#there is no difference in the respect he gives her even when she stumbles over words or doesn't understand things

[miguelhugger2099]

Just a silly little request👉👈

Do u think fem!reader likes to wear crop top with no bra and Miguel's boxer. You two are just flirting and teasing each other until Miguel decided to toss the remote to reader for movie night and reflex, she tries to catch it reveal her tits and Miguel just "😳... Nice catch..." And smut if u want. Having his hands speezing them I'm going insane 😭😭

Just One Touch

a/n: this ask has been in my inbox for so long and ur not gonna believe what got me out of my month long stump to write this. everyone thank sir-mix-a-lot's song "ride" it possessed me and gave me energy. excuse the crappy writing, i'm still lowk having writers block so it's not my greatest work. please enjoy and as alwayssss i can rewrite this if you'd like <3 Art: mar_mar0u on instagram ! Unedited btw, plz dont crucify me ill die :(

It wasn’t unusual for you and Miguel to wind down after the sun had set. Movie night was a must, whether it was cheesy romcoms for you to sob to, horror movies for Miguel to be annoyed at, or even action movies to make fun of–as long as it was together. Still, Miguel teased you by holding the remote up above his head and out of your reach. He grins with one hand on his hip and watches you reach up with no progress in sight. “Give it!” You laugh, trying to keep your anger believable. “No, first you take my clothes and I know you’re gonna pick one of those creepy knock off animated movies.” He chuckles and he walks off. Due to the size difference, every step of his was three of yours–practically chasing after him. “Put respect on Over the Hedge’s name! It’s not even a knock off!” Miguel plops on the couch on one side with a huff of laughter. “Fine, fine. Here–take it!” He throws the remote above your head and you pause and stumble back.

You reach high up to grab the remote. “You asshole!” You laugh. The remote hits your fingertips and bounces a bit farther back. Your crop top rides and flows up as you lean back onto one foot to finally grasp the device in your hand.

Miguel could feel everything happen in slow motion. The small glimpse of your underboob before your nipples finally come into view. The grin on Miguel’s face slowly drops and he could feel drool slipping from his lips. He watched your boobs bounce, the roundness of your flesh and perky buds making his cheeks go red. He can’t help the disappointment in his face when your arms fall back down, shirt hiding the glorious view of your tits.

“Caught it!” You smirk at him triumphantly. His eyes continue to glance at your tits.  “Yeah, uh…” He gulps. “Nice catch.” He adjusts his shorts, hoping his growing bulge wasn’t too apparent.

You don’t notice, too engrossed in your victory and making Miguel speechless. So, you crawl in his lap, Miguel’s hands suspended in mid-air as you nestle yourself in his arms. You feel his muscles surround you like a warm comfortable blanket, leaning your back on his firm chest while you click the buttons to turn on the TV.

“So what are we picking this time?” You ask, flipping through random trailers to find what you’re looking for.

“Huh? Oh, uh, anything’s fine.” Miguel shrugs half-heartedly. He’s too focused looking down at your crop top. Slowly and gingerly, his fingers caress your stomach–light and feathery as if trying to be discreet.

“Yeah sure, whatever. Don’t complain if you don’t like it.” You laugh softly, clicking on a random movie that looked good enough.

“Mhm.” Miguel mumbles, not even hiding his disinterest in a damn movie right now. While your eyes are on the opening scene on the TV, Miguel’s eyebrows scrunch together, his lips into a tight line as he resists his urges.

He can’t help it though. He gets handsy, Miguel carefully caressing your stomach. You barely notice it since the two of you always get snuggled up like this.

You only notice when he hikes higher up, his hips shifting slightly while his fingers run up and down the valley of your tits. You smack his arm around your waist with the remote.

“What are you doing?” You ask, trying to sound annoyed but the smile seeps through your tone.

“Nuthin’” He murmurs. Miguel then feels the curve of your breast, his fingers itching for a squeeze.

“We’re supposed to be bonding.” You move to turn your head up at him. You try to meet his eyes but he stays glued downwards to your chest.

“We are.” Miguel insists, his lips slightly parted. His thumb swipes across your nipple and you gasp, feeling your cheeks burn. He can feel the nub perk up and his tongue darts out to lick his lips, biting his bottom lip to hide the satisfied smile on his face.

Miguel takes his chances, bending down to kiss along your neck, tugging you closer to him and making you melt. His body moves against yours and your eyes flutter shut. His mouth gently sucks and licks your skin and you shiver. Miguel grabs your left tit, the plump flesh squeezed in his palm. His fingers flick your nipple, circling around before gently twisting it.

You back arches and you moan. “Ah–fuck, Miguel!” You hissed, a burning heat crawling up your neck. Your hand lifts up to curl in his hair while he attacks your neck, his other hand running down to his boxers you were wearing. He slips his fingers in the front hole of the boxers, using his index and middle fingers to spread your folds apart. You feel him nip your neck with a smile as he smears your slick around your clit.

He then uses both of his hands to lift your shirt up and over your head. Your breasts are now out in the open, the cool air hitting your chest and making your nipples hard. You barely get a word out, Miguel already cupping your boobs and squeezes them. Your hips buck back to grind on his crotch, eyes closing as he plays with you. Miguel used his fingers to tease your nipples simultaneously, flicking and tweaking them. He lifts them up and watches them fall down before squeezing them again. Your pussy is soaking through his boxers, aching for more stimulation that’s making you feel empty.

His eyes are dark watching his own hands play with your chest, the memory of the bounce of your tits as you caught the remote high in the air. He wanted to see that again.

Miguel could feel his cock swell and twitch along with each bounce of your breasts. You have your body arching, hands behind you and holding onto his thighs. He plays with your tits switching with his hands or his mouth–but if you asked him, he preferred sucking on them. So that’s where he was now, lips attached to your right nipple and his right hand playing with your left. You slammed down on his cock, whining since you barely felt him thrust up. But in all honesty, Miguel could do this forever with your tits in his mouth and his cock buried in your cunt. While his tongue sucked and lipped your nipple, he knew if he didn’t focus, he’d cum instantly. He looks up at you after playfully biting down on your nub, your squeaks making his dick twitch against your walls. You look down with glossy eyes, hips stuttering and pussy throbbing when you see him smirk up at you with your boob in his mouth. One of his hands that was on your waist comes up to your back to keep your body arched. Miguel scrunches his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed while he sucks on your nipple, his hips jerking and balls slapping against your ass. You wail with each thrust, falling forward and holding onto the backrest making your boobs squish in his face. Miguel groans as he lets you fall on top of him, hands falling down to your ass as you grind on him. His cock slips in and out of your wet cunt with a wet squelch. It makes you bite your lip with a loud whimper, the action making your man under you tug on your nipple with his teeth. He’s obsessed with you, Miguel pulling away just enough to make your tits swing in his face. He glances up at your pleasure filled face, sweat glistening down your face and body while you panted and whined. He’s entranced, eyes falling down to follow the way your boobs bounce as he fucks up into you. Miguel trusts you to keep fucking yourself on his while his hands leave your ass to come up and cup and squeeze both your breasts. He kneads them and watches your mouth drop open to moan. Your head hangs and your foreheads almost touch. Miguel doesn’t need to tell you a damn thing, his lips parted while he looks at yours. You lean down to kiss him, Miguel immediately slipping his tongue past your defenses with a low groan. He continues groping you, his hips smacking up with your thrusting and he can feel himself about to cum. He can tell you’re about to too by the way your pussy spasms wildly, sucking him in deeper and soaking him in your slick.

So he hammers into you, grunting as he puts all his strength in making you cream. Your eyes roll back, mouth separating from his to dig your nails into his shoulders and roll your hips. You can barely get a word out, garbled moans of his name escaping you while your body twitches, ecstasy flowing through from top to bottom. Miguel watches your chest heave as you catch your breath, your juices dripping out of your a making a sticky mess in his lap. You’re dizzy and weak, body flopping forward on his chest. Miguel soothes you, curling his hand in your hair and pressing you into the crook of his neck. He kisses the top of your head and you’re too numb to feel him take your body off him. He places your back down on the couch, hair sticking to your face with sweat, lips plumped from kissing. You’re whining when your sensitive folds feel his still hard cock rub in between them, accidentally slipping his tip in a few times. You swallow to get the dryness out of your throat. “Mig…Mig…” You’re cut off when Miguel slams into you, your body jerking and tits bouncing with the hard thrust. Your hazy vision rolls onto his face, Miguel glued onto your chest still. He gives another few soft thrusts and watches your boobs jiggle around. You feel his cock jump inside your walls, a soft hum of approval coming from deep in his throat. He bends down, biting and licking the side of your tit to add another mark to his collection. His teeth marks littered around your plump and round flesh–his favorites being the ones around your areola.

His face is buried in your breasts while he pounds into you, your head thrown back and legs locked around his waist. Oh, he’s in heaven.

[azsazz]

Shots & Spins

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Req from @kristijenner19: I saw you were thinking about hockey!AZ because same. How about a fic where she's a figure skater and they're trying to teach each other their respective sports. Imagine poor Az trying to do a spin/jump/twizzle and a reader who can barely ever make a shot into a goal

Bonus points if they switch their skates and have to re-learn how to skate with the new blade

Warnings: Mild panic attack, mentions of readers injury (torn ACL), trauma from coaches (verbal) mentioned.

