you these clothes. And now he’s staring at you like a wanderer is about to burst out of your chest.

“Did I misunderstand the assignment or something?” you ask, plopping down on the bar stool in the hopes of breaking him out of whatever weird trance he’s apparently glitching in. He swallows, flicks a final look at your shoulder, and then goes back to slicing.

“I’m simply shocked that you actually did as you were told, for once,” he responds, seemingly unruffled again. “You should also put one of the sweaters in your go bag as a backup in the event that your uniform gets destroyed, again, which it does at an alarming rate these days. The Association’s overheads for keeping you clothed must be in the stratosphere.”

“Mm, yes I’m sure you’re very concerned about the costs of doing business for the Association.” You rest your head in your hand, propped up by your elbow on the counter. The two of you sit in companionable silence for a while, with only the snick of the knife filling the space between you. The lights underneath your cabinets are on, emitting a soft warm glow from below, but you notice that he hasn’t put on the harsher, brighter overhead lights. The city’s skyline blinks serenely like an endless fleet of starships in the dark expanse of space through your windows, and a cool breeze wafts in from time to time.

Finally, Sylus is done, and he carefully rinses the knife in the sink and sets it on the counter. He turns back to you.

“No interrogation regarding why I’m here this time?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s wearing a light sweater in a deep grey, of a style quite similar to the one you’re now wearing. He looks domestic, and delicious, and you tell yourself sternly that he is friend shaped, you will not ride the Sylus roller coaster, you will not ride the Sylus roller coaster—

You have to say something. “Oh, are you missing my very effective questioning techniques? Sadly, I left my handcuffs at the office,” you lift your shoulders in a what can you do? gesture, and his eyes follow your bare shoulder again.

“Handcuffs aren’t the only means of restraint available to a truly resourceful hunter,” he says, shaking his head as if disappointed. “Your lack of imagination is boring.”

“Okay, Sylus. But only because you’re basically begging for it: why are you here?” You lift a puff pastry and brandish it at him like a knife. “Answer honestly, or you’ll really get it this time!” You take a big, aggressive bite as if to illustrate what he’s got coming to him in case of his non-compliance, and then moan because what the fuck, this is so good, is it goat cheese and honey? And suddenly you’re devouring it, licking your fingers clean when you’re done because you can’t get enough.

“This definitely counts as an enhanced interrogation technique.” His voice is low, and has a rough quality to it that normally isn’t there. You glance up from slobbering all over your fingers and find that he’s staring at you in what is probably disgust.

“Ha, yes, and I’ll keep subjecting you to it until you tell me what you’re doing in my home, again. And how did you even get in? I never got you a key.” You finish licking yourself like an animal and reach for a strawberry. If he’s going to play chef in your kitchen, who are you to refuse to enjoy the literal fruits of his labor? You just live here and pay the damn rent.

He holds up the index finger of his right hand, which is sporting a band-aid that you recognize as one of the same kind you have in your first-aid kit. They’re super cute, with a design of sad little cartoon mushrooms. “I was at my accountant’s, which happens to be in this neighborhood, and I got a paper cut while signing some documents.”

You pause before biting into the berry. “You… came to my flat. With extra clothing, wine, wine glasses, and various appetizers, in order to get a band-aid for your paper cut. Is this a correct summary of events?” You decide you’re not going to wait for him to answer, and take a big bite of the strawberry, feeling some juice drip down your chin. You catch it with your index finger, and then suck the juice off after you’re done chewing.

There is a long pause, and you look up to find him staring intently at your finger. You widen your eyes and wave your hand in the universal gesture of hurry the fuck up, get on with it already? He closes his eyes for a moment and breathes deeply. Apparently you’re so horrifying to witness eating that he needs to seek some zen before he can answer. It’s not your fault that he brought you half of his wardrobe and wine glasses but didn’t think to bring any napkins. “Yes, that is a correct summary of events,” is all he offers.

You look at him.

He looks back at you, occasionally flicking his gaze down to your mouth and back to your eyes. You consider baring your teeth at him just in case he wants an eyeful of the strawberry undoubtedly stuck in them, but refrain because you’re polite.

“Okay. Do you care to explain the motivation behind these events?” you ask slowly, thinking that maybe you will brandish a real knife at him to hurry up this so-called interrogation so you can straight up devour the rest of this charcuterie board that this wanted criminal has inexplicably prepared in your kitchen.

Fortunately, you don’t have to go for the knife, because he begins to speak. “There was a wine merchant that looked rather appealing on the way to your place. Since you revealed a deplorable lack of discernment when it comes to selecting a good bottle of wine the last time you hosted me, I thought I’d do my civic duty for the week and educate the less fortunate on how to choose, and enjoy, a decent bottle of wine.”

“I see.” You nod slowly. “That’s very civic-minded of you. You’re truly a model citizen. And the food?”

“It’s not wise to have a wine tasting without something to eat. Otherwise, you might find yourself making questionable decisions. We wouldn’t want that, would we, sweetie?” he seems to have recovered from his nausea at watching you wolf down food, because he says this with a playful lift of a silver eyebrow.

“Because letting a man whose baggage includes a wanted poster into my home whenever he wants could hardly be considered a good decision, and I made that one while sober,” you sigh. “I see your point.”

“Exactly. Just imagine what kind of trouble you could get into after a bottle of wine on an empty stomach?” He tilts his head to the side, and runs a middle finger slowly over his brow.

You shudder, because his big hands. You can’t pursue this line of thought.

“And the clothes?”

“Now you won’t need to borrow your partner’s clothes in case of an emergency. And I’ll have something to wear at my safe house in case you decide to assault me with beverages again.”

“That was one time. And if you don’t show up, then there’s no chance you’ll be assaulted. Therefore, no need for a change of clothes. And, pardon me, but your safe house? I think you meant, my flat. But what you’re telling me is that the whole reason you were coming to my flat in the first place was to put a band-aid on your boo-boo.”

He lowers his hand and begins running his thumb along his lower lip. “Even a small cut can turn life-threatening if not treated properly. And I wouldn’t want a scar, now would I? It’s not much of a safe house if I can’t make use of it when in danger of lasting bodily harm.”

“Mmm yes, what with your evol that renders scarring impossible for you, we wouldn’t want your paper cut to cause you lasting bodily harm. And you couldn’t acquire a band-aid at a pharmacy, perhaps like at the one next to the wine merchant I’m pretty sure you’re referring to?” You refuse to look at his big thumb pressing into his thick, soft-looking lower lip. You stare up at the ceiling, and consider cataloguing wanderers in your head to stem the sudden urge to vault over the island counter separating him from you and pulling that damn thumb into your own mouth.

“They didn’t have a box containing such cute little designs. I never knew I wanted anthropomorphized fungus to decorate a bandage intended to protect an open wound until I saw your own box.”

It takes you a second to remember what the hell the two of your were discussing when you realize he’s talking about your adorable little mushroom band-aids.

“A wine snob, and a band-aid snob.”

“I prefer the term cultured, but yes, I’ve told you before. Life is too short to waste on the inferior. Your sad little champignons surpass all others.”

He’s done it again. He has hardly even moved this entire time, and has managed to exhaust you to the point of blissful indifference. He shows up unannounced, rifles through your first aid kit, decides what you’re going to wear both this evening and in the future when you need a spare change of clothes, and has prepared an hors d’oeuvre spread worthy of at least a mid-ranged restaurant for you to eat while offering you a wine tasting? Fine. “Okay,” you say, reaching for another one of those puff pastries.

He watches you steadily for a few moments, as if trying to sense a trap. “That’s it?”

You shrug. “Sure. I told you that you could use my house if you needed it. I’ve just learned my lesson: next time I’ll be very careful in drafting the conditions of any deal we make, since your interpretation of certain terms appears to vary wildly from any reasonable person’s.”

“I think I’m quite reasonable,” he examines his nails. “I come bearing gifts, and this is how you show your gratitude? By insinuating that I'm unreasonable?”

Another thought occurs to you. “How did you even get in, Sylus?”

“Ah,” he says, squinting and looking out the window, as if contemplating a very deep philosophical question. “While you were sleeping last time… I took the liberty of adding my fingerprint to your door’s fingerprint scanner.”

What. The. Fuck. “What. The. Fuck.”

“Again, it’s not much of a safe house if I can’t access it without your presence. I didn’t think you’d mind. It’s not like I can’t just use my evol to teleport into your place anyway, but I thought you’d appreciate me coming through the front door. Fewer feathers. You didn’t seem to like cleaning those up the last time I teleported out of your place.”

You just stare at him. How would he even know that you cursed him, loudly, as you were mopping up the mess of blood and feathers he generously left in your entryway after being shot? And then it comes to you. Mephisto. Of course. You pinch the bridge of your nose, and visualize violently shaking that bird until his circuits are rewired.

Sylus continues, ignoring your mounting rage. “Come to think of it, we should probably upgrade your locks, kitten. It was laughably easy to override the system and add my print as authorized for entry.”

Forget riding the Sylus coaster—you think that maybe he isn’t even friend shaped after all. He might just have slid right back to enemy shaped. Frenemy shaped? Where does a frenemy lie on the spectrum of “fuck his brains out” to “polite, but distant acquaintances?” But then you remember that it’s not a linear spectrum, and fucking his brains out is not mutually exclusively to being mortal enemies. You’ve read enough enemies-to-lovers romances to know that perfectly well, so even if he is enemy shaped… you shudder. Why are you like this? You redirect your self-disgust and deflect, like a true emotionally well-adjusted adult:

“Why can’t you be normal? Like, do you do anything like a normal person?”

“Why would I pretend to be normal when I’m so obviously extraordinary?” he scoffs, looking at you like you’re the unhinged one in this little situationship.

“Sylus.”

“Yes, my heart’s delight?”

You stare at him, and he gazes back at you, leaning leisurely back against your counter, arms folded and long fingers slowly tapping out a rhythm on one bulky bicep. You know that if you remove his authorization on your locks that he will just teleport himself right into your place, and you’ll be endlessly cleaning up feathers. And you also really don’t want your neighbors to wonder who the hell the creep is loitering around your door at all hours of the night and then start asking questions if he actually honors your request not to simply appear in your place on a whim. You did previously offer him a key. Which he declined. Apparently because he was already planning this. You run your hand along the back of your neck in an effort to relieve some tension. “You can’t just let yourself into my place anytime you want. There need to be rules.”

“Fair enough. Provided that they’re not moronic, I can follow your rules.”

“And who decides whether they’re moronic or not?” you ask, knowing the answer.

He just smiles at you, radiating satisfaction.

“Okay. Rule number one—” you begin, only to be interrupted as he lifts a finger.

“I’ll follow your rules, if you promise to taste the wine I brought with me tonight.”

Even though you had already resigned yourself to whatever he had in store for you tonight, you can’t help arguing at this little added condition. “No, the deal is, you can use my flat, with your fingerprint, when you need it, if you follow the rules,” you huff.

He starts shaking his head. “I’m afraid not, kitten. You should have set rules at the beginning of our deal. You can’t just impose new conditions halfway through. A deal’s a deal. I suggest keeping that in mind the next time you have to deal with anyone else less… generous, than myself,” he intones, as if you’re a somewhat lacking student in need of instruction.

“So you’ll follow the rules if I promise to… taste wine tonight?” you ask, hoping that you can catch him out on a technicality and beat him at his own game. He considers for a moment, but must see something in your expression, because his eyes narrow and his smile widens to reveal his sharp canines.

“I’ll follow your reasonable, and not moronic, rules if you promise to taste the wine I brought tonight, with me,” he says.

You need to work on your poker face. You need to get Sylus to teach you how to improve it. Ugh.

“Fine.” If this means more food can happen soon, and honestly, yeah, a glass of wine, you’ll accept anything at this point.

He straightens from the counter and claps his hands once, looking more eager than you think you’ve ever seen him. “Excellent, let’s begin.”

“You didn’t even wait to hear what the rules are,” you protest, watching him fish out a wine corkscrew from his trouser pocket. It looks heavy, with a handsome wooden handle, and the stainless steel flashes under the soft lights.

“Send them in a text, I’ll redline them and return them to you, you can counter, and so on and so forth until we have an agreement. Like any proper contract negotiation. For now, it’s wine time.”

And with that, he sets to work opening the wine, humming a little tune so off-key that you have no idea what melody it’s supposed to be. It occurs to you that you’ve never used a corkscrew as a weapon, but as Sylus uses the small blade to slice through the foil covering the neck of the bottle, and then unfolds the lethal-looking twisted screw and begins expertly driving it into the cork, you realize that it could come in really handy in a fight. And there’s something else that’s really appealing to you—the combination of the contained savagery of the corkscrew, the assured movements of Sylus’s hands, the penetration of the cork—you feel a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the sweater you’re wearing.

“See something you like, kitten?” Sylus’s smoky voice drifts into your thoughts, and you look up, realizing you’ve been unabashedly staring at his beautiful hands, again, and the corkscrew, with undivided focus for the past few moments, and he has noticed.

You clear your throat, and then gesture weakly at the corkscrew. “That’s uh, a very nice looking wine opener.” You nod to emphasize your very normal approval of this very normal household item, because you are not thinking any thoughts about Sylus’s huge hands or screwing or penetration. None.

“Good eye. I’m rather fond of this model. I’ll have one delivered to you,” he says as he firmly pulls the cork from the bottle with a soft pop. He sets it on the counter, and picks up the other bottle.

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m sure it didn’t escape your notice that the kind of wine I drink tends to come with a screw cap instead of a cork,” you decline, shaking your head. You can buy your own damn self a corkscrew for tucking into your pocket if you ever find yourself at a wine bar that doesn’t allow patrons to be armed, but you anticipate needing some kind of weapon.

“Refuse me all you want,” he murmurs, and you feel like there’s an implied part of that sentence that he’s just not saying out loud. But then he’s repeating the opening process with the second bottle, and you suddenly find the night view outside your window immensely fascinating, because whatever is continuing to happen in front of you is just. Boring. Utterly sleep-inducing. You can’t look or else you might just pass out from the tedium of it before you even get to taste the wine. And a deal’s a deal, as Sylus is fond of repeating ad nauseum.

After hearing the soft pop of the other bottle, you sigh and turn back to find Sylus holding the wine glass and pouring the first bottle’s wine along the inside of the glass until it reaches the widest part of the bowl. For the first time, you notice that there’s only one glass on the counter. But before you can comment, Sylus begins to lecture.

“Now, if this were an ideal tasting, I’d have brought a decanter to let the wine breathe properly for an appropriate period of time before pouring. We'd also be using a container for spitting each mouthful out in between tastes, to avoid the intoxication and poor decisions I mentioned earlier and interfering with our judge of taste. But since we only have two bottles to try, and it’s just you and me here, I took the gamble that you wouldn’t mind if we were a little less formal.”

You wait to see if he has any other fun facts to share, but he’s looking at you to confirm that indeed, you can live with not waiting even longer to taste this wine that better have gold leaf flakes in it or something to justify this amount of ceremony and can also live with not… spitting out said wonder wine after tasting it.

But you recognize that Sylus appears to be truly passionate about this, and he’s looking at you so earnestly—you do not have the heart to meet his sincerity with sarcasm, when he's so sweetly trying to teach you something new.

“Your gamble paid off. I don’t mind at all,” you say, meaning it. He perks up and gives you one of his almost smiles, with just the corners of his generous mouth lifted. He then proceeds to explain, in great detail, what type of wine this is, where the grapes for it are grown, its signature characteristics, what year it was bottled, and how it was received by the international wine community. It’s all actually quite interesting, except once again, right now you’re at the end of a long day, you’ve run the gauntlet of interacting with this unpredictable force of nature walking around in the body of an extremely attractive man, and you feel like you should be taking notes to actually retain any of this information.

After he seems to have informed you to his satisfaction and is looking at you expectantly, you nod. “That is… very fascinating. So how do we go about actually tasting it?” You might be an uncultured heathen, but even before Sylus’s lecture, you knew there are rules when it comes to tasting wine. You just always had other things you needed to learn first, like the weakest spots on a wanderer or human body. Or the best method of sharpening knives for the sharpest edge. Or how to clean guns to prevent jamming. How to affix a scope on a sniper rifle and measure the effect of wind speed and direction on a bullet’s trajectory. Or whether you should use baking soda or baking powder as leavener when baking certain kinds of cake. You have priorities. But tonight, it seems, is the night for you to learn about wine.

Before he answers, he moves around the kitchen island to where you’re still seated on the bar stool and leans down, gently spinning your stool so that you’re facing him instead of the counter. He then pushes the one next to you closer and seats himself. Even sitting, you have to look up into his face. You suddenly realize that the way he has positioned the stools puts him so close to you that his long legs don’t have anywhere to go—he just spreads them so that one is stretched out on one side of you, and the other is between your own, his knee incredibly close to your lap. If you shift forward even a little, you could grind on him.

