#and it just kept crashing and causing errors

[fereldanwench]

uhhhhhhhhhhhh

today really fuckin sucked lmao

[theetherealbloom]

I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY

Summary: Your soulmate’s birthday is written on your arm, and it just happened to be the day the world ended.

Pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Apocalypse, ANGST, Fluff, Infected, Violence, Scratching, Age-Gap (the reader is in her 20s) Romance, Unrequited, Longing, Yearning, Secrets, Injury, Blood, Jealousy, Secret Glances, Metaphors, Character Death/s, Raiders, Ambush, Hospital, Stress, Hurt-To-Comfort, 

Word Count: 7k

A/N: I 1000% came up with this one night while scrolling through prompts and AUs I could do for Joel. I saw the Soulmate AU and I was like “oh, yeah,” *evil laugh* and then I heard the snippet for I love you, I’m Sorry and I was like, “yep, perfect, time to go through pain :D” 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

| Main Masterlist |

September 26, 1967.

The date emblazoned on your wrist felt like a cruel joke, a bitter reminder of a world that had crumbled around you. The small pulse of the glow on your wrist thrummed, a haunting echo of the past. September 26 was outbreak day. The day the end of the world had come crashing down, leaving chaos and devastation in its wake. The inked numbers throbbed on your skin, a constant reminder that your soulmate was out there, somewhere in this apocalyptic wasteland.

You traced the numbers on your wrist, the ink seeming darker today, wondering if you’d ever meet the person who was meant for you. What kind of person could they be? Were they strong, gentle, kind, or hardened by the harsh world?

Hiding the mark from Joel for almost a decade took more than just care; it took an absolute miracle. You met Joel, Tess, and Tommy on your way to the Boston QZ. When you saw Joel’s wrist and the date there, you almost stopped breathing. Your birthdate on his skin was an unexpected blow. The ink on your wrist seemed to burn, yearning to connect with Joel. But his mark didn’t seem to react the same way.

When Joel and Tess started sleeping together, the walls between your apartments were paper-thin which seemed to amplify every intimate sound. You often found yourself wandering the hallways late at night, evading FEDRA officers, sitting on the rooftop, looking up at the empty night sky, stars twinkling, the moon bright. You wished for something good in a world gone bad.

You always wore long sleeves, even in unbearable heat. If you wore a short-sleeved shirt, you never took off your jacket, always coming up with some insane excuse about how cozy it was. It had become second nature, a routine you hardly thought about anymore.

As you kept your head down and worked, the grime and sweat accumulates on your skin. In exchange for your labor, you were given ration cards to obtain basic necessities.

"If it's so hot, why don't you just take off the damn jacket?" Joel gruffly asks, his irritation evident in his tone.

You stay silent and shrug, avoiding eye contact as you try to walk away to the next station, hoping to distance yourself from him. But he grabs your wrist, causing you to yank it away in surprise. "Joel, what the hell?"

Joel's tone is sharp and accusatory, causing you to instinctively flinch. "You're being awfully quiet," he scoffs.

You meet his eyes, trying to hide the turmoil inside. "What?"

"Something's off with you. What aren't you telling me?" Joel steps closer, invading your personal space, and you instinctively take a step back.

Panic sets in as you desperately search for a way out. You can't tell him the truth, so you grit your teeth and force out a lie. "I'm just tired."

"You're lying." Joel's words cut through you like a knife, making your heart race and palms sweat. The intensity of his gaze makes it clear that he won't let this go easily.

You try to remain composed, forcing a small smile. "I'm just tired from working all day."

Joel narrows his eyes, clearly not buying your excuse. "Bullshit," he says bluntly.

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of the lie in the pit of your stomach. "I promise, it's nothing."

Joel takes a step closer, making you back up against the wall. Your heart races as you feel trapped under his intense stare. "I know when something's bothering you," he says softly, his tone filled with concern.

You look down at your feet, unable to meet his gaze any longer. You've been hiding this secret for so long that the thought of telling anyone, especially Joel, terrifies you.

"Please," Joel pleads, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "Just talk to me."

"I have to go," you urgently declare, heart pounding as you turn and bolt away, ignoring Joel's desperate calls for you to stop.

Your heart races as you run through the dark, narrow alleys, trying to put as much distance between you and Joel as possible. The fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins drive you forward, but at the same time, your mind is racing with thoughts of guilt for leaving Joel behind.

"Why did I have to lie?" you think to yourself. "Why couldn't I just tell him the truth?"

But deep down, you know why. You know that if you were to tell anyone about the secret burdening you, it could cost both of your lives. And as much as it pains you to not tell Joel, there is no other choice.

The memories hit you like a tidal wave, pulling you back to that moment in time. But this time, it feels like you're watching from a distance, like a bystander in your own body.

"You can convince them. You always do." The words echo through your mind as Tess begs you and Joel for help. Tears stream down her face as she pleads, "You have to get her there. Keep her safe. Make things right." Joel shakes his head stubbornly, but Tess doesn't give up. "Please, Joel. Please say yes."

Everything feels surreal as you remember the infected pounding at the door, their screams like a constant reminder of what's at stake. And then Tess is gone, sacrificing herself with the rest of the infected to save the others.

Tess, your friend died that day.

But then everything shifts and you're in a different place, a house belonging to Bill and Frank. Ellie is reading a letter aloud, and you and Joel are there listening. "I used to hate the world," Ellie says, "but I was wrong. When I met my soulmate, there was one person worth saving. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

You remember Joel storming out of the house with the letter, his grief and pain palpable in every movement he makes. It's a bitter taste in both of your mouths, but it's also a reminder of why you keep fighting – because there are people worth protecting and worth saving.

Joel may not even realize it, but you've been waiting for him your entire life. And the same goes for Joel.

The scene changes once more; the deafening sound of gunshots pierces your ears and suddenly you're back in the hospital. You're behind Joel, gripping a rifle tightly as you navigate through the chaos and bodies scattered throughout the halls. 

Suddenly, you startle awake. Your heart races in your chest, and sweat trickles down your skin as you struggle to catch your breath.

You’re not out there. You’re in Jackson. You’re safe.

You briefly close your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of fear and loss from the dream. It had been two years since that fateful day in the hospital, and you were now living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie.

You gasped for breath and clutched your chest, trying to steady yourself with one hand on the softness of the sheets. You clambered out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, washing your hands and then your face. The cool water felt refreshing against your skin as you wiped it with a towel, trying to calm your nerves.

Taking a good look at yourself in the mirror, you saw the exhaustion written all over your face. The restlessness was evident in the dark circles under your eyes, and your hair was in a state of disarray.

"I look like I've been through hell," you muttered to yourself, sighing heavily.

You decided to take a shower, hoping it would help numb the pain. As the water cascaded over you, you let yourself sink into your thoughts, not really focusing on anything except the sound of water hitting your skin. Your bleary vision noticed the small cracks in the tiles on the wall.

Once you dried off and got dressed for the day, you headed downstairs to your small kitchen. The space had seen better days—cabinet doors hung slightly askew, and the pantry door refused to close all the way no matter how hard you tried.

You sighed, pushing the pantry door shut one more time before giving up and grabbing a mug from the chipped shelf. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma filling the air as you took a tentative sip, savoring the warmth.

Later that morning, you stepped out of your little house in Jackson, pausing to take in the crisp air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden light over the town. You noticed the creaky and loose steps of your porch under your feet, each step emitting a groan of protest. The railings wobbled as you gripped them for balance, making a mental note to add them to your growing list of things that needed fixing.

It was just about daybreak, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon, casting a golden glow. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jeans, the cozy sweater you wore providing some comfort as you made your way to the stables.

You were part of the barn support staff on rotation and consistently helped out in the greenhouse. Sometimes, you were out on patrol, but today was a barn day.

As you cleaned the barn and took care of the horses, you unconsciously rolled up your sleeves, figuring no one else would be up this early. You were alone in the stables, or so you thought.

Lifting a hand to wipe the sweat from your brow, you sighed. Suddenly, you heard the sound of something dropping and a familiar voice exclaiming, "Holy shit!"

You whipped your head around to the source of the sound and saw Ellie standing there, her eyes wide as she stared directly at your wrist.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, hastily pulling your sleeve down.

Ellie took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. "Is that... a soulmate mark?"

You avoided her gaze, feeling exposed. "It's nothing, Ellie. Just... don't worry about it."

"Nothing?!" She looked incredulous. "You’ve been hiding it all this time. Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, the weight of your secret feeling heavier than ever. "It's complicated, Ellie. Joel... Joel doesn't know."

Ellie’s eyes widened even more. "Joel? As in... Joel?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words. The truth was out now, and there was no going back.

Ellie moved into your space, her curiosity getting the better of her. Without warning, she grabbed your wrist, yanking it towards her. Her eyes zeroed in on the birthdate etched into your skin, her face a mix of shock and realization.

"September 26, 1967," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, eyes wide. "That's Joel's birthday."

You tried to pull your wrist back, but Ellie held on tight, her grip firm and unyielding. "Ellie, please," you started, your voice shaky.

"Dude," she cut you off, her tone urgent and insistent. "You need to fucking tell him."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "Ellie, it's not that simple," you began, but she shook her head, not letting you finish.

"Not that simple?" she repeated, incredulous. "You've got his birthday on your wrist. You're soulmates! How much more complicated can it be?"

Your shoulders slumped as you finally managed to free your wrist from her grip. You rubbed the tender skin, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "You don't understand," you said softly. "Joel... he's been through so much. And so have I. Telling him now, after all these years... it might just make things worse."

Ellie's expression softened, but she didn't back down. "You think keeping it a secret is any better? He deserves to know. You both do."

You turned away, unable to meet her eyes. "Joel... he's moved on, he doesn’t want anything to do with relationships, and I don’t want to disrupt that."

Ellie snorted, crossing her arms. "Moved on? Joel’s not exactly the moving on type. He carries everything with him, all the time. You think he doesn't feel something for you?"

You glanced back at her, tears welling up in your eyes. "And what if he doesn't? What if he sees this and... and it means nothing to him?"

Ellie sighed, stepping closer and placing a hand on your shoulder. "You'll never know if you don't try. And trust me, he’s stronger than you think. You both are."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you just stood there, lost in thought. Finally, you nodded, a small, tentative movement. "I'll think about it," you whispered.

Ellie squeezed your shoulder gently before letting go. "Good. Because secrets have a way of coming out, one way or another. And it's better if it comes from you."

As she turned to leave, you stared down at the date on your wrist, the ink seeming to pulse with a life of its own. 

Maybe Ellie was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

You sat alone on the bench in the food hall, picking at your meal and lost in your thoughts when a familiar drawl pulled you back to reality.

"Hey, darlin’."

The sound of Joel’s voice made your heart skip a beat, and a sudden warmth spread through your body. You nearly choked on your food, glancing up to see him settling next to you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hi, Joel,” you sputtered, trying to regain your composure.

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No, not at all.”

He leaned back, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “How’s your day been?”

You shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Busy, as always. Barn duties and all that.”

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. “Yeah, I hear you’ve been workin’ hard. Always see you runnin’ around, takin’ care of things.”

A soft blush crept up your cheeks under his scrutiny. “Just trying to keep busy, you know? What about you?”

“Same old,” he replied, his voice low and soothing. “Patrols, repairs, keepin’ an eye on Ellie. She’s a handful.”

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “She definitely keeps us on our toes.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he watched you, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The bustling noise of the food hall became a distant hum, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You look tired,” he said gently, concern evident in his voice. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “Just… a lot on my mind lately.”

Joel reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm. The touch was brief but sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours, concern evident. “You sure you’re alright?”

Your breath hitched at the back of your throat, but you forced a smile. “Mmm... yeah. Just going through a to-do list in my mind right now.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving your face. “Anythin’ that needs fixin’, darlin’?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just a few kitchen cabinets... the hinges squeak, and the pantry door doesn’t close all the way. Also a couple of loose steps and a wobbly railing too.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small smile. “Well, why don’t I take a look? Might be an easy fix.”

Your heart fluttered at the offer, a mix of gratitude and the thrill of being near him. “You don’t have to, Joel. I know you’re busy.”

Joel chuckled softly, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he let go. “I’ve always got time for you. Besides, can’t have you fightin’ with those cabinets every day.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Alright, if you insist.”

Joel’s eyes twinkled with a warm light. “I’ll swing by tomorrow mornin’, if that’s alright with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending more time with him. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’d appreciate the help.”

He gave a slow, easy smile that made your stomach flutter. “Great. I’ll bring my tools and we’ll get this place sorted.”

The way he said “we” filled you with a sense of comfort and belonging. “Thanks, Joel. It really means a lot.”

Joel stepped closer, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Anytime, darlin’. You know I’m here for you.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I know.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, the air thick with unspoken words and the electric tension between you. Finally, he took a step back, breaking the spell.

“I should get goin’,” he said, his voice a bit huskier than usual. “Gotta talk to Tommy ‘bout somethin’.”

“Right, of course,” you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment but also a thrill of anticipation for tomorrow.

Joel lingered by the table, a hand on your shoulder. “Take care, okay?”

“You too, Joel,” you said softly.

He nodded and turned to leave, but not before giving you one last, lingering look. You watched him walk away, your heart pounding and your mind racing with thoughts of what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, you were up at dawn, nerves and excitement thrumming through you as you tidied up the kitchen. Each movement was deliberate, an attempt to keep your mind occupied. But no matter how much you tried to focus, you couldn’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes, your heart racing each time the hands inched closer to Joel’s promised arrival.

As you finished your second cup of coffee, the knock on the door startled you, sending a jolt through your already frazzled nerves. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and opened the door to find Joel standing there, a toolbox in one hand and a warm, familiar smile on his face.

“Good mornin’,” he greeted, stepping inside, his presence filling the room.

“Morning, Joel,” you replied, the rush of warmth at seeing him making your voice tremble slightly.

He set the toolbox down and looked around the kitchen with a critical eye. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealin’ with here.”

As Joel began inspecting the cabinets and pantry door, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. Every subtle flex of his muscles under his shirt drew your attention, and you found it hard to look away.

“Found the problem,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Just needs a little tightening and some oil.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the magnetic pull of his proximity. “I’m glad it’s an easy fix.”

Joel smiled, his eyes locking with yours, sending a spark of electricity through you. “Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.”

As he worked, you found yourself drawn to him, moving closer under the pretense of handing him tools or holding a flashlight. Each accidental brush of your hands sent a jolt through you, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. You felt your pulse quicken every time his fingers grazed yours.

“There,” Joel said finally, standing up and testing the now-silent hinges. “Good as new.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and a little breathless from being so close to him. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just doin’ what I can.”

You both stood there for a moment, the kitchen suddenly feeling too small and too big all at once. The silence between you was heavy with everything you weren’t saying, a tension that seemed to thicken the air.

“Joel,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I really appreciate this. More than you know.”

He looked at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart ache. “I’m glad I could help. And I meant what I said yesterday—you don’t have to do everything alone.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you took a tentative step closer, the distance between you feeling like an unbearable chasm. “It’s hard to ask for help sometimes. But knowing you’re here... it makes a difference.”

Joel reached out, his fingers lightly grazing your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll always be here for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

The intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. You felt drawn to him, the unspoken connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest. 

His breath hitched as you moved closer, the air between you charged with a heady mix of anticipation and yearning. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between holding back and giving in. The warmth of his body so close to yours was intoxicating, and you felt your resolve weakening with each passing second.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with all the longing you’d kept hidden for so long.

He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. “I—”

Just as the air between you thickened with unspoken words, a sudden, sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment. You both turned to see a young woman standing there, her eyes lighting up when she saw Joel.

“Hey, Joel!” she called out, her tone annoyingly bright. “I heard you were here and thought I’d bring over some coffee. Figured you could use a break.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. “Uh, thanks, Vanessa,” he replied, his voice strained. “But we’re kinda in the middle of something.”

Vanessa’s eyes flicked to you, her gaze turning cold. “Oh, I see. Well, maybe I could help?”

Before you could step away, Joel’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close. The unexpected gesture sent a shiver through you, and you looked up at him, your heart pounding.

“We’re busy, Vanessa,” Joel said firmly, his hand resting possessively on your hip. “Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got it covered.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in obvious jealousy. “Right. Well, if you change your mind...” She trailed off, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of disdain and envy before she finally turned and walked away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Joel’s grip on your waist loosened, but he didn’t let go. His eyes met yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his voice low. “Didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “It’s okay. I appreciate the backup.”

Joel chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against your side in a way that sent tingles down your spine. “Guess we should get back to work, huh?”

You nodded, reluctantly stepping back, though his touch lingered in your mind. “Yeah, the step and railing on the porch still need fixing.”

Together, you moved outside, the tension from earlier still simmering between you. As Joel inspected the loose step, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The way his hands moved with such confidence and skill, the way his brow furrowed in concentration—it all captivated you.

“Can you hold this steady for me?” he asked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded, stepping closer to help. Your hands brushed against his as you held the wood in place, and the contact sent a jolt through you. The proximity, the shared task, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a dance, each movement charged with unspoken feelings.

“Almost got it,” Joel murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it took all your willpower not to lean into him.

Finally, he tightened the last screw and tested the step, making sure it was secure. “There. That should do it.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and more than a little breathless. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “Just doin’ what I can.”

As you both stood there on the porch, the morning sun casting a golden glow around you, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you. Everything you wanted to say but didn't wash over you in the awkward stillness, and the feelings you shared were nearly visible.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the landscape as you and your patrol partner, Mark, scouted the perimeter. He was easy-going, always ready with a joke or a reassuring word. You found his presence comforting, a steady rock amidst the chaos.

“Think we’ll find anything today?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Mark grinned, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Nah, it’s been quiet for a while now. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Just as the words left his mouth, a shot rang out. The next few moments were a blur of chaos and violence. Raiders, hidden in the underbrush, launched their attack. Mark managed to shoot one off you, his quick reflexes saving your life. But then, he was hit, and you watched in horror as he crumpled to the ground.

“Mark!” you screamed, dropping to your knees beside him. Blood poured from a wound in his chest, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. You pressed your hands against the wound, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. “Stay with me, Mark. Please, stay with me.”

But his eyes glazed over, the light fading. You choked back a sob, fury and grief surging through you as the raiders closed in. You fought with every ounce of strength you had, slashing and stabbing, your vision blurred by tears and the pouring rain that had begun to fall. Blood and dirt smeared your face, and pain lanced through your body from multiple wounds.

The storm roared with fury, whipping the trees and lashing the ground with torrents of rain. You stumbled through the churning chaos, your clothes drenched and clinging to your skin, your muscles burning from the effort of pushing forward. Your vision blurred by the onslaught, you fought to keep moving, each step a battle against the ferocious elements. In that moment, all that mattered was survival - staying alive until the tempest passed.

It had been hours since Joel last saw them. His graying hair was in danger of being pulled out in frustration. You and Mark were supposed to be back by now. The patrol route you both took was supposed to be a shorter one.

Joel paced back and forth in the settlement, struggling to contain his anger. “Why the hell can’t I go out there, Tommy? She’s my partner, my—” He cut himself off, frustration and fear etched into his features.

Tommy placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice firm. “You’re too close to this, Joel. You need to stay here. I’ll find her.”

Hours dragged by, each minute an eternity. Joel’s rage simmered, his helplessness gnawing at him. He punched the wall, his knuckles splitting, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear of losing you.

Tommy had taken a small team out to search for you and Mark, but there was still no word. The storm raged on, making it even harder to find any trace of you.

Joel’s mind raced with possibilities – had you and Mark been ambushed? Taken by the raiders? Injured and unable to make it back? His heart clenched at the thought of you hurt or worse.

He cursed himself for not going out with you both, for letting his emotions cloud his judgement. He knew better than anyone that in this world, you couldn’t afford to let your guard down. But he had let himself become complacent, too focused on protecting you rather than seeing things clearly.

Bile rises in Joel's throat, the taste of fear and worry leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He swallows hard, trying to push the feeling down as he anxiously waits for any news.

The bitter taste of regret and fear lingered on Joel’s tongue, each thought of what could happen to you making his stomach turn.

The metallic taste of blood was thick on Joel's tongue as he bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his emotions. The rancid taste of fear and worry lingered in his mouth, coating his throat and making it hard to swallow.

Meanwhile, Tommy pushed through the storm, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. The wind howled around him, carrying with it the distant echoes of thunder. He called out your name, his voice barely audible above the roar of the tempest. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination, each step sinking into the mud as he trudged forward.

The rain came down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Lightning flashed, illuminating the twisted branches and slick ground for brief moments. He stumbled over fallen logs and through thick underbrush, the storm making every movement a struggle.

Tommy's eyes darted around, searching desperately. He felt a gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach, a fear that he was too late. Then, in the distance, he saw a figure lying still. His breath caught in his throat as he hurried over, praying that it wasn't you.

As he got closer, he recognized the bodies of the raiders, their lifeless forms sprawled across the muddy ground. The sight was gruesome, the aftermath of a brutal fight. His heart sank when he saw Mark, his friend and comrade, lying motionless with a fatal wound. He forced himself to look away, his focus now solely on finding you.

Finally, his eyes landed on you, crumpled and barely breathing. His heart pounded in his chest as he knelt beside you. Blood soaked your clothes, mingling with the dirt and rain, creating a grim tapestry that told the story of your fierce struggle.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Tommy murmured, his voice trembling with urgency and concern. He gently lifted your head, cradling you in his arms. You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed, pain-filled eyes.

“Joel?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. The confusion and pain in your gaze made Tommy’s heart clench.

Tommy’s eyes widened as he saw the mark on your wrist, illuminated by a flash of lightning. It was the same date he had seen on Joel’s wrist—the same mark. Realization hit him like a freight train, the pieces falling into place with a sudden clarity. “It’s Tommy,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you. Just hold on.”

But you had already slipped back into unconsciousness, your body limp in his arms. Tommy’s heart raced as he gently but urgently lifted you, securing you on his horse. He mounted behind you, holding you close to keep you steady, and spurred the horse into a gallop.

The ride back was a blur of rain and darkness, each second stretching into an eternity. The storm seemed to rage even harder, the wind whipping through the trees and the rain stinging like needles. Tommy’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, fear for your life mingling with the shocking revelation of your connection to Joel.

By the time Tommy reached the settlement, his clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin like a second, frigid layer. Every muscle in his body ached from the grueling ride and the weight of your unconscious form. The rain had not let up, and his vision was blurred by the relentless downpour. But he didn't stop, carrying you swiftly yet carefully towards the infirmary, each step a struggle against exhaustion and worry.