Word Count: 3088

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown

HOCKEY SZN SOON MY LOVES 💙💙

Notes: I swear I meant to make this cuter but of course, I had to give it some angst 😅

_________________________________________

“What is this?” You question. You’re probably being rude, with your nose scrunched in disgust. With the way you’re holding the pair of skates as far away from your body as possible, you’re pretty sure you look like the biggest bitch on all of campus. But for the life of you, you can’t figure out why Azriel has handed you hockey skates.

“They’re skates,” Azriel answers. You rip your glare from the offending skates at his obvious response. Your heart stumbles in your chest at the sight of his pink lips twitching, begging to reveal that grin he spends most of his time expertly hiding.

You don’t even realize you’re leaning closer in anticipation, so eager to see that smile until the hitch of his breath snaps you back to consciousness.

You rock back on your heels so quickly you nearly tumble over. Would tumble over if it weren’t for Azriel’s quick reflexes, his large hands enveloping your waist and steadying you back on your feet.

“Thanks,” you reply flatly, dipping your chin to the ground to hide your flaming cheeks. There’s not an ounce of amusement in your body.

“You’re welcome.” You don’t like the smugness in his tone or the way he’s playing with you. Tilting your face back up, you muster all the annoyance lancing through your veins at his retort, shooting him the nastiest glare.

“That’s not what I meant, Az, and you know it. Why am I holding a pair of hockey skates?”

Azriel sits on the bench beside the empty arena, and you want to pout. Why would you want to spend any more time at the rink than you already do? You’re bone-fucking-tired and your knee is feeling stiff. You overdid it in practice this week, trying to get back into the shape you were in before the time you’d been forced to take off, and it’s hitting you hard. All you really want to do is crawl home, roll out your muscles, and dive into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

When you don’t join Azriel, he says, with a humor you don’t feel, “Don’t tell me you forgot about our little bet. Or how you so gracefully lost it.”

Of course you hadn’t forgotten. Who could forget losing at something as simple as a race across the arena? Afterwards, you tried to blame it on the differences in the ice, how it was colder and harder than you were used to, as it was prepared for the hockey team’s game later that weekend.

A rookie mistake, honestly. One that you’ve been kicking yourself over up until this very moment. Well, if you could kick with your injured leg, that is, you’d be doing just that.

You grind your teeth as a memory rises to the forefront of your mind. Your coach’s voice rings in your head, shrill and reprimanding. Why would you take such foolish chances? You need to get your head in your sport or you’re never going to make it on the Olympic team, let alone the University team.

Shame presses down on you, and your eyes prick at the criticism you should be used to by now. Your private coach from your time before Velaris University, Amarantha, had been very creative with her insults, always coming up with comments worse and harsher to cut down any semblance of confidence you had in your sport.

You bet she’s thrilled that you won’t be back in her presence until you’re healed enough. If you heal enough to relearn the very trick that took you out of the running for the Olympic team in the first place.

It must be a thing, coaches insulting their prodigies. You glance at Azriel from the corner of your eye and wonder if his coach is the same way. If Rhys is brutal with his teammates.

And you hate losing. It was Azriel who you wished forgotten about the bet you’d so stupidly agreed to, but here he is, wearing the same look that got you into this position in the first place.

You take your time studying him as you mull over how to get out of this. Azriel’s broad shoulders take up the space of two people, and his deep, dark hair falls over his brow, growing out into the perfect flow all the players seem to be sporting right now. You wonder if it’s superstition or they actually like the look. His thick lashes sweep as he bats them, and your cheeks take on a pink hue as he pretends to preen under your attention.

“Look,” he all but sighs, giving up his act. He leans back, reaching over to grab something out of sight. When Azriel rightens himself, he holds a pair of figure skates, a sheepish smile on his face. The apples of his cheeks mottle with pink. “I got myself figure skates, so we can both look like fools out there. Together.”

Fuck. The sentiment makes your throat tighten. He doesn’t have to be so damn thoughtful, you’re hardly even friends for Mother’s sake.

“Fine,” you manage when you can speak again. You plop onto the bench beside him. Your knee throbs dully in protest, but it’s nothing you haven’t been able to smother before. You’ve worked through worse conditions than hockey prepped ice, have skated in casts and aches so deep you weren’t sure you’d be able to compete at all if it weren’t for your raw love for the sport and your brutal stubbornness, holding yourself to the highest of standards.

And it’s not like you’re going to be doing your usual tricks. No, that’s all Azriel. All you have to manage is a few forward spirals, twizzles, and perhaps an axel just to show off a little, because there’s no way he’ll be able to recreate all of that in one go.

You just hope your knee stays steady for a few more hours.

The both of you lace your shoes in silence. The hockey skates are so different from your figure skates, you note. The blade is much thicker than you’re used to, more curved too. The boots are shorter, and you grimace at the lack of ankle support.

Not to mention you’re not entirely sure how well you’ll be able to stop without your toe pick.

Azriel leads you to the ice. You step on tentatively, giving the new skates a test. They have a lot more give than you’re used to. They’re not as snug, but easy enough to navigate. Muscle memory kicks in and after a few sluggish runs up and down the ice, you think you’ve gotten the hang of it.

The rest of this bet should be a breeze, especially compared to how Azriel is faring.

His face is contorted with a concentrated frown. He looks stiff as a fucking board, which make you giggle and him complain about. “How the hell do you wear these things? I can barely even move my ankles!”

“Practice makes perfect, young Padawon,” you tease, testing how best to shift your weight on the new blades. The pressure on your knee isn’t terrible, thanks to the looseness of the hockey skates.

“Yeah, yeah,” Azriel waves you off. He trails behind you at a slower rate, focused on getting used to the stiffness of the figure skates on his feet. “Just wait until we scrimmage.”

Ugh, no thanks. This is just perfect for you, the both of you out on the open ice, all alone. You don’t want to ruin this peaceful bliss by bringing your competitive personalities into it.

“I knew if we raced under different conditions I’d have won!” You exclaim, zipping past Azriel again, showing off. He glares playfully, but you’re much too busy admiring your skates to notice the way he’s tucked his lip between his teeth, hiding a satisfied grin.

His toe pick digs into the ice, grinding down as he gets a feeling for the foreign piece, but his eyes stay glued on you.

“Ready for a stick and gloves already, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know,” you throw a smirk back in his direction, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking a brow. “You ready for twizzling?”

“Twizzlers?”

You roll your eyes at his lame joke, but your heart still skips at his wry smile. It’s more than cute. You push off your blade, moving closer to him.

Which is fine, until you try to use your toe pick to stop, only for the realization to hit that there isn’t one on these skates.

You go barreling into Azriel, who catches you in his arms. Your motion throws him off balance and before you even have the chance to squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself, you’re both falling to the ice.

Azriel hits with a grunt that reverberates through your bones. You’d think that Azriel breaking your landing would be less painful than it is, but with the way the muscle is packed on his body, he’s just as hard as the ice that’s no longer beneath your feet.

“Sorry,” you cringe. It comes out breathless and embarrassment flushes your cheeks, but you’re frozen to your spot and all too aware of how his large, warm hands are wrapped firmly around your waist.

“No worries.” Your lashes flutter as his breathy whisper caresses your face. He’s probably just winded, that’s why he sounds like that. Yes, that’s exactly what it is. “Didn’t think to remind you how to stop.”

“I know how to stop,” you argue, but there’s none of your usual fire tainting the words. You can’t even muster one of your famous glares that you reserve for the normally broody hockey player. You break eye contact as the humiliation begins creeping in. You scratch your nail distractedly down the waffled fabric of his olive colored henley. “I just…forgot, I guess.”

The hitching of his breath in his chest shifts your body and you jolt, the situation slamming into you like a truck.

You scramble off Azriel, grimacing at the sound of your blades clinking against his. His grip loosens, hands falling away as you slip to the ice beside him.

You shoot to your knees, then not-so-carefully climb to your feet. Azriel holds his hands out from where he’s still lying on the ground, like he’s more than ready to catch you again should you fall.

You’re positive the heat of your cheeks could melt the entire arena’s ice right now. You need to get the fuck out of here before you embarrass yourself further. You need to never show your face around here again. You’ve already transferred schools once, what’s one more time?

Azriel calls your name, but you hardly hear him over your racing thoughts. If the sheer embarrassment wasn’t enough, Coach Weaver’s voice now fills the rest of your head, screeching about your recklessness and how you could’ve injured yourself—

He’s quicker than you thought, or you’ve been trapped in your mortified headspace for too long because Azriel’s on his feet, towering over you and pulling you into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” your voice trembles and his hands tighten around you. He lets you bury your face into his chest and pretends not to notice the tears dampening the fabric of his shirt. You’re fucking trembling, and his heart is pounding just as hard.

This is all his fault.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breathe,” he tries to console. He looks around frantically, like one of the sports therapist students or coaches might be walking past the rinks this late at night. There’s no soul in the building besides the both of you, everyone resting for their busy weekends of competitions and away hockey games. “Please.”

You focus on his words, how he guides you, three seconds in, three seconds out. You focus on the soothing patterns he’s drawing down your back, focus on the beating of his heart and latch onto his scent: night-chilled mist and cedar.

“Sorry,” you croak when you finally manage to calm yourself and slide a step back. Your gaze sits pointedly on the ice. You don’t want him to see you like this, a woman who’s about to fucking crumble.