Why is he doing this to you? What does he want? But then it occurs to you that Sylus has never seemed to either recognize or respect boundaries like a normal person—maybe this is just how he interacts with his friends. Constant, small touches, no sense of personal space. You wonder if he and the twins huddle together on the couch, sharing a blanket, while watching something on television.

So maybe you’re the freak, imagining riding this poor guy’s meaty thigh when he’s only just trying to share his appreciation of a sophisticated beverage with you. You close your eyes. It doesn’t matter whether he’s playing this little game on purpose or not. You refuse to let him see how much his proximity is affecting you, because then he wins. You don’t know what he wins exactly, but you will beat him before you let him have it. You try to think about his big hand choking you, but instead of having the intended effect of reminding you why you should never even consider buying tickets to the safety hazard now wedged between your thighs, it has … unforeseen consequences instead. What has this man done to you?!

You open your eyes, reach across the counter and grab a handful of carefully cut pieces of cheese, and then promptly stuff them all into your mouth at once. When in crisis, cheese is always a good solution. Except for maybe the blue cheese you accidentally mixed in with the Manchego or whatever-the-fancy-fuck he brought with him. Aaaand now you’re going to smell like blue cheese for the rest of the night.

You stare at him defiantly as you chew with puffed cheeks, and brace yourself for whatever is coming next. He side eyes you, face impassive.

You’re expecting some biting comment, but “Well, that’s one way to make sure you’ve eaten enough to absorb the alcohol,” is all he says. He slowly slides the glass with two fingers along the base across the counter until it’s sitting between the two of you. “Whenever you manage to finish inhaling all that dairy, we’ll be sure that we’ve given the wine enough time to breathe.” He pauses. “It occurs to me now that while I was preparing the food, I didn’t think to ask if you’re lactose intolerant.”

You deliberately chew as slowly as you can, making him wait as a punishment for making you feel things that you should not be feeling. When you’ve swallowed, you shake your head. “Fortunately, not one of my many flaws.”

“It’s not a flaw.” He shrugs. “How can anything you can’t control about your body be a flaw? And Luke and Kieran are lactose intolerant, so I always have lactase enzyme tablets on me to avoid… unwanted consequences when they decide to have a cheese tasting contest.”

You cock your head. “A what now?”

He rubs his middle finger between his eyebrows. “Yeah, they can’t help themselves from making a competition out of every single human activity, so on the nights the chef prepares a cheese board with dinner, they try to outmatch each other regarding who can identify the most flavors of cheeses without cheating by asking the chef or querying Mephisto or searching online. Or asking me, because I’m undefeated.”

You stare at him, and think if there’s ever any universe in which you voluntarily return to the base where Sylus kept you captive for days and touched you like he owned you, hand violently clasped in his, where you were terrified for your life, exhausted and confused… and if you ever have a friendly enough relationship with the chaos twins, you’re going to practice your ass off so that if you’re ever invited to such a competition, you can wipe the floor with them. Their cheese-off sounds fun.

Your train of thought is derailed as it registers how smug the last thing he said was. “You’re undefeated,” you repeat, giving him a chance to redeem himself. “At identifying cheeses by taste.”

“And smell, yes. So I’m not allowed to play anymore. My palate is too refined, and they know they don’t stand a chance.”

Oh, you’re definitely going to start sampling cheese every week. You cannot let this smugness stand.

“Ah yes, his royal snobness and his impeachable palate,” you roll your eyes. “Now, will his grace the Duke of Gouda please get on with the wine instruction?” You would give him a little mock bow, but that would put your face right in his formidable cleavage and you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from motorboating his unfairly huge pecs. Ugh.

He snorts. “Finally, you’re showing me some long-overdue respect.”

You nod gravely, thankful that the aether core in his eye is not currently delving the depths of your depravity. It’s time to focus. On wine.

“So why do you have to let wine breathe before drinking it?” you ask, because you’re focused.

He looks pleased that you’re interested enough to ask a question. “Much like people, it’s good to expose a greater surface area of the wine to fresh air for a while—it allows undesirable scents and flavors to dissipate, so that it tastes better when you do take a sip than if you drink it straight after opening.”

“Well aren’t you wise, philosophizing about wine and people,” you smile. You find yourself being surprised again and again tonight—at his presence, his bearing gifts, his surprisingly sweet attempt to teach you something, his kind takes on lactose intolerance and what people need to be healthy.

“Did you think I only consist of feathers and spite?” He lifts the wine glass by the stem with one hand, and your hand in his other. He gently wraps your fingers around his own.

“Let’s not forget hubris and violence.” You watch as he gently swirls the wine in the glass held between you. His hand is so warm compared to your own.

“If that’s all, then you still have a lot to learn about me,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t seem offended. Almost as if he’s simply determined. To do what, you’re not sure. “I’d tell you that you should always hold a wine glass by the stem so that the heat from your hand doesn’t affect the temperature of the wine through the glass itself. But your hands are so cold—I don’t think that would be a problem for you. But if you want people to think you’re a connoisseur, you should anyway if you’re ever on an undercover mission. Now, before you take a sip, inhale the scent we’ve just released by swirling the wine.”

You do as you’re told, and lean over, hovering just over the edge of the glass and taking a deep breath. The scent of the wine, warm and deep, fills your senses.

You look up at him and smile again. “It smells really good.”

“Of course,” he lifts the bottom of the glass with his free hand so that you can straighten, and guides your other hand to support the glass while slipping his own from around the stem and allowing you to hold it by yourself. Your hand immediately feels cold again. He leans one elbow on the counter, “I chose it for you. I’m not going to let you drink plonk.”

“Plonk?” What a cute word.

“Shit wine.”

“Mmm, not allowing me to drink shit wine, you’re truly a knight in shining armor.”

“I don’t need armor, kitten. Now that you’ve established that the wine hasn’t gone off by smelling it, you can take a sip.”

You’re about to lift the glass to your lips, when he reaches up and runs his fingertips along your wrist to stop you. “As you do, don’t swallow immediately. Roll the wine with your tongue in your mouth, and try to really think about what flavors you can taste: can you detect the oak from the barrels, earth, tannin, fruit or spices? Is it sweet or dry?”

You nod, mouth suddenly dry. But you follow his instructions and take a slow sip, rolling the rich liquid around in your mouth, and then slowly swallow. A familiar warmth spreads from your stomach, radiating out through your body. His blood bright eyes follow the movement of your lips, your throat. “I taste… fruit.” You pause, trying to appear very serious about finding the perfect description of flavor. You take another sip, close your eyes. “Yes, very fruity notes. Grapes, in particular.”

You open your eyes to find him scowling at you.

“Aren’t you the comedian?” he growls. “I’m going to revoke your wine privileges if you don’t take this seriously. How are you going to feel confident if you ever need this knowledge on a mission? Or on a date?”

You just laugh at him and try to turn a little on the stool, lifting your arm to keep the glass out of his reach, but his knee between your legs prevents you from moving, and he easily leans forward, fingers drifting up the length of your arm to then wrap around your own hand on the stem. He carefully pulls it back between the two of you. Your hand feels warm again. Safely wrapped in his.

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned my needing to know how to pass as a wine snob on a mission. What kind of missions do you think I’m regularly going on?” You gently lift the glass again, pulling his hand with you, and take another sip. It really does taste so good. You can’t tell if it’s wildly different than the wine you normally get, but you know it doesn’t taste like it’ll leave you with a headache in the morning.

He shrugs. “If we didn’t have to bring the place down when we were at the auction, people would have been watching you at the dinner banquet. What would you have done if people started to notice that you were clutching the wine and swigging it like a drunken toddler and started to suspect that your behavior wasn't matching your cover identity?”

You gasp. “Excuse me, you don’t know how I normally drink my wine!” Who does this bastard think he is? And here you were, thinking he was sweet, sincerely trying to share one of his interests with you. “I don’t need you patronizing me regarding how I’d manage at a formal event or on a date! I’ve been on plenty of dates where I was able to drink wine without driving off my partner.” You try to pull away from him, and the wine sloshes dangerously with your movement.

“Sit still,” he commands, holding your hand tight with his and placing one large palm on your bare thigh. You immediately freeze. “I watched you gulp wine from a mug the last time I was here,” he retorts.

“So you think that just because I don’t care what you think, I can’t read the room and act according to the demands of the situation?” The indignation coursing through you is amplified by the wine spreading through you.

“Then is it fair to say that you didn’t feel the need for any pretense between us last time because you’re so comfortable with me, and not because you’re as civilized as a cactus?” he asks, running his thumb gently back and forth along your inner thigh.

Your brain is being scrambled by his thumb, how close he is to you, his clavicle exposed by the V of his sweater’s neckline, the scent of his warm, clean skin, the wine going to your head after a long exhausting day.

“I’m saying I don’t feel the need to impress you in my own home when you show up uninvited and demand beverages and band aids,” you finally manage. You’re warm. Too warm. “And what’s wrong with being a cactus?”

“Did I say there was something wrong with it? Cacti can survive the harshest conditions on earth and still produce the most beautiful flowers. And they hurt when they stab you.” He smiles like the thought pleases him immensely.

You can’t process this. He says shit like this so easily—he can’t possibly mean it in the way you are trying so hard to deny that you want him to mean it. You refuse to be lured in, only to see the cruel lines of his face when he realizes you have pathetic feelings for him. The man who could as easily rip your spine from your ribcage as offer you a glass of wine, if you lose your usefulness to him. A usefulness you still don’t know the nature of.

You’re suddenly viciously aware of how close he is to you, how he is watching your face with an intensity that makes you feel like the use of his aether core is unnecessary: you’re afraid that he can see everything you’re feeling, and you hate it. You need space. “What are we even doing, Sylus?”

His eyes drift from your eyes to your mouth, and you try very hard to steel your expression, to conceal how utterly raw and exposed he’s making you feel. You can’t tell if you’re successful, when he finally lifts his hand from your thigh and runs the back of his knuckles with such softness along your cheek that it makes you ache. You resist the urge to turn your face and nuzzle his palm.

“We’re tasting wine, sweetheart.” He leans back, pulling the glass of wine you’re still holding with him. He inhales deeply, and then takes a sip, eyes glittering over the rim, watching you. “It is a good vintage. But it’s not the only one I brought.” He guides your joined hands to set the glass on the counter, and then gets up, rounding the counter to rummage in a bag on the floor on the other side. When he stands up, he’s holding another wine glass.

You do a double take. “You brought two glasses?”

He looks from you to the glass in his hand, then back to the glass still on the counter, and then lifts his eyebrows. “Is this a trick question?”

“Why haven’t we been drinking about of separate glasses then?” you demand.

He shrugs. “That glass is for that bottle,” he nods to the glass sitting next to you. “This glass is for this bottle.” He gestures at the other, untasted bottle sitting on the counter. “No need to rinse our glasses in between tastes.”

You want to laugh, and cry. You’re so fucking done with thinking for tonight.

“Okay, Sylus. Whatever you say,” you sigh.

“Oh, I quite like the sound of that,” he smiles, one canine peeking over his lip. “Then you’re going to enjoy the sorbet I brought for us as a palate cleanser.”

He proceeds to go to your freezer, scoop out some of the aforementioned sorbet that has apparently been in there all evening into a bowl, and takes the stool next to you again. This time, he situates one long leg on either side of you, caging you in. He takes a spoonful and offers it to you. “This will help rinse your palate so that you can taste the next bottle without any lingering effects of the other.”

You look from his seemingly guileless face to the spoonful of sorbet. Yup, you’re really done thinking for tonight. You lean forward and open your lips. He slips the lemon sorbet into your mouth. His eyes remain on your lips as he pulls the spoon away, dips it back into the sorbet, and brings it to his own mouth.

After he continues to trade spoonfuls with you until the sorbet is gone, he pours the second glass of wine, and you both take turns sipping it in companionable silence.

“Now tell me. Which one is your favorite?” he asks after you’ve finished the second glass, and return to the first to finish it as well.

“I like them both,” you shrug. “Sorry for not having a more sophisticated answer.” You’re feeling drowsy and loose. He can walk off a tall building for all you care if he doesn’t like your answer.

“They’re both excellent wines. Each one is suited for multiple situations or meal combinations. They’re versatile, just like you are. And I don’t require any particular answer, except your honest one. I think you already know that you don’t need to put on an act for me, ever.”

You rest your elbow on the counter, mirroring his position, and rest your head in your hand. “Why would I pretend with you, if you can just force the truth out of me?”

“I will never do that to you.”

You look away. “You’ve already done it to me once before. What else is there to hide, when you’ve seen the ugliest parts of me?”

“I will not do it again. Not unless you ask me to,” he says so solemnly that you’re tempted to be a fool and believe him. “And is that what you think? That what I saw was ugly?”

You sit up, take the glass from him and knock back the rest of the wine in one gulp. You can't do this right now. You can't think about the the violent hunger, the savage thirst, that his eye brought from the depths of your soul when he forced his way into your deepest, darkest desires the night you met. The extent of how much you wanted to kill him, and make it hurt, when you thought he had killed Caleb and your grandmother. How you still feel that hunger and rage, with every wanderer you kill, every time you hope some dealer in modified protocores resists arrest so you can put them down, with prejudice.

“I’m tired, Sylus. Thank you for the lesson. Now I can successfully fool rich assholes at upscale dens of corruption and unsuspecting dates into believing that I’m a sophisticated connoisseur of overpriced beverages, and swindle them all. And I’ll never horrify you again by swigging wine out of a mug like a drunken toddler. You should invoice the Association for your services. In the meantime, I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

“I see. You’re still on guard, and defensive, when you're drunk too. How fascinating.” He narrows his eyes, not seeming to get the hint that you want him to leave now.

“I’m not drunk. I’m maybe tipsy, and I’m fucking tired. I’m going to bed.”

“All right,” he says easily. He stands and begins tidying up the counter.

“All right,” you repeat, feeling a little dizzy, a little empty. “You know where the door is.”

“As you say,” he says serenely, pulling out food storage containers you also didn’t realize you own and packing the food away.

“Thanks again,” you say, because you are polite, dammit. You make your way into the bathroom and begin getting ready for bed. When you emerge, your flat is dark. The kitchen looks pristine in the streetlight drifting in through the windows. You stare for a moment longer, wondering if maybe he’s finally given up on whatever his agenda with you is after your little emotional display tonight, and he’ll stop coming by now. You’re fine with that. Maybe this is what you’ve needed to do all along. Get drunk and sloppy. Guarded, defensive, he called you. What an asshole.

You pad into the bedroom, yawning, pulling up your phone to look at it as you walk. Maybe you should try listening to audiobooks to try to help with the insomnia. Like, boring ones with deep, sexy voiced narrators who can bore you to sleep like Sylus did the other night. You crawl onto the bed, and then—

“The fuck, Sylus?”

He’s sitting in the middle of your bed, sweater off and replaced by… nothing. Just the expanse of his big, creamy chest. And he’s wearing a pair of silky looking loose, black pyjama pants. An impossibly soft looking line of silver hair drifts from his tight navel, disappearing under his waistband. His gold-rimmed glasses are perched on his nose, like last time, and he’s scrolling through something on his tablet. He glances up at you, but then goes back to his… spreadsheets?

“Haven’t we already been through that little routine tonight?” he asks, and yawns. “I’m getting déjà vu.”

“What. Are. You. Doing?” you seethe.

“Going over the financials from the meeting with my accountant today.”

“Why?” You just sit there on your knees, on your bed, gaping at him like an idiot.

“To ensure that my next acquisition is suited to purpose.”

“What?”

His gaze flicks to you, and he pushes the glasses further up his nose. “Well, I made a promise that I wouldn’t change a thing about my latest business venture, so now I need to ensure that the next chain of businesses I acquire can serve one of the functions I had intended for the arcades.”

“What function is that?” you ask, curious now, despite yourself.

“Well, one of two primary functions,” he amends, tapping his temple thoughtfully with a finger.

“Okay,” you say slowly, inviting him to continue.

“Money laundering.”

You shake your head. “Come again?”

“Oh, I’ll be happy to. Thank you for the invitation. I wasn’t sure I’d ever receive one again, what with your heavily implied dismissal earlier.”

“Sylus!”

“Yes, my most precious gem?”

“What do you mean you intended to use the arcades for money laundering?” You want to cry even thinking about it.

“To be fair, after you asked me so sweetly not to change a thing, I immediately agreed. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“But that’s why you wanted to buy them?” How many times can a heart hurt in one night?

“I said that was one of the two primary reasons I wanted those arcades,” he says, reaching out with one hand and softly stroking your knee.

You look down, watching his calloused fingers drifting so sweetly across your skin. How can this man be so cruel and so gentle at the same time?

“What was the other reason, then?”

“Guess.”

“I’m done playing games with you tonight, Sylus.”