Joel was just by the large gate of Jackson, pacing anxiously. The moment he saw Tommy approaching with your limp body, his heart seemed to stop. His face, already drawn with worry, twisted into an expression of sheer desperation.

“Is she okay?” Joel asked frantically, his voice cracking. His eyes were wide, darting between Tommy and your pale face for any sign of hope.

“She’s alive,” Tommy said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He handed you over to the medics who were rushing to meet them. Joel instinctively moved to follow, but Tommy grabbed his arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Joel, wait. Look at her wrist,” Tommy urged, his voice low but insistent.

Joel’s eyes followed Tommy's gaze, landing on the mark on your wrist. Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut, the date etched into your skin unmistakable. It was the same as his. Realization dawned with a mixture of awe and dread. “Fuck,” he breathed, the weight of it crashing over him. The one person he couldn’t afford to lose was you, and now he knew why.

The medics were quick, their movements efficient as they assessed your injuries and began to prepare you for treatment. They lifted you onto a stretcher, intent on rushing you inside where they could better tend to your wounds. Joel moved to follow, his protective instincts kicking in, but the medics tried to hold him back.

“Sir, you need to let us do our job,” one of them said, a young woman with a firm but gentle voice.

“No,” Joel growled, his eyes blazing with determination and fear. “I ain’t leavin’ her side.”

Tommy stepped in, trying to reason with him. “Joel, you gotta let the doctors work.”

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body trembling with the effort to contain his emotions. “I can’t… I can’t lose her, Tommy,” he choked out, his voice raw with pain and anger.

“I know, but you stayin’ in there won’t help her. You’ll only be in the way,” Tommy said, his tone gentle but firm. He placed a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to ground him. “You’ve gotta trust them to do their job. Let them help her.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes locked on the door to the infirmary where they had taken you. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to be by your side, to make sure you were safe. But he knew Tommy was right. With a heavy, reluctant nod, he allowed himself to be led away, his heart aching with every step.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as they waited. Joel paced back and forth, his mind racing with worry. He could still see the image of you, broken and bloodied, every time he closed his eyes. The mark on your wrist haunted him, a constant reminder of the bond that tied you together. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn't bear to lose you.

Tommy stood by, watching his brother with a mixture of sympathy and concern. He knew how much you meant to Joel, and the revelation of the soulmate mark only intensified that bond. He wished there was something more he could do, some way to ease Joel’s pain.

Finally, a medic emerged from the infirmary, her expression tired but relieved. “She’s stable,” she announced, and Joel felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “She’s got a long road to recovery, but she’s a fighter.”

Joel nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude and determination. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He would stay by your side, no matter what. The bond you shared was too precious to ever let go.

Days blurred into a haze of sterile white walls and the rhythmic beeping of machines. You drifted in and out of consciousness, each time greeted by the comforting sounds of Joel and Ellie. Joel's low, soothing voice often filled the room, whether he was talking to you or humming a soft tune. Ellie would sit by your bed, recounting stories with her usual animated flair, her voice a bright spot in the darkness.

One evening, as the storm outside mirrored the chaos within, you stirred slightly. The weight of Joel's hand on your wrist was a grounding force, his presence unwavering. He looked exhausted, his eyes heavy with worry, but he never left your side.

In one of your more lucid moments, you caught snippets of Joel's soft singing, the melody wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His voice was a balm, a tether to the world you were trying so hard to rejoin. He would often lean down to press gentle kisses to your forehead, his touch both a promise and a plea for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you awoke fully. Your throat was dry, and every muscle ached, but you were aware. The weight on your wrist brought your gaze to Joel. He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his head resting on the edge, fast asleep. He looked worn out, dark circles under his eyes and a shadow of stubble on his jaw.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering open as if sensing your gaze.

“I...” Your voice came out as a croak, and you winced.

“Here, drink up,” Joel said, quickly pouring a glass of water and holding it to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

After a few sips of water, you managed to find your voice again. “How long have I been out?” you asked, your throat feeling slightly raw from disuse.

“Almost a week,” Joel replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

“A week?” you repeated in shock. It felt like only a few hours had passed.

Joel nodded, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “You were pretty out of it for a while there.”

You felt a pang of guilt for causing so much worry and trouble for everyone. “I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel said firmly, his eyes filled with intensity. “Just focus on getting better.”

“I will,” you promised, grateful for his unwavering support.

The relief on Joel’s face was palpable, but as he set the glass aside, a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me?” His voice was quiet, but the intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.

You looked away, shame burning your cheeks. “Trust me, I know. It's always about me.”

Joel's jaw clenched. “I just… I didn’t think you could ever want me.” Your voice broke, the years of hiding and pretending catching up to you.

Joel’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. “You’ve always been more than I deserve,” he murmured. “I just wish you’d told me.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you struggled to breathe. “I love you…” you choked out, the words finally escaping your lips after years of being held back. “I’m sorry.”

Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you sobbed. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

In the midst of life's storms, a quiet calm settled around you both, like discovering an oasis in the desert. Amidst chaos and pain, you found your soulmate, and love emerged as the unwavering light guiding you through the darkest nights.

[f1goat]

more than friends ; lando norris + part nine

In which your best friend is going to help you to gain more sexual experience and say goodbye to your insecurities, but he's quick to discover that he never wants to share you and your new experiences with others - the only problem being, him having to confess his feelings.

masterlist - playlist

fem!y/n x lando norris

warnings: smut with a plot. minors dni! probably grammar or spelling errors due to english not being my first language.

requested: yes, based on this request: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight

You don’t even know what you’re doing here and why you’re spending your time like this. Lando and you flew back to Monaco only yesterday, just to flight back to the last race of the triple header tomorrow. He insisted that he wanted to go back home for a bit, so you naturally followed him. Today he told you he needed to fix some Quadrant things with Max, meaning you’d be left on your one. A bit weird since you normally join them when they’re doing stuff for Quadrant. Not wanting to do nothing for the whole afternoon, you asked some friends to lunch together. Which is why you’re sitting in a small lunchroom in the centre of Monaco. 

You shouldn’t have asked them for lunch. The last time you saw your friends, they kept going on about their sex life and the non-existing one of you. This time it’s almost the same, expect that they don’t stop about yours. 

“You really should just get drunk, find some guy and let him fuck you,” one of your friends state. It’s too bad that it’s too early in the afternoon to start drinking, because being drunk sounds as a solution to make this lunch ‘date’ better. Another friend of yours laughs, “You’d feel better with a bit of experience,” she says. You don’t know what to reply to them, you simply roll your eyes. 

You remember what Lando told you when you were drunk and he picked you up. According to him boys would like it, maybe even preferred it if you’re a virgin. You wonder why he said that, was it to make you feel better or is there a truth hiding under it? 

“Guys stop,” another friend says. You didn’t even pay attention to the rest of their remarks. Not that you have to hear them to know what they’re saying. “Why don’t you ask Lando to do it?” Your friend asks, “He seems like he’s pretty vanilla during sex, so he probably won’t hurt you,” she adds. It causes you to let out a soft chuckle. They should know.

“Why is everyone so concerned about my virginity?” You ask annoyed when they still continue to make jokes about it, “It’s not even that I’m this concerned about it.”

“It’s just that probably no boy wants someone who’s as inexperienced as you,” is one of the answers you get within seconds. Your friend gets slapped on her arm by someone else for being this direct. “Maybe some guys like it,” you sigh as a response. 

“Girl, no boy likes it.”

“When you finally find some guy and act al prudish with him, he will probably cheat on you in no time,” another friend adds. 

“Prudes get cheated on.”

Reality crashes down on you. Annoyed but mostly sad you get up from your chair, you walk up to the register and pay for you own lunch before turning back to your friends. You can barely stop yourself from crying. Fuck, why are you even friends with them? Lando told you multiple times that they don’t deserve your kindness. “I’m leaving,” you state before turning away from them and walking out of the cafe. No one stands up to follow you, not that you’re surprised of that. 

When you walk further away from the place, you realize that you have no idea what to do now. All of your stuff is still at Lando his place, since you’re sleeping at his. But Lando isn’t home, right? You sigh. A couple tears run down over your cheeks. Should you just call him? Maybe he can pick you up as well. Without further thinking about it, you search for Lando his number and call him. 

“Hey babygirl,” Lando greets you within seconds of you calling him. You don’t know why, but when you hear Lando his voice more tears start to roll down on your cheeks. Before giving Lando a proper greeting, you can only let out a sob. “What’s going on?” Lando is quick to ask you, “Did your friends say something mean?” He doesn’t even need to ask, he already knows. You let out another soft sob.

“Can you come get me?” You ask Lando.

“Yes, yes of course,” he replies, “Send me your location, I’m already walking towards the car.”

Lando doesn’t know what to say, or maybe how to express his feelings and thoughts into actual logical sentences. You’re sitting next to him in his car while he’s driving back to his apartment. Since he picked you up, you haven’t said anything about what happened. He can only guess, but his best guess is that your ‘friends’ said something completely unhinged and mean what caused you to get like this.

When Lando parks his car and opens your door for you, he doesn’t know what to do. He wants to take you into his arms and cuddle you until you feel better, but he has no idea if that’s what you want as well. Today was suppose to be ‘the’ day. Fuck, now that he thinks about it - his apartment is a mess. He lied to you about his meeting with Max, there was none. He just needed you gone for a bit, so he could surprise you. Before you called he was busy with lighting candles, throwing around rose petals and creating a nice, cozy atmosphere so you would feel at home. He was almost done when you’re called, but left in a hurry to come and get you. Most of it is in his bedroom, but he’s pretty sure that you can find some hints in the living room as well. 

Together you walk inside of the apartment. “Want to talk about it?” Lando asks you. 

“Not yet,” you answer honestly, “I’m taking a shower first.” 

Lando shows you a simple nod, giving you your time while cursing your friends in his head. He presses a small kiss against the top of your head, before he lets you walk off to the bathroom. Lando wachtes when you walk away from him. He wonders what your friends said that causes you to be sad like this. He can remember multiple times that this happened, last time it was about your sexual inexperience but before that it could be about anything. That you weren’t making time for your friends, that you didn’t treated them nicely enough and he can go on like that. 

When you walk into Lando his bedroom to grab some clothes for after your shower, you don’t know what you’re seeing. There are lit candles around his bed, rose petals on the floor and on the sheet and a slow song is playing. The atmosphere seems cozy. You wonder what this is about. Before you can say something, Lando is already showing up behind you. 

After watching you walk away, Lando decided to walk to his bedroom and do the last finishing touches. Hoping he could still show you it, without expecting anything back from it. That you’re not in the mood right now is pretty clear and he understands it. When he walks to his bedroom, he almost bumps into you. You’re standing in silence and watching the room. 

“Fuck,” Lando mutters when he sees you, “This wasn’t how I planned it.”

“What’s this Lando?” You ask, “Did I interrupt something when I called?” 

Lando takes a few seconds to think about your words. Are you suggesting that he was here with another girl? That this was for another girl? Fuck. He doesn’t know if he should become mad or sad with you. 

You don’t dare to watch at Lando. You can only wonder about what this meant. Was there another girl here before you came? Did Lando do this for someone else? You can only think about the words from your friends about being prude and what will happen. Were they right? Lando and you aren’t dating, but there was a understanding between you two about not doing anything with others. Tears are rolling down on your cheeks again. You let out a loud sob. 

“Fuck babygirl,” Lando mutters, “Of course not.” He hears your sobs and decides to leave the remark for what it was. “I wanted to surprise you,” Lando explains, “I thought that I could surprise you with dinner tonight when I picked you up from your friends at the time we discussed and then when we would get back, I could surprise you with this. And if you were ready, I uh I thought tonight could be the night.”

“You wanted to surprise me?” You ask Lando confused. “Why?” 

“I wanted to make your first time special,” Lando confesses. 

“Is that why we’re in Monaco?” You continue to ask. A blush is spreading on your cheeks and tears are still rolling down. This time not because of your so called friends and their comments, but because of Lando. Your best friend. God, you don’t even know how the universe ever thought you deserved someone as Lando but you’re thankful for it everyday. 

“Yeah,” Lando admits, “I didn’t want your first time to be in a hotel.”

“But you have the most luxurious hotel rooms,” you laugh.

Lando shrugs. “Go shower baby girl, we’ll talk after.”

You grab the clothes that you came for and turn back to get to the bathroom. Lando is still staring at you. You show him a small smile. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” you tell Lando. Before walking off you press a small kiss against Lando his cheek. Lando doesn’t take that as enough, he takes you into his arms and presses his lips against yours. 

All flustered you walk to the shower.

+++

“Did you lie to me?” You ask Lando without any sort of context. Lando shows you a confused look, waiting for you to continue your question. “You told me that some guys would even like it that I’m a virgin, did you mean that?” You continue to ask. 

“Yes!” Lando is quick to exclaim, “I meant that.”

“Would you like it?” You question further. When Lando doesn’t answer quick enough, you continue to talk. “Suppose I’m your girlfriend and you find out that I’m a virgin, would you like that or think it’s weird?” 

“Baby,” Lando sighs, is he really going to confess this to you? “If you were my girlfriend and I would find out that you’re a virgin, I would be fucking happy.”

“You would be happy?” You ask Lando.

“Which guy wouldn’t be happy if his girl wasn’t touched by any other guy?” Lando asks you, he knows he sounds possessive right now - but he really can’t help himself. “It’s okay if she’s not a virgin, but I always liked the thought of having a virgin girlfriend more. There’s something about exploring everything together. Being the only guy who she’s going to do those things with.”

“Promise?” You ask. “Promise,” Lando answers directly, “but now you’re going to tell me what your friends told you because I think that this has something to do with it.”

It doesn’t take you long to get everything out in the open. All the remarks your friends made about you’re still being a virgin. Lando knows how to react perfectly, he lets out a couple annoyed huffs and mutters some remarks about how pathetic they are. When you tell him what they said about prudes, he feels himself fill with rage. “That’s bullshit,” he states, “not that you’re a prude and even if you were a prude, I’d never cheat on you.”

For one moment he forgets that he isn’t your boyfriend and that your friends have no idea about what’s happening between the two of you. He feels personally attacked, not because your friends thought he was vanilla at sex, but because they are filling your mind with their awful opinions. If you were his girlfriend, he wouldn’t even know what cheating meant. Who would cheat when they have you?

“Maybe we can watch something in bed?” You eventually ask Lando. You’re done with talking about it and want to relax for a bit, tomorrow you’ll have to leave early for the flight. Lando shows you a nod and takes you with him to his bedroom. 

The both of you forgot for a moment how the bedroom is looking. You still can’t believe that Lando did this for you. Lando lets out an awkward chuckle, he also forgot about this. This day went a whole other direction then he thought it would, but he’s fine with it. Al though, having sex with you still would be the best outcome of today. 

“I’m sorry for fucking up today,” you tell Lando softly, “It’s so sweet that you planned this and I really fucked it up.”

“You didn’t,” Lando quickly replies, “If anything, you can’t do anything about what happened.”

“I could stop being friends with those girls,” you sigh.

“That sounds like a good plan.”

You let out a soft laugh. It’s no secret that Lando doesn’t like them and now you can state that he’s more then right about it. The both of you are laying in Lando his bed, casually clothed and ready to watch some dumb YouTube videos. But you change your mind about that, you move yourself closer to Lando so you can feel his body against yours. Why would you let your morning stop how the rest of the day is going? 

Lando is silently watching you. He knows nothing is going to happen for the rest of the night, but he can’t stop thinking about the way today was supposed to go. He shouldn’t have brought you to your friends, maybe then it would have gone better. Lando lets out a soft sigh. Since he came up with this idea he has been horny. He can’t stop thinking about how it would be to have sex with you. How tight would you feel around his cock? Fuck, he needs to stop thinking about this.

“Lan?” You ask suddenly. 

“Yes babygirl?” 

“I’m still ready,” you confess. 

“What do you mean?” Lando asks confused. Do you mean what he thinks? Are you talking about having sex? Now? 

“Maybe we can still continue with your plan?” You suggest, “We might have missed the dinner part, but it would be a shame if you put on all those candles for nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Lando asks surprised. “Yes,” you answer him, “I want you to take my virginity.”

In no time Lando is hovering above your body. He looks you in your eyes while asking the same question again, this time you still answer him with yes. “I don’t want you to regret this,” Lando continues, “Are you really sure?” 

“Lan, I’m sure and I swear to God that if you ask me that again I’ll call Pierre Gasly to come here and do something about it.”

Lando firmly grabs one of your tits underneath your clothes, squeezing it until you let out a soft yelp. “Don’t say that ever again,” he states. He releases your breast. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him down onto yourself, getting close enough to properly kiss him. Lando smiles through the kiss. Is this actually happening? He feels himself getting more excited then ever before. Crazy isn’t it? He had sex with the hottest models, the most famous influencers, but he has never been so excited to fuck with someone as he is right now. 

“Lan?” 

“Yes?”

“You’re going to be careful right?” You ask a bit unsure.

“Of course baby girl,” Lando replies honestly, “We can stop anytime you like, just say the word.”

“You’re the best,” you say with a relieved sigh.

It’s a sign for Lando to continue. He pulls your shirt - or better said his own shirt which you’re wearing, up and removes it from your body. He presses multiple kisses on your neck, shoulders and keeps moving lower until your nipple is in his mouth. He feels it stiffen in his mouth. In the mean time he lets his hands wander around your body. He toys with the waistband of your sweatpants. This time you’re the one who pulls them down, causing you to lay in only your string for now. 

“Eager babygirl?” He asks you. 

“Maybe,” you confess.

Lando slides his fingers over your string. Making sure to tease you a bit. He moves himself lower on your body, slowly he presses some kisses on your stomach before lowering himself even more and kissing your more private parts. It doesn’t take long before you let out the first couple of moans. When Lando hears the moan falling from your lips, he can’t stop smiling. 

“Don’t tease,” you mutter when Lando is still toying with your underwear. 

“Want you as wet as possible,” Lando replies. You grab his hand, move away your string and let his hand feel the pool of wetness between your legs. “I don’t think you have to do much for that,” you tell Lando. You move your own hand towards Lando his private parts, slowly tracing the outlines of his boner through his sweatpants. He grunts lowly and finally pulls of your string. Lando lowers himself again, causing you to lose the feeling of his boner on your hands.

He takes a minute to look at your vagina before pressing his lips on it. Multiple soft kisses are pressed around your pussy before Lando gives his attention to your clit. Slowly he laps onto it. His goal is to make you as horny as possible, so you might even cum when he fucks you. It doesn’t take him long before you’re close to your orgasm. It’s his cue to stop. You let out a soft whine when Lando removes his mouth from your pussy and looks at you. 

“Still sure?” He asks you while pulling down his sweatpants and underwear. His boner springs free, you notice how it softly slaps against Lando his stomach. You wonder if you have ever seen him this hard. Lando on the other hand knows for sure he has never been this hard. The things you’re doing to him, without actually doing something, are insane. 

“Yes,” you state. You look at Lando trying to grab something out of his nightstand. When you see him with a condom wrapper, you slowly shake your head at him. “Are you clean?” You ask Lando. He is fast to tell you a yes, “I’ve never done anything without a condom,” he adds. “Then this will be a first for the both of us,” you reply. Lando asks you a couple more times if you’re sure about it, which you keep answering with yes and green. 

Then he throws away the condom and moves closely to you. Gently he spreads your legs. “You can tell me to stop anytime,” he softly says. “Please just fuck me already,” you whine. It causes Lando to let out a deep chuckle. 

He positions himself in front of your entrance. In a weird way he’s nervous about this as well. He wants to ask you if you’re ready (again), but you’re already nodding at him. It’s the sign for Lando to start with slowly pushing himself inside of you. When he you clenching around his dick, he almost loses it. As soft as he can manage he pushes his dick inside of you. You don’t say anything. Lando closely watches your face, but doesn’t spot many signs of discomfort. When he’s fully inside of you, you let out a soft moan. Lando does the same, but only a lot harder.

“Fuck babygirl,” he mutters, “You feel so fucking good.”

You show Lando a small smile. 

“Can I move?” He asks you.

“Of course Lan.”

Lando slowly starts to move inside of you. You feel him pulling back a bit before going all the way in again. He does so a couple times. His movements are slow but steady. It doesn’t hurt, but that can also be because of Lando who’s distracting you. His lips has found their way back to your tits. He sucks on them, leaving all kind of marks. When he moves his lips higher and starts to make a mark on your neck as well, you wonder how you’ll ever hide that during the race week in another hot country. 

“You can go a bit faster,” you eventually tell Lando. He is quick to act out your instructions. When he increases his pace, things are starting to feel better and better. 

“Fuck, it’s insane how good you feel around my dick,” Lando mutters. He isn’t surprised that he already feels his orgasm coming close to him. This has been on top of his mind for the last weeks and now he finally gets to feel you like this. Your pussy clenches on his dick. It causes him to let out a hard moan. “Such a good girl,” he tells you, “taking me so well.” He increases his pace a bit more, asking you for your color after doing so. When he hears you almost moan out the word green, he increases even more. 

You feel your stomach tighten. Everyone always said that the first time wouldn’t be a nice experience. You’ve always been afraid for it, maybe that’s why you waited this long. But Lando, fuck, Lando takes away all the pain. Maybe it’s pure because he is the one that it doesn’t hurt. Nobody knows your body as well as Lando does, he can surprise you with what he does. When he increases his pace, you let out a soft moan. You’re close. For the first time you don’t ask Lando for permission, you don’t tell him that you’re close. It just happens. Your orgasm crashes over you, leaving you in a state of pure bliss. 

Lando is quick to follow. “Can I cum inside you?” He asks. You tell him a yes, you’re on the pill so it’s fine. That’s all it takes for him, you feel him empty himself in your vagina. When Lando slowly pulls back, you let out a soft whine. 

“Was it okay?” Lando asks you. You turn yourself a bit more towards him, laying your head on top of his chest. “Yes,” you confess, “more then okay.”

You start to doubt about what will happen now. Will this be the end of your lessons with Lando? You certainly don’t hope so, but what if he thinks it is? You start to get a bit nervous. How will things ever go back to normal? Is that still possible? You’re head over heals for your best friend, but you have no idea how he feels. Maybe this was just sex for him and the chance of it being done now is kinda big. You want to ask Lando how things will continue for now, but you can’t find the right words. 

“Fuck,” Lando mutters, “I can’t wait to feel you around me again.”