“Don’t be,” Azriel says softly. His hand finds your face, and as much as you don’t want him to, he lifts your chin. You don’t fight it, emotionally exhausted. You should have asked for a raincheck, but you can admit to the fact that Azriel’s gentle touch is a comfort that you can’t help but lean into.

Sad, hazel eyes meet yours. They’re more golden brown than green, a forest of hues backlit by a burst of gold. Your breath hitches as he drags a thumb softly across your lips. They part, even though you don’t mean them to, and the whisper of breath that leaves you passes over his hand, crawls up his arm, and sends shivers down his spine.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

You’re not sure you can hold yourself together enough to answer his question without completely melting into a puddle at his feet.

Your silence must be answer enough. Azriel takes both of your hands in his own and guides you back toward the bench where you left your shoes. His grip is reassuring, and you’re so tired that you don’t even have it in yourself to sling a witty remark his way.

For what might be the first time in your life, you allow yourself to be taken care of.

You can’t even muster a chuckle at the way he stumbles over the toe pick on his way off the ice, or the way you’re waddling in these skates. You feel anything but graceful and strong right now, but with Azriel’s hand in yours, it’s not as off-putting as you feared it might be.

“Sit,” he says, keeping his fingers clasped around yours as you heed his command. It brings you eye-level to his hands, puckered and pink and scarred to hell. They’re beautiful in every way. He embraces his story, and it’s an incredible strength, one you’re much too terrified of attempting to recreate.

“Azriel, no,” you protest, jolting forward when he lowers himself to his knees before you. You plant your hands on his shoulders, ready to force him away because you’re more than capable of taking your own skates off.

He catches your wrists, and you didn’t think his eyes could soften any more, but they do, and you melt. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of this for you.”

You try to swallow past the knot in your throat to thank him but are unable to. Instead, you nod and reluctantly sit back.

Azriel’s gentle with his movements, like you’re a wild doe that he’s helping free from a snare. He unties the tight knots, and your heart pinches when he struggles for a moment. You wouldn’t notice if you weren’t watching so intently, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Like he knows you need to see this.

You carefully keep your mind from wandering into how good he looks like this before you.

He slips the first skate off, and you stretch your toes. It’s a reflex. Azriel smiles, peeking up at you just in time to catch your blush. His gaze ducks away before you become embarrassed, setting your foot down and holding your other ankle, lifting to get to work.

You hiss softly at the ache in your knee.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Concern laces his voice, and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no,” you cringe a little at the lingering sting. “It’s nothing.”

“Sweetheart.” Azriel says sternly. Seriously. “That reaction wasn’t nothing. What’s wrong?”

You sigh, defeated in more ways than one. You don’t want to admit that the injury that threw your entire career off-kilter is acting up again. You’d rather not have anyone know.

Perhaps Azriel is different. Or, maybe he’s forcing you, because the gold in his eyes is intense, pinning you to your spot. His mouth is set in a straight, firm line. He looks like he means fucking business.

You avert your gaze. You’ve never admitted defeat like this, but if Azriel can wear his scars so proudly, maybe you can too.

“I tore my ACL a few months ago.” You admit, sniffling. You can feel the shock in Azriel’s gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. He’s the first person at this school outside of your coach who’s hearing it. You’ve never been so vulnerable, especially with someone you hardly know. You press on nonetheless. “It’s been fine up until now.” A white lie. “But it’s been a little sore since I started practicing my jumps again.”

“How many months is ‘a few’?” He questions, and he’s not going to like the answer, so you opt for brushing over it.

“I’ll go back to seeing my therapist,” you offer instead, but even you’re not too sure how much truth your words hold.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Azriel says, and you don’t want his sympathy, but you’re too exhausted for your usual anger to stir to life. “You need to take care of yourself, before it gets any worse.”

His sentiment has your nose stinging, eyes prickling once again. What the fuck is wrong with you these days? Get it together, girl. You can cry in your own room, not in front of the hot boy who’s helping you with your godsdamned shoes.

You drag your gaze back to his. “I will.” You think.

He studies you for a moment before nodding, accepting your answer whether he believes it or not. You don’t have it in yourself to care right now. No, you just want to be back in the safety of your dorm.

Azriel is even more careful removing this skate and helping you slip into your shoes. He makes quick work of his own, and while his head is down, you admire his stature. Broad shoulders and chest that tapers into a tight waist, an ass for days.

You’re not done drooling over him when he stands, offering you a hand.

You slip your palm into his, ignoring the electricity that zips down your arm. You’re hyperaware of him by your side, and it’s only when he’s absolutely sure that you’re steady on your feet that he drops your hand.

You try not to feel too disappointed at the loss.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” Azriel offers, and you trail him from the arena, your heart feeling a bit fuller with the nickname.

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Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13

[thefreakandthehair]

The thing about drinking at 31 years old is that it's different from drinking at 18 years old– or 21 years old, or even 25 years old. Each shot, each drink, is one sip away from a terrible night’s sleep and an equally terrible morning.

Eddie Munson’s figured this out. Steve Harrington though? Steve Harrington has not. 

That’s how Eddie finds himself corralling his husband onto the couch after stumbling into the house, the front door slamming loud enough to jolt their cat out of her otherwise peaceful slumber. She glares for a moment before stretching her paws and curling back into a neat little ball. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Steve repeats, an immediate tell that he’s definitely not making it any further than the couch anyways. “I’m good, I’m fine, this– this is a nice couch.” He punctuates his thought by slapping the cushion and laughing. 

Eddie shakes his head and grins. “Yep, it sure is. You picked it out, remember?” 

Steve gasps and laughs some more, falling back into the corner of the sectional. “I don’t but it’s comfy so if I did, I did a good fucking job.”

He watches with fond comfortability as Steve squirms around on the couch and lays back, arms over his head and dopey laugh still on his lips. It takes a lot of willpower and frankly, respect, not to climb on top of this giggly, flushed, disheveled man he loves so goddamn much and kiss him until he’s flushed for other reasons, but he digs deep and focuses on doing the next best thing: taking care of him. Eddie’s a little worse for the wear in his own right but a sliver of his iron constitution remains from his wild youth and he hangs on by a thread. 

Eddie gets Steve situated into a comfortable position, his back against one side of the cushions and his head propped up on a few pillows to make sure he doesn’t end up with his face smushed into the corner somehow. 

“I’m good, I’m fine– hey, hey, what are you doing?” Steve slurs and Eddie looks up from his position at the end of the couch, his fingers moving quickly as he unties Steve’s sneakers. 

“Taking your shoes off? You can’t sleep in your jeans, Stevie. You’ll thank me tomorrow.” 

Steve hums from somewhere high in his throat but doesn’t say anything else Eddie moves to unhook his belt. 

“Stop–stop it, hey, I’m married!” Steve smacks Eddie’s hand and Eddie barely suppresses a cackle. “You’re hot and all but I’m married and my husband’s hotter than you anyways.” 

With that, Eddie can’t stop himself. Warmth spreads through his chest as he laughs, from his heart all the way down to the tingling in his toes. Even drunk, even with his eyes closed, Steve would still choose him without a thought and sure, after all these years, it shouldn’t come as a surprise but it does. Because Steve is Steve, and Eddie is Eddie, and Eddie still hasn’t figured out what huge karmic debt he must’ve paid for them to have become SteveAndEddie.

He stares at Steve who’s nearly asleep but feebly muttering words like “hot,” and “perfect,” and “lucky.” 

“Hey, hey, Stevie, open your eyes for a second?” Eddie brushes the hair back from his forehead, gently shifting it away from his bloodshot, glossy eyes. He’s beautiful, even like this, what the fuck?

“Oh,” Steve’s eyebrow unfurrow and the right side of his mouth turns up into a small grin. “It’s you. Hi, Ed.” 

“Hi, Steve.” Eddie chuckles and kisses his forehead. “Gonna get your jeans off so you can sleep, okay?” 

“Mhm, yeah, that’s– thanks.” 

Eddie coaxes them off, tossing them onto a chair where they’ll remain until the next morning, and sets a glass of water down on the coffee table for when Steve inevitably wakes up with cottonmouth. One more soft kiss and an even softer blanket later, Steve is out and Eddie tip toes up the stairs to bed. 

The next morning, Eddie wakes to see Steve next to him. At some point, he must’ve woken up and gotten himself to bed which gives Eddie the opportunity to stare uninterrupted in the silence of their bedroom. It stands in stark contrast to the boisterous night before– the loud music and jumping bodies and Chrissy popping a bottle of champagne in celebration of Robin saying yes, as if there’d ever been a doubt. 

Steve’s on his back, the sun just starting to intrude on their tranquility. He takes in Steve’s features, the same ones he’s memorized time and time again but that never fail to stun him just the same. The moles, the freckles, the scars that make him ache and feel thankful simultaneously. The strong line of his jaw, the eyelashes that flutter as he sleeps, that one tendril of hair that insists on curling until Steve forces it into place. Eddie’s seen a lot of the world now, having traveled a bit with his band, and there’s nothing that compares to the man sleeping next to him. 

Even if he’s snoring. 

When Steve does eventually wake up, trudging downstairs with one eye open and asking why Long Island Iced Tea’s even exist, Eddie’s ready with the necessities– a black iced coffee, two sausage, egg, and cheese sandwiches delivered to their doorstep, and a Gatorade for himself. 