“When was I playing a game tonight?”

“Fine, don’t tell me. Just promise again that you won’t change anything about my favorite arcade.”

He sets the tablet on his lap, and reaches over to grasp your hand. He links your pinkie with his, and lifts it to his lips. “I already promised. And I promise again.” He seals the promise with a brush of his lips, and then rests both of your hands on the bed between you.

You don’t know why, and you will probably never know why, but you believe him right now. It’s clear that no matter what you do, he will not be leaving tonight without great violence on your part, and once again, you’re just too tired to fight him anymore. He reads your body like a damn book, because he silently hands you the glass of water that was sitting next to him on the nightstand. "Even if you're not drunk, but only maybe just a little tipsy," he says, doing an awful imitation of your voice. "You should still drink some water so you don't feel terrible in the morning."

Perhaps because of your easy compliance with his reasonable advice by simply taking the water and drinking it, he seems to deem it safe to pull you into his side. You go down, resting your head on his thick shoulder, and let your gaze wander over his tablet.

“So what are you thinking of buying this time?” you ask, yawning.

He shifts, lifting your head so that he can wrap his arm around you, repositioning you so that you’re tucked a little closer under his chin, cheek resting against his chest. “A chain of casinos.”

“Casinos?” you laugh softly. “That’s on brand, I guess.”

“Mmhmm.” He runs his fingertips absently along your arm, from wrist to elbow and back again. “Lots of money changing hands. Ideal for functioning as a washing machine for the dirty proceeds from the weapons business, which comes out clean in the pockets of lucky winners.”

“You make your living profiting off the worst in people, you know that?” you ask sleepily, the numbers on the screen blurring.

“They’ll continue being terrible, with or without my involvement. I don’t make them take the bet, or pull the trigger. And if I don't, someone else will put the chip or gun in their hands. Might as well be me collecting the paycheck.”

“Maybe, through the power of friendship, I can change your mind,” you murmur. You don’t think you’ll need that audiobook to fall asleep tonight.

“Friendship, huh?” Sylus asks, but when he looks down at you, he sees that you’ve already fallen asleep. He traces the long sweep of your eyelashes across your cheeks with his eyes, feels your measured, calm breath drifting across his skin. He gently touches one finger to the ruby earring you haven’t taken out yet. The thrill of satisfaction he felt when you answered the door still wearing it would sustain him for weeks. He is absolutely certain that it won’t be the power of friendship that’s going to change him.

He pulls you a little closer into his chest, snorts when he feels you begin to drool onto his pec, and continues scrolling through his tablet.

That night, you dream. You’re walking through your childhood home—but not your childhood home from before your memories, because you will never know what that home looked like. This one, the home from your earliest memories, with its wood panelling on the walls, old-fashioned lace curtains in the windows that you can’t see out of, because it’s pitch black beyond the glass. Hallways lengthening at the same pace as you can walk down them, boots echoing on the polished hardwood floor. You walk and walk, and you can never reach the end. Doors that won’t open, but you know Caleb might be behind them, because in your dream logic, his bedroom is behind every door you pass. You turn the handles, but they remain locked. Sometimes you think you can hear the sound of someone biting into an apple, crisp flesh giving way to sharp teeth, but the door won’t open no matter how hard you throw yourself against it. You hear your grandmother speaking, just around every corner, but you can’t understand what she’s saying. You follow the sound, and every time you think that she’s just around the next turn in the hall, the corridor stretches in front of you again, empty.

You have been in this empty house for years now, and you’re afraid that you’ll never be able to get out. But you’re more afraid that once you get out, you’ll never hear them making these particular sounds again, this slim proof of their existence echoing through the empty hallways.

Slowly, you wake up, and in that endless moment caught between your dream and reality, it’s just peaceful and black—you are coming from somewhere so far away toward something you know will hurt, and you’re not ready to feel that yet. But then a feeling of suffocation is overwhelming you, and you open your eyes to realize you’re literally being smothered by a very big, very warm body.

The relief you feel, the gratitude, that Sylus is still here, that you aren’t waking up alone, again, from the nightmare in your sleep to the reality that the nightmare is real, and you’ll never be able to see your family again, is more overwhelming than your current need for oxygen. Sylus is still here, and the yawning emptiness you were carrying with you for what felt like years during that long dream dissipates in the warmth of his body against yours. You can’t help yourself. Your throw your arm that isn’t being crushed by him over his torso and hug him tightly to you, giving in to the urge to nuzzle his chest and just listen to his steady heartbeat.

You lie like that for awhile, blissfully listening to his soft breathing, when suddenly you realize that pressed so close to him, you can feel every contour of his body, from your chest against his abdomen, his muscular, silk-covered thigh wedged between your legs, and his apparently very, very big dick pressing into your hip.

You freeze, feeling like the creep you have accused him several times of being. He’s just sleeping, and you’ve plastered yourself against him like a vacuum sealed burrito. You have absolutely no business being utterly thrilled that this part of him matches the rest of him in terms of size and intimidation. You will not be taking this joy stick for a test drive. You can get out of this. You’re a very good hunter, and you can evade detection and make a tactical retreat when necessary. And it’s very necessary right now, because you do not want him to wake up and find you attached to him like a love-sick leech.

Slowly, sooo slowly, you slide your arm from where it is slung over his waist, and begin to incrementally scooch backwards, his leg slipping from between both of yours, freezing when he seems to shift a little, and then continuing the slow slide away when he settles again.

You’ve managed to extricate all of your limbs from him, except the one that is currently numb and squashed underneath him. You slowly roll onto your back and contemplate how you’re going to get it out from under him without waking him, when suddenly his arm flops over your waist. You jerk in surprise, eyes flying to his face, but his are still closed. His hand slides from your waist to your hip, and then snakes around to take a big handful of your ass. He makes a little happy noise and then pulls your body into his again. In the process, he has managed to jam his thigh back between your legs. You stare at his face, trying desperately to see if he’s starting to wake yet—how did you even end up in this situation? Then he pulls you even closer, causing his thigh to press deliciously against you. You suppress a whine, because it has been so long since someone has touched you liked this. But of course the person who is touching you is a maniac and is doing so while still asleep. You reach up and pat his cheek to wake him up, simultaneously trying to to pull away from him, but tightens his arms around you again, dipping his head to your shoulder still exposed by his too-big sweater. You freeze in shock as he inhales deeply and hums, and soft kisses trail from your neck down, and before you can push him away he bites into the meat of your shoulder. The pain, pressure, and warmth of his mouth on your skin have you trying to arch away and into him—you do whine this time, loudly, because it hurts but you want.

Suddenly, his whole body seems to tense. The pressure on your shoulder eases, and he sighs, his breath cool drifting along your over-heated skin.

“Good morning.”

You open your eyes, realizing you’d been squeezing them shut through the last few moments, and meet his sleepy gaze.

"Were you awake?” you demand, terrified of the answer. Because if he was, then what the hell was he thinking, pretending to be asleep? And if he wasn't, was he just dreaming? Was it you in his dream, or was he dreaming of someone else? You don't want to know. You have to know.

“Your rather loud response to my love bite woke me up, I think,” he smiles softly. "I didn't realize that I was... dreaming until then."

“So you didn’t mean to—” you start to pull away.

He tightens his arm around your waist. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Sylus, let go. I’m sorry for not waking you fast enough. I was just—I was just shocked. I know you wouldn’t have done that otherwise.” You struggle, but his arm is a steel bar holding you in place.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have,” he agrees, and you feel whatever fragile, tender root that had been growing in the cracks of your broken heart wither, the dry husk drifting away in an autumn breeze. Replacing that faint feeling of hope, you're livid that you do not share the same teleportation ability that Xavier and Sylus have. If you could, you'd teleport in a poof of glittering light or melodramatic feathers. To anywhere else but here.

You nod, and nod, and nod, because he’s not letting you move but you have to do something or else he’ll see it right on your stupid, open face, and you’d rather he slit your throat than see the pain his rejection is inflicting on you. You had lied to him earlier, about not having anything to hide, about always being honest with him. You've been lying to yourself, and to him, ever since you met him.

“What I mean—” he’s looking at you intently, and you want to cover his eyes with your hands, because as always they’re seeing too much, but suddenly, the doorbell rings through your flat.

You both turn your heads to look at the bedroom door at the same time.

Oh. Fuck.

Xavier.

Sylus turns to look back at you, so close that his nose brushes yours. “Expecting company, kitten?”

“It’s Xavier. Shit.” You try to roll away, and this time he lets you. You grab your phone off the nightstand and see that Xavier has already texted you a few times to see if you’re ready to head to the bookstore yet. The texts grow increasingly concerned the longer you don’t respond. The doorbell rings again. “You have to go. Now.”

You turn to Sylus, who is now lying leisurely on his side, head propped up in his hand, silky silver hair cascading across his forehead, occupying the bed like an imperialist force annexing a weaker neighbor’s territory, with no intention of leaving.

“And what are you going to do?” he asks, eyes drifting from your face, to your shoulder, down to your bare legs.

“I need to answer the door and tell Xavier that I’m running late.”

“Late for what?”

“Sylus, I don’t have time for this. You can’t be here. Xavier helped me get into the N109 zone, he spends a lot of time there—he’s smart enough that if he finds out what you look like, he might eventually be able to figure out who you are. You can’t be here,” you repeat, starting to panic. Sylus may not have any feelings for you beyond friendship or a predator toying with its food, but you still don’t want him to get caught because of you.

“You’re not working today. What plans do you have with him?” he asks, completely ignoring your distress.

“We’re going to the bookstore. We were going to spend our first day free just reading manga and eating junk food,” you rush out impatiently.

Sylus just looks at you for a few beats, the picture of lazy boredom on a weekend morning.

“Okay? Are you satisfied? Can you please leave now?” This is good. You can avoid the inevitable, It was a mistake, thought you were someone else, was dreaming about a giant amorous anthropomorphized ruby, you’re not exactly my type, because my type is someone who has their shit together, can identify what fucking region a certain grape was grown in and its exact soil acidity based on the year of the vintage, my type is someone else, anyone else—you reach down and hit yourself hard in the side of your thigh with a fist to get your head on straight, and start heading to your closet, intent on throwing on a robe or longer shorts so that you don't answer the door looking like you're not wearing any pants.

Sylus's irritated voice follows you. “Satisfied? No, I'm not feeling satisfied. But I would advise against answering the door wearing that.”

You jerk to a halt. “Excuse me?” You turn to find him scowling at you.

He waves a dismissive finger at the sweater and silk shirts you’re still wearing. “I think you should change before you answer the door.”

“I look that bad, huh? Thanks for the advice. You need to be gone when I get back.” You turn, hating everything and everyone, and make your way to the front door.

You throw it open, just as Xavier is lifting his hand to ring your bell again. His sky blue eyes, usually so calm and sleepy, widen when he takes in the dumpster fire that you are today.

“Hi, yeah, sorry. I overslept,” you rush out, hoping you can skip this part and go straight to the moving on with your day and your entire life part. “I just need like, fifteen minutes, and then I’ll be ready.”

“Did you get in a fight with a wanderer last night after we go home?” he asks, hand lifting again, this time toward you, as if he wants to touch you, but then thinks better of it and drops it back to his side. He’s wearing the white hoodie that Sylus stole from him. What even is your life right now?

“What? No, I just had some wine and was really tired.” He’s staring at you, brow furrowed now, and it takes a minute to realize that he’s staring at the sweater hanging off your shoulder. You suddenly get a really, really bad feeling. “Why?”

He lifts his hand again, and points, but in a kind of timid way, like a little kid who knows that it’s rude to point but can’t help himself anyway so just points a little so that his mom won’t get mad at him. “It looks like a wanderer bit you.”

You lift your own hand and touch your shoulder, and feel the too-warm skin there, the ache spreading deep into the muscle.

“Oooh, yeah. Yes.” You decide that you need to take acting classes. That is what you will do as your new hobby, on your few days off. You’re going to win the best actor award if it kills you, because if it doesn’t kill you, the embarrassment will kill you instead. And you’d rather die convincing everyone that everything is normal and you’re fine, and not from the embarrassment of the fact that your not-boyfriend, not-fuck-buddy, not-interested-at-all, probably not even your friend anymore Sylus accidentally bit you while fucking asleep and left evidence of it for all the world to see. “I did respond to a really minor alert in the neighborhood last night. It was only one wanderer. Hiding in a trash can of all places,” you laugh, not at all sounding unhinged. Convincing. “Bit me pretty good, but it really was nothing, I had completely forgotten about it. So, still on for the bookstore?” you ask, chipper, eager, well-adjusted!

Xavier stares at your shoulder for a few seconds longer, and then just nods. “Yeah, just text me when you’re ready.”

Bless him. You’ve almost put him back to sleep with your absolutely stellar performance. “Okay, great! See you soon.” You back into your flat again and let the door shut with a heavy click.

Xavier stands outside your door for several moments after you’ve scurried back inside. He thinks about how sharp his light blade is. He thinks about how he’s going to use it on whatever motherfucker thinks that he has the right to mark Xavier’s partner like an animal. And then he yawns, and meanders back to his own flat to wait for your text because he has all the time in the world, and the patience to match it. Xavier is your partner, and he’s not going anywhere, anytime soon. If he murders whatever asshole was in your flat last night right now, that might interfere with your bookstore plans with him.

You stand on the other side of the door for a moment, just trying to collect yourself. You lean against the cool surface, look up at your ceiling. Breathe in the smell of shoe leather, oiled metal. Absently you lift your hand to your shoulder. Why didn’t Sylus warn you before you went to open the door? He even admitted that he wouldn’t have … done that to you if he hadn’t been asleep. Why would he just… and then it hits you. He did tell you to change clothes before you answered the door. The asshole just didn’t tell you why. But he would know by now that you’d actually do the opposite of whatever he says, because he’s not the boss of you. He played you like one of his fucking records.

But why the fuck would he want Xavier to see what happened between the two of you? Does he enjoy your humiliation that much?

You have no idea if you’ll ever have the chance to figure him out, especially if he got the hint that you don’t want to see him anytime soon. You shake your head. Even though you should be exhausted after staying up so late and ending up on the human embodiment of a roller coaster with its wheels coming off despite all of your promises to yourself last night, you feel well-rested. You will survive this. You can survive anything.

You head back to your bedroom to confirm that Sylus is actually gone, because last night proved that whether he actually listens when you tell him to leave depends entirely on his own whims. As you enter, the late morning sunlight spills into the room. He really left. The room is empty. The books and various weapons on your nightstands have been stacked neatly and lined up just so. The clothes that had been left haphazardly hanging off your chest of drawer handles or strewn over the floor are nowhere to be seen. It would be the tidiest your bedroom has been in weeks, if not for the fact that your entire bed is covered in a thick layer of black feathers.

“This bitch,” you breathe.

It’s going to take at least two full size trash bags to clean this mess up.

You decide then and there that Sylus doesn’t have a choice about whether he’s going to see you again. You’re going to bag up these feathers and then tar and feather him with them the next time you see his gorgeous, petty fucking face.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #my fanfic #love and deepspace fanfiction #this is over 13k long so if anyone actually reads this you're a goddamn hero #i've already written sylus's pov of this mess but it needs fleshing out #absolutely self indulgent over the top comfort food #which is what sylus is to me

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damiansgoodgirll · 2 days

Note

could you write rhea x jey x reader smut. Like however you wanna write it just no cheating please

I’VE NEVER WRITTEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS AND I DON’T THINK I’LL MAKE MORE CAUSE THIS ONE IS BAD, YOU’VE BEEN WARNED ‼️

rhea ripley x reader x jey uso

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

‼️a little bit of angst, feels, insecure reader, fluff, romance, smut so stay away kids, not much of a plot, soft!rhea, soft!jey, dom!rhea, not so dom jey, threesome(?) and more i guess‼️

eyes on me

you didn’t exactly know what led to have you naked between rhea’s and jey’s bodies, but somehow you ended up there. maybe it was the constant tension between you and rhea. the way she would always make sure you were okay after a match, the way she helped you train everytime you were at the gym together or how she always made sure to compliment you, even if you were just wearing baggy clothes and had dark circles under your eyes.

you never meant for that to happen. after the painful break up with dom, rhea needed someone that stayed by her side. you and damian were her best friends so, of course you were both there for her.

she took your advice seriously when you told her that she had to move on. in less than two weeks she was already seeing jey uso and you were happy for her. maybe feeling a little jealous that she didn’t need you as she used to but you couldn’t lie that jey was the right person for her.

jey was always kind and gentle with you. respecting your friendship with rhea and never overstepping.

but if rhea and jey were a happy couple, why were you naked on their bed?