That makes your worries go away for a bit.

part ten

a/n; it finally happened!!

taglist: @booksandplushies @dinodumbass @formula1mount @words-are-cheap @allywthsr @inejghafawifesblog @chonkybonky @formulas-bitch @harrysdimple05 @vildetry06 @wherethefuckisthething @nonameishere @lauralarsen@meadhbhcavanagh @obliviatevamps @shy4turcs @fix5idiots @nightlockcornucopia @marialovesf1 @kapsylia @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @lanando4 @lauralarsen @leclercdream @agentadhd @rewmuslupin @allsouls-emma @iamshiningeuw @teenagedreams-cl@kiskso @loxbbg @vellicora @thomaslefteyebrow @avg-golden-retriever @amorydsmt @killjoynotes@barelytolerabled @starmanv @changetyre @kami10471633 @2bormaybenot @httpmrklee @buendiabebeta @aliceespector@ryiamarie @mickslover @sop-hie092 @miniemonie2001 @greymarvelskaikru @kapsylia@swiftiedrafts @thatchickwiththecamera @formulas-bitch @venisvendetta @t3a-3njoy3r @landowecanbewc

taglist p2: @chezmardybum @booksandflowrs @mineandneveryours @strawberryy-kiwii @noneofyourfbusinessworld @secretgal66 @trinity2058 @evieepepi08 @shutupmymomsc4lling @smiithys @nanamilkbread @hellowgoodbye @annie115 @random-1927 @sadmeal444 @christianpulisic10 @peachiicherries @toppersjeep @lovingaphroditesworld @kiskso @silentreader128 @lauralarsen @scopeiguess @trinity2058 @shy4turcs @moonlight-girls-posts @xjval @saachiep81 @leclercdream @adalynneva @swiftiedrafts @oscahpastry @customsbyjcg-blog

[sixflame438]

Chasing Lightning

Synopsis - Your girlfriend’s in a mood and locks herself in your room causing you to sleep apart. It starts thunder storming in the middle of the night but Minjeong is scared of lightning

Pairing - Kim Minjeong X Reader

Tags - Fluff, light angst, mild astraphobia, established relationship, grammatical errors probably, another 3am post

A/N - A short fic i wrote in one go (yay me), will try to get the other drafts out of the basement after my last 2 exams :D

Wordcount - 1726

Minjeong was mad again and you dont have a clue why. All you did know was that you finished your dinner alone and that your apartment was lacking the usual lively energy of your girlfriend. It was like winter had frozen over with how silent and chilling being in the apartment felt, not even the sounds of a drama playing quietly in the background.

You missed your girlfriend despite her simply being a door apart. And of course you tried multiple times to get her out, whether that was sincerely asking her to or attempting to lure her out with snacks they were all to no avail. She just wouldn’t budge.

If it weren’t for the muffled noises coming from behind the door you probably wouldve assumed you were home alone but they were very real and they definitely came from your girlfriend. You deduced the sounds to be crying and sniffling and it hurt you to hear them, even more knowing you had no way to stop them.

You couldnt even begin to figure out why she was in such a mood. It was like this when you came back from work.

No hugs

No kisses

No Minjeong

No nothing

You couldve easily spent the entire night trying to coax her out but you were tired and sweaty from work and all you wanted to do was crash out while snuggling with your favorite person.

If Minjeong wasnt going to let you in, youd just have to give her some time and space. You had no choice anyway.

She had locked you out of your own bedroom and left you to fend for yourself alone. (it was practically both of yours with how often she was in there with you but the audacity of this girl)

And since most of your stuff was in there you had to make do with what was left scattered around the house. It really wasnt that hard though since you were quite the clumsy mess, always forgetting and leaving things in places they shouldnt be.

In your scavenger hunt you had found a spare set of clothes to change into, some makeup wipes to clean your face with and half of the products required in your night routine.

You took a quick shower to freshen up and rearranged the couch so that you would have an easier time trying to sleep. There was a spare blanket bundled in the corner from your movie night 2 days ago which you could use and some cushions and pillows you could stack to provide another layer of comfort.

Laying onto your makeshift bed, you struggled with finding a good position to sleep in. The couch wasnt ideal to sleep on and the cushions kept moving out of place everytime you turned. It wasnt much but it would have to do, youd just have to hope it was enough.

————————————

It wasnt enough. You were certain just lying on that made you feel worse than you did before. The uneven feeling of the cushions didnt help either as different parts of your body were elevated while others were feeling the hard surface of the couch.

The weather didnt help much as a thunderstorm started as soon as you tried sleeping and no matter how hard you wanted to, you couldn’t will yourself into slumber either. The raging downpour of rain mixed with the thunderclaps created a painful symphony of pattering noises, uneven and aching to the ear, perfect to distract someone from falling asleep.

Lightning had also started coloring the dark skies with its striking flashes, loud and unpredictable. Since you couldn’t sleep you decided it would be fine to indulge in the lightning instead, pulling over a chair and opening the blinds so you could see the skies better.

The low dim light glowing from the moon and the dark midnight sky helped illuminate the lightning strikes and bright stars. If you were a photographer you wouldve definitely tried capturing the moment in physical form but keeping the scene in your head was alright too.

Other than the scene being quite stunningly beautiful (like your girlfriend) you found it quite funny as it kind of looked like the sky was trying (and failing) to play connect the dots with the stars. You dont know why but you were just so entertained by the sight.

It was rare but you had always enjoyed seeing the natural phenomenon nonetheless, finding it quite fascinating and inspiring.

Your girlfriend on the other hand?

Strong stoic Minjeong was never a fan of lightning, it was quite an experience the first time you both saw the flashing lights together. The high pitched squeals and screams could never leave your head and you didnt want them to. It was fun seeing that side of her and even more fun teasing her about it.

You remember bringing her close and spending the night in each others embrace, forgetting the world as it faded away. This time though you weren’t there for her, you couldn’t even if you wanted to all because of a stupid locked door.

You were really hoping Minjeong had already fallen into a peaceful slumber and hadnt heard the harsh sounds of the lightning. Considering you hadnt heard any noises from your girlfriend yet you took it as a good sign but the worrying feeling wouldnt leave so you remained unsettled.

That feeling was quickly sidelined though as another bolt of lightning hit. This one had a tint of red to it which you found absolutely amazing. You had learnt in a previous deep dive that lightning strikes could reflect any colour in the spectrum so seeing it in person was mind blowing.

You were so mesmerized by the colours and sounds of the lightning that you didnt hear the slight click of the bedroom lock or the soft padding of feet in your direction. It wasnt until you felt 2 tiny arms around your waist that you snapped out of your haze.

Part of you was still resentful of how quickly Minjeong shut you out (physically and mentally) but as soon as you registered the tears coming from your beloved you crumbled.

Even though Minjeong was stubborn and acting up all you wanted to do was wrap her up and cradle her in your arms. She was always there for you so the least you could do was be there for her as well.

As you turn around to properly to face your girlfriend a perfectly timed lightning strike allowed you to see her entire face in all of its glory. Minjeong mustve been crying for a while by the red eyes and flushed cheeks.

You physically soften at the sight, heart filling with sympathy and concern as you observe your girlfriend for any other signs.

There was nothing you wanted more than to pull her into your arms and spend the rest of the night comforting her. Even your ego tried to resist but you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and doing just that.

You pull her onto your lap and with one arm rubbing her back in circles and the other running down her hair in a soft delicate motion you coax Minjeong into finally letting out the remaining tears. The weight of your comfort too heavy to bear.

A croaky im sorry is all you hear as your girlfriend starts sobbing into your shoulder. You’re not sure what shes apologizing for. Maybe for crying? For being vulnerable? For locking you out of your room? Her fear of lightning? Probably all of the above.

Humming in acknowledgment you continue to console Minjeong, whispering soft reassurances in between sobs. As the storm eventually faded out, Minjeongs crying evened out too. Soft whimpers and hiccups could be heard amongst the sprinkling of rain.

You have a feeling that Minjeong would’ve succeeded in staying the entire night alone in your room if it weren’t for the lightning scaring her out.

“Hey lets get some rest now that the rains subsided. Im gonna take you back into the room okay?” You dont wait for a reply as you gently lifted Minjeong off your lap and guided her to stand and lean onto you.

Slowly and steadily you lead her back into the bedroom and notice the soaked pillow doused in her tears. Hell no were you going to let her sleep on that. Luckily you were a person who loved sleeping with multiple pillows so you had some spare hidden away.

(Minjeong found it impractical having pillows to hug when you could just cuddle with her instead and your bed was only so big so you moved them to make room)

You pull out the unused pillows from your storage closet and tuck Minjeong back into bed with little resistance, her already tired state fueled by the lack of energy from all the crying.

Ensuring she was comfortable and safe you place an affectionate kiss on her forehead.

You were hesitant on whether you were allowed to join her or not, as you still didnt know why she was upset and if you had played a part in her suffering. But your questions get answered with a simple

“Stay”

Quiet and low but you heard it. Not allowing yourself to linger any longer, you climb into bed and tuck yourself in too. Gently wrapping your arms around Minjeong as you did before, careful not to set her off again.

It takes a while for Minjeong to calm down fully but with your soothing touches she eventually drifts off. As soon as you registered her breathing falling into a stable state, you allowed yourself to relax for the first time that night. Basking in the closeness of her company, you lay another tender kiss on her forehead and temple.

It didnt matter what had happened, as long as you were still able to kiss her goodnight that’s all that mattered. Youre still skeptical about Minjeongs behavior, being kept in the dark about something as important as this was not something you enjoyed but you had a feeling that it would work out. Tomorrow was new day and you had plenty of time to decode her then.

Now that Minjeong was back in your arms you were never letting her go (unless she tried to lock herself in again that is)

[bucketgetter535]

No Margin for Error: Chapter Twelve

CW: Swearing WC: 5.6k Notes: We're almost to the end.... as always send thoughts plz

The hotel room in Mexico City was quiet. Too quiet, maybe.

Outside, the city buzzed with its usual late-night hum. Street vendors still shouting, distant engines roaring down Reforma like they were on the grid. But up here, twenty floors above it all, the room was dim and heavy with stillness.

Azzi could hear the faint hiss of the air conditioning. The occasional shuffle of sheets. And Paige’s breathing was uneven in that way it always was when she wasn’t trying to let on she was in pain.

Azzi didn’t look up from the foot of the bed, where she was peeling off her sneakers, until she heard Paige shift again.

“Baby,” she said gently, voice just above a whisper. “You okay?”

Paige, curled up in the mess of pillows, just gave a half-nod. Her eyes were shut. Her brow tight. She wasn’t crying, but the way she kept squeezing her fingers into the sheets made Azzi’s stomach turn.

“How bad is it?” Azzi asked.

Another pause. Then Paige exhaled through her nose. “Just a headache.”

Azzi stood up, crossed to the bed, and knelt beside her. “You keep saying that.”

“It is just a headache.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away. She slid a hand into Paige’s hair, brushing her fingers through the tangled strands near her temple. “You’ve had, like, four of these since Singapore.”

“Three.”

“Four,” Azzi repeated, a little firmer. “And they’re getting worse.”

Paige cracked one eye open, wincing at the low light. “It’s nothing.”

“Paige.” Azzi’s hand stilled. “You have post-concussion syndrome. You need to tell someone.”

“No,” Paige muttered. “If I don’t get diagnosed, then I don’t have it.”

Azzi blinked. “That’s… that’s so not how it works.”

Paige tried to laugh. It came out dry. “Well, it’s how I’m working right now.”

Azzi sighed. She shifted to sit beside her, propped up against the headboard, and pulled Paige gently into her lap. “Do you get, like… weird sad when these happen?”

That earned her a confused glance. “What?”

“Liao always says PCS can cause depression and shit,” Azzi said softly. “So I’m just checking. I don’t want you sitting in that by yourself.”

Paige blinked. “I mean…maybe. I dunno. Sometimes.” Her voice got quieter. “After Singapore I just felt… off. Like I was happy about the win but… it was weird. Everything else felt too loud. Like even talking felt like a lot.”

Azzi nodded. She wasn’t surprised, but it still ached to hear it.

“I thought maybe it was the pressure or the travel,” Paige added. “But it hasn’t really gone away.”

“You’ve been kinda weird since then,” Azzi said gently, her fingers threading through Paige’s hair again. “Sweet. But distant. And you look at me like you’re trying not to say something.”

“I’m being dramatic,” Paige said quietly.

“You’re not,” Azzi whispered.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the hum of the air conditioner filling the space between their words. Paige had gone soft against her, heavy in the way that only came with trust or total exhaustion. Probably both.

“Please see someone after the season,” Azzi murmured eventually. “Not because I think you’re falling apart or anything. Just because you’re not alone. And this is real. And you don’t have to carry it like it’s a secret.”

Paige didn’t respond right away. Her eyes stayed closed, her face pressed gently against Azzi’s chest. But her hand slid across Azzi’s stomach and stayed there.

Azzi kept talking, low and calm. “Liao said like every F1 driver gets some version of it eventually. The crashes, the stress, the schedule. It’s too much for one body to take. You’re not broken, baby. You’re just… in it.”

She pressed a kiss to Paige’s hair. “And I’ve got you.”

There was a long pause. Then, in the softest voice imaginable, Paige mumbled, “Okay.”

Azzi smiled a little, even though her chest was tight. “Okay what?”

“I’ll see someone. After Abu Dhabi.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Azzi exhaled slowly. Her arms curled tighter around her girl. “Happy birthday again, by the way.”

Paige chuckled, rough and tired. “Best present ever. A scolding and a diagnosis.”

Azzi kissed her again. “Shut up and let me hold you.”

She did.

And for the first time in days, Paige actually slept.

–

Saturday in Mexico City was always a little chaotic.

The noise at Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez was different from other tracks. It’s sharper, somehow, more electric. It vibrated in the bones and under the skin. Drums, airhorns, shouting in Spanish that spilled over the paddock walls. The altitude made everything feel thinner—thinner air, thinner patience, thinner margins.

Azzi pulled her gloves tighter as she stepped into the garage, her helmet already tucked under her arm. She was focused, locked in, but the weight of the heat sat like a hand between her shoulder blades. Everything was just a little much.

And Paige looked… off.

Not in an obvious way. Paige was never obvious when something was wrong. But Azzi had learned the signs. She wasn’t bouncing on the balls of her feet. She wasn’t chirping back and forth with the engineers or talking shit about the timing sheets. Her arms were crossed too tight across her chest. Her gaze was on the floor a lot. And when she smiled for the cameras during the pre-quali walk, it didn’t touch her eyes.

Azzi made her way over, bumped their helmets together like always.

“You good?” she asked quietly, so no one else could hear.

“Fine,” Paige replied. Too fast. Too sharp.

Azzi gave her a look but didn’t push. Not here. Not when the countdown to qualifying was already on.

She turned back to her car, climbing in as the mechanics got to work strapping her down. Mateo’s voice came through the radio, crisp and businesslike as always.

“Track evolution is gonna be massive, Az. We need you tidy early, leave margin. Also, don’t burn the tires on your banker, let’s take that later. A lotta traffic too, so don’t expect clean air.”

“Copy.”

“Temps are up three degrees since practice. It’s hot out there. Brakes’ll need care in sector two.”

“Copy.”

She closed her eyes for a second as they fired up the car. Just to breathe. In, out, find the center. All the chatter, all the screaming fans, none of it mattered in here.

Q1 was messy. Predictably so. Yellow sectors flashing all over the board, traffic in the final corner, cars trying to get the tow but ruining each other’s laps. Azzi kept it clean, lifted where she needed to, and coasted into 3rd without ever touching the limit.

Mateo came through again, dry as always. “Nicely done. You’re clear. Paige’s in 9th, bit shaky but through.”

Azzi didn’t answer. She caught sight of Paige’s car rolling back into the garage as she circled into the pit lane. Her girl looked distracted in the cockpit. Not scared, but a little slow, maybe. Like the timing in her hands was off by just a fraction of a second.

Azzi reminded herself again: not her problem right now.

Q2 was tighter. Tires mattered more, and every team knew it. The field bunched up. McLaren looked punchy, Mercedes had a weirdly good setup in Sectors 1 and 3, and Red Bull, as always, were lurking. Azzi nailed her lap on the first attempt and didn’t bother running a second. 2nd. Paige scraped through again. 8th this time. Still quiet. Still wrong.

“Okay,” Mateo said in her ear before Q3, his tone switching into full attack mode. “This is gonna be about precision. Nobody’s got the perfect car. Everyone’s got something wrong today. Rear grip, battery delivery, temps. Take what’s yours.”

Azzi nodded, helmet on, visor down. She pulled out of the box.

She didn’t even feel the heat anymore.

The lap came like breathing. Sector 1 was clean, Sector 2 aggressive. She danced with the curbs, flowed through the stadium like she had eyes in the back of her head. The track wasn’t giving anyone an easy time, but Azzi didn’t need easy. She needed clear.

As she crossed the line, Mateo came through immediately.

“P1. Pole for now. We’ll see who’s left on laps.”

She let out a breath, a smile tugging at her mouth.

Then silence. Then Mateo again.

“Checkered flag. No one’s touched you.”

Pole.

Azzi unclipped and climbed out, heart still racing, fingers still tingling. The heat pressed in like a second suit, sweat beading under her collar. She pulled off her gloves, looking toward the screens in the garage.

Paige was P6.

Azzi blinked, eyebrows drawing together under the helmet.

It wasn’t that Paige couldn’t be sixth. It was just that… she shouldn’t have been. Not today. Not with this car. Not unless something else was going on.

Azzi stripped off her helmet and pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek, thinking. But just as quickly, Mateo was beside her, clipboard in hand, already walking her through strategy, brake temps, tire degradation, overcut possibilities for Turn 4. She nodded along, took it in, locked back into race mode.

She had her own job to do.

But somewhere, under all that focus, under all the data and pace and math and heat, Azzi’s mind drifted back to the night before.

To Paige curled against her chest in the hotel room. To the way her voice had gone soft when she admitted how weird she’d felt since Singapore. To that quiet little promise: I’ll see someone after Abu Dhabi.

Azzi hoped that was true.

Because something was wrong.

And no matter how locked in she felt today, that quiet tug of worry still sat at the back of her mind like a warning light that wouldn’t quite go off.

–

Race day in Mexico had a kind of menace in the air. It was one of those races where everything felt a little brittle, like the world was being held together with duct tape and adrenaline.

Azzi felt strong off the line. Not perfect, but sharp. She held her place, then began building a rhythm that looked suspiciously like dominance. Mateo had been cool in her ear, efficient as ever. No drama. Just data and confidence. By lap twenty, she had opened enough of a gap to make her strategy work.

Then, lap twenty-three, it all went sideways.

She was lapping a Williams—who had no business being anywhere near her—but instead of yielding into Turn 5 like they were supposed to, the rookie locked up and jerked back onto the racing line just as she committed to the outside. Her front wing clipped their rear tire, barely, but enough. Carbon fiber cracked like a gunshot.

“Front wing’s gone,” Azzi said instantly, as calm as she could manage.

“Box. Confirm box,” Mateo replied, already switching channels to ready the crew.

Azzi coasted it in. The car still moved, but everything felt wrong. Unbalanced. Ugly. And when she hit the pit box, it took forever. The front wing replacement wasn’t smooth—they struggled with the left endplate. Twelve seconds bled out like a vein open on concrete.

She rejoined in P8.

Not good. Not a disaster. But far from what she’d built up.

Azzi stayed quiet on the radio except for necessary calls. Tires, temperatures, brake feel. She didn’t like to vent in the car. Mateo didn’t ask her to. They both knew what the job was now.

By lap thirty-five, she was in 4thh, carving through traffic with a particular brand of vengeance she reserved for days like this. The car felt tighter now—less reactive, maybe, after the incident—but she made it work. The stadium section roared as she passed a Red Bull into Turn 13 like it wasn’t even there.

And then, in her mirrors, she saw her.

Bright lavender helmet. Ferrari red. Closer than she expected.

Paige.

Azzi blinked sweat out of her eyes. Finally.

“Is that—?” she started to ask.

Mateo was already ahead of her. “Yes. She’s behind. P5. Clean moves, two stops. She’s looking better now.”

Azzi didn’t say anything at first. She adjusted her grip on the wheel and took the next lap to gather her thoughts. The track was brutal today—tire degradation sharp and unpredictable, the altitude wreaking havoc on fuel sensors, and still, the two of them were nose-to-tail.

“What’s the plan?” she asked finally.

“Team wants to hold this formation unless opportunity’s clear. We’ll try to undercut P3 if we get a window.”

“Copy.”

She trusted that. She trusted him. And if Paige was behind her now. She was really back in it, looking alive again. That was a relief more than a threat.

Azzi took a breath.

She could feel the race reshaping itself. Her heart was still steady, her vision locked, but there was an itch crawling under her skin. Something uneasy in the rhythm of the day.

And then it came.

Lap forty-one. Yellow flag in Sector 2.

Then Sector 3.

Then—red.

RED FLAG.

Azzi’s hands tightened on the wheel. “What the hell happened?”

“We are checking.”

The chaos unfolded in her periphery. There were fans on their feet, marshals sprinting. Azzi pulled into the pit lane under the neutralized session, her tires hot and cranky from the sudden cool-down. The cars were parked, engines off. Everyone waited.

“Reports say an RB lost it into the wall. Turn 11. Massive debris.”

Azzi pushed her visor up and leaned back in her seat, the adrenaline still spiking under her ribcage. She could see Paige’s car just two spots down, mechanics fanning her with towels, an engineer kneeling beside her cockpit.

Azzi rested her head against the seat.

There was always something.

She stared at the clouds rolling overhead and felt her pulse throb in her temples, heat still rising off her skin, her gloves sticking a little to her fingers. P4 wasn’t where she wanted to be. But it also wasn’t over.

Paige was here. The car was still running. The restart would be a sprint.

She sat in the stillness and waited for the next move.

“This red flag might be a while,” Mateo’s voice came over comms. Calm, but with that undertone of information still loading in. “Lots of debris on the track. Driver’s okay, but they’re staying in the car for now. Looks like they’re a bit shaken. You can get out if you want.”

Azzi sat back in her seat, helmet still on, visor half-up. Her gloves flexed against the wheel out of habit more than need. The sun was bright even through the tint of the visor, and everything around her had the texture of something paused.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. The other Ferrari. Paige, easing herself out of the car, a quiet rhythm to her motions. She stripped off her gloves first, then the helmet, walking slowly across the paddock. Not hurried. Not limping. Just… headed somewhere.