“You’re the fucking best, you know that?” Steve smiles through the pounding headache as he sips his coffee and tears into the sandwich. 

“Eh, I try,” Eddie grins with a mouthful of egg and leans over to bump their shoulders together. 

Comfortable quiet drapes over them like the blanket from last night still over the back of the couch, and like the jeans hanging off the recliner– little reminders of the night before and of the domesticity of the life they’ve built together. 

Once Steve finishes his sandwich, their cat, Florence, hops up on the table and starts batting at the rolled up wrappers. 

“Think she wants to play,” Steve grumbles, sliding off the couch and laying on the carpet. “Listen, Florence, you know I love you but kid, I cannot play right now. I’m barely alive.” 

Eddie doubles over and nearly spits Gatorade all over the coffee table. Even their terrible, hungover, washed up mornings aren't all that bad.

[varyajc]

Can you do the Hashiras with a partner who is an ex dancer that is very flexible and fast? They became a hashira very quickly and were usually quiet until they became comfortable with the hashiras😺 it can be nsfw or sfw🍕🦄🐺

HASHIRA HEADCANONS

CONFESSING TO AN EX-DANCER - Sanemi Shinazugawa, Giyu Tomioka, Shinobu Kocho, Mitsuri Kanroji, and Kyojuro Rengoku

a/n; UGH, THANK YOU FOR THE ASK! These are just headcanons for now since I’m working on a Sanemi fic! (I was originally going to do them dating, but I decided to do confessing, why? Because..I dunno. Pls lmk if you wanted something different!) I’m going to be real here, I don’t write for demon characters often, so this might be out of character. Forgive me.

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA

~When you first became a Hashira, he didn’t exactly care for you. He simply thought you were another Hashira, so why the fuss?

~However, you thought he disliked you, which somewhat let you to also distancing yourself from him.

~Soon, you found yourself becoming close with the other Hashira besides Sanemi.

~You attempt to make a conversation with him, getting nowhere.

~Despite all this, you still attempt to speak with him, go on missions, etc. He soon found you quite..alluring? Your voice was extremely soft, you’re good what you do, and even took notice of your physical abilities.

~I wouldn’t say he was exactly impressed, but it did catch his attention somehow.

~Then when he finally took notice of your skills, I would say his respect for you went up more. That’s when he decided to finally make an effort to somewhat form a friendship? He was hesitant to try and become friends, so he stubbornly figured he could at least speak with you more.

~After a while, he devolved a crush on you. Why? Because of your unshakeable character, how attached you are to your family, and is very intelligent.

~He confesses to you, and oh my, he’s so awkward. He’s stumbling over his words, his hands are shaking, whilst his eyes are bloodshot and pupils incredibly small.

~To his surprise, you say yes to dating him, which catches him off guard but also makes him the happiest man on earth.

~The rest is history.

GIYU TOMIOKA

~When you first became a hashira, like Sanemi, Giyu didn’t exactly take notice of you.

~Whenever you tried to speak with Giyu, he’d just stay silent and listen, and after you finished, he walks away without another word.

~You’d speak to Tomioka normally, with you doing the talking.

~However, when you two went on a mission, he finally saw you in action. He wasn’t exactly like mind-blown impressed, just respected you more as a Hashira rather than someone who’s just there.

~However, you started to show interest in him. It was very subtle, but he was very overwhelmed by the way you attempted to give him affection.

~I’m extremely doubtful that Giyu would be the one to confess, I think you would confess. However, he doesn’t accept your confession, in fear he’d hurt you or lose you.

~I feel like he’d use an excuse. “Give me more time.”

~I don’t see Giyu dating anybody..unless; They defend him, go out of their way to speak with him, and definitely gives him space whenever he needs it.

~And when he does reluctantly agrees to date with you, I’ll just say he’s comfortable..for now.

SHINOBU KOCHO

~When you appeared as a Hashira, she was pleased that another one has been added to the mix.

~I can see her making an effort speaking with you, she’s quite pleasant and that’ll make you feel more comfortable around her.

~You guys speak fairly often, often going on missions together, even. She was also shocked to see you being so..flexible and quicker than her.

~However, when you started to show interest in her, she noticed it IMMEDIATELY.

~I can see her confessing, but I feel you’ll crack first and confess. She’s not opposed to the idea of dating you, but you two are hashira, remember that, so you have to somewhat keep the public affection subtle.

(I can’t write for her, I’m so sorry if this is out of character.)

MITSURI KANROJI

~I just know she’s excited she has a new comrade to speak with! I can see her totally speaking to you first, as you are very shy.

~Her bubbly personality makes you most likely open up to her immediately, I guess I can say you feel somewhat safe around her.

~You guys eat together all the time, go out to eat, train together, send each-other letters. I can see herself making hand-made gifts for you as well.

~I can see her falling for you easily, your angelic face and soft voice makes her melt.

~She confesses to you, and she ends up crying of happiness when you accept her confession.

~The love you both have for each-other is so beautiful, you two spend even more time together after you two become official.

KYOJURO RENGOKU

~I know Rengoku would go up to you first, with his loud, booming, voice of his.

~The more he approaches you, the more you warm up and start being more relaxed around him rather than tense whenever you hear his loud voice.

~I can see the more you two interact, the more you two want to spend time with each-other. (In a friendly matter.)

~However, the more time you two spend with each-other, the more you start slowly start falling for Kyojuro.

~Does he notice? No. I feel like he’d be completely oblivious to any romantic interest shown in him, even when you give hints!

~This man is completely shocked when you confess to him, doesn’t accept confession right away because he know if he likes you like THAT.

~After a while, he does chose to date you, and long story short, I’ll say you two are happy..for now.

@varya-jc - DO NOT TRANSLATE, REPOST, OR CLAIM MY CONTENT AS YOUR OWN! YOU WILL GET BLOCKED AND REPORTED. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

a/n: can you tell I got lazy at the end? Wtv, I need 🍃 + 🚬

[lookingfxryou]

Souvenirs

Notes: sort of a continuation of flustered, set in the same universe exploring Giyuu and reader’s idiots to lovers (when?) relationship <3

prev - next

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were returning back to the headquarters after completing your mission that took two weeks, with your partner, Takuma walking beside you.

You were usually quicker with your missions but the demon you were supposed to hunt turned out to not be one but three of them working together and evading you both for quite some time.

Nevertheless, you were relentless with your pursuit and luckily had Takuma with you, who you had worked with on several occasions and could always count on to have your back. It was strange as you weren’t really friends before this per se but this mission had definitely changed that and you found yourself laughing along with him, heart light and unburdened, looking forward to seeing everyone.

You had souvenirs to give after all!

(And getting your leg looked at properly but that was not important.)

And thus, you merrily made your way to the Butterfly estate, hoping to see Aoi and the girls and maybe Shinobu and Kanao as well if they were not on a mission.

(The small voice in your head, coming from the traitorous part of your heart, wondered who else might be there. If you might be lucky enough to bump into each other.)

Takuma had been hesitant tagging along but promises of good meal and rest won him over easily.

“Hello everyone, I come bearing gifts!” Was the first thing you said as soon as you entered the estate, seeing Aoi and the girls working hard.

They squealed (not Aoi, of course) and made their way to you, asking about your mission and if you were injured anywhere.

“Ah, my leg is a little banged up but nothing too serious — ” your words were cut off by someone placing their hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you came face to face with a smiling Shinobu but you could tell it wasn’t one of fondness.

You laughed nervously as the girls sighed and Shinobu’s grip on your shoulder tightened.

“Inside.”

“Oh, you flirt! Let me rest for a bit first.” You grinned as Takuma facepalmed at your words and the Hashira’s smile widened.

“Seems like you truly are healthy, to be making comments like that.” She lightly kicked the back of your leg and you flinched, losing your balance as your bad leg bent from the force. Kneeling on the ground, you looked up at her, lips pouted in resignation and her smile turned into a smirk, one so subtle that anyone would have missed it.

About half an hour later, after the both of you were examined and treated for your respective injuries, you and Takuma were sitting outside in the garden, surrounded by the girls and Shinobu, giving one last long look, left you to your devices.

“Now that that’s done and over with.” You smiled at the giggles let out by the girls, “It’s time for souvenirs!”

“Looks like you had plenty of free time, if you bought souvenirs for everyone while on the mission,” Aoi said with a disapproving tone but even she had been looking intently at what you were fiddling with in your bag.

You presented them all with bracelets containing a single glass bead braided into it. You chose different colors for all of them and were explaining to them why you got them which, when you were distracted by a figure entering the estate.

That mismatched haori and blank expression had you stumbling over your words and the girls followed your gaze to look at Tomioka Giyuu making his way to the main entrance.

It seemed as if he did not notice you yet.

“Tomiaka-san! What brings you here today?” Aoi’s voice interrupted your thoughts and Giyuu stopped when he noticed you all huddled together.

Tilting his head, he looked at something in his hand before making his way towards your group.

Your cheeks were heating up and god, you missed his pretty face these few weeks that you were away.

“Hello.”

Everyone returned his greetings and you noticed him glancing at the bracelets everyone was holding. It seemed like the girls noticed it too because they excitedly began telling the unbothered Giyuu about the souvenirs you brought them.

Takuma was a front row spectator to all the chaos and your sudden shyness and the wheels in his head began turning. He looked at the stoic Hashira whose blue eyes were flitting between the girls and the bag on the ground.