“we don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable…” rhea softly whispered in your ear, gently kissing your neck.

it wasn’t making you uncomfortable. it was making you wonder what had changed during that dinner with rhea and jey at her place.

one minute you were all happily eating and watching a comedy show, the next minute you were straddling jey’s lap, his hands were moving under your shirt as rhea moved to massage jey’s shoulders and neck, leaving soft kisses on his skin.

you remember jey carrying you to the main bedroom, rhea leading the way. you still remember the feeling of rhea’s hands as she undressed you, taking her time admiring you. you remember how jey undressed rhea, him watching her with loving eyes, making you feel a little insecure because you didn’t have someone waiting at home that would look at you like that. you remember how rhea softly dragged you down on the bed with her, bringing a hand to your cheek and looking for any sign of discomfort in your eyes. when you showed none, she tested the water and brought her lips over yours. no rush, just a gentle kiss. one, turned into two, and two kisses turned into a full make out session with her as jey undressed himself and laid next to you on the bed. one of his hands tenderly caressing your hips. leaving soft kisses from your neck, to your collarbone, into your belly.

he stopped his movements when rhea said those words. he was too lost in his thoughts that he actually didn’t think that it might have been uncomfortable for you.

he looked between your faces and noticed the hopeful looked that rhea had. he knew that rhea thought of you as more than a friend, he talked about it with her and they both were on the same page. they both liked you, they both had feelings for you and if you were okay, they were ready to let you in their relationship.

“i’m okay with this…” you soft voice whispered. rhea and jey were able to hear you and they both relaxed when you said those words.

“but you’re thinking of something, aren’t you?” jey questioned, making you nod your head “what is it babe?”

you blushed under his staring gaze “it’s just…i don’t want this to ruin what we have…”

“i promise you, it’s not” rhea added “nothing is gonna ruin what we have…we promise you”

“okay…” you smiled, earning a smile from her side “but uhm…i’ve never been with two people at the same time so i don’t really know what to do” your cheeks turning red.

“it’s okay beautiful, we will take care of you” jey reassured you, making you nod your head.

your heart pounding in your chest when rhea started kissing you again. her lips were so soft and kissable that you were kinda jealous that jey had the chance to kiss her every day. jey moved between your legs, with his big hands, he softly pulled them apart. while rhea was assaulting your lips, jey started kissing your thighs, grazing at your naked pussy but never touching it.

“i wanna taste her…” rhea almost moaned on your lips when she heard jey kissing your thighs. he couldn’t say no to mami so he moved out of her way and as rhea positioned herself between your legs, the twin laid next to you, popping himself up on his elbow as he watched cautiously every movement your face made.

rhea’s lips kissed your clit, making you slightly move on the bed. when she got the reaction that she wanted from you, she began her attack on your pussy. she took her time eating you out, kissing and licking your clit. jey’s free hand moved over your already hardened nipples, giving them equal attention.

you weren’t a typical screamer in bed, you were shy and it was hard for your partners to understand if you liked what they were doing or not. jey noticed how hard you were trying to keep your moans low and he didn’t agree with your choice “i wanna hear your pretty voice” he whispered into your ear, while his lips left kisses behind your neck “moan for us y/n…” and that was all the confidence you needed because in the exact moment rhea licked at your entrance and jey took a nipple in his mouth, a soft moan escaped your lips, making rhea shiver from how good you were being for them.

jey enjoyed teasing your nipples, wondering if you were so sensitive just for him or you were like that in general. his kisses were soft, he was treating you with such care that you found hard to believe that the jey uso was such a romantic lover boy.

rhea told you about the first time they had sex and how he basically destroyed her. of course, she enjoyed it, and by the way she told you that story, you were sure that those two destroy the bedroom at least twice a day. but this was a different side of jey, and a different side of rhea.

still taking the lead, she brought one of her skilled finger over your clit as her tongue was working over your entrance “fuck baby, you taste so fucking good…” she moaned against your pussy, making you shiver. the added pressure over your clit sent goosebumps all over your body. seeing your thighs trembling, jey knew that you were close and he needed to see you coming for them.

he moved his head from your nipples to your lips, gently kissing you, his tongue fighting for dominance “you coming baby?” he whispered in your ear. too lost in pleasure, you couldn’t find a proper answer but the way your thighs shook and the way your body went rigid and limp in a minute was enough as an answer for jey. grabbing the sheets, a very pornographic sound left your lips, shocking everyone in the room, you included. no one ever made you cum so hard in your life.

rhea worked you through your orgasm, stopping only when she cleaned you up with her tongue. when she was done, she brought her face down to your face and softly pressed a kiss onto your cheek “you were so good for me…” she whispered in your ear. she watched your blissful face, eyes barely open and mouth agape, you were a vision for her.

“you should taste how sweet she is…” she grabbed jey’s face and brought him to her lips, making you taste yourself on him. jey moaned into rhea’s mouth, swearing that you were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

rhea’s hand teased jey’s cock. you saw it tweaking in her hand as she gave it some attention too. pre-cum already spreading along his shaft, making him whimpering as rhea mover her hand up and down. you watched in awe how confident she was, how confident she was moving and you wished you could have a little bit of her confidence. you were there, watching her pleasuring her boyfriend and you felt yourself getting wet again.

“baby…” jey moaned against her lips “i wanna try y/n’s pussy…” he said, almost as if he was asking for permission. you saw the look rhea gave him, almost a smirk and she couldn’t say no so she nodded, kissing him one last time before sitting on the bed next to you.

rhea fantasised about you multiple times. she fantasised about having you naked just for her, having you naked for her and jey and now she couldn’t believe that you were actually there.

“you doing okay love?” she asked, making sure that you were okay and not overwhelmed.

“yeah…” a whisper left your mouth.

jey checked with rhea and she signed him to go, that you were okay and ready for him.

“if at any point you wanna stop, you say the word and i stop okay baby?” jey asked you, and you nodded. he wanted this to be pleasurable experience for you and hurting you wasn’t his intention.

he was big. probably the biggest dick you’ve ever seen and you haven’t had sex in a long time, you weren’t so sure he was going to fit.

“what about we stretch you out first?” rhea asked, mostly to jey. she might have sensed your worry or maybe she remembered when you told her that the last time you had sex was months and months ago.

jey nodded, understanding that this might have been a little overwhelming for you. he brought his middle finger over your entrance, teasing you, making you whimper. he took time with you. his finger slowly thrusting inside of you. your walls immediately clenching around him.

she’s not going to fit - he thought - she’s too tight.

“let me know if i hurt you…” he whispered, reassuring you with a smile.

“okay…” you smiled back. you trusted jey, you trusted rhea, maybe you didn’t trust yourself much but you knew you were in good hands. they would never hurt you on purpose and rhea reminded you that no matter what, you had control over your decisions, whether you wanted to continue or not.

his finger moved slowly inside of you, jey finding that spot that made you crawl to him. he found it when he heard a strong whimper coming from you “oh, like that uh?” he watched as you nodded your head, not being able to answer him. rhea admired the whole scene in awe. she had dreamed about this multiple times and she couldn’t believe that now you were actually there, naked for both of them. she was mesmerised by your beauty, by the way your body reacted so well to both her and damian. she couldn’t get enough of you.

“i wanna feel you coming on my cock…” jey’s voice was low, delicate even. you nodded, anticipation building in your core “if at any point you want to stop just let me know, i don’t wanna hurt you baby…” jey was dead serious. you weren’t rhea, he didn’t know you or your body as well as he knew hers but by the time you’ve spent together he saw how more of a delicate person you were, he knew he had to be careful otherwise he would scare you.

“i will…” you reassured him.

he brought his dick through your folds, collecting your juices before slowly thrusting his tip inside of you. he was big, probably the biggest one you’ve ever been with. he made you feel inch by inch, thrusting deeper inside of you “breathe baby…” rhea reminded you.

once he was all settled in, he waited for you to adjust, leaving soft kisses on your collarbone and breast, whispering praising words “you can move jey…” you nodded your head when he gave you a questioning look.

he moved slowly at first, his eyes never leaving your face, making sure there was no sign of discomfort.

when he hit that spot inside of you, you couldn’t contain your moans low any longer, pleasure was building inside of you and rhea’s hands touching between your shoulders and your breast weren’t making it easy for you to stay quiet.

“faster…” you moaned, making him smile. he sped up a little, hitting all the right spots inside of you “oh fuck…mh…” you felt tears forming inside your eyes, you’ve never felt that much pleasure in your life.

your thighs shaking a little, making jey speed his movements as rhea lowered her head and took a nipple into her mouth, biting and kissing it “you’re being so good for us baby…so fucking good” she murmured against your skin. you loved her dominant side, you trusted her with your life and you gave control over your own body.

“jey…oh-fuck…” you opened your eyes, meeting his staring look. a few tears fell and rolled down your red cheeks “please…” you didn’t even know what you were begging for.

“please what baby…you like it?” he whispered into your ear, only earning a nod as a reply “good girl…baby, you’re made for us…” he quickly looked down at rhea, noticing how her lips were playing with your nipples and her hands were playing with her pussy, bringing her own pleasure. the room was filled with moans, your skin shining from the layers of sweat upon it. jey’s body moving in sync with yours as you were both chasing your orgasm.

“jey, i’m so close…fuck” your voice whimpered, making jey slowing his thrusts as he could take a good look at you. he brought a leg over his shoulder, moving deeper inside of you.

“oh fuck…come for me baby…” he almost cried when he felt how your walls were squeezing him. you were close and he knew it “keep your eyes on me baby, i wanna see your face…” he ordered and you tried your best to do as he said “eyes on me…” he whispered, voice so rough and yet so soft.

rhea was about to cum as she played with her own clit and her moans vibrating against your skin where enough to send you over the edge.

“jey…oh fuck…i’m…” you weren’t even able to finish your sentence that you were already coming on his cock.

“yeah, i know baby…i wanna feel you” he sped up his movements as you were coming all around his cock. your own orgasm led to rhea coming all over her fingers. jey couldn’t hold himself anymore and he quickly pulled out and came all over your chest. he wanted to cum inside of you but as a first experience with him and rhea, he didn’t want overwhelm you. “oh shit…” his eyes rolled back as he leaked all over your chest and red breast.

you took time catching breath, your chest heavy while rhea softly kissed your reddened skin. your whole body was sensitive, legs still shaking and tears still falling from your eyes. jey moved to get a washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up.

“you did so good baby…” rhea whispered as she moved closer to your body. she laid down on the bed and she gently grabbed your body so you could lay against her. your head over her shoulder as she softly whispered praise words into your ear.

jey admired the two of you, feeling so grateful that you trusted them both.

he quickly cleaned himself before coming back to the bedroom, his hands moving to wash your sensitive pussy and chest, to clean you up from all of his juices and when he was done he moved to lay back down, next to your and rhea.

“are you okay baby?” he asked, meeting your eyes “anything that hurts?”

you smiled “no…i’m perfectly okay, nothing hurts…” and they both believed you. you looked so peaceful in jey’s eyes that he wished this could be a permanent thing and not a causal one.

“i should probably go home…” you whispered, feeling like you didn’t belong there. it was fun, it was good, but you didn’t want to crash rhea’s and jey’s romantic relationship more than you already did.

jey and rhea looked at each other, worried that they might have done something wrong “what are you talking about love?” rhea softly asked.

“i mean…this was just one night thing, right? i don’t wanna be the reason you two break up or have problems…” you mumbled, shying away.

“what? hold up! what is that coming from?” jey intervened.

you took a deep breath “i mean…isn’t this what you wanted? just an experience?”

“absolutely no…baby, why would you think that?” rhea was partially shocked and hurt “what i said at dinner, it’s true…i’ve always thought of you as more than just a friend and just because because jey and i are dating, doesn’t mean we don’t want you too…if you want us” she smiled at you.

they wanted you? not just for the sex, but they wanted you.

“i know that your pretty mind is overthinking right now…” jey murmured leaving a soft kiss over your shoulder “but we want you, if you want us…”

“like a relationship? the three of us?” you definitely didn’t expect that proposal.

“yeah…” rhea breathed “the three of us…we can take things slowly, we are not rushing you and we definitely will never make you do things you are uncomfortable doing…but it’s pretty clear, we like you more than just a friend and the idea of not having you with us it’s killing me…”

“okay…” you whispered, meeting rhea’s face and her hopeful eyes.

“okay?” jey asked, smiling a little too much.

“yeah…okay, let’s do this…” you knew you were in good hands so why not giving it a try?

——————————————————

I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT I WROTE THIS 🙅🏻‍♀️ enjoy 💋

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anakinstwinklebunny · 1 day

Text

NERD!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Author's note: thinking about some nerd!anakin fic where he had heard the reader talk with her friends that she's not passing physics and since he has the biggest crush on her since second grade he later suggest to help her..if she'll help him with something else ;)

Nerd!Anakin who inside was a little dirty minded boy that wished nothing more to have a loving girlfriend to do with her all the cool, nice things he always wanted to do (and he meant more joyful activities than sex)

Nerd!Anakin who has a collection of technical manuals and scientific holobooks that he reads in his spare time. His nightstand is filled with them, and he gets excited when a new one comes out. He’ll stay up late, curled up on the couch, devouring a manual on hyperdrive mechanics or some obscure sci-fi novel, eyes glued to the hologram.

He also loves telling you all about the technical details of what he's learning. You may not always understand everything he’s talking about, but his excitement is so adorable that you just let him ramble on.

Nerd!Anakin who has a soft spot for droids, and he might even give them 'upgrades' just because he thinks they deserve a treat. “You’ve been working hard, buddy. How about a new power cell?”. He’ll talk to them while he works, explaining what he’s doing like they’re his assistants (his fav is R2D2 obviously)

Nerd!Anakin who gets ridiculously excited about the latest gadgets or tech upgrades. When something new comes out, he’s like a kid in a candy store. Whether it's a new holo-terminal, a high-speed pod engine - he’s always the first in line to get it. He’ll show it off to you, explaining every little detail with enthusiasm. “Look at this! It has a new feature that triples efficiency!” He gets that adorable spark in his eye, completely geeking out over the smallest improvements.

Nerd!Anakin who would love when you'd do your nails; he'd ask soon later (when you two are alone) if you could play with his hair to only feel you scratch very gently against his scalp

Nerd!Anakin who was a great whimpering mess whenever you touched him (poor guy had never felt woman's touch before);

a sharp gasp left his mouth as you touched the mushroomy tip of his member, his hips jerking towards you without thought. he was already embarrassingly close, and now your teasing was only driving him closer to the edge “please-“ he let out a pleading moan, the words barely leaving his dry mouth

"please what ani? Use your words like good boys do"

He tried to focus enough to form a coherent sentence but it was getting so hard when all his mind could focus on, was the way you made him feel “I’m close-“ he gasped out, his hips rocking frantically against your tightening fist “I’m so close baby, i need it” he let out a sobbing whimper

"can you hold it in a little?" you asked gently

he groaned at the question before nodding almost desperately “for you, anything” his glasses sliding down his nose

You only hummed, all proud of your actions. How easily you could tear him apart by your single touch. Using her free hand to move his glasses so they were a bit more comfortable on him. You increased your movements, making sure to

he could feel the heat in his abdomen tighten as your hand moved faster. he was struggling to keep himself together, not much to your surprise "oh-oh god-“ he let out a loud gasp and a groan as your thumb moved over his tip again, that little touch sending electricity up his spine “oh-fuck…” one hand digging into the couch for some kind of grip “I can’t hold it—please please please” tears of desperation and overwhelming began to prick at the corner of his eyes

Nerd!Anakin who when was nervous, draw circles and designs on the back of your hand to relax himself

Nerd!Anakin who did your own minifigure from Legos

Nerd!Anakin who always had perfectly ironed shirts

Nerd!Anakin who in general was perfectionist in everything he'd do. If he had a mess in his room, he couldn't focus normally. If just one thing was moved inches apart, it drove him wild

Nerd!Anakin who made cupcakes with his mother for you

Nerd!Anakin who's a true mommy's boy

Nerd!Anakin who teared up after you gave him his first blowjob. He felt so overstimulated when his thick member was hugged around your warm throat, your tongue working on his shaft..it was way too much for the first time, he'd gasp and ask you to slow down because if you wouldn't, you'd already have his cum dripping down your throat

Nerd!Anakin who gave you flowers - sometimes real one and sometimes he'd do them from origamy

Nerd!Anakin who has a little sketchbook where he draws schematics for future projects—droid designs, custom technology accessories, etc. He’s always thinking of new ways to improve things, and his sketches are filled with intricate details and notes.

Sometimes, he’ll show you a design he’s particularly proud of, grinning ear to ear as he explains how it works. “What do you think? Pretty sleek, huh?”