Azzi watched her disappear into the back building, the one they always used for quick breaks. Probably the bathroom. Not unusual, not really. But not totally usual either.

Without overthinking it, Azzi unclipped her seatbelts and slid out of the cockpit. The air hit her like a wall. Dry, hot, thinner than it should’ve been at altitude. She walked the long way around, her suit unzipped halfway and hanging around her waist, letting her breathing even out. Mateo would probably remind her to stretch her legs, and technically, this counted.

The building was quiet, just the low hum of an AC unit and far-off sounds of pit lane life still moving, even if the race wasn’t. She slipped through the back door and padded down the hall, her boots loud against the tile. 

The bathroom door was open, and inside Paige was at the sink, washing her hands in slow, absent circles under the running water. That’s always been a perk of being one of only a few females in F1. The bathrooms are almost always empty. Paige’s helmet sat on the counter, her shoulders were a little loose with the heat and stillness of the moment. Hair pulled back. Sleeves rolled. The kind of look that meant she’d cooled off and started thinking again.

Azzi leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, and gave a soft, knowing half-smile.

“You good?”

Paige looked up at her in the mirror. Her expression flickered, then steadied. “Yeah,” she said. “The drive was weird yesterday, but a lot better today.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “I saw. Looked bouncy on replay.”

Paige shut off the tap and dried her hands with a paper towel, pressing her palms like she was trying to feel something through them.

“They replaced the floor overnight,” she said. “Different ride today. Stiffer, more predictable.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Killed your neck yesterday, though.”

Paige laughed, a little hoarse. “Yeah. Like… shredded. I slept weird trying to avoid putting weight on it.”

Azzi pushed off the doorframe and came a little closer, not too close, just enough for the air between them to feel mutual again. She studied Paige quietly. “You didn’t say anything about it this morning.”

“You had your own stuff to think about.”

That wasn’t untrue. But it wasn’t the point either.

Azzi stayed quiet a beat longer, eyes on her girl, because Paige was her girl, and even now, covered in sweat and exhausted halfway through a red-flag delay in Mexico City, there was something careful and sharp in the way Paige carried herself. Like she didn’t want anyone to worry about her unless she decided they should.

Still.

“You sure you’re good?” Azzi asked again, softer now.

Paige nodded. “Just needed to breathe. Car’s handling way better today.”

Azzi didn’t say what she was thinking. That she could tell Paige wasn’t lying, but she also wasn’t saying everything either. It was one of those reads you earned after enough months with someone. The look in their eye when they’d filed something away for later, and the feeling that maybe later never quite came.

“Okay,” Azzi said, just as soft, and passed Paige her helmet. Their hands brushed.

They didn’t linger. Just looked at each other for a moment—calm, steady, back in sync.

Then Azzi gave a little nod, and they headed back toward the paddock together, heat pressing down, the race still waiting.

–

The restart was clean. No drama, no tangle at turn one, no wild lunge to defend. Just a neat single-file snake peeling off into the final laps of the race, the order holding steady. Tires came back up to temperature fast in the late afternoon sun, and everyone seemed to understand the job. Don’t screw this up. Azzi did what she had to do. So did Paige.

Azzi crossed the line P4. Paige, just behind her in P5.

It wasn’t spectacular. It didn’t need to be.

Still, as they rolled back into parc fermé and the engines powered down, there was something quietly satisfying about it. Race weekends were always kind of a mess, especially in altitude. And with the red flag earlier, nobody had been sure how the field would respond. Azzi climbed out of the car feeling the good kind of tired. Sharp, purposeful, with her heart still ticking fast and clean. The kind of race you walked away from without anything left in the tank but no regrets either.

And Paige?

Paige was smiling when she pulled off her helmet. Not the polite, public kind of smile. The real one. The one that tugged at the corner of her mouth slow and stayed a beat too long after the cameras passed. Azzi caught it out of the corner of her eye while giving her own set of debrief answers to the media, and she couldn’t help the warm little twist it gave her in return.

She knew that smile. She loved that smile.

Back in the cool-down area, Paige stretched out her neck with a low sigh and a wince—residual from Friday, maybe, or just the Mexico circuit doing what it always did to the body—and flopped into one of the low chairs like she hadn’t just driven flat out for almost two hours.

“You okay?” Azzi asked, peeling off her gloves.

Paige looked up, eyes soft. “Yeah. Feels like we figured the car out a little.”

Azzi raised a brow. “Told you the floor was a mess.”

“And I told you I was fine.”

Azzi gave her a look that said uh-huh, and Paige rolled her eyes and smiled again. This version of Paige is what Azzi calls ‘Girlfriend Paige’. Unfiltered, relaxed, head slightly tilted with that casual affection that made everything inside Azzi settle down.

Later, back at the hotel, the city buzzed around them. It was still warm even as the sky deepened into twilight, with the kind of pink-orange haze that made every building glow. It felt like the kind of night that didn’t need to be planned. They had dinner on a rooftop somewhere quiet. No team, no media. Just the two of them in light clothes and sneakers, the smell of street food on the wind, and music drifting from balconies above.

Azzi had been nervous she might lose ground this weekend. After the wing damage and the stop and the chaos, anything could’ve happened. But she was walking into Sunday with a little more breathing room. Back in the lead of the championship. One hand on the trophy again, if she could just keep pace and keep her head. It was something. It was enough.

And Paige was still in a good mood. Still easy in her body, still close in all the little ways Azzi loved best. Fingers that drifted down her back when they stopped at a crosswalk. A hand that lingered on the small of her waist as they waited for drinks. That habit Paige had of pulling Azzi slightly closer just by leaning in when she laughed.

It wasn’t like Paige to be so outwardly affectionate. Not in public, not with people around. But here, with no team to interrupt and no one watching who mattered, Paige let herself show it. Just a little. Enough for Azzi to feel it. Enough for Azzi to carry it back to the room later, when they kicked off their shoes and curled up under too-thin sheets in the too-expensive hotel bed.

It didn’t matter that tomorrow would start early or that the air was dry and thin or that the season was winding down into the kind of pressure that made even sleep feel strategic.

Tonight, Paige was here. Whole. Good.

And Azzi loved her like this.

Not because she was smiling. But because this was the version of Paige she got to see when everything else quieted down. The one who didn’t need to be perfect. The one who came back, even after the bad weekends.

Azzi brushed a strand of hair off Paige’s forehead and whispered something dumb, just to make her laugh again. She got the laugh, and the nudge, and a look that meant I’m right here, don’t worry.

Azzi wasn’t worried.

Tomorrow would come. But tonight was good.

–

The sky over Interlagos cracked wide open twenty minutes before lights out.

Azzi had been watching it from the Ferrari motorhome. One eye on the timing screen, the other on the gathering storm outside the window. A heavy, roiling ceiling of gray had settled over São Paulo, and even before the formation lap, the paddock knew what was coming. When she and Paige left for the grid, thunder was already low in the distance, vibrating underfoot.

Still, she’d felt ready. Confident, even. P3 wasn’t pole, but it was close enough to bite. Paige had outqualified her by a fraction, P2 on the grid and grinning like she had nothing to prove. Which maybe she didn’t. But Azzi liked the hunt. She liked the mess. And Brazil was always good for mess.

But then the rain came.

It didn’t just rain. It poured. The sky turned the color of graphite and then opened all at once. In seconds, the surface went from damp to drenched, the white lines glimmering dangerously. The formation lap was a joke. Half the grid already knew they’d be boxing immediately, and when the lights went out, the entire front half of the field tiptoed through the first sector like kids walking on ice.

By the end of lap two, the call came in. Mateo in her ear, calm as ever. “Box for inters.”

Azzi slipped the car out of turn 12, onto the straight, and fought every inch to keep the Ferrari pointed forward. The visibility had disappeared. Rain clawed down the helmet visor like static on a screen. She could barely read the lights on the steering wheel, let alone the delta or sector times. The pit lane entry was a blur. A roar of noise. A wall of spray.

She skidded into her box with half the field. Mechanics danced around her, tires off and on in a blink. The jack dropped.

Go.

Back out into hell.

And that’s when it got worse.

Because now she was supposed to be behind the Red Bull and ahead of Paige (Azzi had no idea when she got ahead of her teammate). It was simple enough in theory. But she couldn’t see anyone. Nothing. Just the strobe of red rain lights flashing in the fog ahead. One of them was probably the Red Bull. Mateo said the gaps were tight, that she’d come out right where she needed to. Paige was directly behind her. Trust the strategy.

But in her mirrors—nothing. Only the hiss of water. Behind her, Paige was supposed to be slicing through the same current of chaos, but Azzi couldn’t even see the shimmer of a front wing. The mirrors were coated, the visor worse. Her tear-off tabs were slippery with moisture, hard to grip.

“This is… insane,” she said flatly over the radio.

Mateo didn’t argue. “Stay with it. You’re doing fine. Conditions same for everyone.”

Azzi braced into turn 4, caught a wiggle at the apex, corrected. The rear end fought her in the climb out of the Senna S. She rode up into fifth, sixth—just barely—then backed off again when a flash of brake lights startled her from the fog.

Red Bull. Still ahead. Maybe.

She blinked, hard. Her neck hurt. Not in the scary way… just the strain of it. Holding the car steady in the wet required everything. Arms, core, the full force of her mind.

Her heart rate hadn’t dropped since the formation lap.

“I can’t see her,” Azzi said. Quiet. Private. Not panicked.

Mateo understood. “She’s there. Paige is two-tenths back. Same pace.”

“Two tenths?” Azzi barked into the radio, her voice crackling with disbelief. “Mateo, what the fuck do you mean two tenths? I can’t even see her.”

The words came out clipped, panicked, jagged around the edges. She could barely make out her own steering wheel through the rain, let alone the ghost of a car behind her.

“Correction,” Mateo came back, voice calm like always, as if she wasn’t gripping the wheel hard enough to make her knuckles ache. “It’s more like eight tenths now. Paige is holding off.”

Azzi let out a long breath through her nose, trying to focus, trying to blink away the streaks on her visor. The water wasn’t just pooling. It was smearing, distorting. Everything was a blur of taillights and shadows, a tunnel of chaos.

Her left wrist flexed instinctively as she caught the rear slipping again on the exit of turn six. That was the third time this lap. It was like driving on an oil slick. No traction. No visibility. No guarantee the car would respond.

She was, frankly, two seconds from crashing out.

“Jesus,” she muttered to herself, lifting slightly off the throttle. “This is getting bad.”

Ahead, what little of the track she could see was a watercolor smear. Somewhere, there was supposed to be a Red Bull in front of her. She hadn’t seen it since the pit stops. Paige was supposedly behind, but if the other girl had disappeared entirely into the mist, Azzi wouldn’t have known.

Then Mateo again, tone shifted slightly, more alert.

“Yellow in sector two. No confirmation on who or what. Cameras can’t see anything yet. They’re trying.”

She flicked her eyes up, trying to judge distance by the vague pulse of yellow light panels. They flashed through the fog like distant flares. No car. No debris. Just static and rain and nerves.

“Azzi,” Mateo said, “slow through sector two. Real slow. Like you would under a safety car. Just in case.”

She eased off more. Slower. Slower still. The car felt skittish even at reduced pace.

“Paige’s team is telling her the same thing,” Mateo added. “So she won’t end up on top of you.”

Azzi snorted. “How reassuring.”

Her heart was pounding in her ears. She felt every vibration through the seat, every twitch in the wheel. The hydroplaning wasn’t constant, but it came in bursts. Moments where the tires felt like they were skating across glass.

“Mateo,” she said quietly, breath fogging the inside of her helmet, “they need to pause this. This is getting dangerous.”

A pause. Then: “Other drivers are saying the same thing.”

Azzi didn’t answer. She was too focused on keeping the car on the road.

She had no idea who was ahead, who had spun, who might be sitting sideways around the next bend. For all she knew, Paige had passed her and was gone.

But she didn’t think so. Something told her Paige was being smart. Careful. Watching for the same ghosts Azzi was.

In the cockpit, her breathing slowed. The lights still flashed yellow. She waited for the decision. Red flag or not.

Mateo’s voice came back, low and steady: “Just stay safe, Azzi. I’ll keep you updated.”

She swallowed, eyes straining through the blur.

“Copy,” she said. “Still here.”

–

P2 and P3.

It looked clean on paper. Calm, even. But Azzi knew better. So did everyone who’d been in the car.

She pulled into parc fermé, engine off, hands still tight on the wheel. The marshals waved, rain still falling. There was no podium ceremony. The weather had seen to that. The track conditions too dangerous to gather, let alone celebrate. No champagne, no national anthem, no interviews in the rain. Just a line of soaked cars and blinking pit boards. A quiet kind of historic.

She stepped out, helmet still on, visor halfway up. Paige was already out of her own car, leaning against the halo like she needed to breathe. They met eyes across the puddled tarmac. No one said anything. No one needed to.

Later, at the hotel, the silence followed them, comfortable this time. Exhaustion clung to both their shoulders. Azzi had scrubbed the grime from her skin under a hot shower, and Paige had climbed in a few minutes after her, no words exchanged. No games. Just steam and shared quiet and the warmth of another body that knew exactly what today had felt like.

Now, Paige lay curled on her side, one arm slung over Azzi’s stomach, damp blonde hair leaving little wet marks on the collar of Azzi’s hoodie. Her eyes were half-closed, the kind of sleepy you only get from using every inch of your focus for over an hour straight.

Azzi held the tablet Mateo had sent to her room, race replays queued up in high-definition, full volume muted. The engineers had thrown together a reel. Spins, near misses, camera angles they hadn’t seen mid-race. One of the Mercedes had aquaplaned through turn three and caught it at the last second with a correction that made Azzi exhale a low, impressed laugh.

Paige looked up a bit. “Who was that?”

“The new guy,” Azzi said, still watching. “Barely saved it.”

“Damn.”

They went quiet again.

The hotel room lights were dim, one lamp on in the corner casting a soft glow against the stormy dark still crawling across São Paulo outside. The rain hadn’t stopped. It tapped gently at the windows now, softer than before, but steady.

Paige shifted slightly, pressing her face a little closer to Azzi’s shoulder. “That race was a lot.”

“Yeah,” Azzi said, barely more than a whisper. “You okay?”

“Neck’s killing me. The floor was fucked up again. But yeah.”

“Yeah. You looked bouncy again.”

Azzi brushed her fingers lightly down Paige’s arm, the way Paige usually did to her. It felt like something solid in the haze.

They didn’t talk about the points.

Didn’t need to. They both knew. Paige had 338. Azzi had 342. Three rounds left. Vegas, Qatar, then Abu Dhabi. Every finish counted now. Every mistake would tip the balance. The media was already calling it historic. Two women, two teammates, same team, same car, fighting down to the wire. No crash history between them. No public tension. Just clean, elite racing.

Azzi didn’t want to ruin this softness with that tension. Not now. Not when Paige was here, warm and safe and real beside her.

Another replay rolled, and they both watched a McLaren pirouette gracefully and somehow recover, driving off like nothing had happened.

“Should’ve been us,” Paige mumbled.

Azzi smiled.

“In our defense, it was a monsoon.”

Paige snorted, head buried against Azzi’s chest now. “Still. Would’ve looked cool.”

Azzi kissed the top of her head. “We looked cool.”

That earned a quiet chuckle. “Always.”

They stayed like that for a long time. Letting the rain speak for them. Letting the video play. Letting the weight of the day dissolve, little by little, until it was just them, soft and spent and together.

[yup-no-way]

Astro Observations pt. 4

Ayyyyy! How is everyone! I am almost done with all my uni work for the semester and I am rapidly approaching my first exam. But it’s alright cause at least I got one of my projects to work. I had to make a wireless power transfer using copper wires and I spend a whole day going back-and-forth between the floors of my department in search for some copper (someone pls say sike rn). Now tell me why me and my team spent a whole day just to create the simplest of circuits, all because our transistors kept burning up. The stench in that room from burned electrical components was insane (these r your future engineers btw). We probably went through 10 different transistors (rip to our lab resources).

Well I hope everyone is doing good and everyone is safe and healthy! I wish all of you to reach your full potential and live your best life!

These observations are based on my personal experiences so don’t take it as full facts. These placements can also be influenced by other things in someone’s chart like degrees, houses and aspects. Also if u have any suggestions for what content you’d like to see feel free to let me know. English is not my first language lads so don’t drag me for grammatical errors. xoxo

Cancer moon: you guys r cutie patooties that just want emotional closeness from the people around you. Generally if evolved you guys r so beautiful. You are caring, giving, emotionally mature and are able to express yourself in a healthy manner. they r the type to pay attention to the little details. I’ve noticed a pattern with cancer moons that their love language is words of affirmation. Buuuut and there is a big but here, if you guys are not evolved, y’all r hell on earth. Imagine a sensitive, emotionally constipated, demanding ticking bomb. Cancers r truly crash outs if not evolved. They will want the world from you and give nothing in return. You will have to pull through emotionally in the relationship and you will have to walk on eggshells around them.

Chiron 12h: these people most likely dealt with a lot of religious/spiritual trauma. They never felt truly connected to the divine or they have an unhealthy relationship with the divine. A lot of the people I’ve met have been struggling with accepting themselves and the divine at the same time. It is a hard placement. I love you guys so much and I just want to say that it’s alright to take your time and figure yourself out. Sometimes this is a lifelong journey and instead of running away from your scars, it’s better you face them. Whether you decide to connect with religion/spirituality or not, make sure that is your choice. You are the only one in charge of that. There is no shame in either choice so don’t let people tell you otherwise. Lots of love to you xoxo

Libra moon: for these natives, having balance in their life is very important. It’s extremely common for these people to get overwhelmed if they work too much without proper rest. Like balance is rllyyy that serious to them. I’ve seen these people get extremely stressed when something feels off in their life. I have a friend that crashes out (bless her soul) whenever she has too many assignments. She’s a demon during exam season if she needs to pull all nighters. They also crave a sense of stability in their relationships with people and they rlly don’t like to argue w people. Sometimes this urge to keep peace with people leads to them not vocalising their problems making them stay in relationships for way longer than they should. They also have a strong sense of justice!!! I love learning ab my friend’s placements so I can know how to make em feel safe and happy. Muaw xoxo

Lilith Taurus: these people often tend to get insecure of their financial status. They deeply cared about how they r perceived financially by people. They might even get to the point where they might want to appear richer than they are. They might have experienced loss of stability and monetary assets through their life that led them to these traits. BUUUUT, if they move on from placing their whole value as a human being on their assets, they have a great potential for actually achieving that financial status they so deeply yearn for. These people need to learn how to balance their confidence and self worth and accept themselves for who they are. Also they might have a tendency to get greedy, so be aware of that as well darlings.

Lilith 9h: these people often feel the need to move from place to place. They might want to change their country of residence quite often . You guys never feel truly fulfilled with where u r at. Maybe travelling is a good alternative if you don’t have the financial means to constantly move. These natives just get that stimulus from changing their environment. As long as you balance your life, you should be good, but be aware of overindulging in the need to cross every boundary. Just make sure the choices you are making are actually good and not just a temporary solution for a bigger underlining issue.

So guys this is all for today! I hope you guys liked this blog as well. I won’t be very active due to the exam season but I will try my absolute best to post as many things as possible! If you guys r interested is seeing a certain type of content let me know!

Stay healthy and glowing xoxo

[totallynotslothhh]

Hiiiii I absolutely love ur one shots especially the snoring or sucking one,so cute!!!!!!

Soooo I wanted to request a joostxreader where joost is tired from all his work and the reader is also tired from her work,so the reader decide to take turn in massaging each other but when it comes to joost turn to massage the reader,her back is very sensitive so she keeps moaning and it escalates into something more than a massage 😍

Feel free to ignore this if u don’t like it!!!!

Also I absolutely love when someone is crashing me with their weight so I like the massage scenario cause well he’s sitting on the reader back (idk😔)

NECESSARY TIREDNESS

pairing: joost klein x fem!reader

word count: 3,279

warning: fluff, smut, spanking, dirty talking, fingering

description: just the request!!

author’s note: I had to make it up to you somehow, and most importantly I had to start working of some requests (i’m sooooooooo slow).

thank you so much anon for this request and the compliments, i love youu!!! your freaky minds mirror mine, don’t worry.

enjoy your reading!!! hope you like it, let me know what you think!

big kisses!

(sorry if there are grammatical errors, I tried my best, English is not my first language!!!🙏)

——————————————————————

The book I had promised myself I’d read -the one that had been buried in the old bookshelf of the apartment I shared with my boyfriend- ended up shamefully abandoned in the rumpled sheets, right next to the spot my body had occupied just seconds before I got up, lured by the sound of keys turning in the front door lock.

I tiptoed to the living room, peeking silently from the hallway and catching a glimpse of my boyfriend’s exhausted figure as he finally made it home.

He locked the door behind him and let out a curse under his breath, making me stifle a giggle as I tilted my head to watch him better: Baggy jeans, the heavy jacket, and the cap he’d been wearing constantly lately.

The scent of his arrival filled the house, that familiar smell that always managed to calm me, the one I found myself searching for everywhere and that I only ever truly rediscovered in our love nest.

His tired eyes landed on my hidden silhouette, and his face slowly gave way to a soft smile.

“Hey, baby” he murmured toward me, before setting the house keys down on the usual cabinet, shrugging off his heavy coat, and taking off the dark cap, as if even the fabric against his skin had started to bother him.

He was left in just his jeans and a plain black t-shirt, which you could tell from a mile away had survived the chaos of the music world.

It was a really stressful time for Joost: barely home, juggling the release of his new album, the tour, and a bunch of video shoots that kept him busy for entire days.

I missed him and we often ended up slipping into small arguments born out of that tension.

-“You were supposed to do the dishes and forgot.”-

-“You said you’d text me after work, but you didn’t.”-

-“You didn’t hang the laundry like you said you would.”-

-“You said you’d buy more detergent, but if I don’t do it, no one will.”-

You know, the everyday stuff couples bicker about.

I’d been pretty busy myself lately: work was overwhelming, stress piling up on my shoulders and the only thing I wanted the moment I got home was to disappear into my boyfriend’s arms, laugh about nothing, count the moles on his skin like they were stars in a constellation.

And more often than not, those weren’t wishes that could be granted.

But apparently, that day, luck was on my side.

I’d left work early, treated myself to a relaxing bath, and now I got to watch my boyfriend come home before ten at night. A miracle.

“I’m so tired” he mumbled with a sigh, heading toward me and down the hallway, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it, only to mess it up even more.