You, on the other hand, were strangely quiet, eyes never once moving from Giyuu’s face, a small content smile on your lips.

Takuma felt like stirring shit.

He called your name in an exaggerated manner, everyone turning to look at him before pointing at the bag.

“Didn’t you get something for Tomioka-san as well?”

Your eyes widened as you gaped at his audacity to put you on the spot. And he didn’t even know you had a crush on the guy! Were you that obvious?

You looked at Giyuu, to see him already looking at you, his expression betraying nothing but there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

“I–well–“ you floundered for words when everyone’s eyes were on you. Maybe Giyuu saw how nervous you were or maybe he took pity on you but he held up his hand, which held a circular container.

“I was here to get my salve replenished, so if you would excuse—“

“No, wait!”

You did bring something for him dammit! But you were hoping to give it to him in a nice, private setting and not in front of a crowd! You weren’t really left a choice though, were you?

Sending a glare in Takuma’s direction, you got up and gingerly held the gift you had picked out for him. Gesturing for him to hold out his hands, you stepped a little closer to him and felt your body shiver in anticipation.

God, you were never this shy in front of him but the eyes boring into your back made you conscious about every little thing that you did.

You put the gift in his outstretched hand and several necks stretched to see what it was. At Giyuu’s slow blink at his palm, you felt as if you should say something.

“I uh, have only ever seen you wearing one so I thought that it might come into use.”

Giyuu brushed his fingers against the braided cord, the color as blue as the ocean, intertwined with a few lighter threads, ending with a nice knot.

No, not like the ocean, he thought. Almost like his–

“And well, you’re the Water Hashira so the blue was…” You really weren’t fooling anyone with your pathetic explanation. It was a clear match with his eyes and his hold on it tightened, touched that you bothered to match the color of a hair tie cord with his eyes, that you took the effort to see him.

“Thank you.” He whispered your name with such softness that you were afraid that the wind will take it away from you, just brushing against your ears. “I will cherish it.”

“You don’t have to do that, just wear it for me sometime?”

Although he didn’t say anything more, you saw the way his eyelashes trembled, saw how he looked at the gift and tried to meet your eyes but failing. You saw the slight reddening of his ears and almost smiled and teased him in victory before your peaceful daydream was shattered by girly giggles.

Oh god, you completely forgot about them.

Immediately, you noticed the way Giyuu straightened up, expression once again neutral but the careful hold on his gift never loosened.

He pocketed it, making sure to keep it safe before meeting your eyes.

You gave him a gentle smile, a thousand words said in that one expression and then promptly turned to scold the girls and Takuma for prying into your business.

He hid his trembling hands by gripping the salve container tightly. You just kept surprising him at every turn. From teasing him to showing him such kindness and attention, he never knew what to expect from you.

A call of his name had him turning to look at Shinobu walking towards them.

“You must be here for your refill. Go on in and one of the healers will do that for you.”

She turned to you and raised an eyebrow.

“Very pretty gifts you’ve gotten everyone. I’m glad you had enough for everyone.”

“No, wait! I have one for you—“

— bonus!

Giyuu had his hair down and was staring at the hair tie you got him.

There was no rational reason that he was doing this, he had a perfectly fine hair tie that had served him all this time. For all intents and purposes, he didn’t need one.

Then why were his hands automatically grasping his hair and tying them with the blue cord, the color more visible against his black hair than his previous one.

He didn’t have a mirror in his room so he had no way of knowing how it looked but the warmth in his chest spreading all over his body, reaching his fingertips and cheeks let him know it suited him all the same.

[buckybarnesthehotshot]

Francis Forever (CS55 x Reader)

|ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ|

summary: words unsaid keep him up at night after y/n loses her f1 seat (inspired by Francis Forever by Mitski)

word count: 4117

warnings: angst not proofread, swearing maybe, y/n is essentially daniel from the 2022-2023 season

December 19, 2022 (Spain)

        He was lost in the 2022 season.  Red Bull had a different dominance to them, and Ferrari could not seem to keep up with the absolute rocket ship of a car Red Bull had. In the end, his thoughts only drifted back to her. They both struggled greatly in the season. The season was over, and so were they. 

        It was three in the morning in Spain—he’d spent the night tossing and turning in bed, seeking warmth his blankets could not provide him—when the news stumbled onto his social media. Multiple accounts across multiple platforms announced y/n to be Red Bull’s third driver for the 2023 season. He even went on Red Bull’s account to verify the news. 

        He sighed. He believed she would have taken a break from Formula 1 in the time she wasn’t going to be driving. Instead, he was mortified to learn his ex girlfriend would only be a few garages up the pitlane. How couldn’t she? With the love Red Bull always had for her, it was never going to come into question that they would have bailed her out of the situation she found herself in for the season. 

        Despite Red Bull’s history with its drivers, his heart lit up with joy knowing they would have taken care of her. After all, her time with Red Bull was preferable to the time she spent with McLaren. He was almost in a daze, caught up in the moment when he found himself scrolling through his phone’s contacts, his heart skipping a beat as his gaze landed upon the familiar contact; her number saved under the name “Mi Amor”.

        “Saw the news, amor! Congratulations, I can’t wait to see you again on race weekends” he typed up before mentally kicking himself when a moment of logic washed over him. Though the message was plain, it was far too sentimental for his liking. Far too sentimental for what they were now. 

        “Congratulations. See you!” he made a attempt to revise the message. He sighed, repeatedly tapping on his phone’s backspace key until not a single trace of the message existed. No message. It’s what he had settled on instead that night. 

March 3, 2023 (Bahrain)

        It was time for the first race of the 2023 season. Walking through the paddock, he saw her. She smiled as she walked past reporters and photographers, clad in her team’s dark blue t-shirt as she made her way over to the Red Bull garage. He stood still, watching her from meters away as she disappeared behind the motorhome’s walls. He could not bring himself to move closer to her, unsure of whether or not he still had the right to do so after their breakup. 

        Back then, race weekends were not so awkward. They used to be fine. Perfectly fine, and so perfectly enamored with each other. Their eyes used to light up so clearly when they spotted each other from across the paddock walking into their respective motorhomes. It was never this messy between them. 

        August 27, 2022 (Belgium)

        The 2022 season was exhausting for the pair. y/n had just announced she was parting ways with McLaren and that made it all real. And though Carlos wanted to be there to support her, he had his work to do with Ferrari. After the announcement, she was working to prove herself to other teams, fighting to make the improvements she needed to. The pair hardly found much time for each other. 

        A few garages distance had never felt so far. 

        “So, Red Bull wants to give me a third driver seat,” she spoke as they jogged side-by-side on the hotel gym’s treadmills. Her e/c eyes scanned his face for a reaction, frowning when she got none. It took her waving her hand in front of his face for him to finally rid himself of his earphones. 

        “Sorry, amor, were you saying something?” he questioned cluelessly, an expectant look on his face. She frowned.

        “Never mind. I haven’t signed anything yet,” she shook away the thought of letting him in on the news this early. 

        “Why? Are you getting offers already?” he questioned almost absentmindedly, gaze fixed on the view outside the glass windows the treadmills were situated in front of. 

        “Kind of? Not really, though. It’s complicated and the driver market is insanely complicated this year,” she shook off the thought. Mercedes had offered her a role as a reserve driver, and Haas offered her a seat she had no plans of taking. She didn’t know how well those teams would have fared for her and her career. 

        “Let me know when you have a seat, yeah? We can go out and celebrate,” he smiled proudly before making a suggestion, “If you can’t find one, maybe I can put in a good word for you in Ferrari for a reserve driver seat or something.” 

        She grimaced at the thought. There was nothing wrong with it. She knew he was trying to help in a way he knew how. Still, it felt as though he were implying she needed him in order to stay in F1. Him leaving McLaren was what led her into the team in the first place. To many, it seemed like Carlos was responsible for the opportunities she was given in her career in recent years. It wasn’t fair for her achievements to be diminished by the fact that her career was waning, incomparable to the way her boyfriend’s career shone. 

        “I don’t need it,” she responded, her tone clipped, “I’ve got opportunities. Plenty of them. I’ll find a seat next year on the grid, and if I have to wait for somebody else’s contract to end, I’ll do it.”

        “Maybe you can try a different racing series?” he suggested, “Le Mans could be interesting for you, no? Maybe even rally cars like we did with papa that one time.”

        “And what about us? Would we be able to take it? Traveling to different places in the world at different times, our schedules almost never lining up?”

        “I think we can handle it,” he nodded, interlacing their fingers, “I have trust in our relationship. I know we can make it through anything.”

        “Well, I’d like to stay in F1. Maybe I can take a short break before I get a seat back. I’m sure I’m not leaving Formula 1, though.”

November 22, 2022, Monaco

        “You know, I think you’re taking this a bit extreme now,” Carlos sighed, watching her race on her racing simulator set up in their apartment. 

        “I have to do this, Carlos,” she insisted, “I have to prove I’ve still got it.” 

        “And who are you trying to prove it to? It’s just you and me here, y/n,” he reminded her, unplugging the simulator and wrapping his arms around her, “It’s going to be okay. Take a moment to rest.”

        “Okay,” she nodded, giving into his request and following him to the living room. She let out a sigh, “It’s weird for me to think I won’t be racing next season after all these years. I thought I had my contract sealed for next year. I thought I would have had time to redeem myself at McLaren instead of having them buy me out.”