Nerd!Anakin who was a true worshipper of your body. Would press such gentle kisses all over your body as if you were a ceramic doll he was scared to break

Nerd!Anakin who's glasses got foggy everytime he made love to you, his curls sticking to his forehead and his pinky, swollen lips quivering to hold back his own orgasm

Nerd!Anakin who adored math and physics (but not as much as he adored you). And of course, he loved to help you with those subjects

Nerd!Anakin ho invited you to weekly movie marathon. With all the snacks ready and a fluffy blanket

Nerd!Anakin who adored to cuddle with you. It was something so precious for him, and whenever he had a chance, he'd just wrap his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzle to your soft neck

Nerd!Anakin who liked to play with your hair like brushing them out of your face, twirling the strand around his finger and watch intensively, as if it was the most important/gorgeous/captivating sight he had seen, how it hugged his finger so perfectly

Nerd!Anakin who had his 'sexual education' with you;

Anakin hesitantly reached out, his hand trembling as he lifted it towards your chest. He hesitates for a moment once more, not sure if he's ready to do that. He just felt so sinful watching you naked..but oh so good.. so, before the thoughts would envelope his entire mind, he gently cupped one of your round, full breasts. He instantly marveled at, not only the softeneness but the weight, the way it filled his palm, how it was so beautiful, seeing your raspberry ripple hidden thanks to his large hand made him feel so fuzzy all inside

As he squeezed the soft globe tentatively, feeling its weight sprawl all over his senses, he couldn't help but let out a low moan, his body responding to the newfound pleasure. Guilty feelings fade away, leaving him all needy for more of you. His fingertips graze over your nipple to harden it, eliciting a soft gasp from both of you. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with wonder. "I-how i-" he stuttered shyly "-what should I do now?"

"whatever you want..you can kiss it, play with it, anything you want Annie"

Anakin's eyes widen at your words. To have the whole access to your body felt more pleasurable than anything in his life. He leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to the underside of your breast. You gazed down at how his glasses pressed against your skin, making your breath hitched. He then brought his hand up to gently squeeze and caress the soft mound at your left breast, almost nuzzling to the right one. He looked back up at you, seeking approval, as if not sure if he could go any further

"go on, they're all yours" you encouraged

Anakin smiles shyly at your encouragement, feeling emboldened. He starts to kiss and lick at your breasts, alternating between the two. He gently nibbles on your nipples, sucking on them and releasing them with soft popping sounds. "Ahh... they're so soft... and t-tasty..." he mumbled the last part more quietly, as if embarrassed that he actually thought about your breasts in that way

he accidentally uses a bit too much pressure with his teeth, causing you to hiss in pain. He immediately freezes, his eyes filled with worry. "I'm so sorry... did I hurt you?" His voice soft, laced with adorable concern.

"no--its okay..just try to use a little less teeth..and relax"

Anakin nods, his expression turning gentle again. He leans back in, this time more careful, his touch feather-light. He alternates between sucking and licking, paying close attention to the way you react to his touch. "Like this?" He asks softly, his voice muffled against your skin.

"just like that" you tugged on his curls

After the moaned sentence left your mouth, Anakin felt a surge of pride. He continues his gentle ministrations, his own body growing harder with each passing moment. He looks up at you,l with his eyes hooded. "Can I... can I kiss you lower now?"

Nerd!Anakin who was scared to eat you out at first, cause it'd be his very much first pussy. But when he did, he had no idea how to do it. He used his teeth a little too much, his tongue a bit too forceful but in time he got better

Nerd!Anakin who loves space documentaries. He'll make you sit with him on the couch to watch them, enthusiastically pointing out facts you didn’t even know he knew. He’s the type to lean over and say things like, “Did you know that this system’s star is actually binary? And it formed 4.6 billion years ago?”

Nerd!Anakin who uses cheesy, nerdy pick-up lines that leave you both laughing. He’s the kind of guy who would say, “Are you made of copper and tellurium? Because you’re Cu-Te.” He says it with so much confidence that you can’t help but find it endearing.

When you tease him about it, he’ll get all flustered, scratching the back of his head with that sheepish grin. “I thought it was clever..and you'd like it, maybe give me a small kiss or something.."

Nerd!Anakin who is fiercely protective of his tech projects. If someone tries to mess with them or touch his tools without asking, he’ll get all defensive. “Hey, be careful with that! I’ve been working on this for weeks.”

But when it’s you? He lets you mess with his projects all you want, even if it makes him a bit nervous. He’ll give you a dorky smile and say, “Just don’t break it, okay?” But secretly, he loves sharing his passions with you.

Nerd!Anakin who, as smart as he is with machines, is absolutely terrible in the kitchen. He’ll try to make you dinner as a sweet surprise, but something always goes wrong—he burns the food, the recipe doesn’t turn out, or the kitchen ends up looking like a disaster zone.

He’ll stand there, looking embarrassed but hopeful, holding a burnt dish with a lopsided grin. “Uh, it’s a little... crispy..”

Nerd!Anakin who leaves you small, nerdy notes;

On a sticky note on your fridge

"You’re the binary star to my existence. Without you, my orbit is off. Also, I reprogrammed the toaster. You're welcome.”

In your notebook or planner

“If I could rewrite the laws of physics, I'd bend space-time just to spend an extra 5 minutes with you.”

"The only code I can’t crack? How you make my heart race this fast.

Tucked inside your favorite book

“You're like the perfect algorithm: complex, beautiful, and always leaving me wanting to solve the equation that is you.”

On your desk after a long day

“You must have a gravity field around you, because I can't seem to stay away. P.S. Check under the desk, I might've added a small modification.”

Next to your coffee in the morning

"You must be a supernova, because you light up my entire galaxy."

Left on the keyboard of your laptop

“I may be fluent in over 6 million forms of communication, but none can express how much you mean to me. Except maybe binary: 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101.”

On a scrap of paper in your bag

“If life were an RPG, you’d be the rarest item—a perfect balance of stats, charisma, and intelligence. Also, +100 beauty.”

Tucked in between your sketchpad pages (if you're into art)

“You’re the canvas, I’m the artist... together, we create the perfect masterpiece. P.S. I’m still better at drawing starships though.”

Left in your lunchbox

“Did you know you increase productivity in starship repairs by 43% just by being near me? I’d call that a superpower.”

Taped to a little DIY gadget he made for you

“This little thing is just like you—ingenious and holds everything together. Also, try pressing the blue button for a surprise.”

Next to your favorite snack

“You’re like the perfect engineering schematic: flawless in design, and I can’t stop marveling at the details.”

In your locker

"I’d cross the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs just to see your smile."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet (I have not forgot about you now ;) )

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

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patrywoso · 2 days

Text

17. Ingrid Engen

+18 smut

Warnings: Spanking. Choking. Mommy Kink. Lexan paddle.

A/N: Thanks to @ljs-woso-vibez for proofreading this fic and being awesome.

You knelt on the floor with your eyes downcast and your hands on your knees as Ingrid undressed. God, you really wanted to watch, but you had been told to stay in position and your earlier spanking in the morning had taught you enough for the day.

“You can look up, darling.” Ingrid directed. You smiled softly because you love looking at Ingrid. From your position on the floor you have a perfect view,, all her soft curves and long, thick legs.

“Stand.” Ingrid tells you.

You scrambled to stand, catching yourself as you stumbled., Ingrid gently pushed you back, laying you on the bed and pinning your arms above your head.

“You were so good for me today, baby,” Ingrid cooed, pressing kisses to your neck. “But I don’t think this bottom is red enough for me yet.”

You let out a whine as you muttered the word “green.”

“Good girl,” Ingrid whispered, pulling you up and flipping you onto your elbows and knees. “Stay in position, dear.” You stayed still as Ingrid went to get what you were assuming was the Lexan paddle.

Your ass was still stinging from the events of this morning, but it was about to get much worse. A shiver went down your spine and you could feel yourself becoming wetter by the second.

Ingrid came into view and you saw she was holding the Lexan paddle, her favourite because she loved the marks it left.

“Good girl.” Ingrid cooed as she rubbed the cool material over your upturned bottom before bringing it down in a firm swat. You jerked forward but immediately repositioned yourself, arching your back as much as possible. “You’re so wet for me, darling.”

“Mhmmm,” you hummed, and Ingrid brought the paddle down again, this time on your other cheek. You moaned softly at the sting it left behind and wiggled your bottom in Ingrid’s direction in a wordless ask for more.You wanted to reach your hand down and touch yourself, but you knew from experience that would lead to an actual punishment and not the funishment you were receiving.

“Not yet, darling. I’m not done with this bottom of yours.” Ingrid said, and you let out a moan wrapped with pleasure. Ingrid rewarded you with two quick spanks to your right cheek, followed by two on the left. “You’re doing so good for me, beautiful,” Ingrid whispered.

“Then fuck me!” you whined, turning your head to look back at Ingrid.

Ingrid clicked her tongue at you. “Patience.” She reminded you, landing a harder swat to the middle of your backside, catching your pussy in its wake. You clenched around nothing as Ingrid continued spanking you, whining and pining for more.

As Ingrid continued to redden your backside, you found it harder to stay in position., Yyou did your best to keep your back arched, bottom in the air, but it was more difficult as she continued. Finally, you fell forward at a harsher swat to the middle of your ass and Ingrid clicked her tongue at you.

“Naughty girl.” Ingrid chided, grabbing your hips and pulling you back up. “You just couldn’t stay in position for me, could you, my little kitten?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just so hard, Mommy!” you cried, barely noticing the word that slipped out, you heard her chuckle dirtily as she picked up the paddle again.

“I think Mommy needs to spank her little kitten until she is sore and sorry. Is that what you need?” She asked.

“Yes, Mommy,” you whined.

“Yes, what?” Ingrid said, expecting more.

“I need you to spank me, Mommy.” You blushed harder than you’d ever blushed before.

“Good girl. We’re almost done.” Ingrid cooed, bringing down the paddle again and again until tears pricked your eyelids. You let them fall onto the bed and Ingrid set down the paddle. “You did so well, darling.”

“Please, fuck me,” you whined, turning back to her and pleading with wet eyelashes.

“Yes, naughty girl.” Ingrid chuckled. “So impatient for me.”

“Yes,” you panted. “Please” you begged, and you felt her warm breath on your entrance. Ingrid slowly lapped at your pussy, and you shuddered.

“You taste so good.” she murmured, continuing her work. “You look perfect like this, with your ass red and at my mercy.”

You moaned out another string of “fuck me” and Ingrid finally continued, tonguing slowly at your clit. She stuck her tongue in your entrance, and you nearly screamed, it felt so good. She flipped you over on your back and used one hand to lift the hood of your clityour clit hood, and her tongue found its way to your sweetest spot.

“God, mommy,” you moaned, bucking your hips up for more. You felt firm fingers press into your hips, holding you down to the bed and you squirmed in her hold. “It feels so good.”

Ingrid moved her tongue away and stuck a finger in your hole, curving much too slowly for your liking. Ingrid hovered over you and pressed her free hand to your neck, slightly choking you, enough that you could still breathe and feel the pressure. She added another finger, slowly working them in and out.

“Fuck,” you whined, as Ingrid pressed a thumb to your clit and began to rub. “I’m gonna come.”

“Good,” Ingrid smirked, quickening her pace, you shook under her as you felt the warmth fill your body from head to toe.

You wriggled under her hold as you came, and she let go of you, kissing your forehead gently she said, “I’ll be right back with a towel to clean you up, and a glass of water, my love.”

You hummed in acknowledgment and closed your eyes, still coming down from your orgasm. As soon as she’d gone, Ingrid came back with a towel and slowly cleaned you off. You sat up and grabbed the glass of water, obediently chugging all of it. You knew what Ingrid expected, especially after a scene like we’d just had and you weren't in the mood to be spanked again, that Lexan paddle had really worked you up.

Ingrid laid down beside you and beckoned for you to come cuddle, and you obeyed immediately. You rested your head on her chest, relishing in the skin-to-skin contact and the warmth that came with it as Ingrid ran one hand through your hair and caressed the other over your burning bottom.

“Ingrid?” you asked, peeking up at her.

“Yes, sweet girl?” She responded.

“I love you.”

“And I love you beautiful.” Ingrid kissed the top of your head, and you slowly dozed off in her arms.

#woso smut #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso request #ingrid engen x reader #woso one shot #ingrid engen smut

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freakassfemme · 2 days

Note

hey snookums miss your writing so freaking bad :( sharing my thoughts on being abby's favorite hookup so she drops some breeding kink talk and then doubles down on it when u confront her after because she's flustered and shy about it 🥺

ohhhh you mean abby dropping plans with another girl the moment you text her?

you mean abby showing up with a special strap that she only keeps for you, and she’s practically buzzing with excitement on your doorstep, laughing nervously when you open the door in hardly anything, maybe a pretty set of lingerie or one of her tee shirts?

you mean abby whose face goes red when you lean against the door, playing coy and running a hand up your front, pushing the shirt up until she can see there’s nothing underneath, and she shoves you inside?

or do you mean abby whose got her strap buried inside of you, groaning so loudly into your neck that it’s making your head swirl?

abby whose thighs are sticky from your cunt, and she’s got your legs hoisted over her shoulders, her hips stuttering as your pretty moans spur her on, dragging her dangerously close to cumming untouched as she slams into you over and over and over again until she thinks she might have fucked up the drywall in your room with how hard the headboard is slamming into it. abby who is babbling like an idiot, too lost it in to let you get more than a few words out.

“jesus, fuck abby, oh my god —“

“shit, i know baby, i know. you want more? you want it harder baby?”

“fuck, yes, yes, please—“

“god you’re perfect, fucking perfect, ‘m gonna give you more baby, don’t worry sweetheart, ‘m gonna give it to you”

“please please please i want it, please —“

her moaning loudly, biting down at the space where your shoulder meets your neck as she sits up some, pushing your legs down until your knees are nearly pressed by your head, and god it’s so easy for her to shove you around like you weighed nothing.

“god, fuck!” she’s groaning, slamming a hand down on the mattress just to let out some of her pent up arousal as she tries to remind herself you are a person, you are breakable.

“‘m gonna give it to you baby, don’t worry,” she murmurs, grabbing your cheeks between her hand and making you look at her. “gonna make you mine, fill you up just like you deserve pretty girl”

it’s nothing crazy, just the tip of the iceberg in the ways she wants you and the ways she wants to possess you, but you bury your head into her chest, nails digging into her back as a whine tears itself from your throat, cracking the exterior of her perfect little minx with nothing more than a few words, and it riled her the fuck up.

she grabs you by the throat, pinning you down against the mattress again. she wants to see you again, needs to see you again and the way you react to her, she needs to say worse, needs to pour every confession from the tip of her dick to the bottom of her heart into your mouth right now.

“yeah baby?” she asks, eyebrows raised. you say nothing, just whining in embarrassment until she gives you a light slap to your cheek and asks you again. “you like that? want me to stuff you full, princess? fuck you til you can’t think? til you’re a brain dead little thing for me?”

you can’t help but give in this time, nodding with red cheeks and water pooling in your eyes as she takes your gentle response to heart, and she makes good on her promise.

you don’t stay shy though, and later in the night, when Abby’s done cleaning you up with her mouth and you’re curled up on your couch with her lying on her back between your legs. your fingers card through her hair, gentle undoing the knots your desperate arousal had woven into the golden locks earlier.

“so,” you start, pursing your lips to hide a smile as she looks up at you, ever attentive to your voice.

“fucking me til i’m brain dead, huh?” you ask, and instantly, her face turns bright red. she’s flipping herself over before you can do anything about it, burying her face into your stomach to hide her embarrassment.

“c’monnnnn, abs,” you say, giggling and poking at her side with your ankle. “it was kind of cute. i liked it. didn’t know you wanted to knock me up that bad.”

she groans into your stomach, tickling the soft skin until you’re wriggling underneath her, shoving her off of you. her confidence gathers itself quickly, and soon she’s giggling back as she wrestles against you, easily shoving you back into the plush fabric of the couch.

she can’t say it to your face, too shy, but when your legs wrap around her waist and her face is pulled next to yours, she whispers, “you haven’t even seen how bad it is yet.”

is that the abby you mean?

#I LOVE HER LOVE HER IM IN LOVE WITH HER #abby anderson #x reader #fanfiction #smut #tlou2 #lesbian #tlou #female reader #asks #requests

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papercorgiworld · 2 days

Text

I don't need space, I need you

This is the requested Draco and Enzo version

Read the Mattheo and Theo version here.