I walked barefoot to meet him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as his hands instinctively settled on my hips, both of us still moving forward, unwilling to let go.

Our clumsy steps brought us to the bathroom door, where Joost looked down at me with a smile and brushed a hand against my cheek.

“I was hoping you’d be home” he admitted, nudging his nose against my forehead before catching my lips in a kiss. I hummed quietly, rising on my toes and letting my hands glide over his warm shoulders, savoring the closeness.

“I was hoping you’d come home early” I whispered back, playfully nipping at his lower lip and pulling him even closer. Like if I let go, he might disappear.

I was wearing only a pair of panties and one of his white shirts, every time I hugged him or stood on tiptoe, the thin fabric slipped and revealed patches of bare skin, giving Joost’s hands all the room they needed. He gripped my bare waist, sending shivers down my spine and leaned in again, trailing soft, lingering kisses on my lips, savoring the moment between each one just to look at me, to admire me.

“Mmm, you stink” I teased with a giggle, sticking my tongue out playfully, which he caught gently between his lips and bit without pressure before replying.

“Thanks for the heads-up. Had really no idea” he said, letting his hand sneak down to grab a bare cheek.

“If my favorite little leech lets me go for just a second, I’ll take a shower and then I’m all yours” he whispered warmly, his voice scratchy with fatigue but softened by the love that laced every word.

“Without this leech, who knows under which bridge you’d be living” I shot back, my teasing clear and his laugh that followed proved I’d hit the mark. I relaxed my arms and let him go, planting another kiss on his lips before I stepped away.

“I really should thank you” he said with the same playful tone, taking advantage of the fact that I’d turned to walk back to the bedroom: his hand landing gently on my exposed butt, the soft slap echoing faintly. I giggled and let out a dramatic little groan, pretending to complain as I made my way back to our bed, crawling under the sheets and trying to pick up the thread of the book I’d abandoned.

After what felt like endless minutes, I saw him walk into the room wearing a bathrobe wrapped around his body and a towel draped over his hair. He threw me a glance with those soft, little eyes of his, carrying with them a familiar kind of tenderness.

“So tired you turned to reading?” he said as he rummaged through the underwear drawer, eventually grabbing a random pair of boxers.

I shifted my legs under the blanket and rolled my eyes toward the ceiling, biting back a smile by pressing my lips together.

“Wanna bet my plan to give you a massage is slowly disappearing?” I raised an eyebrow, closing the book and letting it rest on the nightstand , this time for good. The only thing on my mind now was indulging in some well-deserved affection with the Dutch man standing by our bed.

“Oh my God, yes please baby, I need it” his eyes practically lit up as he looked at me, almost pleading, before dropping the towel and slipping into the pair of boxers he’d just picked up.

“What now? You begging the leech for a shoulder rub?” I teased, sitting up on the mattress while he groaned in protest, mumbling some incoherent mix of words as he let himself fall onto the bed.

“You’re submissive for a massage” I whispered with a smirk, lowering my tone, running a hand through his damp hair before leaning down to press a light kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll give you one later” he muttered, letting his eyes slowly roam over my half exposed body. He reached out and let his thumb trail gently along my bare thigh.

I nodded, recognizing the unspoken agreement and caught his rough hand with mine.

“Come here” I said softly, moving my hand away from his messy hair. I sat cross-legged, waiting for the slow, lazy bear to settle himself in front of me.

I placed my hands on his tense shoulders and helped him relax into me. I loosened my legs, resting them on either side of his torso, comfortably against my abdomen. His arms wrapped around my knees, his hands lazily caressing my calves and his face tilted up to meet my gaze.

“Relax, love” I whispered, my fingers kneading the muscles in his shoulders, pulling a low, guttural moan from his throat as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, letting the tension melt from his body.

“yes baby” I breathed out, letting my thumbs travel to the nape of his neck and then down along his arms. Every spot I touched, I moved gently, slowly, not forcing anything, just trying to work out the stress and exhaustion that had built up over the long, relentless days behind us.

The room was filled only with the sound of our steady breathing, and the occasional soft smack of kisses I leaned down to give him: on his face, often on his lips. I kept massaging him for a solid ten minutes, while his hands caressed from my ankle to my knee, mimicking the pressure I was applying to his shoulders, as if to hint at what he was planning to do next.

“Turn around, baby, and take off your shirt” he murmured, letting go of my legs and shifting on the bed, now kneeling on the mattress. His eyes lingered first on my face, then slowly dropped to my body which didn’t hesitate to obey, slipping off the shirt and collapsing face down onto the bed with a soft sigh.

“Be gentle” I warned, resting my arms at my sides and almost instinctively pressing my breast into the plushness of the mattress to hide it.

“As if I don’t know that already” he replied with a breathy chuckle that cradled my ears and gave me the reassurance I needed to close my eyes and trust him. He straddled me, and I felt the weight of his hips settle against the curve of my backside, his hands placing themselves on my back, right between my shoulder blades.

He began to move his tattooed fingers gently, drawing from me nothing but soft moans and light sighs. My muscles tensed beneath his touch, and my shoulders curled in reaction.

“Breathe, you’re a bundle of nerves” he said, his voice dangerously close to my ear, a clear sign he had leaned down against my body. A cascade of shivers ran down my spine, and Joost’s hands took that as encouragement.

He kept gliding them down the length of my spine, reaching the dimples just above my hips, then pressing softly but firmly as he traced his way back up toward my shoulders. A louder moan slipped past my lips, echoing like a quiet confession that reached his ears.

The more he realized he could draw those sounds from me, the more he caressed and kneaded my back. I could feel the full weight of his body pressing into the curve of my ass, and that pressure only intensified the heat pulsing through me, settling insistently between my thighs and dampening the fabric of my underwear.

“A massage isn’t the only thing you need to relax, huh?” he muttered, halting the movements of his hands as his lips brushed over the sensitive skin of my neck, stealing a sigh that had been caught in my throat.

I bit my bottom lip and arched my back just slightly, barely grinding against his hips.

“Answer me” he whispered again against my skin, gradually leaving a trail of teasing bites that marked a chaotic path down my back. I opened my eyes for a second, catching a glimpse of him from the corner of my gaze, only to close them again when he rose off me and then came the smack. A sharp slap to one cheek, followed by a firm squeeze.

“You already know the answer” I mumbled, the words muffled against the pillow I was now gripping tightly with one hand. Another slap landed, this time on the other cheek, followed by the soothing stroke of a palm, easing the sting with gentle pressure.

“Tell me you want to be fucked” he said, voice oddly calm, as he leaned down with the full weight of his body pressing into my ass. I could feel his erection, growing and insistent, the need between us undeniable and building fast.

I let out a quiet, breathy laugh and clenched the pillow harder, feeling exposed and feverish.

How long had it been since we last had sex? A week? It felt like it.

Suddenly, his hand tangled shamelessly in my hair, yanking my head back and forcing me to arch my spine.

“Say it” his voice rasped close to my ear, and I let out a sharp moan at the tight grip, clutching the pillow even harder and wetting my lips.

“I want it. Fuck me..” I breathed out the words in a half-whisper, barely more than air in the room but they reached him, completely.

He let go of my hair only to bring that same hand around my neck. He didn’t squeeze too hard, just held me steady as he kissed me open-mouthed along my shoulder and into the hollow of my neck, licking hungrily and adding sharp bites that would soon bloom red on my skin.

I closed my eyes, parted my lips, and let out obscene sounds from the overwhelming stimulation prickling through every part of my body. He began grinding slowly against my ass and gently guided my head back down to the pillow, loosening the hold on my neck as his lips traveled the length of my back.

I bit down on my lower lip and released a hot, sex-laced sigh that seemed to stain the white walls of our bedroom. He grabbed the edge of my panties and pulled them slowly upward, creating delicious friction between the soaked fabric and my dripping sex. I squeezed my thighs together and lifted my hips slightly.

“Please, Joost” I murmured, right before the third slap landed on my ass. I jolted from the sensitivity and held my breath.

Without another word, I felt him rise off me and walk to the bedside drawer. He pulled out a condom and tossed it onto the bed near my nearly naked body.

I watched him: the way his hands moved, his flushed cheeks, his heaving chest, his hair almost completely dry but still messy. Our eyes met, and he gave me one of his warmest smiles, the kind that made me curl inward and bury half my face into my hands.

Every time, it felt like the first time. I was so deeply in love with how he loved me.

“You’re beautiful” he said as he climbed back onto the bed, leaning over me to reach the side of my face.

His hand slid between my legs, under my panties and began moving his middle and ring fingers over my entrance, which clenched around nothing the moment I felt his touch.

I muttered something chiding, overwhelmed by how he made me feel, only to be answered with a kiss on my shoulder and a soft laugh, followed by a playful bite.

Then he slid those two fingers inside me from behind, and I tensed, eyes rolling back as raw, instinctive moans left my throat.

“One day, I swear I’ll sample these sounds in one of my songs” he groaned against the tender skin of my neck, never stopping the slow thrusting of his fingers.

I blushed hard, letting the heat flood my face.

“You perv” I whispered through a breathless laugh, cut off by a loud, guttural moan as he smacked my already flushed right cheek, harder this time.

“The same perv you’re begging to fuck you, that’s some real consistency” he teased again, but I let his words slip through my fingers and answered only with more needy, gasping moans.

He pulled his hand out of my panties that didn’t take off, just moved them to the side, revealing what he wanted. I turned my head as much as I could to look at him, and our eyes locked again.

My heart stuttered in my chest from the sheer love I felt for him in that moment.

He knelt on the bed, gripped my hips, and lifted them slightly, making my back arch on instinct. I heard him let out a sigh of pleasure at the sight, probably one of his favorites, since he never failed to tell me how much he loved it.

He pulled off the boxers he had just put on, freeing his erection, painfully hard and throbbing. I shifted my hips, waiting for him to bury himself inside me while he was putting on the condom. Finally, we connected and though our mouths were apart, our breaths merged into one long, trembling sigh. I tightened around his length as he began to move, slow at first, sweet, careful but deep.

He leaned over me as he thrust deeper, our bodies echoing with wet, shameless sounds.

His fingers tangled in my hair again, gently turning my head to the side: my lips spilled moans and my eyes fluttered halfway closed from the pleasure flooding through me. He kissed my cheek, my lips as best he could, then focused on my neck and shoulders, biting and kissing with hunger.

He tugged my hair tighter and pressed my face into the pillow, increasing the force of his movements. They were messy now, hard and fast, driven by something deeper than lust. Our moans grew louder, blending into one another. My lower back ached but I didn’t care. It only amplified my arousal, building the climax that was beginning to form in my core.

“Let go… it’s okay” he groaned against my shoulder, leaving a bite there that I knew would last for days.

I was overstimulated, lost in him and his thrusts grew harder, matching the rhythm my body needed to fall apart. I shut my eyes tight, my leg muscles tensed and Joost’s hands now held firmly onto my hips, gripping hard enough to leave red marks.

“I love you y/n… I’ll never stop loving you”he whispered and that’s what pushed me over the edge.

My orgasm crashed into me. My hands gripped the bedsheet, my face buried in the pillow, my hips locked tight while his length kept pounding into me without pause.

I rode the wave, trembling and didn’t relax until I felt him finish too, thick and deep into the condom, slowing his thrusts as he collapsed over me. One of his hands clenched the bedsheet, the other sought mine.

“Fuck… fuck” he breathed, his mouth open, staying buried inside me for a few seconds longer before pulling out, removing the condom and tossing it in the bin beside the bed.

I let my hips go slack, groaning from the soreness in my lower back.

“You okay?” Joost’s completely spent body slid beside mine, his hand brushing softly through my hair as he motioned for me to come lie against his chest.

I accepted his invitation immediately. I moved with a bit of pain, wrapping an arm around his torso and resting my head on his chest, tangling our legs together.

“Yeah… I’m perfect” I murmured, lifting my eyes to him, taking in the sweat on his forehead, the exhaustion in his eyes and the smile still tugging at his lips.

“I love you too” I replied in the same low tone, leaning in a little to silently ask for a kiss. He lifted a hand to gently caress my cheek, and met my lips with his.

He pressed a few quick kisses to my lips, each one landing with a loud little pop that made me laugh.

“I should put this beautiful laugh in a song, too” he murmured against my lips, not stopping the soft rhythm of them brushing against his.

“Don’t even think about it” I warned, pulling back gently just enough to look him in the eyes, trying to pass off a serious look.

It only made him laugh: that sweet, boyish laugh of his.

Not that it mattered. He was going to do it anyway.

Sooner or later he would come home with a song made from my moans and laughter, only to see me embarrassed.

[rehmes]

Nothing Solitary about Us : ⋆༘ Wriothesley / reader | headcannons . oneshot

‗ content / trigger warning: bigger story / reader background not fully mentioned, reader is a refugee, Wriothesley swooning (in his own way), thoughts of self doubt, fluff/angst?? Like a weird mixture of the two, not beta read, we die like Wriothesley's adoptive parents. ‗word count: 4k ‗ author's note: If you saw when I accidentally posted this the first time . . . no you didn't! Apologies if it's ooc, a little long, or has errors in spelling. English isn't my first language and this is the first time I've written for Wriothesley! Any suggestions to improve will be much appreciated! :D

Wriothesley could still remember the day he saw you, the day that you had come into the Fortress after, purposefully, committing a crime to gain some sort of refugee status; Why you thought to come to a prison, of all places, to receive such a thing baffled him the most. And it had baffled him for the longest time until you had told him why:

You and The Duke first met when The Duke wasn’t even The Duke; Meeting as cellmates in the Fortress, having been put in the same age group for practically everything that the Fortress had to offer at that time. Which wasn't a lot, and with Wrothesley’s lack of enthusiasm to even look in your direction, it made everything a lot more insufferable. But, Wriothesley didn’t know that; He was just intent on staying out of your way and not causing any more trouble for himself. Likewise, the thought of making friends with you did creep into his mind but so did the doubts that you might hate him after you figured out why he was sentenced here. So, it took a lot for Wriothesley and you to actually begin talking, despite being paired for a lot of the backbreaking activities. And, Wriothesley does still remember that day, too: It was after a tiring shift, where you were both thoroughly whipped out and about to crash at the dinner tables. You both had used coupons to buy food, and didn’t even have the energy to sit at different tables, muchless to open the containers containing your dinner. It felt as though every muscle in your bodies had been torn, limb from limb, muscle from tissue and bone, it was excruciating… and you were about sure you could appeal to the Iudex about this being considered some sort of child labor. Maybe even murder if they kept pushing you both like this. Luckily, you guessed, Wriothesley looked a little better in shape than you did, but he was not far lagging behind. With shaking hands he reached out to open his dinner for the night, to only pause and stare down in horror at what was on his tray. It made you nervous to even peek into yours, seeing the way Wriothesley’s face contorted; A corner of his left eye tightening, his eyebrows furrowing down to create visible creases along his forehead, and a scowl you’ve only ever seen when someone bothered him. A look of pure disgust.

Yet, you still checked yours away. You didn’t know that Wriothesley had glanced up to see if you had gotten the same horror as he did, and by some god awful prank (or pure disluck) you also had the conglomeration on your plate. Some weird, mysterious meat that sat on the plate, sometimes twitching like it was still mooing, sometimes resting as meat should rest. Equally unappetizing and making your hunger even more apparent, as you were tempted to taste the horrific creation that came out of that unsanitized kitchen. “You know,” Your voice caught Wriothesley's attention, as his had drifted down to the plate of food in front of him. His eyes shot up and barely met yours, “it could be worse?” You shrugged your shoulders in a joking way, giving Wriothesley an awkward look paired with an even awkwarder smile. He was a bit baffled at your conclusion, “It could be worse?” He questioned, calm and steady, confused and a bit curious on where you were going to go with such a statement.

In his fatigue, he had broken the one rule he had set for himself in this place; Don’t talk to anyone, don’t make yourself known, don’t make any friends. In his fatigue he didn’t believe answering you would be so wrong nor did he believe that you two would ever speak again after his point, so why not entertain you… and himself.

“At least they didn’t puke on our plate?” The joke fell from your lips with the weakest chuckle you could muster. Your eyes drooped and the pain was evident in the way your eyes shined ever so less than normal. Wriothesley was about to respond, yet you managed to get at it before him; “You know, where I came from, if you didn’t have a fire you had to eat your fish cold! Like, ice cold. And there was nothing you could do about it… other descale the thing and pray you didn’t just eat your last meal.” “Is that right?” Wriothesley cocked an eyebrow up, unsure where you had come from yet didn’t enjoy the images that came into his head. Well, one was particularly funny and it was the thought of you trying to bite into a frozen fish and hurting your teeth. Not like he wanted that to happen, maybe. “Well, don’t give the kitchen staff any ideas or maybe they’ll just import that from your weird homeland.” It had been a while since Wriothesley had laughed, and he couldn’t help but chuckle softly alongside you. The conversation was a ridiculous one, especially when first conversations usually went along the lines of introducing yourselves to each other. Yet, oddly to Wriothesley, it felt about right. And from that day, Wriothesley was sure he didn’t know of a day where he didn’t talk to you. Even if it started with a small greeting in the hallway or pointers on how to do a job more efficiently, small conversation gradually turned into the two of you chatting for hours eating lunch or dinner and even trying to talk after lights out. It finally felt like you had escaped your past and had a friend in a place you named your refuge, and Wriothesley finally felt like he had met someone (though this feeling was slow and gradually coming) that would accept him, despite his past doings.

Wriothesley interlocked his fingers, resting his elbows on the table, and nestled his chin on the finger net he had made. His eyes were softer than usual, yet that piercing blue. Back then, when you two had simply been inmates trying to work out your frustration and struggles with the world; Now, you laid on the couch in Wriothesley’s office in the fortress, with his coat draped over you like a blanket, napping. From outside eyes, you both would look like the perfect couple, yet he hadn’t even managed to ask you the question yet; But, he had an inkling you understood, just as he did, how he felt about you. Otherwise, Wriothesley couldn’t fathom why you decide to spend your nights in his office, keeping him company, when you could be in the nurse wing with Sigewinne or doing “orderly duties” for the fortress above on the surface. It made a small smile twitch onto his lips seeing you, you always managed to do that; But, it also bubbled the age old question in his mind . . . is this life good enough for you? Wriothesley is usually a calm man, a collected one, who didn’t often question why people came to the Fortress and simply gave them a second chance at peace – well, more frankly, at life. He understood how such a thing could quell the anger that simmered in convicts and made it his life work to make sure everyone was treated as fairly as they worked for. Yet, you? You were a different question. He still wasn’t sure why you had come to the Fortress in the first place, yet had deduced from several conversations you came from the Snezhnaya. Sure, he could go into the room lined with file drawers with the reasons why convicts had been placed into captivity, but that room was one, far too crowded for his taste, and two, he didn’t wish on peaking into your personal life. At least, without your permission. 

Yet, still, the thought always crossed him on why you were here – by choice! Not that you walked in and checked yourself in, yet you committed many crimes to be noticed in Fontaine, trailed in court, then admitted to your crimes to be placed into the Fortress. The thought of doing such a thing made him cross his arms and lean back in the chair, his eyes more settled on your sleeping form and the way his jacket hugged the curves of your body. You always looked so happy on the surface, to see the sky and breathe the fresh air. Wriothesley wouldn’t want to keep you trapped in the Fortress. “I’ve never seen you so pensive before, Duke!” A voice suddenly appeared besides Wriothesley, causing him to jerk out of his train of thought. He sat up straight, a little suddenly, as he quickly turned to notice the all too familiar nurse of the Fortress: Sigewinne. The Duke played off his thoughts with a chuckle, “Ah, yes, well, I was thinking about something, Sigewinne.” He would half-heartedly joke, as the nurse gave him an all too unamused look. ‘No shit’, was what he was sure she was telling him in her head, but he only responded with a cool snicker. “Well, the tea you ordered from Liyue arrived at the Fortress and I came wondering if you wanted some,” The offer hung in the air, and Wriothesley knew the nurse would tag on a remark. “But it seems like you may need to talk out some problems.” She wasn’t an expert on human emotions, but she was better than spilling his mind to an inmate, Wriothesley guessed… or maybe even you. A pensive hum left the Duke’s lips as Sigewinne walked over, a hop away from skipping, and settled her tray with tea onto his desk. Promptly, she would nestle herself properly into a chair on the other side of Wriothesley’s desk, hands resting over her stomach and a pleased smile on her face.

“Go on, Wriothesley! I’m open ears.” Chimed the Nurse. Though only playful sarcasm came from the Duke as he poured himself a cup of tea, “Hmm, talking about my emotions? That seems like such a fun topic.” He knew it was needed, if not wanted. Even more so when Sigewinne didn’t seem too pleased with his half-hearted answer; As she pouted her lips and let out an extensive huff; “As the nurse, I care for everyone in the Fortress and that includes you too, Duke! Please, don’t make my job any harder than it needs to be.” There was an earnest tone in her voice, and Wriothesley knew she was getting better in her studies.

Even more so when she shook her head after his moments of silence, “Your eyebrows are frowned and your eyes rest everywhere but me or,” Wriothesley’s eyes drifted to you when Sigewinne pointed you out. You had shifted in your sleep, now laying on your back. You were peaceful; It made his eyes soften. He remembered when you used to have trouble sleeping by yourself, never feeling safe enough… Now you were sleeping like nothing in the world could ever hurt you. Like those fears of the past were nothing but fears. And they were; Wriothesley will make sure of it.

Sigewinne’s eyes had drifted off to you too. She was silent as she surveyed the way you slept and then the way Wriothesley lingered his attention on you. “You’re still debating whether or not to tell her, huh?” “And where did you hear that?” There’s the cheeky Sigewinne that Wriothesley knew. Of course, he knew her more caring side as the Nurse but he had a hunch that she also knew about why he had been so “thoughtful” – to put it colorfully. Though Sigewinne would shake her head and smile, “You’re very obvious sometimes! I think even Miss Clorinde knows!” That wouldn’t be good. Not at all. “Does she now?” But Wriothesley had to remain cool, collected. Now, it wasn’t that Wriothesley was embarrassed for others to know of his crush on you – well, by this point, it’s lasted so long he was sure he could dub it love, but better safe than sorry if you didn’t return his feelings – but he was simply cautious about other inmates knowing. After all, you were still technically one of them, an inmate. Your sentencing had been for about three years, maybe four, but you never left. You had chosen to stay since the first day you came, technically giving you a life sentence on your own will. So, if the other inmates know about the two of you – or well Writoehsley’s feelings – it could put your life in danger. There was a tick of silence again, something Wriothesley was rather fond of sometimes… like in this case. Yet, his eyes did not miss Sigewinne standing up from her chair and striding over to where you rested on the couch. There was a careful, cautious, way she held her hand out as she checked you.