        “I know, Amor,” he sighed into her hair as he held her in a comforting embrace, “I’m going out with some of the other drivers later. Do you want to go?”

        “I think I’ll stay here first,” she shook him off, “You have fun though. Don’t get too drunk, yeah?” 

        “I’ll try,” Carlos winked. 

        Later that night, he found himself on a quiet rooftop bar with George, Lando, Charles, and Max. 

        “I found her on the simulator earlier,” he admitted to his friends under the influence of a few tequila shots, “I mean, she seemed so rough earlier. I worry for her, you know? She’s so stressed out with everything that I feel bad because I have a seat and she doesn’t.”

        “Don’t you think it might hurt her if she has to keep traveling with you for F1?” Lando chimed in as the topic of y/n’s career came up. It was inevitable for them to end up talking. They were drivers, and y/n was Lando’s teammate. One way or another, it would have come up in conversation. 

        “And what makes you think that?” Carlos quirked a brow at Lando’s remark. 

        “Does she have any plans outside F1? I heard Nicky’s going back to uni with Logan replacing him,” George explained, taking a sip from his beer, “If not, maybe it will take some getting used to for her if she’s going to follow you around on races.” 

        “Well, not that I know of right now—”

        “Does she have a confirmed seat anywhere? Maybe even a reserve driver seat?” 

        “We haven’t talked about it yet,” the Spaniard shook his head at the thought, only vaguely being able to recall their conversation on the treadmills in Belgium. 

        “If she doesn’t have one, then yeah, I think it would suck for her to do all this F1 stuff with you. Especially with where her career is right now,” George sighed, rubbing his cheeks as though mentally putting himself in y/n’s shoes. 

        “But wouldn’t it be good for her to stay within F1? That way, she stays in conversations when the driver market opens up again?” Max suggested. Carlos was tipsy at that point, not too sure about what they were discussing in that moment. The driver market got complicated at times; the tequila made it difficult for his comprehension. 

        “Maybe she needs a break from F1 if it’s making her as stressed out as Carlos is saying it is,” Charles chimed in, “There are plenty of teams outside F1 as well who would love to have her as their driver. Maybe she’s insisting on F1 because Carlos is in F1?” 

        Carlos’ thick brows furrowed at those words. Was it true? That she was only insisting on staying in F1 for him? That he was the one holding her back from jumping to other divisions of racing liek Charles was insinuating?

        He sat deep in thought that night as the conversation shifted to other topics his fellow drivers wished to talk about. He stumbled into their apartment that night, a frown in his face as he knew what he was about to do. 

        “Fun night out?” she questioned, a warm smile on her face as Carlos entered the apartment. He was going to miss that smile.

        “I think we need to break up,” he blurted out. Her eyes grew wide, the smile slipping off her face as she stared at him in disbelief. Chuckling as though she just misheard him. 

        “What?” 

        “It’s for your future, Amor. I know you love all things motorsports, and you told me how you would have gone for Indycar if you didn’t get into F1,” Carlos began to ramble, unable to sort through his drunken thoughts in a way that would have made sense to his sober girlfriend. 

        “What does that have to do with anything?” she demanded, her voice cracking upon the realization that he was serious about his words. 

        “It would be easier for you to leave if I wasn’t making you stay,” his voice broke. 

        “But you aren’t making me stay, Carlos. I’m choosing to stay,” she shook off his words, “Darling, you’re drunk. Surely, this is just a big misunderstanding. We can talk about this in the morning.” 

        “No. No. I have to leave now, you understand?” he sounded desperate as he rushed into their shared room to start packing. 

        “Carlos, darling, come on. We can have this discussion in the morning. You aren’t thinking straight,” she pleaded with him, “Carlos, let’s just go to bed, please?” 

        “Okay,” he nodded, following her into bed. When she had woken up, he was gone. Most of his things as well. He meant what he said that night, it seemed. 

July 11, 2023 (Great Britain)

        y/n wasn’t there for every Grand Prix that year. He found his eyes going to the Red Bull garage every chance he could, hoping he’d be able to catch a glimpse of her. Disappointment set in whenever he couldn’t find her, or whenever he learned she wasn’t going to attend the weekend at all. He went from seeing her daily to doing his best to steal glimpses of her. 

        Carlos Sainz was subscribed to the Oracle Red Bull Racing team’s YouTube channel. Though he was ashamed to admit it, he would have videos of her on the channel on replay constantly whenever he missed her. It was the only place he could catch her smiling and laughing nowadays. He wasn’t sure if her smiles were genuine. Part of him wished upon her the same hurt. Just to see that their relationship meant something to her. That he broke her heart as much as he did his own that day. 

        And though she did not see him often on race weekends she did attend, he was there. Hell, he was present at Silverstone, watching on as she did the tire tests for Pirelli, clad in a Red Bull racing suit as she drove a Red Bull car around the track. She looked amazing in the suit, driving around like she was still doing it every weekend. 

        Three in the morning again. He spent the night tossing and turning in the cold hotel bed thinking of her that day. She drove the car amazingly, with such ferocity. With a renewed vigor as she made her way through every corner, perfectly in sync with the car. He missed being with her on the track. He missed seeing her in the car, so perfectly in her element. He was a fool to think she would have walked away from Formula 1 that easily. 

        “Everyone’s talking about how amazing you did in the tire tests, amor. You did amazing. I would love to see you with a permanent seat in Red Bull. You were so happy there.” 

        He deleted the message again, unwilling to send it. Besides, after the day she had, she was likely asleep. His eyes grew wide at the notifications on his phone that popped up immediately after he erased his message. 

        A press release came out saying she was replacing Nyck De Vries in Alpha Tauri. She was back in a Formula 1 car. This is what she was working towards since the news broke form McLaren. He regretted parting ways with her now more than ever. 

        Had they still been together, he would have been the first person she told about the contract. He would have smiled proudly, excitement evident on his face as he took her out to dinner in celebration of her. Instead, there he was, stuck staring at his phone, trying to think about whether or not he wanted to send her a message. 

        What was there to say? What words were enough to make up for what he’d done to her. Would he tell her he was sorry? That he wanted her back? That he’d made a mistake in doing what his drunken self believed was best for her? 

        She knew exactly what she was doing in her career. He was stupid to think she wasn’t going to be back in a seat by the 2023 season. 

        “You’re back on the grid! Excited to see you with your foot back in the competition. The fans missed you as well, you should see the support they give you online. I missed you”

        Deleted again. 

August 25, 2023 (The Netherlands)

        Grand Prix weekends grew difficult for Carlos following the announcement. He had to see her more and more now. The media was saturated with reports about her, their focus heavy on her. Many eyes watched her, just to see if she was as promising as they said she would be. To see if she was worth sacking De Vries for. 

        Her face was everywhere on his social media. Her name slipped through everyone’s lips in gossip. The one time he wasn’t hearing about her, he found himself stuck in a press conference with her. 

        She sat herself on the furthest end of the couch, away from him. She acted as though there was no history between them. Though they knew, the drivers knew, the fans knew. They were together for years, back when she was in Red Bull with Sebastian himself. She put on an act of aloofness toward him every time he would look at her, plastering on a smile for the reporters who asked her questions. 

        It was evident she was excited for the weekend. Carlos knew he was what stood between her and actually enjoying the press conference. 

        “How are you feeling entering the race weekend?” one of the reporters directed the question to her. 

        “I’m very excited,” she announced with a smile, “I’ve been in the car for two Grand Prix, I’m still trying to get the hang of it and get in sync with it. I’m looking forward to being able to do more with the car than I was able to. I’m still getting used to the car in terms of race pace and all. I’m hoping for a few points this weekend.” 

        “She’ll be on the podium in no time when she gets the hang of the car,” Carlos chimed in awkwardly, eyes wandering over to y/n. 

        “I hope so,” she shrugged, a tense smile on her face, “I’ve got a ridiculous amount of competition for that, though.” 

        “You’ll do great,” Carlos spoke again. y/n looked over at him, nodding awkwardly before settling back into the couch. 

        Unfortunately, her race weekend was cut short when she hit the tire barriers in the second practice session of the weekend. The yellow flags came out and Carlos frowned as he saw her car in the tire barrier next to Oscar Piastri’s McLaren. 

        The news about her condition came later upon finding out her injury was worse than they initially thought. Her wrist was fractured. She was not going to be able to race that weekend. His heart felt for her as he recalled how excited she was in that press conference. 

       He continued on with the weekend, relying on announcements from social media regarding her condition. He finished fifth that weekend. 

September 17, 2023 (Singapore)

        He knew she was in the paddock that weekend. He was made aware of it on social media when the Alpha Tauri social media account posted about it to their feed. It was a photo of her in the Alpha Tauri pit wall, a smile on her face despite the fact she was not going to be racing that weekend. 

        The car had pace that weekend. The practice sessions proved that. However, he wasn’t sure if it was going to transmute to Qualifying positions. However, he was certain he was going to do his best because this time, there was hope for another win. And it was going to be in Singapore with y/n watching. 

        He pushed himself to his best during Qualifying. He was going for pole position and nobody was going to get in the way of that. With the Red Bulls out in Q2, Pole position was up for grabs. He was going to make sure he was the driver to get it. 

        He drove the quickest lap possible at that circuit, pushing his red Ferrari to its limit, pulling momentum into every turn he took, crossing the line with the quickest lap time. He’d done it. He was starting from Pole in Singapore. 