I present you cuteness overload with needy Draco and Enzo and some sassy insults towards Matt and Theo, because I can't resist adding banter and jokes. To the person that requested this, thank you! ☺️ To the people that have sent in requests or casual small talk I'm slowly working through my inbox... I will get to it one day... just know that I love all you darlings and I'm very grateful for your messages. Now, time to get to some reading, I hope you enjoy it, sending you all lots of love! 💛

Draco

“What’s the point of having a girlfriend if I can’t find her.” Draco complains, approaching his friends relaxing by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. “Have any of you seen here?” Enzo looks up at the impatient blond. “I think she said something about studying with Granger.” Draco is about to start whining about you not being there and instead spending time with Hermione Granger of all people, when he’s interrupted by a snorting Mattheo. “Finally a moment of peace for my fallen brother. Sit and enjoy your freedom before miss clingy returns.” Theodore and Enzo chuckle and Draco feels forced to at least smile at Mattheo’s comment. “Yeeah-, finally peace.” Draco tries his best to sound convincing, but to him peace was cuddling with you, not hanging out with mister mommy and daddy issues, the Italian manwhore and Enzo. The latter picked up on Draco’s reluctance to sit down. “If you miss her so much, maybe you should go look for her?” Theo laughed at Enzo’s suggestion thinking it was a joke and Draco feels the need to make it absolutely clear that he doesn’t miss you at all. “No! If she gets any more cuddly and clingy I’m gonna need to hide from her. And she’s always so nosy, why does she always need to know how my day was? I'll tell her if she needs to know anything.” Mattheo chuckles and offers his friend a drink, but to Draco that did not make up for missing out on time with you.

Your excitement to tell Draco about your day was replaced by a wrecking sadness that made your tears well up. Clingy. Too cuddly. Nosy. As you turn on your heels to leave the common room before anyone notices you, you almost bump into someone because your eyes are getting blurry. Worried that you had been the most annoying girlfriend ever you decided to do better. Draco had been a wonderful boyfriend so far and you really didn’t want to screw this up by being overwhelming.

***

“He’s a guy and it’s Draco. I’m just giving him some space.” You explained to Luna and Hermione, who both frowned as you joined them in the stands of the quidditch stadium without wishing your boyfriend luck as he left the barracks. Normally you would kiss him passionately in front of everyone and he would hug you tight before he hopped on his broom, but today you wished him luck at breakfast and that was it. You thought you were giving him space as you smiled at him from the stands, but instead you were giving your boyfriend a heart attack as he spotted you so far away. “Hey, Malfoy! The game is about to start. Get on your broom.” Theodore yelled annoyed. “But- but-” Draco’s eyes moved from you to Theo and back to you. The game could not possibly start without you wishing him luck. Confused Draco eventually got on his broom, but his head was nowhere near the game.

***

Fred and George cheerfully ran up to you and George even picked you up for a moment, making you laugh. Gryffindor had won and the boys were convinced you aided in their victory. “Never wish Draco luck anymore!” Fred yelled and George put you back down as he noticed how confused you were. “I’ve known chickens who fly better than he flew today.” You frowned at the statement. “You think it was because I didn’t wish him any luck before the game?” Both nodded and then left as they were distracted by other people cheering.

A little worried you slowly made your way in the direction of the changing room. Most of the slytherin team had already made their way to the common room, mainly to keep a pissed off Mattheo from throwing punches, but Draco wasn’t with them so you guessed he was sulking by himself.

You gently push the door open and it reveals a defeated, sweaty and shirtless Draco sitting in an empty room. He hadn’t even made it to the showers yet, his head resting against the wall behind him like it would fall off if it didn’t have any support. His eyelids slowly open and he ssees your worried figure standing at the door. Why is she not rushing to be by my side? Why is she being so distant? Is she going to break up with me? His head was spinning and his heart was aching. “Bad game, huh.” You eventually speak up and Draco just huffs in response. “If you’re going to break up with me just do it already. I’m having a bad day, but I can handle it.” Draco’s eyes look dull and his voice sounds soulless. He gets up and takes a few steps towards you, studying you as you look absolutely shocked. Once you process his words you immediately rush towards him, your eyes pained at the idea of breaking up with the man you so love.

“I’m not breaking up with you!”. Your voice is surprisingly loud and there is a hint of fear in your words as you worry he was going to end things with you. Your hands rest on Draco’s arms and he shakes his head, not understanding why you were so distant earlier. “Then why didn’t you wish me luck?” You're baffled at the question, it was obvious to you why and you didn’t expect him to care for it. “You said I was too cuddly and too clingy. So I thought it best to give you some space and not overwhelm you before a game. I wished you luck this morning.”

Draco looks at you like you had just said the dumbest thing ever. “Space? I don’t want space! I want you. I need you! I love you.” Your eyebrows knit together. “But I clearly heard you say-” Draco shakes his head. “When did I ever say you were too clingy… or cuddly. It’s why I love you so much.” You take a step back from your boyfriend. “Yesterday, in the common room, you were talking with Riddle, Berkshire and Nott.” Draco opens his mouth in realisation and then clenches his jaw as he curses himself. He takes a step and closes the distance you had created between you two. “Yeah… I said that… but I didn’t mean it. I said it because I felt that the truth was a bit embarrassing.” You look at your boyfriend with questioning eyes. “Not really cool to tell your mates that you’re looking for your girlfriend because you want to snuggle and watch the stars from the astronomy tower.” You give him a soft smack on the head and he looks at you with apologetic eyes. “I felt horrible after hearing you say those things.” Draco pulls you into his chest. “Shouldn’t have listened in.” He jokes, but you don’t think it’s funny at all and you try to push free from his arms. However you are unsuccessful but Draco apologises. “I shouldn’t have said those things, because I’m just one big softy for you. Nothing tough about me when it comes down to you.” Gently his lips search yours and you’re hesitant at first to kiss your idiotic boyfriend, but when he apologises again you let his lips meet yours for a sweet kiss.

“So next game, kisses and hugs?” You ask and Draco nods. “Yes. And I don’t think a single slytherin is going to mock us for being too clingy since the only chance we have at winning the quidditch cup is with you by my side.” Nothing tough about Draco at all. Just a needy boyfriend. You think to yourself as you kiss him.

Enzo

“Pans!” Enzo squeals dramatically as he enters the slytherin common room. “Where is the future missus Berkshire? Can’t find her anywhere.” Before Pansy can answer Enzo’s question Mattheo puts his book down grinning at his friend. “Can’t be without her for even a second?” Enzo’s excitement drops as he notices everyone is looking up now, curious what Enzo’s answer will be. Enzo was always a bit different from his nonchalant and stoic friends. He knew the tough act didn’t suit him and he was confident enough to just be himself, but right now he was a bit worried. He felt himself get nervous and chuckled at Riddle’s question. “Told you, he’s absolutely whipped.” Draco says with an arrogant tone as he raises his eyebrows, challenging Enzo.

“She was at the Library with Luna, but I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.” Pansy finally answers, after rolling her eyes at Draco’s arrogance. “Good, that gives me a few more minutes free of her… because I am not whipped. She’s the one that always wants to be near me.” Mattheo leans back and nods along, pretending to believe Enzo. “Oh really, so why do you keep putting up with it?” Enzo sits down, lounging casually. “I like her so I put up with her clinginess, but honestly I don’t need her around all the time. The hugs and kisses… that’s all her… not me.”

You had only taken three steps in the common room before stopping. You felt your legs get wobbly at your boyfriend’s words. You take quiet steps backwards and hurry out of the common room. Obviously you were not wanted there.

However, you missed out on Pansy’s loud snickering. “Oh please, Enzo! You liar!” Enzo is absolutely shocked at Pansy’s accusations, but no one else is as all his friends start laughing. “You couldn’t go a day with her.” Draco says, shaking his head at Enzo’ sad attempt at trying to act indifferent towards you. “Alright, alright. I can’t stand being without her! I love her. I need her.” Mattheo laughs, satisfied with Enzo’s confession. “There’s the real Berkshire I know.” Enzo lets his head fall back, bracing for days of mocking and jokes about his attachment to you.

***

“Oh yeah! Sounds fun. I’ll be there.” Enzo overhears you agreeing to go to Hogsmeade with the golden trio and leans over his desk towards you. “Hey, hey! You can’t go to Hogsmeade with them on Saturday, we were going.” You turn in your seat towards your boyfriend and kiss him on the cheek. “You can go with your friends. We don’t have to do everything together.” Your answer hurts Enzo and his eyebrows knit together. Yes we do, what else is the purpose of a relationship. But before your boyfriend can protest out loud the professor enters the classroom.

***

“Look at her.” Enzo complains to an uncaring Theodore Nott. “The entire week she’s been distant, always better things to do than being with me and now this.” A frustrated Enzo gestures your way and Theo shrugs. “What am I supposed to do?” Enzo whines.

“Kidnap her and lock her up, then you have her all to yourself.” Mattheo suggests, making Theo frown and offer his own advice on the matter. “No, don’t listen to abandonment issues over here. Just get a new girlfriend.” Blaise just facepalms at the realisation he is the only sane one in his friend group. “Ignore both abandonment issues and attachment issues and just go talk to your girlfriend like a normal person.” Blaise emphasises the last words as he glares judgingly at Mattheo and Theo who both act offended. Enzo nods, realising that Blaise was right.

You notice your boyfriend strutting over to you and your friends from across the street and excuse yourself to meet him halfway. “Hey you.” You whisper and Enzo immediately smiles, feeling relieved that you're still your sweet self. “I miss you.” Your boyfriend blurs, even surprising himself with his honesty. “You wanna have dinner together tonight?” You offer, but Enzo shakes his head making you frown. “No. I mean yes, obviously I would like that, but it’s not just that I want to do just one thing with you. We’ve barely spent time together this week.” An uncomfortable laugh escapes you, but you repress it when you notice how sad Enzo’s eyes are. “We’ve spent plenty of time together, besides you’re a guy, you need your space. I don’t want to suffocate you with hugs and kisses all the time.”

Enzo is baffled at your words. “I’m a guy so I need space. What’s that supposed to mean?” There was a slight tone of agitation in his voice that made you take a step back, but he was quick to close the distance by taking a step closer. “Who put all these crazy ideas in your head of needing to give me space and suffocating me with love?” Your face falls at his harsh tone, but you bite back. “It was you. You were the one that said you wanted to be free of me for a few minutes and that I was the needy one and you had to put up with my clinginess. It was you, Enzo Berkshire, you idiot. So you have no right to complain about me giving you space, since you asked for it.” Enzo’s jaw clenches at your accusation. “I did not!” You cross your arms and raise your eyebrows. “I heard you with Pansy, Matt and Draco.”

Enzo frowns for a moment, but when he remembers his eyes widen and a laugh escapes his lips. “You believed that?” He asks and you just stare at him in confusion. “They didn’t believe any of it. I was trying to convince them I wasn’t some whipped guy that couldn’t be without his girlfriend for a second, but they saw right through me.” You unfold your arms and Enzo takes your hands in his. “I don’t need space, I need you. So please don’t force me to go days without your hugs and kisses. You don’t suffocate me, if anything I suffocate without you.” You kiss him tenderly and out of excitement Enzo picks you up, making you squeal softly. “Please spend the day with me?” You nod and kiss your boyfriend’s pouty lips.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #papercorgiworldwritings #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy

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sleepynegress · 2 days

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Black actor who faced abuse over role in Romeo & Juliet calls for industry-wide action

Francesca Amewudah-Rivers, who played Juliet alongside Tom Holland’s Romeo, says racist abuse went on for months

The actor Francesca Amewudah-Rivers, who received a barrage of online racial abuse after being cast in a production of Romeo & Juliet this year, has called for industry-wide action to protect black and brown actors.

The abuse aimed at Amewudah-Rivers began after the Jamie Lloyd Company theatre group announced the cast of its production in April, with Amewudah-Rivers to play Juliet and the Spider-Man star Tom Holland playing Romeo.

Amewudah-Rivers has revealed she also received hate mail, and that she did not feel safe while working on the play, her West End stage debut, at the Duke of York’s theatre.

“There were many days where I didn’t know how I was going to get through it,” she told the Stage. “The flurry of abuse was sustained throughout the whole job. I received death threats, hate mail sent to the theatre. I didn’t feel safe at work.”

‘Too much to bear’: Black actors condemn racial abuse of Romeo & Juliet starRead more

The 26-year-old, who was nominated at this year’s Black British theatre awards, said the minimal set and closeup camerawork of the production made her feel “very exposed” on stage. “Off the back of the abuse, having to stare down the camera lens and have my face be blown up in this theatre was really tough mentally,” she said.

Amewudah-Rivers said the harassment also affected her family and friends, as well as the show’s cast, crew and producers at the Jamie Lloyd Company, who condemned the initial abuse in a statement on social media at the time and said further harassment would be reported.

The incident led to an open letter of solidarity with Amewudah-Rivers being signed by more than 800 predominantly black female and non-binary actors – including Lashana Lynch, Sheila Atim, Marianne Jean-Baptiste, Lolly Adefope, Freema Agyeman, Wunmi Mosaku and Tamara Lawrance.

Amewudah-Rivers described her experience as an “incredibly tough” induction into the West End. She said: “I know what it means to move through life in a black body. Racism is something we have to navigate every day, so I was very aware of the potential for something like this to happen.

“I think what I was unprepared for was how long it went on for, and also having to navigate it while doing the job. It was four months of battling against this energy, and it’s something I still have to deal with. I really had to reckon whether it was worth it, this sustained feeling of duress.”

The actor called for “broader conversations industry-wide” about the protection of global-majority actors and said it was “not enough to represent our communities on stage, there also needs to be an infrastructure of support”.

“Safety has to be at the forefront. We can’t do our best work if we don’t feel safe, if we don’t feel held, if we don’t feel understood,” she said. “I think more needs to be done, especially because I know I’m not alone. I know other actors who have had similar experiences, more recently, too.”

According to Amewudah-Rivers, the response to her casting showed how the UK theatre sector was still lagging behind in terms of onstage racial diversity.

“For it to cause such outrage that I was cast in this role means we have a long way to go. Theatre has a legacy of community, it should represent society. Especially in London – there’s a big black British community here and in the UK. It shouldn’t be a surprise. Our histories as black people have been erased. It’s about re-education. I’m not the first black Juliet, and I won’t be the last.”

#francesca amewudah rivers #racism #bullying #romeo and juliet

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mwahsol · 15 hours

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Jewelry with initials

Description: You and Paige are in a semi-private relationship, as she's doing an interview the interviewer notices a certain ring on Paige's hand. The ring on Paige's hand is the one you usually wear with your initials on it. When the interviewer asks Paige about the ring, she hints about your relationship.

“So Paige I couldn't help but notice that there's a certain ring on your hand that has an initial of someone very familiar.”

“I mean what can I say it's a nice ring.”

‘Does the ring belong to a specific teammate that may or may not wear the number 12?’

‘Yo not too much, but yeah it's her ring. I wanted to bring a little something of hers with me because she couldn't come with me so it'll do for now.”

“Aww that's so cute seeing your close bond.”

After hearing that Paige can feel her face heating up and the smirk she's been trying to hide is slipping through as she answers, “Yeah for sure, but imma see her in a week so when she gets here she can give me my chain back.”

As soon as those words slipped out of her mouth the interviewer had to get all the information she could, “Oh she has something of yours too? Who's idea was it to swap items so you both could have something?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle remembering how she was almost ready to beg you to just come to Seattle with her, being too impatient to wait a bit to hold you again.

“Baby I’m going to see you in probably less than a week. I just need to visit my mom for a bit.” Even though she understands she can't help but be clingy towards you, I mean how could she not she follows you around like a puppy most of the time not ever wanting to be too far from you. “I know mama I’m just gonna miss you.” As you see Paige pouting on your bed you can't help but walk up to her, you settle in between her thighs and hug her around her shoulders while she wraps her arms around your waist and buries her head in your chest. To make her feel a little better you come up with a cute small idea, “How about I give you something of mine that you can wear so in a way I’ll be there hm? How does that sound love?’ Her head instantly shoots up so you can see the excitement in her eyes making you giggle a little. “Really? Can I pick it out?” She's too cute, “Of course you can.”

“Ok but if I get something of yours then you have to wear something of mine.’ Even though that wasn't part of your original plan you couldn't help but blush at the fact that she wants you to have something so you won't miss her too much. “I wouldn't be opposed to that”

As she gets up and looks through your jewelry box she sees the ring you wear almost all the time, except when you're playing or at practice, “Can I get this one babe?’ You knew how the public knew that ring was specifically yours. It had your initials on it and you know how much the public loves Paige, you know they're more than likely to ask her about it if they notice, and if they don't then all of the fans will. “Are you sure P? I don't want to make you comfortable if they start asking questions about it,” her heart swells up with adoration seeing how much you care and think about her first. “I’m sure, private not secret remember. I’d be happy if they asked me about you. I won't get into too much detail obviously but I can drop a few hints here and there but only if you're comfortable with it mama.” God, she knows how to make you blush, as you look down a giggle a little getting a bit shy you say, “Of course, I am, just wanted to make sure with you first.”

Paige can't help but admire how even after almost two years she still has this effect on you. “Ok, since I got your ring, how do you feel about wearing my gold chain with my initial on it so we kinda match.” You can see her little smirk knowing how much you love that necklace and can't help but say yes to getting the opportunity to wear it again. “Sounds perfect.”