“She’s still asleep,” Sigewinne noted.

And Wriothesley hummed in response, “I couldn’t tell.” Where was Sigewinne going with this, Wriothesley’s eyes narrowed slightly, though they were not harsh.

“Maybe she’s dreaming about you, Duke!”

Wriothesley is a hard man to crack. He was the Duke of the Fortress, a peacekeeper among the convicted, and yet sometimes when he was with you he couldn’t help but be that ever so lenient. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to confess to you after Sigewinne had come skipping into his office late one day while you were in her Medical Bay. It wasn’t uncommon, of course, being in the Fortress there were few people to speak to you with the kindness Sigewinne does; And you two often had conversations, even nights where you would have quote-on-quote sleepovers. Yet, today you went due to a headache. And, no less than an hour later, Sigewinne came skipping into his office like she had won the lottery – and Wriothesley half-entertained such a ridiculous thought. “What’s the good news, Nurse Sigewinne?” Wriothesley played along with her bubbly demeanor; Enjoying the change of pace from his slow, meticulous work which dragged on for hours on end. He swore to himself when he was half way done, he would go check on you, yet he was only a ¼. Luckily, seemingly, the news had been brought to him. “Well, they’re doing a lot better! It only appeared to be a headache due to not drinking enough water, but that tends to be normal.” Sigewinne reported as she came to a halt beside Wriothesley’s desk. “But, she also spoke rather colorfully about you!"

“Oh?” Wriothesley’s curiosity peaked, though a voice also nagged him about respecting your privacy. “Is that a good thing, or perhaps a bad thing, Nurse Sigewinne?” He knew she wouldn’t be able to tell him much, as there still was patient confidentiality, even in the Fortress. But, by the way Sigewinne’s face beamed and the way her hands animatedly rested upon her hip, he was sure she was about to tell him to shoot his shot… once again. He thought it was enough she had gotten the others to bug him about it, while also still placing stickers upon his back, but he couldn’t stay angered, or even annoyed, at them for long. Or at all. “I can’t say much, but I say you have a very good chance of landing her, Mr. Wriothesley!” Sigewinne beamed, and Wriothesley swore her smile went ear to ear.

Wriothesley was a private man, as private as one can get for being the Duke of a prison, yet you can always tell how he felt about a person from his actions. He was, and is, a man of few words … he always had been since you two were teenagers. And you never failed to take notice of it. Especially when he first began to give you some favor. 

Of course, it was nothing too big, nor grand, when you were teenagers going onto young adults. It was small gestures that would brighten up your day ever so slightly more, like holding open the door for you or walking closer when a nasty group of inmates sent creepy looks your way. He had even gotten into a fight with one of them after they approached you. Wriothesley had walked away for a second, going to get you both your lunch, when he turned around to see the guy grabbing your arm. Seeing you wriggle and writhe under the man’s disgusting touch was more than enough for Wriothesley to send a nasty blow to the side of the guy’s head, which caused him to crack his head open on the floor below.  It had been one of the few complications he had gotten into while at the Fortress, and he never regretted it. At least, that’s what he constantly told you and you had to believe his word. But, that event had been the first time that you felt some sort of pang in your heart regarding the, now, Duke; And it surely wasn’t the last. Especially after you were sure that Wriothesley was sending signals your way constantly by his small actions that always made you feel safer, closer, to him.

Yet, you had always had your own reservations on confessing to the Duke; Mostly having to do with where you came from, why you had left, and who was currently looking for you. You didn’t want Wriothesley, no matter how many times he defended you and said he would punch someone’s lights out if they messed with you, to get hurt because of the people you used to know. So you always waited for him to confess… and then tell him the dangers. But, day by day you compiled more and more reasons as to why Wriothesley might love you, and many more reasons why you loved him back. For one, he was a complete gentleman; To that, while he tended to be a little short and cold, he very much made it apparent that you could tell him anything, or even just lean on him if you needed. When you two walked, sometimes his hand would rest on the small of your back rather than your waist, and he would open the doors for you when you entered a building. Then there was the glares to the inmates who tried to mess with you, which was a little less fun to deal with, but a comfort nonetheless, and the visits to the Medical Bay he’d personally take to check up on your well being. There was, of course, a lot more that Wriothesley did that always made you feel special, more than you could ever count in a lifetime. And you were sure if things were different in your life you would have confessed to him long ago about the feelings that continuously welled in your chest, like a rapid river bashing against a dam begging to be freed yet never feeling such freedom. Man, wasn’t that poetic? 

“Hey, we need to talk.” Wriothesley’s voice was like a net, catching your attention and bringing it to shore – bringing you back to the present moment and back to Wriothesley. You had been at lunch, having brought up your meal you bought with coupons up to Wriothesley’s office and was currently toying with it on his floor. You would usually be sitting on the couch, waiting for the Duke to spare some attention to you which he tended to grace you with more than others. (Seriously! You had watched Neuvillette have to sit and wait for about an hour or more to speak with the Duke as he finished up some paperwork. It was slightly painful). But, you decided to not test your luck that day and possibly stain Wriothesley’s couch with… whatever you were eating. Honestly, you were so lost in thought you had forgotten what they had served, and now looking at it, it was too much of a mess for your brain to piece together. “A talk? That’s never good,” The sly comment shortly dropped from your lips, a snicker across your face as you glanced up at the Duke. His arms were crossed in a somehow pensive and relaxed (you weren’t sure how that's feasible, but he made it work) fashion as he leaned back against his chair, having taken his eyes off of his work for the first time in a few hours. Unknown to you, he hadn’t been able to complete some of the papers that flooded his desk because his mind kept drifting back to you. You. God, you were so perfect in his eyes. Even if he logically knew that no one could be quote-on-quote perfect, he sometimes chose to ignore that fact for you. Only you, really. 

“Nah, I think you’ll like this one,” Wriothesley continued, a chuckle present upon his lips that gave his stubble some light. When was the last time he shaved? The thought crossed your mind. You didn’t mind it, of course, you always enjoyed his stubble, it made him look more handsome in your eyes. But, even so, his looks weren’t enough to evade your skeptical side glance and the cock of your eyebrow. Even if Wriothesley snickered, knowing you had been checking him out a little; After all, he sometimes purposely lets his stubble grow out for you. Wriothesley was a man of few words, and even sometimes his words tended to fail him. So, there was a brief moment that his eyes lingered onto yours, and yours lingered right back to his. A beat, maybe even longer, before he stood from his desk and strided over to where you sat on the floor, kneeling down to your height. And, being so close, you could almost see all the words that were swirling in his head in his eyes; The regrets yet also momentums that wanted to pour out, yet he kept locked inside, as he reached a hand out and wiped a smug of food from your cheek. To others, his face might have seemed cold or indifferent, but you could tell there was some sort of attentiveness in his eyes that gave him away. It always had. And, just like Wriothesley, your own eyes and body always tended to give you away to him. The way your eyes crinkled ever so more when you laughed at one of his poorly delivered jokes. The way you always entertained the joke of Sigewinne being your shared child, much to her dismay, and the way you always naturally floated to his presence when he was in a room.

“You’re a horrible liar, you know that, right?” Wriothesley would tease, as a crinkle appeared in the corner of his eye. You knew what he was talking about and it made your heart flip. Both in a good way and a bad way. You would feel guilty putting Wriothesley into the fire that you had forged, which burnt down everything you had ever known beforehand. And yet, you were unaware that Wriothesley was equally as revered as confessing to you due to the likeness that the Fortress might become your shared home. He didn’t want that life for you as much as you didn’t want your life for him. And yet, despite that, Wriothesley was shooting his shot, as despite all the uncertainties that clouded both of your minds, there will still always be a shared affection for one another that wouldn’t fade easily, if ever. So, you snorted and confessed, “You’re not much better yourself, Duke.” Despite your mind screaming at you differently.

And, it was strangely peaceful to get that heavy weight off your chest, even if it felt like your heart was being crushed all the same. Though, if you were able to weather your own struggles with anyone, you know it would be with Wriothesley – in turn, Wriothesley knew that if push came to shove, you’ll be there to lend him the extra strength to deal twice the blow. And so it always felt right, in your hearts, for you two to be together. Yet, why did that new found heavyweight only grow heavier?

Home | Masterlist

[dreamingmoonlight]

Heart of the Memverse, Veins of Order.

TASK M4NAGER!

(…name is a wip. Read its lore below the cut.)

Task M4nager came about from the ambitions of two differing entities. The conquest for Order and an unchanging world, coupled with the need for validation, the want to be acknowledged for SOMETHING by both their peers and their lovers.

But Four got a lot more than what he was bargaining for, that’s for sure.

Task M4nager is, in essence, the worst parts of Ramiel combined with the personality of Order merged to make one being. A scorned and slighted dictator, rejected by everyone.

But it wasn’t always like this.

TM was originally created by Marina as a sort of automated admin panel, able to keep the Memverse up and running without the constant need for organic oversight. TM was in charge of almost everything from the nodes, to the Spire, to even the things that spawn within and so on.

It also acted as a security system, preventing malicious viruses from entering and damaging the code. And it was *supposed* to prevent the exact circumstances that resulted in Order’s manifestation.

But it didn’t do that, did it? This failure in logic resulted in TM completely crashing and becoming basically inoperable.

You would think this would be a good thing for Order, but no actually. Despite its overriding of the system, TM was still above it in the hierarchy. And if TM hasn’t operated in a while, the Memverse’s code will start to rot and tear itself apart. The solution to this plight? The consciousness of a living being. With that, there would be no error since TM is now, well, alive.

The MV however, wasn’t open to the public yet. So Order couldn’t just pluck a random sanatized octo or something for it. But there was….a few beta testers.

Eight/Hephaeus, Acht, Pearl and…

Ramiel. Agent 4.

Out of all the potential choices, Ramiel was the most mentally malleable. See, over the past few months, he had been feeling more and more overshadowed. I mean, how could he not? Artemisa, Hephaeus, and Neo 3 had all basically saved the entire world at one point in their lives. What had Ram even done compared to that? Save a stupid glorified catfish? Hell, he didn’t even save Callie, MARIE was the one to shoot those shades off and bring her to her senses. He felt so….inadequate compared to everyone else. And it ate away at his ego, badly.

Because the MV kept tabs on its users mental states at all times, Order knew this all.

One day while Ram was finishing up recording his combat data for use in the Parallel Canons, Order came to him with a proposition.

That if he joined its cause, he would have everything he ever wanted. Recognition…

Ramiel, not in the best mental headspace, and not really knowing what he was getting himself into exactly, took it up on its offer.

Ram proceeded to have his little squid soul ripped from his physical body and transported into the Memverse, where it was planted into TM.

And thus, Task M4nager was born.

That’s about it.

Thanks if you actually took the time to read all this!

[midnightshindig]

Can you do familial hc’s/a drabble for the viltrumite reader trying to indoctrinate Oliver with the viltrumite mindset? Maybe Debbie finds out and tells Mark and he ends ups fighting the reader, you’re the best ✌️

Oliver & Viltrumite!Reader

Ooooooo you guys are angsty, I love it.

Fair warning, I hate writing fight scenes, so this is mostly just gonna be angst.

Tw for viltrumite ideology- which is like lowkey fascist and evil as hell. In today's political climate where we're like lowkey being ruled by Viltrumites, I urge you to take the necessary steps to interact with this work in a healthy manner, or not at all, however, is the best for your mental health <3 Remember to drink water and keep on keeping on.

As always, fic under the cut!

You had been living with the Graysons since you crashed onto the earth, with Nolan recognizing your clothing and insisting you stay with them.

Of course, he doesn't tell Debbie you're a Viltrumite but rather that you're an alien from a planet he once saved and that he wants to sponsor your citizenship on Earth.

Before this, however, he takes you aside and explains the situation: You cannot blow his cover no matter what, and you will be subordinate to him.

And you're quite young for a Viltrumite—not even a hundred years old yet, hovering in your 80s or 90s. Physically, you were barely in your mid to late teens.

So you're introduced into the family! Debbie takes a shine to you, excited to have another person to dote on when she isn't busy with work.

Mark is OBSESSED with you, in a cool "wow I'm a younger sibling now" kind of way

He's barely nine when you land, so he's got nine more years to get used to your presence.

before Nolan goes awol.

It's a year later and you're still staying with the Graysons

You'd been invited to join the Guardians but that meant blood tests and Cecil finding out what you were

a loyal Viltrumite preparing the Earth for colonization in Nolan's stead.

You couldn't wrap your head around why he freaked out like he did, but you're not surprised Mark rejected joining him.

No... Mark was a lost cause

It would be sad, but he would have to see the error of his ways.... or die...

The thought saddened you greatly. And you'd already made arrangements to have Debbie kept somewhere.

Yes, it was a little inhumane, but at least she could be kept, Mark couldn't...

But those weren't the only people in the household, you'd recently gained a new addition to your happy little family.

Another alien, a purple baby, Oliver, as Debbie calls him, half-Viltrumite and half-Thraxan.

You, unlike Debbie and Mark, understand that his viltrumite blood will dominate the rest of his DNA

this baby is basically full Viltrumite.

Maybe there's hope after all.

Indoctrination-- education, as you call it-- is slow

Mainly pointed children's book lessons during story time

Things come to a head when Oliver ages into his elementary school years

"Y/n, why can't Dad come back?"

He asks you on day, fist gripping the fabric of your pants as he looks up at you with bleary eyes

It's a question he knows he shouldn't ask, and one he's too scared to ask his mother or Mark

but you've never been rude or quiet about him, you were the only person he felt he could talk to about such things

You picked him up, resting him on your hip, and poking the middle of his chest playfully

"Oliver- you know he's stuck in space jail! He's essentially in time out, for not following directions and being super mean to the people of Earth!" You smile candidly, eliciting a smaller smile from Oliver

"But-" he starts, looking around "What did he do that was so bad? Mark and Mom say that he killed a lot of people, and that he wanted to take over the world!!" He threw his arms up in the air for emphasis, but the gravity of his question was sincere

You thought for a minute before continuing "Well... Oliver... Your dad, and my dad are from the same place. I'm actually part Viltrumite, like you!" You smiled, this was a lie, you were full Viltrumite, but he didn't need to know you'd been fully lying to his family.

"And Viltrumites are a lot like your Mom, when she says to do something, you gotta listen, or else there'll be bad consequences" You nodded sagely "The Viltrumites's told your Dad to help Earth, and get it ready, and keep it safe so when the Viltrumites got here, they could keep it safe and make everything better!"

You heard a soft, stifled gasp, and looked to the doorway

It was Debbie, who had dropped the bags of groceries she and Mark had been out getting.

I guess they were back.

Standing behind her was Mark, wide eyed and confused, you'd never seen him so conflicted.

And you looked over at Oliver, still perched on your hip, staring with you at the rest of your family

Like a kid who'd been caught hearing a bad secret.

"You're... the whole time-" Debbie placed a hand on her forehead to support herself, looking between you and the carpet "You never told us."

A pang of guilt. You may be the superior life form, but she'd fed and protected you since you came to Earth. You didn't want her to be upset with you.

"Debbie I-" you started, before Mark-- entirely too wound up by the last year of his life-- cut you off

"What the HELL do you think you're doing?! YOU can't- Oliver come here." He took a step towards you, and Oliver flew in front of you, throwing his arms open to protect you

The room went quiet as everyone stared at Oliver, protecting you from Mark, in his own sad, too big for his body way

Mark calmed down a bit, approaching still

"Oliver, I need to have a grown-up conversation with Y/n. Go with Mom-"

"Mark!" Debbie hissed, not wanting to leave the conversation

But the look of pleading Mark gave her caused her to reconsider

She sighed, and held a hand out to Oliver

Oliver, in turn, looked at you with his big, puppy dog eyes

"Are we in trouble?"

oof. You ruffled his hair "You go with your Mom, now, okay? And listen to her, but remember what I told you."

Oliver nodded slowly, before joining his Mother and being led into the living room.

Mark exploded, throwing his arms in the air like a frustrated kid

"You were a viltrumite this whole time?! You lied to me- you lied to all of us!"

"Not Nolan." you corrected pointedly "And it's not your business, I don't owe you anything!"

"You do when you take advantage of us, of my mom! And when you spread your awful world view to a CHILD." He got closer, pointing his finger into your sternum

"Mark. I am not a child in need of scolding." You hovered above him, raising yourself above him "I know you don't see the point in what me and your father tried to accomplish, and the mission I inherited when he left, but you're not the boss."

He glared at you, still hurt and confused

"and what about me and mom? Are we like pets to you too?" You had just become a vicious enemy, and he could only think of the betrayal he felt

You were his older sibling. You'd taught him how to drive (after Nolan had taught you, it was a very similar process to driving your spacecraft on Viltrum)

You were the one who drove him to his first school dance- you helped him with his homework- you helped him with his powers after Nolan left-

...

Mark, in all his confusion and distress, could taste peanut butter in the roof of his mouth, fondly remembering all the days you and him were left to your own devices while his mom and dad went somewhere fancy for lunch, and you'd make him a pb&j

at first it was because you didn't know how to make anything else- they weren't big on individuals knowing how to cook on your home planet

but it had become a treasured memory.

"Did being my sibling mean nothing?"

His words softened you as your soles hit the carpet, reaching forward to put a hand on his shoulder

"Mark... of course not. I love you, and I love Debbie just as much as I do my own mother." you remembered your mother, a faceless vague woman who you hadn't seen since you were a small child Oliver's age "Probably more than my mother, in fact."

You sighed, pinching your nose "Nolan wanted you to see the way of things, but he's too harsh. He wants to be good at his job, he's one of the best soldiers Viltrum had, and for good reason. But he gets carried away, and fails to see the room for compromise."

You paused, folding your arms "Yes, we're going to take over Earth, and yes, a lot of people will die in resisting their betterment, but- Mark, those people will die anyways. In wars of their own or in enslavement of their own or global warming or any number of things."

"We take things over to ultimately make the world a better place, as opposed to what? Cecil? Who would trade human lives for a greater good any day, or what- The first supervillain to figure out how to take you all down? Would you subject Oliver to a world in which Doc Seismic runs things? As opposed to my people? Our people?"

Your words stung, and Mark had nothing to say to it but to keep staring at you with indignation and hurt

"And Oliver.. Mark- the boy is purple. And on earth that's a problem, Debbie spends so much money and time painting him just so she can take him to the grocery store. He's not socialized, he's not disciplined, he isn't happy. That's why he asks about his Dad so often. On Viltrum, he wouldn't be ostracized, he'd be studied and tested, and befriended by Viltrum children he could grow with and push to become stronger. he'd have a rigorous education and an incredible life, don't you want that for him? For yourself?"

You smiled coyly "The women on Viltrum tend to be quite gorgeous, a rarity. BUT, they only go out with other VIltrumites, so you've got a good shot."

Your attempt to lighten the mood failed, and Mark twitched in his inability to do anything

What was he going to do? punch you through the wall of your room? Throw your body through the corkboard of family photos taken over the years, maybe smash you through the desk littered in your small artistic creations, the little paper puppets you made for him and now made for Oliver? The scrapbook children's books you had made to tell stories of far-off places?

No. No he couldn't do that. He didn't have it in him. He felt just like how his dad had felt, knowing he needed to do something, but he couldn't kill you. He just. Couldn't.

You felt much the same about him, you knew you were stronger than him, but he was your baby brother.

You always knew he was going to have to get real or die, but you never thought it'd be you doing it.

"I... I...."

Mark watched you intensely, waiting for anything to happen.

"I'm gonna go."

Before Mark could say anything, you pushed open your window and flew off, with Mark too stunned to follow you.

Moments later, Debbie and Oliver came back into the room

"where's Y/n?" Oliver asked, picking up a puppet dragon from your desk and fidgeting with it

Debbie looked at Mark, her eyes begging the same question

"They're uh...." He didn't know what to say, because he didn't know "They're going away for a while. Probably."

The house felt so much emptier now.

Too big for a three person family meant to be a five person family.

[sxljcel]

Difficult night...🩸(Hungry!Rory Keaner x Reader)

First of all, let me know that this is my first one-shot, and in another language that is not my original one! I apologize in advance for spelling mistakes, discomfort to the reader and errors in the plot of the history. Thank you for reading! 🦒

Context: Rory comes to your house after wasting his energy in a fight and without having eaten anything. Without any choice, you must do your part to save your vampire boyfriend.

Warnings: Blood streak, swearing, addiction, Rory herself.

To begin with, that day had not been normal. As your boyfriend Rory had told you, that day he and his friends had a big fight with a group of foreign vampires who had gone to cause trouble in the village. Luckily, they managed to eliminate them in time, but Rory had ended up spending more energy than necessary helping in the fight...

Now, after that big confrontation, Rory decided to call you on the phone to ask if she could come and rest with you that night, since she wasn't feeling well at all. Since you thought it was a simple whim of your boyfriend, you said yes, as long as his mother knew.

In a matter of seconds he was already knocking on your bedroom window. He seemed really agitated, although you were aware that that wasn't possible.

Rory shuffled towards you and wrapped you in a tight hug as he inhaled your delicious scent. Then, you both talked about your days and just lay down together in your bed, you to sleep and him to try to clear his mind of what happened...

In the middle of the night you woke up suddenly, to the grunting and movements that Rory kept making next to you. When you turned around, he had his back to you, squirming with concern. You asked him if he was okay, and he answered:

"I'm so hungry... My stomach is bothering me more than usual!"

You tried to find the logical solution, but you didn't know what your boyfriend was really going through. "And why don't you go hunt something outside? I'll wait for you here."

"That's the problem. I already went hunting for all the squirrels and rats I found out there but nothing seems to be working. This is seriously starting to hurt."

You thought as you saw your boyfriend still with his back to you. Remembering how I had told you the story of that afternoon with the vampires, the only idea that came to mind was that Rory's hunger She was more serious than a couple of small animals. Maybe something bigger could help him... Something more applied to his «needs».

"Rory, look at me."

He refused, shaking his head. You knew him too well to know that he had his eyes closed.

"Rory, look at me now! Please"

De la manera más lenta y abrupta de la historia, Rory se giró con los ojos cerrados y las manos hundidas en el pecho. Parecía estar sufriendo mucho. Dudaste antes de proponerle tu idea, ya que sabías que era arriesgada, pero ya no podías ver a tu novio así sin hacer nada al respecto.