        That night, it wasn’t him with his eyes glued to his phone screen at 3 in the morning. No. That night, it had been y/n with her phone stuck in her hands, staring at his contact saved to her phone. Cameras caught her watching the qualifying session, a video circulating of the way her eyes lit up when Carlos set his time. 

        He didn’t see that, though. Not when he was in the car, celebrating getting pole position. 

        Still, she hesitated to click on his contact. Was it right for her to send him a message? He broke up with her. She had gone through a whirlwind that season and she didn’t hear a single word from Carlos. A sharp pain struck her injured wrist, the one she held her phone with, resulting in the block of glass and metal to hit her square in the face. 

        “Good job today, darling. Wishing you luck for tomorrow’s racefhkwe”

 ��      Her eyes widened, mortified. The message was sent. She sighed, typing up another message, deciding there was no better time to say the words. 

        “I miss you.” 

        She spent the rest of the night in a dreamless sleep, awaiting a response to her message. Though, she knew Carlos well enough to know he kept his phone usage to a minimum on Grand Prix days. 

        Before the Grand Prix started, he pulled out his phone, killing time in the minutes before he had to enter his car. It was then he saw the message she sent him at 3 in the morning. His eyes grew wide, reading the three words over and over again. 

        “Carlos!” his race engineer called out to him, “The driver parade’s about to start.”

        He had no time to reply y/n’s message before he was pulled in all sorts of directions for Grand Prix duties. Soon enough, he was in the car, still not having been able to reply to her message. He was determined to get the whole race over with, eager to finally reply to her. It paid off in his favor. He crossed the line first. When the celebrations with the team at parc ferme were through, he made his way into the cooldown room in preparation for the podium ceremony. 

        He’d gotten so used to looking for her over the race weekends that he was sure he could spot her in any crowd. This time, his eyes grew wide as he climbed onto the top step of the podium. He blinked, believing his eyes were deceiving him. In the red sea of Ferrari, McLaren, and Mercedes staff, she stood out, clad in her Red Bull team shirt. She cheered excitedly with the crowd, despite the sling her arm was in.

        Despite her injury, there she was, joining the crowd to celebrate a podium ceremony Red Bull took no part in. He didn’t think he was going to see her anytime soon after her injury. Nothing was going to keep her from Formula 1. He was certain of that now.

        It was unmistakable, the glimmer in her eyes as she cheered along. The joy that was painted on her features as she gazed up at the top three finishers of the Grand Prix. A part of him hoped that gaze was meant for him. 

        When the ceremony ended, the team, including him gathered in the garage for celebratory pictures. To his surprise, there she was. 

        “y/n, what are you doing here?” he questioned, shock evident in his expression as he wiped the champagne away from his face. 

        “The team invited me after the podium ceremony,” she explained bashfully, her arms wrapping around her torso, unsure of what to do with her hands, “You never replied to my message.” 

        “I wanted to,” he breathed out, relieved she was finally talking to him, “I saw it right before the driver’s parade started. I wasn’t able to reply. If it’s any consolation, I miss you too.” 

        “We can talk about this later if you want to, yeah?” she smiled up at him, that twinkle in her eyes returning, “Go celebrate your win with the team.” 

        “No. No,” he shook his head, unwilling to put the conversation off any longer, “I made a mistake that night in Monaco. I thought, I thought that whatever I was doing was better for you. I thought it would have helped you shift your focus to other options in racing. I was an idiot.” 

        “Yeah. You were,” she gave a small smile. 

        “I’m sorry, y/n. Really, I’m sorry,” he frowned, “I know it will take time for you to forgive me, but I want you to know that I’m proud of you and I still love you. I was too guilty to tell you then, but I was so happy, seeing you make your way back to the grid this season, and—”

        “I forgive you,” she cut him off, tears in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his tall frame, “I love you too, Carlos.

December 19, 2022 (Spain)

        He was lost in the 2022 season.  Red Bull had a different dominance to them, and Ferrari could not seem to keep up with the absolute rocket ship of a car Red Bull had. In the end, his thoughts only drifted back to her. They both struggled greatly in the season. The season was over, and so were they. 

        It was three in the morning in Spain—he’d spent the night tossing and turning in bed, seeking warmth his blankets could not provide him—when the news stumbled onto his social media. Multiple accounts across multiple platforms announced y/n to be Red Bull’s third driver for the 2023 season. He even went on Red Bull’s account to verify the news. 

        He sighed. He believed she would have taken a break from Formula 1 in the time she wasn’t going to be driving. Instead, he was mortified to learn his ex girlfriend would only be a few garages up the pitlane. How couldn’t she? With the love Red Bull always had for her, it was never going to come into question that they would have bailed her out of the situation she found herself in for the season. 

        Despite Red Bull’s history with its drivers, his heart lit up with joy knowing they would have taken care of her. After all, her time with Red Bull was preferable to the time she spent with McLaren. He was almost in a daze, caught up in the moment when he found himself scrolling through his phone’s contacts, his heart skipping a beat as his gaze landed upon the familiar contact; her number saved under the name “Mi Amor”.

        “Saw the news, amor! Congratulations, I can’t wait to see you again on race weekends” he typed up before mentally kicking himself when a moment of logic washed over him. Though the message was plain, it was far too sentimental for his liking. Far too sentimental for what they were now. 

        “Congratulations. See you!” he made a attempt to revise the message. He sighed, repeatedly tapping on his phone’s backspace key until not a single trace of the message existed. No message. It’s what he had settled on instead that night. 

March 3, 2023 (Bahrain)

        It was time for the first race of the 2023 season. Walking through the paddock, he saw her. She smiled as she walked past reporters and photographers, clad in her team’s dark blue t-shirt as she made her way over to the Red Bull garage. He stood still, watching her from meters away as she disappeared behind the motorhome’s walls. He could not bring himself to move closer to her, unsure of whether or not he still had the right to do so after their breakup. 

        Back then, race weekends were not so awkward. They used to be fine. Perfectly fine, and so perfectly enamored with each other. Their eyes used to light up so clearly when they spotted each other from across the paddock walking into their respective motorhomes. It was never this messy between them. 

        August 27, 2022 (Belgium)

        The 2022 season was exhausting for the pair. y/n had just announced she was parting ways with McLaren and that made it all real. And though Carlos wanted to be there to support her, he had his work to do with Ferrari. After the announcement, she was working to prove herself to other teams, fighting to make the improvements she needed to. The pair hardly found much time for each other. 

        A few garages distance had never felt so far. 

        “So, Red Bull wants to give me a third driver seat,” she spoke as they jogged side-by-side on the hotel gym’s treadmills. Her e/c eyes scanned his face for a reaction, frowning when she got none. It took her waving her hand in front of his face for him to finally rid himself of his earphones. 

        “Sorry, amor, were you saying something?” he questioned cluelessly, an expectant look on his face. She frowned.

        “Never mind. I haven’t signed anything yet,” she shook away the thought of letting him in on the news this early. 

        “Why? Are you getting offers already?” he questioned almost absentmindedly, gaze fixed on the view outside the glass windows the treadmills were situated in front of. 

        “Kind of? Not really, though. It’s complicated and the driver market is insanely complicated this year,” she shook off the thought. Mercedes had offered her a role as a reserve driver, and Haas offered her a seat she had no plans of taking. She didn’t know how well those teams would have fared for her and her career. 

        “Let me know when you have a seat, yeah? We can go out and celebrate,” he smiled proudly before making a suggestion, “If you can’t find one, maybe I can put in a good word for you in Ferrari for a reserve driver seat or something.” 

        She grimaced at the thought. There was nothing wrong with it. She knew he was trying to help in a way he knew how. Still, it felt as though he were implying she needed him in order to stay in F1. Him leaving McLaren was what led her into the team in the first place. To many, it seemed like Carlos was responsible for the opportunities she was given in her career in recent years. It wasn’t fair for her achievements to be diminished by the fact that her career was waning, incomparable to the way her boyfriend’s career shone. 

        “I don’t need it,” she responded, her tone clipped, “I’ve got opportunities. Plenty of them. I’ll find a seat next year on the grid, and if I have to wait for somebody else’s contract to end, I’ll do it.”

        “Maybe you can try a different racing series?” he suggested, “Le Mans could be interesting for you, no? Maybe even rally cars like we did with papa that one time.”

        “And what about us? Would we be able to take it? Traveling to different places in the world at different times, our schedules almost never lining up?”

        “I think we can handle it,” he nodded, interlacing their fingers, “I have trust in our relationship. I know we can make it through anything.”

        “Well, I’d like to stay in F1. Maybe I can take a short break before I get a seat back. I’m sure I’m not leaving Formula 1, though.”

November 22, 2022, Monaco

        “You know, I think you’re taking this a bit extreme now,” Carlos sighed, watching her race on her racing simulator set up in their apartment. 

        “I have to do this, Carlos,” she insisted, “I have to prove I’ve still got it.” 

        “And who are you trying to prove it to? It’s just you and me here, y/n,” he reminded her, unplugging the simulator and wrapping his arms around her, “It’s going to be okay. Take a moment to rest.”

        “Okay,” she nodded, giving into his request and following him to the living room. She let out a sigh, “It’s weird for me to think I won’t be racing next season after all these years. I thought I had my contract sealed for next year. I thought I would have had time to redeem myself at McLaren instead of having them buy me out.”