“Nah it was hers but I added a little but that's it,” the interviewer and soon the audience will be able to see how giddy she was just to talk about you.

“Alright Paige, thank you for talking with us. Good luck and hopefully you see y/n soon,” she couldn't help but laugh towards the ending seeing how Paige was so happy just to hear your name.

“Ay thank you, have a good rest of your day.”

What Paige didn't notice is that while she was being asked about you and remembering the day you traded pieces, she was playing with your ring and smiling so hard that people would rewatch the interview and repost it everywhere talking about how your guy's relationship was definitely more than platonic.

I'm slowly releasing things please bare with me y'all, law is kicking my ass and my job is NOT helping. I promise I'm trying to rerelease my old work and somewhat write new ones. LOVE YALL THO <3

Kiss the sun 🌞

#fluff #wlw #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige x reader #uconn wbb x reader #uconn x reader #wcbb x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 20 hours

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Just Friends: Big News

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: You have a surprise for Bucky.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Hey!” You bounce up to the table. It’s funny how Bucky can look so intent. So gloomy in the midst of the bustling cafe. He sits up as he puts his phone down on the table. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got great news!”

“Oh?” His brows lower, “well, you’re double sugar frappa-whatever is melting.”

He points across the table as you sit and roll your eyes.

“If you tried it, you wouldn’t be making fun of me. They are delicious!” You put your purse in your lap and take a long slurp through the straw. You pop your lips off and let out and ‘ahhhhh’. You smile at him as he gives you that look.

“I don’t take sugar in my coffee and you barely take coffee in your sugar,” he drones.

You giggle. He's always so grumpy about the smallest things.

“News?” He prompts dully.

“Right,” you wiggle in your seat. “I got you a date!”

He twitches and tilts his head, “a date?” He gives you a cautious look and shifts in his seat. “Uh...”

“Yes! This lawyer lady I know. I met her at a trivia night way back and added her on Insta. Well, I saw her post the other day and I was like how did I not think of this before?”

“Lawyer?” He mutters. “I... you’re setting me up with a stranger?”

“It’s a blind date. It’s fun. She’s really established and smart and beautiful. Oh my god, she posted this picture of her in a bikini—I could never wear something like that.” You get your phone out and he sighs.

“Wait, why did you do that?” He grits.

You look above the screen at him, “well, you said the other day that you get lonely. That’s why you have Alpine, right? And she’s so sweeeeet,” you drag out the word in adoration, “but you need someone you can talk to. Who can talk back.”

“We talk,” he insists.

“Yes, but we’re friends. You need someone your own age. Or closer to.”

“Wait, how old is she?” He wonders.

“Aha, you’re interested,” you point at him accusatorily.

“I’m asking questions.”

“Right, she’s... fifty something? She doesn’t look it. Like you. You don’t look... uh... 1917... carry the one...”

“Stop that,” he demands. “I know how goddamn old I am.”

“Ha, yeah, sorry, I...” you scroll through your Insta friends. “Here!” You turn the phone to him and beam a smile in his direction. He glances at it for a split second and shrugs. He sits back and drinks his coffee.

“I’m not really... in that scene,” he says.

“You should get out there! I mean, you can’t bring Sam and Steve to dinner all the time. You need someone--”

“Is this what it’s about? Because I showed up at the restaurant?” He asks.

“No, it’s-- I’m being a friend. You two are so alike and she loves old movies and motorcycles. I could never! I'd fall off or not tie my helmet right,” you chuckle.

“Dreamy,” he growls.

“Bucky,” you whine back. “You gotta get out and have some fun.”

“We have fun,” he counters.

“We do and that’s awesome—Oh, okay, how about, I got an idea! A double date.”

“A double—you have... a boyfriend?” He taps the porcelain cup with his metal fingertip.

“Ha, no way. But I could find someone to come along. Just so you’re not alone. There’s a few guys at the restaurant I’m sure would go for a free meal or I mean I know other cute girls. I’m not picky.”

He closes his eyes and a line forms between his brows. He pinches his nose and squares his shoulders. “Where the hell did you come up with the idea that I wanted to date?”

“I...” you sit back and your smile falls. His blue eyes flick open as he drops his hand. The dimple in his cheek ticks. “I’m sorry, I thought it was—I was... trying to be a good friend.”

He stares at you and the stone slowly eases from his jaw. He looks down and back up. He huffs.

“I’m sorry, dreamy,” he says, “it’s just been a while for me. Not that I haven’t thought of it, you know? But I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” He shakes his head and glances around the cafe. “The last time I dance with a dame was a goddamn USO tour in 1945.”

That hits you like a sixteen-wheeler. You didn’t know that. You didn’t think of it. He’s been in this world for a while and he’s handsome and a superhero! You just though he’d have lots of people interested. Charlize sure seemed excited when you asked.

“And now you’re looking at me like I’m a loser because I haven’t kissed a gal in 80 years--”

“No, you’re not a loser. If you are, then I am.”

“Come on, you don’t gotta--”

“Really. I never kissed anyone. Not lying.”

He shakes his head and scoffs, “oh no, you’re not lying to make me feel better.”

You put on your most sober face, “Bucky, I swear,” your cheeks burn and you put your hands on your neck. “I mean... it would be nice I’m sure but it just never came up.” He looks at you quietly. You squirm. “I know you can hear that I’m telling the truth.”

“Yeah, I know,” he accepts at last. He crosses his arms and clicks his tongue, “fine. If you’re going to suffer through it, I will too.” He looks away as his jaw tenses, “if you’re going to keep pulling that puppy dog face, one day, it’s gonna wear off.”

“Yes! Bucky’s got a date! Bucky’s got a date!” You sing out of tune.

“Stop,” he snarls and narrows his eyes at you. You wince and giggle.

“Yay!” You put your hands up in a demure celebration and he tuts.

“You’re so cheesy,” he sneers.

“And you’re a party pooper. No moping on date night, got it?” You try to put on a stern face and he squints even harder. Finally, he cracks and gives a chuckle.

“You’re ridiculous,” he sniffs. “You and tough, don’t go together.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #just friends #series #au #drabble #mcu #marvel #captain america #winter soldier #avengers

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alisonwritesimagines · 10 hours

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If Bruce and Batmom Divorced ~Bruce Wayne Imagine~

Summary: The final straw was Bruce officially cheating on you.

Author’s Note: I saw a TikTok about a comic of Catwoman having Bruce’s daughter and I thought of the angst between Batmom and Bruce.

This is not canon to the Batmom Universe

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: Mentions of divorce, angst, cheating

Do not repost this anywhere!

You were a smart person after living with Bruce Wayne who is also Batman. You learned his tricks and gadgets while being his wife. So when you left without word the day after finding out Selina was pregnant with Bruce’s child, everyone grew into a panic.

“It’s like she just disappeared,” Tim said in disbelief.

“Now I know how she felt when I left the mansion,” Dick says.

“Where could she have gone?” Jason asked.

“Alfred, are you sure she didn’t say anything to you before she left?” Cassandra asked him with a sad and desperate look.

“If you think, she would disappear without telling me, you’re wrong. I do know where she is however, she asked me not to say anything. She only gave it to me for emergencies.”

“Then tell us, Alfred! We won’t tell Bruce,” Stephanie begged.

“I’m afraid I cannot do such thing. Not until she calls me and tells me that she is ready.”

Selina had showed up to your doorstep one afternoon and told you the news of her being pregnant with Bruce's child. You spend the first hour in shock before gathering your stuff that you had packed and left without saying goodbye.

It broke everyone when you left. Even Bruce.

Bruce would rather kill Joker and all the villains if it meant keeping you with him. He would murder every single person with bad in them if it meant he could have you with him. But what he did that finally broke you would never change your mind.

Then came the day when you finally showed up. But with a surprise.

"Mom?" Dick asked in shock.

"Hi honey," you smiled softly. Dick engulfed you into a quick hug before looking at you.

"Are you okay? How are you?" Dick asked.

"I'm okay. I'm doing well," you tell him. "Is Bruce home?"

"Yeah. He's home."

"I need to talk to him," you tell him.

"Yeah. Okay."

You followed Dick inside the manor and found Bruce sitting at the dining room table with Alfred and Damien.

"Ummi!" Damien said the moment he saw you.

He rushed over and hugged you tightly before realizing your condition.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's okay sweetie."

"It's good to see you Ms. Y/n," Alfred said, giving you a hug as well.

"I need to talk to Bruce really quickly. Alone," you tell everyone.

Everyone rushed out of the room so you two could be alone.

"Y/n-"

"I don't want to hear you talk Bruce. I am here to have you sign these," you say as you took out the divorce papers from your purse; "And I am here to let the kids know that I am okay."

"Y/n, can we talk about this? Is the baby mine?" Bruce asked referring to your pregnant bump.

"It's yours. But I don't need you for them. I am going to raise this child alone and we do not need you. You are having a child with Selina so if you want to be a father, go be that child's father because you have no right to be in my life anymore," you tell him.

"I put up with so much with you. And I am done. I am exhausted and being away from you for the past four months made me feel so free and relaxed. I have a good home now and it's in a good city and good neighborhood. I just want you to sign these papers, and let me go."

"I don't want to let you go. I don't want to lose you," Bruce said, looking up at you with tears in his eyes.

"Bruce. You lost me when you went to Selina after you told me you wouldn't go back to her," you tell him, tearing up as well.

"At least let me give you alimony so you don't have to work anymore. If I am going to lose you, at least let me do something good for you one last time," Bruce begged.

"Fine. But I don't want contact with you. I'll talk to the kids gladly and they are more than welcome to visit me or live with me but I am done with you Bruce. Until our child asks about you and wants to see you, then I will tell them about you and that they can visit you with the other kids as supervision. But for now, I don't want anything to do with you," you tell him.

"Y/n-"

"You can mail the paperwork to my lawyer," you tell Bruce before walking out. You found Damien and Dick standing by the door after you opened it. You gave them a hug and a kiss on the cheek before walking out. You looked over at Alfred and gave him a small nod.

Alfred walked over to the two boys and handed Dick a piece of paper.

"If you kids want to visit her," Alfred tells them before walking off.

Damien rushed out after you. He wrapped his arms around you, stopping your tracks.

“Don’t leave me Ummi. Please.”

“I’m sorry Damien. Alfred gave my address to you kids so if you want to visit me, you can. But I need to go right now,” you tell your son. Damien nodded before letting you go. You kissed his head once more before getting into your car and driving off.

----

Bruce never interacted with you again after that day. He knew where you lived due to following the kids over to visit you. But he never went down to talk to you. He knew that you were stubborn and that you were holding your ground on not wanting to see him again. He just wished that he could take everything back to have you back in his arms.

The years went on and the kids began to grow up and move out of the house. That was until he got a knock on the door one day.

A girl who looked too much like you stood in front of him as she stared up at him. She couldn’t be older than ten.

"Are you Bruce Wayne?" She asked him.

"Yes I am."

"Hi! I'm Ella. I'm your daughter," she introduced.

"Ella," Bruce sighed in awe. He kneeled down to her height so he can look at her better. "Where's your mother?"

"She doesn't know I'm here. Which reminds me. I need to call her to tell her that I'm okay and that I'm sorry for running away to find you," Ella tells him.

"She will definitely have a heart attack. Come on," Bruce said, holding her hand.

He watched as Ella talked on the phone with you before she looked up at him.

"Mama wants to talk to you," she said, handing the phone over to him.

"Hi, Y/n."

"Is she okay? Is my baby okay?" You asked.

"She's okay. I got her."

"I don't know how on Earth she managed to get to you! I know I said I never wanted to see you again but please bring her back home. We can talk about her seeing you every weekend or something," you tell Bruce.

"Of course."

"I know you know where I live. Just come over with her please. Now," you say.

"I will."

Bruce took Ella back home where you waited for them.

"You young lady are grounded!" You sternly tell your daughter.

"But mom-"

"No buts. Go to your room!" You ordered her. Ella hugged her father before running to her room.

"Y/n-"

"Thank you for bringing her home safely. I can drop her off every weekend if you're not busy for her to see you," you tell Bruce.

"If you think that's best for her."

"She’s been asking to meet you,” you tell him. Bruce stayed silent for a moment.

“How are you?”

“Fine. How are you and Selina? Have you two been raising your child together nicely?” You asked him.

“We aren’t together. She put the child up for adoption,” Bruce explains.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“And I’m sorry for everything. Are you happy?” Bruce asked you.

“I’ve been better.”

“You know, I never stopped thinking about you.”

You stared at him for a moment.

“I’ll drop her off next weekend after she’s grounded. You can have her for the weekend as well as Father’s Day. I’ll have my lawyer draft up a new custody agreement,” you tell Bruce.

“You could always come with her,” Bruce said.

“No. Like I said years ago Bruce. I’m done with you. I can forgive you. But you also proved to me that you will never love me as much as I loved you,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry Y/n. For everything,” Bruce said before walking out of your home.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman x reader #batman imagine #dc #dc imagine #batmom imagine #batmom au #batmom #alisonwritesimagines

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drvscarlett · 2 days

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About You Pt 17

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

A/N: and were back. were so back after getting this chapter deleted. trigger warning for this chapter as it contains blood, car accidents.

About You Series

2014, Circuit de Monaco

From this point of view, one could overlook Monaco as a whole. There was the sea that is fleeted with yachts, specifically docked there to watch the Grand Prix this weekend. Then, the clustered hills filled with trees and apartments, the composite of it can be eye-catching or an eyesore in Y/N’s opinion. And of course, she simply can’t miss how the balcony has the perfect view of the start of the Monaco Grand Prix. She can hear and see the Formula 2 cars dash around in their practice sessions.

“What do you think?” Sebastian walked in with a smile.

“This is just gorgeous. I mean I thought that I have seen amazing Monaco apartments when McLaren or when Red Bull booked us but this…”

Y/N lets out a loud ‘woah’ to conclude her statement.

It was no wonder that this apartment seems empty and unoccupied. If Y/N has to guess then the price for this place is skyrocketing. This was a dream location for anyone who wanted to stay in Monaco.

“So why did you call me here?” Y/N asked. The Red Bull driver has texted the location and she is still confused to Seb’s interest in this place. It was gorgeous but she knew how Sebastian explained several times that he was not one for the Monaco lifestyle.

“I bought it-”

She was mildly surprised with that. Only mildly because Red Bull has clearly lined up Sebastian’s pockets well especially after winning continuously for several years. Even today, Y/N pretty sure that despite the lack of win streak, Sebastian is still getting paid generously.

“-and I want you to have keys for it”

“I must have misheard that Sebastian” Y/N stated.

A key was laid out in her palm. It has a keychain of the checkered flag with an imprint of Y/N’s name as well as the date today. It contained two keys which has been poorly labelled with Sebastian’s handwriting on a plaster tape. One was scribbled as Mon, an acronym for Monaco while the other has Mar.

Maybe there was too much car fumes or petrol in Sebastian’s head which is why he is going crazy for giving Y/N this apartment so she tries to hand back the key. He just shakes his head in disagreement.

“This place is yours as much as its mine” Sebastian insisted “I knew you love Monaco and I want you to have a place to go whenever you feel like staying here.”

It wouldn’t be that bad to have a place to go to here in Monaco. However, there was this certain guilt that this was too much and she doesn’t think that she deserves this. It was something that Sebastian caught on, he could read her so well.

“I thought of you that’s why I bought it. You love the sea, you love the races, and bonus points because you have Nico and Lewis as neighbours”

The last statement elicited a laugh from the two of them. Sebastian wanted to convince her because this was a literal vision in his head that he wanted a safe space for Y/N to go home to. England and Australia may be her home town but it doesn’t give her the privacy that she needs. Monaco, on the other hand, is quieter and more peaceful despite the extravagance.

“Okay but I’m still going to text you when I’m going to go here”Y/N settled.

“Perfect”

“Now what is Mar?” Y/N’s curiosity got the best of her “And please tell me that its not a key to a boat in the Marina”

“Mar is Maranello”Sebastian clarifies.

It was time to move to the second surprise that he has for Y/N. He had been so excited to tell her about this but he had to keep it down until everything was settled and signed. Last week, he signed the contract.

The girl was confused. It didn’t make any sense to why Sebastian would be in Maranello when the Red Bull headquarters is in Brackley. Only Ferrari resides in Maranello, why would Sebastian be there?

“Sebastian Vettel, you are Ferrari’s new driver?”

There were talks that Ferrari would change their driver lineup but she haven’t heard Sebastian’s name being thrown in the hat. She couldn’t contain the excitement that she was feeling and leaned into hug Sebastian. Driving for Ferrari is a milestone for Sebastian especially when he used to idolize Michael when he drove for the red team.

“When are you announcing this? Who else knows?” Y/N quizzes.