"Rory, I want you to bite me."

Your boyfriend opened his eyes wide, almost looking into your soul, as he frowned and sat on the bed, moving away from you.

"What!? Are you crazy? No! I'm not going to touch you even a hair"

"Rory, you're starving! And I have the blood you need." You got up to sit next to him, but he walked away almost instantly, crashing his back against your window next to the bed.

"Don't say it! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Rory covered her ears and closed her eyes tightly again.

"Rory, don't be childish." You removed your hands from his ears and stared into his eyes until he opened his. He looked scared, you could see it in his face.

"I don't want to kill you, I don't care how hungry I am, I'm not going to touch you!"

"You're going to have to do it if you don't want to starve yourself, although I don't know if that's possible..."

Rory looked at you suspiciously, because he knew that he didn't have good self-control when it came to human blood, much less one that smelled so good and was in abundance for him.

"But if I leave you dry and I can't save you? I would never forgive myself."

"Rory, let's be honest, you have fallen in love with a different girl every day of your life before we met. If something happens to me, you'll most likely forget it within a week." Rory made the most offended face she could muster at that moment, scowling like an angry grandfather.

"No! How can you think that about me? I love you!"

"I love you too Rory, so stop make this harder than it already is and suck my fucking blood!" Without thinking twice you took Rory's face in your hands and brought his mouth closer to your exposed neck, letting all your scent hit Rory's nose like a bullet, stimulating him immediately pulling his sharp fangs out of his mouth and rubbing them against your bare skin.

"Ah... Don't make me do this!" He moaned as his hand intentionally landed on the other side of your neck, squeezing just enough to leave a mark. His voice trembled like his entire body, and it sounded deeper than usual.

"Hurry before I regret it, Rory."

They remained silent like that, you waiting and him undecided about what to do. He breathed deeply into your neck, inhaling as much as he could of your lovely scent that was so hypnotizing to him.

"Do you promise that if anything goes wrong... Your spirit will torment me for the rest of eternity until I am killed?" Rory murmured, reaching your ears as a final surrender.

You smiled silently, tilting your head further to the opposite side, giving him more space to bite. "I promise you"

The silence stretched before Rory pulled away from your neck roughly. You pulled away from him disappointed.

"Wait, I better bite you somewhere else, I don't want to sink my teeth into your jugular by accident..." Rory took your bare arm and caressed it as if it were a soft cloth. He brought his nose close to the veins in your wrist and sniffed deeply at their aroma, sighing heavily as if he were getting high with your smell. "Have I told you how delicious you smell? You're like my personal brand of kryptonite..." Rory left the long kiss on your hand, leaving a small path towards your knuckles and then returning to your wrist.

"You couldn't last a minute without saying something nerdy, right?"

"I'm sorry, I had to take advantage of the opportunity..." He smiled at you with his glistening fangs out and his eyes locked with yours before returning to your forearm.

Rory licked her lips before opening her mouth wide near your forearm just below your marked veins on your wrist. You closed your eyes with sneakers and waited for the pain. "Promise me you'll scream if it hurts."

"Yes Rory, I get it!"

"Okay...Anxious"

You felt Rory's teeth graze your skin, making it crawl completely. Suddenly the stinging pain began to spread through your forearm, as if a large wasp were stinging you. Then he began to suck the blood like a syringe. Rory grunted in pleasure as he increased the pressure on his hands on your arm, deepening his bite at the same time. You weren't going to lie to yourself, it hurt, it hurt so much, but you knew that your boyfriend's life depended on this and your joy at being able to help him outweighed your pain.

Rory for her part seemed to be enjoying the moment now, starting to let strings of saliva fall from your forearm onto your sheets as she swallowed drop by drop of your precious nectar.

You began to feel dizziness that intensified until you began to see blurry. With all your strength you raised your other arm towards your boyfriend's blonde hair and pulled him in the opposite direction to your forearm. Rory seemed to object for a moment, growling like a cat with a steak in its mouth, the feeling inside your veins unsettling. You hit his hair a couple of times and pulled his hair until ripping out a few strands of his hair, that's when he stopped and released your arm from his teeth.

"Ouch! Why did you do that? I told you to scream if it hurt." Rory rubbed his head where you had pulled out the small strands of hair. His bloody teeth gave you a bit of an impression, although you always thought your boyfriend looked sexy in blood. running down his lips and chin.

You had trouble speaking, your eyes felt heavy, and the bite continued to bleed. You tried to speak but nothing but incomprehensible moans came out of your mouth. Finally your head fell into your hands of Rory.

"Oh no! No, no, no, no. Wake up, don't close your eyes, talk to me darling, tell me you're okay!" Rory patted your cheek as she opened her eyes and shook you, she was panicking. She ran out and came back a second and a half later with a bottle of water and a bag of chips.

"Here! Drink it all" Rory held the bottle for you since you were too weak to hold it yourself. You spit out the water when you almost drowned and wet his entire sheet, again.

"Don't worry, do not worry everything will be fine" You smiled at the thought that Rory was giving you words of support. "Pretend you know what you're doing, don't panic Rory" Your face couldn't show all your disappointment at all.

The rest of the night passed with Rory bandaging your wound, leaving kisses on it and all over your body while you tried to regain strength with the food that he brought you from time to time. You knew he still wasn't completely satisfied since vampires always thirst for blood, but at least the pain was no longer present in either of you.

"Precious, thank you for saving my life. I swear that your blood is the most delicious I have ever tasted after Ethan's blood."

"At what moment did you-?"

"Shh, don't waste your little energy on stupid questions. Better rest, sweetheart."

Rory covered you with the warm sheets of your bed as he cradled you in his chest and caressed your cheek gently. From that moment you knew that he was not capable of killing you even by accident.

[shipmansflannels]

welcome home, cheater | jackie taylor x reader

oh, hi! well, sorry for promising I was going to post something yesterday but ending up not doing it. I was trying to take some time out of the computer and trying to organize my creativity. so, this is what I could manage to post after a day off. hope it's fine. enjoy! sorry if it's too short, it was actually based on a youtube video I saw a long time ago and I couldn't remember all the details in it. hope you enjoyed it anyway. thanks for all the support, and the rebloggs, and the likes, and the following!

enjoy!

sorry for any grammatical or coherence errors, english is not my first language and I'm trying to improve!

------------------------------------------

welcome home, cheater | jackie taylor x reader

-> prompt: after an embarrassing situation at the mall, jackie has a jealous crisis. <-

warnings: non cannon, no crash, most fem!reader but it works for gender neutral readers too, jealous!jackie, jackie being a girlfaillure, 1996 timeline, mentions of randy walsh, plot twist.

***

She had spent the entire trip back in silence.

It had become an awkward silence in the car and you couldn't help but look at her and make sure everything was okay in the passenger seat, but Jackie hadn't said a word since you left the mall and she hadn't said anything when you were driving home either.

Her parents were on a business trip, and as two teenage girlfriends who did everything in secret, you were taking advantage of those days to be together. But suddenly, everything had become a confusing mess.

Opening and closing the car door with force, Jackie grabbed the bags of clothes that were hers and set off into the house in a hurry, before you could even park the car properly in the Taylor's huge garage.

Picking up your purchases and following her into the house, you threw them on the couch and promised that you would organize it after finding out what was wrong. As you imagined, Jackie had locked herself in her room and was probably listening to loud music on that damn Walkman you had given her for her last birthday.

In fact, if you had known that it would be the cause of all your ruin, you would have thought twice when you saw him in the store window begging to be taken home.

Knocking on the door three times just to be sure, you kept your voice low, hoping she would hear you anyway, over the loud music.

"Jax, can we just talk for a minute?"

There was no response. And instead of insisting, you just pulled the handle, not at all impressed that the door wasn't locked.

"Jackie, I'm serious. What did I do? Could you please talk to me for a second and sort things out?"

She looked at you, clearly listening to you, and with a sigh, she took the Walkman from her ears and threw it back hard, those huge eyes staring into your face. Like a stubborn child, she crossed her arms and sighed again.

“I think I should be the one asking that question,” she whispered, her voice a little firmer than you were usually expecting. Generally, while you had a calmer and more relaxed posture, Jackie was always excited, always outgoing, always talking loudly, as if she was always filled with sugar all over her body.

You frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

"What did I do wrong, (Y\N)? What did I do wrong for you to leave me so easily, and right in front of my face, for Randy Walsh? What's different about him?”

Once again, you frowned, looking at her. "Jax, I don't get it. What the hell are you talking about?"

She huffed, returned to her normal expression and, with a roll of her eyes, leaned against the headboard. That was the signal she used for you to start a cuddle session on ordinary days, but now, you didn't know if you should join her.

So you just sat on the edge of the bed, still with your eyes fixed on her. "Is there something wrong? You can tell me, I promise I won't explode. You know I hate it when we fight, Jackie."

"You. Randy Walsh. At the video game store. Small talk. That pissed me off."

She explained, in pauses, now avoiding looking at you. Relaxing your expression, you gave an incredulous smile, but waited for her to continue, just to prove your point, and not to interrupt her in the middle of her justification.

"And what's worse, you left me waiting for hours in front of that stupid ice cream shop with my stupid raspberry cone in my hand, with my stupid shopping bags in my hand. Not hours, but…", she counted on her fingers, like if she was trying to remember. "... fifteen minutes, approximately."

You laughed again, scratching the back of your head. And she continued rambling.

"And you two were giggling, and you looked like a fool in love. I wouldn't care if it was a girl or a nice guy, I swear, but Randy Walsh! It's unacceptable, (Y\N)! How many times have you bumped into each other? through the school hallways? Once? Half a minute?”

You looked at her. "Look, love, listen… You got it all wrong."

"And I know I'm freaking out like it's a nightmare, like it's the worst thing I've ever seen in my life - and it really is, but whatever -. It's just… what would you expect me to do? I swear, it made me want to take your car, go home and leave you there alone, just to welcome you with a fucking sign stuck in the living room saying "welcome home, cheater"… But of course I didn't do that, I'm freaking out like it's the worst thing I've ever seen in my life, (Y\N), do you happen to realize what you fucking did? Randy Walsh, really? Are you fucking kidding me?"

You laughed again. "Jackie, please let me explain."

"Ah, now you want to explain? Well, go ahead. Explain yourself."

You sighed, looking at her and thinking exactly how you were going to put each thing into words, regretting it soon after, but knowing that you should move on. Looking straight into her eyes, you decided to start slowly, as you should.

"Do you remember the last day we went shopping? The day we spent at the new game store that opened on floor three and you saw that Nintendo 64 and your eyes lit up? So…", you bit your lip, nervously. "That day when you saw me talking to Randy for the first time, after coming back from practice, I was just trying to see if I could buy one cheaper, since he works at the game store in the other mall and I didn't have money specifically for the Nintendo from that store… And he promised me that he would try to ask his boss for an order, and that he would give me answers later…"

She widened her eyes, following you speaking as if it were the most important thing in the world, and from her reactions, you realized that you had made a mistake, and you realized that she also knew that she had made a mistake in judging you so early.

"Today, we were just passing by the aisle at Randy's game store, so I thought I would try to see if he had gotten the Nintendo yet… He told me yes, that it was on order and should arrive in a few days. And that made me extremely happy, Jackie, because… because it was my gift to you and because it was… well, it was your surprise birthday present."

With another bite on your lip, you laughed softly as you avoided looking at your girlfriend, who had her eyes even wider and her mouth open.

"That-? What-? How-? Oh, my God, babe… I…"

You nodded, laughing again.

"I screwed up, didn't I? I got it wrong and screwed up-"

"No, it's okay, I also overreacted, I should have told you… not told you, but at least given signs."

Jackie pouted regretfully and opened her arms. You fit into them well and breathed in her strawberry scent while ruffling those still wet hair. She whimpered a few times and hid her face in your neck, embarrassed. Her cheeks were too red, almost rosy.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, love. I didn't mean to ruin the surprise," she whispered. "It's just that seeing you and Randy together, I thought-"

"It's okay, Jax, I said it's okay. It was half my fault anyway…"

You shrugged and lifted her face to kiss her slowly. It started with a peck and then turned into a kiss that lasted a few seconds longer. When you pulled away from her, you whispered, touching the white blouse with butterflies sewn on the chest, looking down.

"Listen, I told you that I want to be clear about my feelings, and that I want to make us work, so… if I were cheating on you, which obviously I'm not, I would probably tell you. There's no reason I hide this from you, Jackie. Not even out of shame." You touched her lips with your fingers. "I love you. I wouldn't trade you for anything in this world. I swear to all that is sacred. You are the most incredible girl I have ever met and you are the woman of my life, I have never been so sure of that as I am now. "

She sighed and smiled, making another pout that you couldn't resist kissing, laughing softly and taking a moment to pull away from her.

"Besides, Randy Walsh isn't my type, and I'm not his type either…", you laughed again. "And when I say that, I mean it literally…"

Jackie frowned, her clear eyes emanating curiosity. "What you mean?"

“Jackie…” you shrugged, scratching your forehead. "He is gay."

[fantasticarcadefan]

The Stream

Part 1: Awakening

Warning: OOC, inaccurate character representation, possibly inaccurate workplace, Imposter SAGAU, lmk if there's more.

It's been over 30 hours since Genshin went down, and there was still no news from Mihoyo about it getting back online. The players were looking for ways to entertain themselves. The out of game community was growing in terms of activity due to how long this crash was.

With it being over a day, players are still hopeful on it being resolved soon, but our starting to get concerned about the lack of an official response from the devs about it getting back online soon, with the only response being that the game experienced a major error with a new patch, and they were working to get it fixed.

That is what Jason knew. He, his other friends, Olivia and Jack, and his sister, Jasmine, have been browsing Reddit, Twitch, Tumblr, and Twitter for any info on the game going back. And it's not like they could go through the files to try and figure out what's causing this, cause their friend, Y/N, haven't responded to their messages ever since this whole thing begun.

You've made some mods for your friends, ranging from new enemies, to better chances at rolls, and even a new nation you were working on, unlike those of Earth's past, which was oddly similar to the Telaki culture that was seen combined with Inazuma before the crash. When you were asked about it, you weren't sure if they were serious or joking, with you only realizing the truth upon being shown an image of the new Inazuma, which had you baffled.

Right now, the group is currently on a discord call, browsing various social media platforms, ranging from Twitch to Twitter, looking for answers that could possibly explain the shutdown. "Anything yet?" asked Jasmine, "Nothing." He replied, not finding anything of use on Twitch.

Most of the streams there were of the lore that was dropped, as well as some interviews with the voice actors, with a few of the streams being scam streams. As he kept browsing Twitch, he noticed a new stream, called "The Hunt", about to start soon.

"Huh." Jason says, a little intrigued at the title. "What is it?" Asked Jack, curious on Jason's thoughts. "Just an odd title of a stream starting soon." He said, going to the profile, only to see nothing there.

"What the?" He says, confused on the lack of account. "What is it?" Olivia asked. "There's no account!" Jason yelled, reloading the page to still find no account there. "Really?", "No way", "Are you sure?", they say, unconvinced. "Yes I'm sure. I'll send you guys the link." He says, copying the link and posting it to their chat.

A few seconds later, disbelief rang throughout the call. "What the??" "How is this possible?" "This is live soon, wtf?" Were some of the things said by the group.

"Alright then." Jason said once everyone calmed down. "It's evident that this stream is odd, with it having no account broadcasting it. It says that it's going to start soon, so do we watch this, or keep browsing?" Jason asks, taking note of their choices.

"Sure" "Why not." "Okay." The group says, all clicking on the stream, waiting for it to start.

------------------------------------------------------------

The developer offices were in a more chaotic state. Ever since the sudden shutdown, they haven't been able to save any of the changes they made to their game, with any change made causing the game to crash the game engine, and in some cases where heavier changes were applied, the computer itself.

One notable effect being reported across the board was the inhabitants of Teyvat all being alive, regardless of the game being run or not, with something akin to a temple being built near Liyue, as well as the NPC's all worshiping a new one called "The Creator", who didn't look like any Mihoyo employees when cross referenced with their employee data base, crossing out any conspiracy by them for the mean time despite suspioins remaining.

These problems were what Robert Lin was dealing with. Ever since the game went down, he and other development team leaders have been doing double time in order to find the root of this crash, or as he and some of the others were thinking, cyber attack.

Right now, he was in a call with several other game developer team leaders and a supervisor about any progress as of now, with it happening on a laptop at his supervisor's request, for the ability to see developments should they occur during a meeting.

"It's been 30 hours and we still have nothing?!" A disgruntled voice yells over the speakers of his office. The voice comes from Chang's Lao, his supervisor from China. "Sir, all attempts to change it have been unable to be saved, with even attempts to revert to old versions failing." Came the voice of his colleague, Elise Toutain, who oversaw the developers in France and led the development of Fontaine.

"What do you mean, unable to revert!?" Came Chang's enraged calls. "You developers are the only ones that have access to our projects, or are you gonna tell me an intern at Unity screwed us over??!!" He yells, before taking a deep breath, looking at them.

"What of this, "creator", that the NPC's are worshiping? What do we know about them?" He asks, seemingly trying to change the topic.

"From what we've seen," came the response of Higa Azami, head of the Japanese branch and lead developer of Inazuma, "it seems to be manipulating the game to its will in light ways, in the form of giving visions to NPC's who were previously visionless in the game files and strengthening characters that show loyalty to it. However, the land, animals, and monsters around it seem to freeze up around it, with it attacking the monsters and animals around it with each in game element, purplish abyssal energy beams, and golden pillars." She says, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"The spared go berserk, attacking all in sight before dying. She finishes, looking back at Chang, seeking a further response. Chang goes ahead and takes a sip of tea before looking at the dev leads.

"Has there been any other developments besides the undeveloped lands being added?"He asks, double checking for any new events.

That was another major change. The Snezhnaya, Khaenri'ah, the Abyss, and Celestia were added when the game went down.

Snezhnaya was mostly in development, with developers only recently starting to add buildings into it, with some debates about building placement in the nation wrapping up.

Khaenri'ah was still in the drafts, with many major buildings still being drawn, with the general area of the nation now being just being a wasteland, mainly inhabited by Hilichurls and Abyss mages. Danisleaf had been seen waging war against the Abyss Order, led by the abyss twin, Lumine.

The Abyss follows its namesake, just an empty void, filled with floating islands where enemies that were both already seen and monstrous entities that haven't been planned or scrapped on some of these islands.

Unlike the rest of Teyvat, the developers were unable to get a view of Celestia, with all attempts ending in their computers crashing and needing to be reset.

The best they have been able to do is map out it's approximate area, with it being around the size of Mondstadt, Liyue, Inazuma and the wilderness in between, on the ocean east of the game's mainland.

"There is one sir." Came the voice of Safar Naser, the lead Sumeru developer and head of the Egyptian branch. "We've been browsing the files and found the files carrying the "Creators" attacks, with each attack being heavily layered upon their in-game energy." He says, doing air quotations upon saying creator.

"However, the computers used to identify them were overheating, needing to be reset. When reopened, the files for the attacks were moved elsewhere, currently unknown." He says, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"It's highly likely that these attacks, and this Creator as a result, are playing a critical part in this virus or is the embodiment of this virus. We're double checking our firewalls and attempting to identify the virus's origin." He finishes, looking at Chang.

Cheng takes a deep breath, seemingly in deep. The devs wait for a response. "Have me notified of any future developments." He says, formulating a plan.

"For now, continue observing the game. Work with each other to identify any possible inconsistencies in between versions. I will be contacting Liu Wei about this. It's possible that this virus will spread to other games, so expect contact from the other dev teams. I would recommend hiring observers in the meantime so you can keep a wa-" the door to Roberts office is slammed open with an intern, Wyatt Icnez, his tags read, being the one responsible. "Sir!" He screamed, catching his breath.

Robert responded to the employee, having been startled by him. "Wyatt, this better be a development, if not-"

"That's the thing sir." He says, taking deep breaths. "There's another creator, and the system says that they're a player."

------------------------------------------------------------

You thought you slept on a weird side of the couch when you were unable to find the usual comfort of the surface when you awoke.

Moving around, you still were unable to find it. 'Why is this so unco-' your thoughts froze as you felt the coolness of water.

Expecting to be dumped somewhere with it, you quickly awoke, and got away from the coolness, determined to stay dry.

It was only then that you realized that you didn't know where you were, yet this place bore a striking resemblance to a few beaches in Teyvat.

'Okay, this is some weird shit.' You think to yourself, going to run your eyes when you notice your hands.

They bore resemblance to the styles that ran in Mihoyo's games.

Being a little freaked out by this, you decide to go ahead and pinch yourself in the slightest bit of hope that this was some new evolution or a dream.

To your horror, you felt it. 'Okay, okay, just take deep breaths' you thought to yourself, realizing you somehow got Isekaied to Genshin.

Deciding to try and focus on something else and delay the breakdown of being in Teyvat, you walk up the path, heading away from the beach, where you came across a cliff, where you had to climb.

That's when you realized that you were in Mondstadt. As you began climbing, you felt the rocks get easier to climb. While thinking about what to do there, your thoughts turned to a small concern, to the SAGAU fanfic, specifically the imposter ones.

You shook those off, thinking they were mere superstitions, wandering into Starfell lake. Unaware of those there.

As you wander through the lake, you take in the landscape of the forest. 'This is beautiful.' You think to yourself, going to pick up a flower. As you pick and smell it, something is heard from behind you. Before you could react, a sharp pain pierces you on the back shoulder.

Looking at your back, you're horrified to find that you've been shot in the back with an arrow, looking at the origin of the shot, you expected a Hillichurl to be attacking you, only to find your attacker to be Amber.

Only then did you realize,

You were being hunted.

[storm-angel989]

Okay so I saw your val and child fic and i got inspired to req as well😭 Lucifer x eldest!daughter!reader, what if luci and Lilith had like, a child before they fell. THIS IS PLATONIC OKAY almost forgot to mention. So like reader is like an angel (maybe with unique wings like luci?) and is more than tens of thousands years old cause she was born before they fell, and she can't go to hell or have any contact with her parents because heaven is worried that she'll fall too, so she's very protected by the angels. It'll add more to the angst if reader isn't even aware that she's the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith! Better, she didn't even know they existed at all because the angels tried their best to keep her away from everything about hell. I hc that Lucifer went to heaven to like, talk w sera to let charlie have a meeting about the extermination yeah!! So on his way, he caught a glimpse of reader gifting a basket full of pastries or idks to Sera in her office. After tens of thousands of years apart, what will he do? He can't fuck this up since of he makes sera angry, then charlie won't have a meeting at all!

Ask and you shall receive! I don't have a ton of experience writing Lucifer, but take a peek- feedback is always appreciated! Thank you so much for your request!

She looked just like her. 

Blonde hair. Wings that mimicked his own, at least, how they looked in his glory days. Prior to his fall. Her eyes sparkled with the goodness only heaven could create. Ironic, really, if he was being fully honest with himself. 

It was only a glimpse, a glance as she handed off a basket to one of the other angels. Sera’s secretary, maybe. Or one of the lower officers in her command. Honest Lucifer couldn’t care less who she was handing it to if it wasn’t him. After all, that was his daughter. 

Every part of him yearned to stand up, to blow these pretentious angels out of the way and to embrace what was rightfully his. To end the pain of a loss he had kept a secret from everyone around him for eons. 

But by the way she acted, he doubted she had any idea who he was. It had, after all, been ages since he had last seen her sweet face, bubbling and bright. Heard her soft giggles, her coos as he rocked her to sleep at night. Ages since the high seraphs of heaven ripped her from his arms as they cast him and Lilith to Earth, as punishment for their so called egregious errors.

Twenty nine thousand, seven hundred and fifty six years to be exact. Not that he was counting.

He tried to shake her from his mind. He had another daughter to focus on, after all. One bore after he and his wife fell, crashing into the underground world- a punishment for an external sin. 

At first, Lilith had cried. Dark echoing sobs that resulted in the creation of the sins of hell. Each of them one of the actions of heaven that led her to the loss of her daughter. Heaven’s pride, lust, greed, gluttony, wrath and sloth, all became embodiments of the third most powerful beings in hell. It took eons before the discussion of another child could even be considered. 

Ironic, he pointed out, that the crimes of heaven became reality in hell. But she didn’t care. He supposed in her mind, bringing to life heaven’s dark side was a sort of retribution. 

It was eons, eons before they decided to try again. 

That brought him here, to this moment, as he sat in front of Sera as casually as he could. She didn’t need to know he recognized his own daughter. Honestly, dangling her in front of him like that. How dare she? He should strike her now, his hands could leave burning marks of darkness across her face, a permanent scar was the very least she deserved for shattering his family. 

But he had another child to consider. 

You should be grateful, the commander taunted as he ripped his daughter from his arms. At least now she has a chance at happiness, a chance to avoid eternal damnation and punishment. Why are you not more grateful? 

Lucifer’s infant screamed in one of his oversized hands, and with the other pushed him down into the pits of hell alongside Lilith. Their punishment for daring to create something without the permission of a higher being. 

“She desires a meeting? With us?” Sera wondered aloud. “Whatever about?”

Lucifer snapped his attention back to the issue at hand. His other daughter, one created many, many years after the loss of their firstborn, needed him. Play it cool, Lucifer, he thought to himself. Charlie needed him. He casually looked at his fingertips and then glanced up at her. 

“I don’t know. Something about sinners and heaven. Honestly, Sera. What harm could come from a little….post extermination meeting? After all, wouldn’t you enjoy the chance to meet my daughter? You might notice a few connections that could help keep heaven safe.”

If Sera understood his insinuations, she didn’t let on. 

“Very well then, if you feel her knowledge will bring value to heaven. After all, the sanctity of our home is of utmost importance.”

Sanctimonious bitch, Lucifer thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his eldest, his reader laughing at a joke another angel told. 

In all the time that had passed, that ringing laugh never changed. 

“We have a deal then. Tomorrow, noon. And let Peter know, I don’t want my daughter treated as poorly as I was.”  He stood up and turned to walk towards the door. 

“She’s doing well, you know. Reader. She’s safe and happy in the hands of parents who truly love her.” Sera’s voice came softly from behind. 

Every part of him yearned to turn around, to rip her heart out of her chest and stomp on it the way she had done to him all those years ago. To scream, to gouge her eyes out- the worst circle of hell didn’t hold enough punishment for what this bitch deserved. What heaven deserved for tearing a family apart. 

But he had another child to think about. 

So instead he swallowed back his feelings and silently walked out the door as he chose to respond in the best way he knew how. He pushed open the outside door and lost in his mind, he tripped down the first step. 

A soft hand caught him from behind, preventing his fall. 

“I’m so sorry Mister, are you okay?” A familiar voice asked, worry evident. 

A cold feeling settled in his gut. No, fate couldn’t be so cruel. 

“Ahaha, yeah, just clumsy, you know? Thanks for the catch!” He replied as calmly as he could. He adjusted his tie, willing himself to not turn around. To not face one of the biggest sources of heartbreak a parent could imagine. 

He began to walk down the street, back towards the gates of heaven. Back towards the portal that would inevitably open up and toss him down into the pits of hell, where he could again safely hide in the sanctity of his office, again lose himself in yet another fruitless hobby as he tried desperately to forget the night that tore his family apart. 

“Dad! Over here!” Her voice sang out. 

Involuntarily, he turned around. Dad? Did she recognize him? Was it possible? For just a moment, his heart soared. Dad is right here, reader. 

The words caught in his throat as he watched her embrace another man, another angel. One he knew well. Every inch of him flared up with rage. Bad enough that heaven took her away but to give her to him? Of all angels? 

And they said hell was cruel. 

It took every ounce of self control to turn away from the scene. To once again bury the emotion deep within himself. To process the pain of yet another loss. 

After all, he had another daughter to think about. 

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Style and Error

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 7 | Prompt: Getting a Haircut

Summary: Omega finally gets her first hairstyle change after leaving Kamino - and her brothers get a crash course in human adolescent female hairdos. POV: Hunter, Omega (Word Count: 2700)

Read on Ao3

Notes: This prompt finally convinced me to turn this headcanon into a proper fic! Also, my fic last week ended up being a LOT sadder than I had originally intended (sorry about that, all, the story just kept going that direction and I couldn't stop it), so just a heads up that this story is a lot more relaxed and fun!

            “We need to do something about your hair,” Hunter said.

            At this, Omega glanced up from the datapad from which she was dutifully studying the history of Coruscant.

            “Really, it’s fine, Hunter,” she said, absently removing her left hand from her hair to steady the datapad on her knee. Her bangs fell into her eyes, obstructing her view, and she automatically brought her hand back up to scoop the unruly hair off her forehead and hold it in place.

            Hunter shook his head even as his lips twitched into a smile. “Doesn’t your arm get tired holding your hair back all the time?”

            “Well…” Omega hesitated.

            “Hunter’s right, Omega. If nothing else, you need both hands and unobscured vision to handle your energy bow properly,” Echo said firmly as he entered the Marauder, having apparently heard the conversation from outside where he had been double checking the ship’s landing gear. “Besides, we don’t need a repeat of what’s happened on the past two missions.”

            Omega wasn’t nearly as successful as Hunter was in hiding a grimace at the reminder. Just a few days after escaping a destroyed Kamino, Hunter – his thoughts still full of Crosshair and wondering what he could have said differently to convince his estranged brother to rejoin the squad – had suddenly noticed that Omega was needing to brush her hair out of her face a lot more often than usual. After a few weeks of this, Hunter had finally suggested that she try wearing a headband.

            “Really?” Omega had said excitedly. “I get my own headband?”

            “It’s just to keep your hair out of your eyes,” Hunter had replied. If it worked for him, it would work for her.

            It had not, in fact, worked for her.

            If Hunter knew anything at all about different hairstyles, he might have conjectured that Omega’s unevenly grown out layers were one factor hindering the efficacy of using a headband at this time; but he did not know anything at all about different hairstyles. What he did know was that when Omega wore the headband farther back on her head in a way that actually kept the band secured, it didn’t help hold her bangs off her forehead; and when she wore it on her forehead as Hunter did… Well, even Tech was sensitive enough to not tell Omega that the layer of bangs sticking up in wild disarray behind the bandana made her bear a striking resemblance to a frilled zarco lizard, but Hunter had a feeling Cid would not be so kind if she ever saw it. And anyway, this style had ended up causing near-catastrophe when the headband had slipped down over Omega’s eyes at the precise moment she had been taking a shot at an errant masador chasing them down on one of their most recent missions.

            So the headband had been quickly abandoned; but given that Omega’s hair was growing ever longer and more uneven, the problem still remained, and had led to the second accident Echo had just referred to, when Omega’s bangs flying in her face meant she hadn’t seen the tree root as she was sprinting along with her brothers back to the Marauder. Here they were a week later, and her scraped hands and a bruised forehead had only barely healed.

            “I don’t know what to do about my hair, though,” Omega sighed now. “Nala Se made sure I got my hair cut every four standard weeks on Kamino, but I didn’t really pay attention to how they did it.” Suddenly she brightened. “Hunter, you cut your own hair. Maybe you can do mine the way the droids on Kamino did it?”

            Hunter had no idea how to tell Omega that he cut his own hair only because he didn’t really care if his ends were even, but he did care if Omega’s were and he was not going to be responsible for whatever insult Cid would come up with to describe Hunter’s barbering skills in relation to Omega’s hair. Besides, he had no idea how to work with bangs, and he didn’t want to just chop hers off.

            Deciding to keep his explanation simple, he said, “I don’t know how to do whatever the Kaminoans did for your haircut, Omega.”

            Wrecker, his interest in the discussion having apparently reached a peak, suddenly set Gonky down and moved forward to the seat next to Omega.  “You could always try Tech’s hair gel,” he said with a shrug.

            Tech, perched in his usual spot in the pilot’s seat, was engrossed in his datapad and didn’t appear to hear Wrecker’s statement, nor notice the look of dismay that briefly passed over Omega’s face.

            “No need,” Hunter said quickly before Omega had to reply. “We’ll figure something else out.”

            Thing was, he and his brothers hadn’t even thought about visiting a barber ever since first being sent off Kamino – there had never been any time given how frequently they were sent out on missions during the war, so they had always just maintained their own hairstyles themselves. They had occasionally helped each other out with haircuts… but the best any of them knew how to do was shave to one length and cut a relatively straight line with standard clippers.

            “Do you know how to cut hair?” Hunter asked Echo now, looking hopefully at him.

            “If we had the tools, most I could do is a regulation haircut,” Echo said doubtfully, frowning in thought. “Wrecker has his standard shaver but I think we’d need more than that…”

            “I would assert that Omega may not actually want a regulation haircut, or any of our styles of haircuts, for that matter,” Tech interjected at this juncture, finally looking up from his datapad. Before anyone could say anything, he had made his way back to the others and connected his datapad to the console, displaying his research on the larger screen so the others could see. Hunter smiled a little at the sight; of course Tech had been paying attention to the entire conversation. “These are examples of current trends for human adolescent female hairstyles,” Tech continued. “Perhaps we can trial one of these.”

            “Oooh, I like that one,” Omega said, pointing to one of the images; the look of sheer relief on her face told Hunter that Tech had been right in his assertion. “That would keep my hair out of my face.”

            “An ‘overhand braid,’” Wrecker read out the description, glancing between the picture and Omega. “Uh… how do we do it?”

            “I’ll look up instructions,” Tech said promptly.

            Omega, face brightening even further, set aside her datapad and moved forward to look more closely over Tech’s shoulder, while Hunter and Echo exchanged glances.  

            “Worth a shot,” Echo shrugged, and Hunter nodded.

            Between the five of them and Tech’s unlimited information, how hard could this be?

******

            Four hours later, Hunter was slumped defeatedly in his chair, watching Tech and Wrecker as they doggedly pressed forward in trying to figure out variations of a ponytail. After the thirty minutes spent devising a reasonable substitute for standard hair ties, Hunter could understand why Tech was so determined to find a way to use them.

            He glanced over at Echo, who was currently standing a few feet away observing the proceedings, arms crossed and, Hunter was fairly certain, still muttering “Never again” under his breath. It had been almost two hours since they had finally given up on trying to figure out braids, and Hunter wasn’t sure if Echo was actually traumatized by the experience or just taking the failure personally.

            It was really saying something that Echo – with his one hand, scomp arm, and teeth – had come the closest to actually recreating a hairdo approximating an overhand braid, where Hunter and Wrecker and then Hunter and Tech with their combined four hands hadn’t even been able to make it past step two. But Echo had been rather put out when he somehow got his scomp entangled in the braid and almost took out a chunk of Omega’s hair when trying to extricate it. Omega, for all her patience during the proceedings, hadn’t been able to hold in a high-pitched yelp when Echo had finally managed to free himself, and Tech hadn’t needed any prompting to suggest turning their attention to other possible hairstyles that didn’t include braids.

            Wrecker had been very pleased with himself when he was able to put Omega’s hair into a low ponytail, but her bangs were not yet long enough to make this style very effective, and managing to get all of Omega’s hair into a high ponytail was beyond the current skills of Wrecker, Hunter, and Tech (Echo had declined making any attempt). Tech and Wrecker were currently discussing the feasibility of splitting Omega’s hair into high and low ponytails; and Omega, who had somehow been enthusiastic and happy throughout the entire ordeal, was starting to look exhausted.

            “This isn’t working,” Hunter spoke up.

            “I would guess that the current length of Omega’s hair is simply not conducive to these various styles,” Tech said thoughtfully. “Perhaps when her hair grows longer…”

            “We can’t wait that long.”

            “There is a barbershop just down the street from here. Perhaps we can seek their expertise.”

            “You couldn’t have mentioned the barbershop four hours ago?” Echo said with no small amount of exasperation.

            Tech opened his mouth to respond, but Omega piped up. “I’m glad we tried the other styles. That was fun!”

            Her cheerful sincerity made Tech’s expression soften with a smile, and Echo gave a small sigh but said no more.  

            “Have you ever cut your hair short, Hunter?” Omega asked curiously as the squad, understanding the new plan, prepped to head out for the barbershop.

            “As cadets, we always had to have the regulation haircut,” Echo put in. “We didn’t get to choose a different style until after graduation.”

            “True,” Tech added, “but for us 99s, getting a regulation haircut was… tricky. We didn’t look like the regs anyway, and our hair was different in more ways than just color. For example, my hair grows slower than is typical for clones, so oftentimes I wasn’t scheduled for a cut for months at a time.”

            Hunter nodded as he looked at Omega to answer her original question. “My hair always grew faster than the regs’ did, so the droids would cut my hair shorter than standard. A lot shorter. I… didn’t like that, so several times I just didn’t go to the appointments.”

            “They let you do that?” Omega asked in awe.

            Hunter chuckled a little. “Let me? No. I got away with it a few times – Tech would go in my place, since the droids only kept track of the number of cadets scheduled for a cut. But the trainers soon caught on and insisted I keep my hair short. But once we graduated and I could choose my own hairstyle – well, by the time we shipped out for our first mission, my hair was already this long and I was never going to get a regulation cut ever again.”

            “Crosshair was the best at cutting Hunter’s hair until Hunter figured out how to do it himself,” Wrecker put in.

            Hunter nodded again, smiling a little as he thought about all the times Crosshair had threatened to shave a bald strip down the middle of Hunter’s head if he wouldn’t stop fidgeting while Crosshair was trying to cut his hair straight… then he grew somber as he always did when he thought of his brother.

            He hoped Crosshair had at least been recovered from Kamino by now.

            “Well,” Omega was saying with quiet enthusiasm, breaking through Hunter’s thoughts, “it’ll be nice to have something different, for a change.”

            Hunter reached down and brushed Omega’s bangs back, again – though it didn’t do any good, and Omega giggled as her hair flopped back into her eyes.

            “Yeah, kid, you definitely need something different,” he quipped as they followed Tech toward the barbershop.

******

            Omega took the seat next to Wrecker, holding back a sigh. She had just completed her seventh circuit of the barbershop; by now she had pretty much memorized the layout as she looked at the various products, equipment, strange décor, and caught a glimpse of other clients receiving services from the other barber.

            It had been almost an hour, and her brothers still hadn’t settled on a hairstyle for the barber to try on her. The first style the barber had recommended had been deemed by Hunter to be too complicated for him to help with upkeep, even when the barber had patiently explained she would be more than willing to show Hunter how to maintain the cut; an inquiry into current fashion trends for more active individuals had snowballed into a lengthy discussion with Tech about hair textures, growth rates and patterns, hair health, and the impact of these factors on transitional haircuts when one wanted to switch from one style to another; and even now that Tech was currently engrossed in examining more pictures of example haircuts, Hunter and Echo were still debating feasible styles with the barber, with Hunter seeming most concerned about the fact that their lifestyle didn’t lend to committing to a consistent schedule for professional haircuts.

            Omega had never really cared what her hair looked like – she had spent over ten years with the same routine hairstyle and had never even thought about changing it, it was just part of her life. Kaminoans didn’t have hair, and even as she had seen more of the galaxy the past months, she had never really paid much attention to others’ hairdos. But when Tech had shown her the varieties of hairstyles that other human girls were wearing, it had suddenly struck Omega that she could have a different hairstyle too.

            She sighed openly now. The excitement of trying a new hairstyle had ebbed away after hours of failure. She understood the point Hunter had first made to the barber that once Omega’s hair was cut, she’d be stuck with that style for several months, minimum; but at this point, it didn’t really matter. She just needed something to keep her bangs out of her eyes so she would stop being more of a liability for her brothers.

            Wrecker apparently had noticed her mood, for he now leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “You could just be bald, like me. If we leave now, I bet I could have your head shaved before Echo notices we’re gone.”

            Omega giggled - she could only imagine the look on Hunter’s face if she took Wrecker up on his offer. It almost sounded like a good idea, even though she knew Wrecker was joking.

            The barber continued talking through all the other options, at Hunter’s and Echo’s behest. “As I said before, keeping length allows for more versatility with specific hairstyles, including braids…”

            “Never again,” Echo interjected adamantly, earning a startled look from the stylist.

            Omega almost groaned – this had gone on long enough.

            Getting up and crossing the shop with Wrecker following suit, Omega tugged gently on Hunter’s hand. “Hunter, I don’t need all this. I just need a way to hold my hair back.”

            Up close, Omega could tell the barber was reaching the end of her rope. “Have you tried hair clips?” the stylist said in near desperation.

            Echo furrowed his brows. “What are…”

            “This one will do nicely,” Tech said suddenly, gesturing for Omega to come over to give her final opinion as the other brothers looked over curiously at the sample image Tech had pulled up.

            Omega took one look at the style and grinned. It was perfect.

            “That one,” she said; and when she looked back at the others, she knew a unanimous decision had finally been made.

            She couldn’t stop grinning until long after the barber had completed her work and the team had returned to the Marauder. Her bangs were now out of her eyes, her hair felt more manageable, and – well, once or twice before she had heard other people say that they felt “pretty,” and now she knew what that meant. She felt pretty.

            Who knew it could be so exciting to get a haircut?

@summer-of-bad-batch

[luminousjellyfishy]

Error Sans Headcanon

Originally from @fireflyxsky but I think they deleted the post because I spent hours last night looking and I couldn't find it.

It's also for the same reason above that this post may seem kinda hectic because I'm trying to remember the old one.

Edit after I'm done: Ok, a lot of this actually came from my brain, but the base headcanon is still originally Firefly's.

——————————————————

Hyperthermia - The condition of having a body temperature greatly above normal.

——————————————————

SO, it makes sense to me that Error would have really hot bones and a very high internal temperature. For example, his bones would be warm to the touch and cold weathers/temperatures would bother him.

There are actually some things that work very nicely with this, being:

I put it under a cut because it's a bit of a longer post. PLEASE read it, I took so long to write it all /nf

- A lot of the time, I've seen the fandom compare his glitches to a 'burning sensation', but not Geno's. I know that Error glitches more and that could just be why, but if his internal temperature is higher than Geno's, then 'burning' glitches would affect him more (he's already hot, so it's just adding more heat). This would then mean that glitches do sting(ish?) for Geno/other glitch characters, but they aren't... noticeable? Something like that

- The Anti-Void has no temperature/weather/anything, so Error was stuck in what was essentially a massive bout of sensory deprivation. With no cooler weathers or other external means to cool his body temperatures, it would have kept getting hotter and hotter, especially with all the crashes that happened in his early years being trapped (next point). Eventually, his body would have acclimated to those hot internal temperatures and would have accepted it, finding a way to regulate them (hot external bones and natural hyperthermia).

- In relation to the crashes, imagine your computer/phone/whatever you're reading this on can't process whatever it's trying to do; it makes that whirring sound (laptops at least), gets hot to the touch, and potentially crashes/shuts down. Error doesn't have a fan to cool himself down (especially while he's stuck in the Anti-Void), so he crashes, but with no cooling method, he's still hot.

- Since he's constantly hyperthermic and it's become his normal way of life, he would need to find a way to maintain that. It's similar to the way that we as humans need to drink water to cool down or bundle in blankets to warm up. To do this, he wears multiple layers of warm clothing to retain body heat (his hobo outfit) and stays/basks in places where higher temperatures can be expected (ex. a laundry room/Hotland/closed room with heater on/etc.). You can and will find him nestled into a basket of fresh laundry.

- I've seen some people say that he's weak/averse to water, which meshes very nicely with this since most water can have pretty cool temperatures (ex. lakes/rivers/ocean surface/pools/etc.). If Error is constantly experiencing heat higher than everyone else and he went into/came into contact water that 'regular' people found cold, it would be absolutely frigid for him. Potentially, this could cause him to glitch more due to the shock or discomfort, raising his body temperature and making everything much worse. In this case, it could even lead to crashing, falling over, and getting some water in his sockets which would cause a nasty cycle of shock, glitching, struggling, and maybe crashing again, when he rebooted.

- With the above point, it also works with his haphephobia. His temperatures are so much higher than everyone elses', so anyone that touches him would be cold and uncomfortable to touch.

- There's also his bone colours! He went from a Geno with white bones to an Error with black, red, and yellow bones. Sure this doesn't seem like much, but if you put a metal rod through a forge, what colours do you get?

These

- A headcanon that goes with this is that sometimes he overheats (like a computer) because of external forces, and since he doesn't have his own really good cooling methods, he has to find other ways. Sometimes it can be: hiding in the Anti-Void since there's no excess heat or cold, just his natural temperatures that will even themselves out eventually; drinking water (he hates this one); destroying a particularly cold AU; hanging out in Waterfall, or if it's really bad, then Snowdin; or removing some layers of clothing.

- One last side headcanon is that the yellow and red parts of his bones kind of glow (the same way that the rod in the above picture glows due to heat). It would mostly be in the yellow parts and less in the red, just like hot metal.

——————————————————

There we go!

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk hehe

Error belongs to: @/loverofpiggies