“No one yet”Sebastian grins “I wanted you to be the first one out of the signing team to know”

This was an exciting news and hopefully one of the first of the many happy memories shared in this Monaco apartment. Things are finally turning for the better.

2014, Red Bull Ring

In a very media-centered event, it surprises a lot of people that there are places in the Grand Prix where any forms of press and media is not allowed. Of course, this varies depending on whose home turf they are racing on. Mercedes and McLaren definitely have bigger private spaces in Silverstone, just like how Red Bull have their own private lounge reserved for their private guest.

Jenson sticks out like a sore thumb with his McLaren merchandise. He seems to stick out even more with the way that he stands there and just gazing at the view in front of him. Sebastian, Y/N, and the little baby Margarette—if Jenson didn’t know any better then he would have guessed that they are an actual family. He was lucky that the media weren’t there to catch his reactions because they could catch Jenson spilling the truth about his feelings.

“Jenson is that you?” a voice broke Jenson out of his reverie. His head turned to see Hanna with a plate of fries.

“Hello Hanna, nice to see you around”Jenson politely greeted.

He honestly couldn’t fathom why Sebastian has invited her over. He gets it if Sebastian wanted to see the kid but to add this woman that has been the cause of pain of Y/N, Jenson could not help but scoff. His emotions does not seem to be hidden well as Hanna shifted nervously.

“I know you are probably thinking that I don’t deserve to be here and I think that too”Hanna explained “But Y/N invited me to take Marga because Seb is missing her”

“Y/N?”

The woman chuckles, “Yeah, I can’t believe it as well. She has been nothing but nice to me. I know that she have every right to hate me but she has been a supporting pillar and someone really wonderful to Marga”

They glanced back to Y/N, who was playing with the baby. She was gently rocking the baby and it giggles as it tries to reach her hair. Sebastian, on the other hand, was sat next to her with a loving gaze on the two of them.

Jenson couldn’t feel but sigh and ask if it was him in Sebastian’s place then would Y/N be as happy as that?

There were no need for words but Hanna have realized from the small interactions how Jenson is deeply inlove with Y/N. It felt like a déjà vu because that was the way she used to look at Sebastian. Her actions to force things to happen has ruined a lot of things for Sebastian and she was glad that things are still repairable.

“I know that look” Hanna pointed out “You love her”

It was something that Jenson cannot rebut. He had always thought that he was good at hiding things especially with his flirty attitude and his chill self. This was the first time he was seen for what he feels.

“That obvious huh?” Jenson nervously replied.

He had tried his luck once upon a time and he ended up in the friendzone. He took the friendship if that is all that she could offer just so he could keep her in his orbit. There is a part of him that knows that no matter how many girls he meet, it was always Y/N who occupies his heart. Confessing is not an option given how complicated things are and how telling will only do more harm than good.

“We were in the same position a year ago” Hanna understands Jenson “All I could tell you that it is best to move on so it won’t hurt you anymore”

A year ago, Hanna would have not suggested that. She would have urged Jenson to confess so he can end up with Y/N and Sebastian could end up as her’s. The past few months have been a huge period of moving on for Hanna. Maybe it’s the birth of her child that allowed her to refocus the unreciprocated love to the child. She also understood how much Sebastian and Y/N means to each other, she wouldn’t do anything more to damage them.

“That’s easy to say but so hard to do”Jenson mutters.

Hanna’s hands patted Jenson’s shoulders. It was a comforting thought that someone gets how he is feeling and maybe Hanna can serve his inspiration that maybe he could move on from this unrequited love.

“Everything will be alright Jenson”

2014, Silverstone Grand Prix

Jenson Button and Assistant Webber involved in a freak accident.

Jenson Button was going home after a celebration of Lewis Hamilton’s win in the recent Silverstone Grand Prix when he and assistant, Y/N Webber collided with a ten wheeler truck. The driver of ten wheeler truck has been drunk and lost control of the car. It was of sheer miracle that Jenson was not driving the car during the time of the accident because he was at the backseat drunk and sleepy. Due to that Jenson is able walk away from the accident with just some bruises and ready for the next Grand Prix. Unfortunately, Y/N who is behind the steering wheel received more dangerous injuries. Suffering from a head trauma and crippling injuries, Y/N was rushed to the hospital where she is placed in Intensive Care Unit.

The bright light and the white aesthetics of the hospital was a stark contrast to the blood that stained Jenson’s hands. His hands were shaking knowing that this blood was not his but from the girl who is currently fighting for her life. Tears were stinging his already bloodshot eyes as he watched the clock tick painfully slow.

Its already been a hour since Y/N was rushed inside. The doors of the operating room remained close and Jenson doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Scrambling footsteps screeched in Jenson’s hallway. He saw his fellow drivers and Mark. All of them equally frazzled with the worry and fear being the top ones to show.

“What happened?” Mark was quick to ask.

Honestly, Jenson was not much of a help. He was lying down and he just remembered how Y/N was reminding him that he has to get up early to apologize to a Ronnie in the morning. He was too dizzy after having too many tequilas and then a bright light followed by a loud crunch.

“Holy shit, is that your blood?”Lewis noticed “Man its all over you”

“It’s Y/N” Jenson muttered. He remembered how his hands and his clothes were stained when he tried to pull her out of the wreckage.

The reality of the whole situation sinks in. Mark, was supported by Nico and Lewis, as he falls down on his knees. Sebastian was pacing back and forth while Jules seems to be praying. They were all a mess as they await updates about the girl. As Formula 1 drivers, they should have been used to accidents and collisions because it was a risk that comes with their work. It hits a little different when it happens to someone who is not a driver and someone very dear to them.

It took another 40 minutes before a doctor appeared in front of them.

“How is my sister?” “Is she doing okay?” “What happened to her”

The flurry of questions was something that cannot be stopped. The doctor’s expression was not giving away anything if the operation turned out positive or negative.

“She is stable now” the Doctor explained “We stitched up the head wound and hopefully she will be awake in a few hours”

A sigh of relief erupted out of every single one of them. They were just so relieved that she survived the whole crash.

“But there is something that you must know about her..”

2014, Hockenheimring

“Seb, you have to focus” Y/N reminded him “This is your home race that we are talking about”

“I know but quali don’t start in about…” Sebastian knows he has 10 more minutes before it starts but he grins “20 minutes”

The grainy camera could showcase Y/N sitting on her bed. The balcony must have been open hence the sunlight gracing her face and shining light to the newfound hollowness in her face. Her busted lips and the stitches were a constant reminder of the tragedy that she survived.

With all those imperfections, Sebastian continues to stare at her lovingly across the screen. His thoughts remain the same that Y/N is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“Sebastian, don’t make me call Christian”Y/N warned.

The German driver just raises his hand in surrender, “I’m just checking in you sunshine and I really miss you more than ever today”

It would have been really nice if she was here during his home race. Maybe he would have taken her for a drive to his parents’ house or they can get to explore some German countryside just like when they were younger.

“I’ll be there and recover soon”

“And I’ll be waiting. You take your time” Sebastian assures.

The door creaks open and Y/N could be seen turning sideways. She pans her camera to show Sebastian the visitor.

“Hey Mark!” Sebastian greeted.

Honestly, the retirement of Mark was a perfect timing. Sebastian couldn’t always take care of Y/N so Mark was placed in charge during race weekend. The Monaco apartment was big enough to have guests to stay over so Mark is currently camping at one of the guest room.

“Seb aren’t you supposed to be in your car right now?”Mark made a tsk tsk sound.

“I am but I wanted to talk to my best girl here” Sebastian reasoned out.

Y/N couldn’t hide the flush of red in her cheeks, “now you go and race! I love you!”

“I love you more sunshine”Sebastian replied

2014, Hungaroring

“That’s a terrible finish for Sebastian”

Mark’s comment from earlier has been ringing in her ears for the past few hours. Sebastian has started from P2 and ended up in P8 so Mark’s statement was not shocking. She has also seen the articles and the people in social media talking about Sebastian. Usually, people can blame the car or the strategy but today, Daniel won from P4. People are pointing fingers that Sebastian is past his prime.

She was fidgeting with her necklace again. She wonders if maybe her condition is a contributing factorin the recent poor performance of Sebastian.

Of course, Sebastian didn’t blame her for anything. He has always been supportive, kind, and lovely throughout this recovery journey. However, she feels like she is burdening Sebastian and distracting him from his true passion.

Speaking of the devil, the face of Sebastian shows up in her screen. Her hands hesitated to pick it up but she eventually pressed the green button.

“Hey! I have been so caught up with the meeting and I was only able to call now” Sebastian’s voice was cheery. If Y/N didn’t watch the race then she would have thought that he won with that smile on his face “Are you okay sunshine?”

“Yeah, tell me about your day”

Y/N is definitely lying but she no longer wanted to burden Sebastian. She continues to listen on with a forced smile on herself as she tries to fight the plaguing thoughts in her head.

2014, Autodromo Nazionale Monza

Seb: I know you dont like me much but we have to talk. Call me when you get this.

Mark: Hey mate. I wanted to talk to you about Y/N. Mark: Ring me up when you are available.

The notifications stared in front of Jenson for a good five minutes. It wasn't a difficult decision to ring up Mark because a) its about Y/N and b) Sebastian isn't someone he adores a lot. Although Jenson was hoping that Mark wouldn't pick up since its the late hours of the night.

"Jenson, its been a while"

Indeed it has been. Jenson can count how it had been almost 5 weeks since that accident. Heck,he could even count the hours and minutes that have passed if asked about. It was something on his mind 24/7 slowly eating him alive.

"Mark,how are you doing? How is she?"Jenson asked immediately.

"She is not doing well"Mark admits.

"But I thought everything is alright?"Jenson was confused.

He may or may not have been avoiding Y/N out of the eating guilt. However,he have heard from Nico that she was doing well. As far as he knows, she is staying with Mark in the apartment in Monaco.

"Her physical inabilities is taking a toll on her mental well-being"Mark explained "But I think she has been taking it too hard on herself."

Mark continued to talk about she has been pushing herself to the limits and wanted to expedite the whole process of getting back on her feet. He also mentioned how Y/N is clouded with guilt that she is a huge problem and a burden for everyone.

"But she isn't a problem or a burden"Jenson interjected.

"We know but she doesn't believe me" Mark sighs.

"What are we going to do about it?"

There was nothing that he wouldn't do for Y/N. Even if guilt was eating him up, he would have been an invisible figure being there for her. He would do whatever it takes just to bring back the old happy her.

"We are going to the next Grand Prix. Sebastian is making arrangements because he thinks maybe Y/N will feel better if she is surrounded by friends and the family she knows."

The Singapore Grand Prix was two weeks from now. Jenson immediately made a mental note for this one. Maybe he will busy himself with some media team bullshit or maybe he will have to arrive late for the free practice.

"I'm calling to let you know so you won't run away Jenson" Mark added "I know that you blame yourself for what happened but please, she misses you"

"You know me too well Mark"

"We're arranging dinner, promise you'll be there?" Mark continued to push.

"Anything for her"

2014, Marina Bay Street Circuit

When the news broke out about Y/N returning for Singapore, almost every driver arrived early to Singapore so they could attend the dinner arranged by Mark. Y/N was a beloved figure in the grid and even if she was not as close to everyone in a Nico, Lewis, Jules, or Jenson level��they all greatly miss her.

It was a good thing that Mark booked this restaurant for the night as people would have been really curious why the drivers gathered in one place.

Mark received a message from Sebastian that they were all there. He gently pushed the wheelchair to the elevator and texted him back that they will be there in a minute or two.

"Are you ready?" Mark wondered. "Its nice to get out of Monaco"

Y/N hummed in agreement. The glass elevator has a view of the whole Singapore nightlife. She could see the fireworks up in the sky to celebrate the upcoming weekend and the busy streets. It brings her a small smile that this was just like the old times.

The minute that the elevator opened, Jenson was standing there in front of them. Mark watched as Jenson immediately hugged Y/N and they were immediately crying.

Mark knew that if there was anyone who took this harder than Y/N then it was Jenson. He thinks he haven't seen Jenson interact or message after Y/N was pronounced safe from disaster. He knows how Jenson have blamed himself and thinks he should have been the one driving behind the wheel so this would not happen.

It was a joy to see them together again.

"I'm really sorry if I couldn't be with you a lot"Jenson continued to apologize.

"There is no need for that Jense"

"You might have needed me and I left you by yourself. I felt so guilty by the whole accident that I thought that its better to leave you alone"Jenson explained.

The hug just got tighter. There was no need for Jenson to explain himself because Y/N already understood. Many people forget that the two of them have been involved in the accident. Y/N's damage was physically present but Jenson's wound was something invisible to the naked eye.

"It's alright Jenson, were alright"Y/N assured.

It wss a good thing that the two met here rather than inside the restaurant. They wouldn't want the tears to get in the way of reconnecting and meeting with other friends.

"Let's get inside"Jenson wipes his tears "Everyone is waiting for you"

Before Jenson could open the door, Y/N shouted to wait.

"Mark,can you help me up?"Y/N asked.

Mark looked at her unsure. They have been through this several times in the Monaco apartment. Even if she tried to stand up,she normally can't walk because of the pain let alone stand for so long.

"Are you sure this is a good decision?"Mark was trying to find reason.

"I don't want them to see me in a wheelchair"Y/N admitted.

Mark gently helped Y/N up with Jenson assisting her as well. It was a team effort to keep her standing up but she is bearing most of its weight because of the excruciating pain that is hitting her.

The doors were gently pushed open and the drivers' attention turned to the newcomers of the restaurant. It made Sebastian shocked to see her standing there and trying her best to walk. He immediately went to assist her but he stops on his track.

"You stay there"Y/N instructed when Sebastian was three steps away "I'll do my best to get there"

It was quite painful for Y/N to take the first step and loosen her grip to her human crutches. Her teeth grinded each other as she tries to hide the pain away. She focused her attention to the hand of Sebastian reaching out for her.

"You can do it Y/N" Jules cheered on.

"Just careful steps"Sebastian encouraged.

The whole room seems to stand still with awaited breath as she takes another step towards Sebastian. It was like seeing a miracle for them and they felt speechless to see such feat. Some of them couldn't help but have tears in their eyes with how emotional this moment is.

"You've got this,one more"

Pain was shooting up but Y/N did her best to take another one. Her hands gripped Sebastian outreached hand before she could fall. Sebastian, gently held her close.

"You did it. You did it sunshine"Sebastian whispered.

The feeling of tears were welling up in her eyes. She doesm't know if this was because of the pain or maybe the longing that she felt for Sebastian. It didn't help when she looked at Sebastian and found his eyes tearing up as well.

There was a moment of comfort and peace that they both have been lacking the past few weeks. Everything was okay again now that they are back in each other's arms.

2014, Suzuka Circuit

Even if Y/N walked a few steps in Singapore,she was still advised to use the wheelchair. Her physical therapist have been trying to up her routines so she could walk again. For now she was stuck in a wheelchair and Sebastian don't mind pushing for her.

But today, Sebastian is quite busy so Jules have to sub for him.

"The media is going crazy with the news" Y/N observed. Today was the day that Sebastian was announced to replace Fernando Alonso and will start driving for Scuderia Ferrari. The media have been interviewing Sebastian as early as 8 in the morning and now its nearly lunchtime.

"I know, people say Sebastian may be the key to getting the championship back to Ferrari"Jules said.

"That puts a lot of pressure in Seb then"

"I'm sure he can handle it"Jules assured.

Jules pushed Y/N to the track. Their grid walks were something that Y/N have terribly missed. It was a good thing that its a bit cloudy so Jules wouldn't have to bring an umbrella for them.

"Speaking of Ferrari.."Jules opened up "I think I have to let you know that I may be replacing Kimi in 2016"

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. She felt like she was in a deja vu moment when Sebastian first told her about the Ferrari contract.

"Ohmygod that sounds amazing Jules!"Y/N beamed.

Jules seems to be a little bit unsure of himself judging by the nervous smile that graced his face.

"Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself but you know I'm already thinking about it. Would the people cheer for me when I announce that I signed to Ferrari"Jules glanced at the Tifosi crowd chanting Sebastian's name.

Y/N knows how sometimes driver can doubt their ability. She believed that they are one of the best drivers in the world because it isn't easy to be a Formula 1 driver. The skills,the reaction time, and even their quick thinking is an asset that not many people have. They often downplay themselves when they felt like they are performing poorly.

"You have got to be confident Jules. I'm sure the Tifosis would love to have you in their team"Y/N comforts "You just have a shitbox that can't compete right now but Ferrari would give you a beautiful machinery and I swear you will be up on the podium"

It was a beautiful picture in Jules' head. Any kid would have dreamed of driving for Ferrari but winning with Ferrari is a different kind of euphoria. He glanced at her and he hoped that he could see her cheering for him someday when he is at the top of the podium.

"Thank you little sister"Jules said "I'll make you proud someday"

"You already make me so proud Jules"