        “I know, Amor,” he sighed into her hair as he held her in a comforting embrace, “I’m going out with some of the other drivers later. Do you want to go?”

        “I think I’ll stay here first,” she shook him off, “You have fun though. Don’t get too drunk, yeah?” 

        “I’ll try,” Carlos winked. 

        Later that night, he found himself on a quiet rooftop bar with George, Lando, Charles, and Max. 

        “I found her on the simulator earlier,” he admitted to his friends under the influence of a few tequila shots, “I mean, she seemed so rough earlier. I worry for her, you know? She’s so stressed out with everything that I feel bad because I have a seat and she doesn’t.”

        “Don’t you think it might hurt her if she has to keep traveling with you for F1?” Lando chimed in as the topic of y/n’s career came up. It was inevitable for them to end up talking. They were drivers, and y/n was Lando’s teammate. One way or another, it would have come up in conversation. 

        “And what makes you think that?” Carlos quirked a brow at Lando’s remark. 

        “Does she have any plans outside F1? I heard Nicky’s going back to uni with Logan replacing him,” George explained, taking a sip from his beer, “If not, maybe it will take some getting used to for her if she’s going to follow you around on races.” 

        “Well, not that I know of right now—”

        “Does she have a confirmed seat anywhere? Maybe even a reserve driver seat?” 

        “We haven’t talked about it yet,” the Spaniard shook his head at the thought, only vaguely being able to recall their conversation on the treadmills in Belgium. 

        “If she doesn’t have one, then yeah, I think it would suck for her to do all this F1 stuff with you. Especially with where her career is right now,” George sighed, rubbing his cheeks as though mentally putting himself in y/n’s shoes. 

        “But wouldn’t it be good for her to stay within F1? That way, she stays in conversations when the driver market opens up again?” Max suggested. Carlos was tipsy at that point, not too sure about what they were discussing in that moment. The driver market got complicated at times; the tequila made it difficult for his comprehension. 

        “Maybe she needs a break from F1 if it’s making her as stressed out as Carlos is saying it is,” Charles chimed in, “There are plenty of teams outside F1 as well who would love to have her as their driver. Maybe she’s insisting on F1 because Carlos is in F1?” 

        Carlos’ thick brows furrowed at those words. Was it true? That she was only insisting on staying in F1 for him? That he was the one holding her back from jumping to other divisions of racing liek Charles was insinuating?

        He sat deep in thought that night as the conversation shifted to other topics his fellow drivers wished to talk about. He stumbled into their apartment that night, a frown in his face as he knew what he was about to do. 

        “Fun night out?” she questioned, a warm smile on her face as Carlos entered the apartment. He was going to miss that smile.

        “I think we need to break up,” he blurted out. Her eyes grew wide, the smile slipping off her face as she stared at him in disbelief. Chuckling as though she just misheard him. 

        “What?” 

        “It’s for your future, Amor. I know you love all things motorsports, and you told me how you would have gone for Indycar if you didn’t get into F1,” Carlos began to ramble, unable to sort through his drunken thoughts in a way that would have made sense to his sober girlfriend. 

        “What does that have to do with anything?” she demanded, her voice cracking upon the realization that he was serious about his words. 

        “It would be easier for you to leave if I wasn’t making you stay,” his voice broke. 

        “But you aren’t making me stay, Carlos. I’m choosing to stay,” she shook off his words, “Darling, you’re drunk. Surely, this is just a big misunderstanding. We can talk about this in the morning.” 

        “No. No. I have to leave now, you understand?” he sounded desperate as he rushed into their shared room to start packing. 

        “Carlos, darling, come on. We can have this discussion in the morning. You aren’t thinking straight,” she pleaded with him, “Carlos, let’s just go to bed, please?” 

        “Okay,” he nodded, following her into bed. When she had woken up, he was gone. Most of his things as well. He meant what he said that night, it seemed. 

July 11, 2023 (Great Britain)

        y/n wasn’t there for every Grand Prix that year. He found his eyes going to the Red Bull garage every chance he could, hoping he’d be able to catch a glimpse of her. Disappointment set in whenever he couldn’t find her, or whenever he learned she wasn’t going to attend the weekend at all. He went from seeing her daily to doing his best to steal glimpses of her. 

        Carlos Sainz was subscribed to the Oracle Red Bull Racing team’s YouTube channel. Though he was ashamed to admit it, he would have videos of her on the channel on replay constantly whenever he missed her. It was the only place he could catch her smiling and laughing nowadays. He wasn’t sure if her smiles were genuine. Part of him wished upon her the same hurt. Just to see that their relationship meant something to her. That he broke her heart as much as he did his own that day. 

        And though she did not see him often on race weekends she did attend, he was there. Hell, he was present at Silverstone, watching on as she did the tire tests for Pirelli, clad in a Red Bull racing suit as she drove a Red Bull car around the track. She looked amazing in the suit, driving around like she was still doing it every weekend. 

        Three in the morning again. He spent the night tossing and turning in the cold hotel bed thinking of her that day. She drove the car amazingly, with such ferocity. With a renewed vigor as she made her way through every corner, perfectly in sync with the car. He missed being with her on the track. He missed seeing her in the car, so perfectly in her element. He was a fool to think she would have walked away from Formula 1 that easily. 

        “Everyone’s talking about how amazing you did in the tire tests, amor. You did amazing. I would love to see you with a permanent seat in Red Bull. You were so happy there.” 

        He deleted the message again, unwilling to send it. Besides, after the day she had, she was likely asleep. His eyes grew wide at the notifications on his phone that popped up immediately after he erased his message. 

        A press release came out saying she was replacing Nyck De Vries in Alpha Tauri. She was back in a Formula 1 car. This is what she was working towards since the news broke form McLaren. He regretted parting ways with her now more than ever. 

        Had they still been together, he would have been the first person she told about the contract. He would have smiled proudly, excitement evident on his face as he took her out to dinner in celebration of her. Instead, there he was, stuck staring at his phone, trying to think about whether or not he wanted to send her a message. 

        What was there to say? What words were enough to make up for what he’d done to her. Would he tell her he was sorry? That he wanted her back? That he’d made a mistake in doing what his drunken self believed was best for her? 

        She knew exactly what she was doing in her career. He was stupid to think she wasn’t going to be back in a seat by the 2023 season. 

        “You’re back on the grid! Excited to see you with your foot back in the competition. The fans missed you as well, you should see the support they give you online. I missed you”

        Deleted again. 

August 25, 2023 (The Netherlands)

        Grand Prix weekends grew difficult for Carlos following the announcement. He had to see her more and more now. The media was saturated with reports about her, their focus heavy on her. Many eyes watched her, just to see if she was as promising as they said she would be. To see if she was worth sacking De Vries for. 

        Her face was everywhere on his social media. Her name slipped through everyone’s lips in gossip. The one time he wasn’t hearing about her, he found himself stuck in a press conference with her. 

        She sat herself on the furthest end of the couch, away from him. She acted as though there was no history between them. Though they knew, the drivers knew, the fans knew. They were together for years, back when she was in Red Bull with Sebastian himself. She put on an act of aloofness toward him every time he would look at her, plastering on a smile for the reporters who asked her questions. 

        It was evident she was excited for the weekend. Carlos knew he was what stood between her and actually enjoying the press conference. 

        “How are you feeling entering the race weekend?” one of the reporters directed the question to her. 

        “I’m very excited,” she announced with a smile, “I’ve been in the car for two Grand Prix, I’m still trying to get the hang of it and get in sync with it. I’m looking forward to being able to do more with the car than I was able to. I’m still getting used to the car in terms of race pace and all. I’m hoping for a few points this weekend.” 

        “She’ll be on the podium in no time when she gets the hang of the car,” Carlos chimed in awkwardly, eyes wandering over to y/n. 

        “I hope so,” she shrugged, a tense smile on her face, “I’ve got a ridiculous amount of competition for that, though.” 

        “You’ll do great,” Carlos spoke again. y/n looked over at him, nodding awkwardly before settling back into the couch. 

        Unfortunately, her race weekend was cut short when she hit the tire barriers in the second practice session of the weekend. The yellow flags came out and Carlos frowned as he saw her car in the tire barrier next to Oscar Piastri’s McLaren. 

        The news about her condition came later upon finding out her injury was worse than they initially thought. Her wrist was fractured. She was not going to be able to race that weekend. His heart felt for her as he recalled how excited she was in that press conference. 

       He continued on with the weekend, relying on announcements from social media regarding her condition. He finished fifth that weekend. 

September 17, 2023 (Singapore)

        He knew she was in the paddock that weekend. He was made aware of it on social media when the Alpha Tauri social media account posted about it to their feed. It was a photo of her in the Alpha Tauri pit wall, a smile on her face despite the fact she was not going to be racing that weekend. 

        The car had pace that weekend. The practice sessions proved that. However, he wasn’t sure if it was going to transmute to Qualifying positions. However, he was certain he was going to do his best because this time, there was hope for another win. And it was going to be in Singapore with y/n watching. 

        He pushed himself to his best during Qualifying. He was going for pole position and nobody was going to get in the way of that. With the Red Bulls out in Q2, Pole position was up for grabs. He was going to make sure he was the driver to get it. 

        He drove the quickest lap possible at that circuit, pushing his red Ferrari to its limit, pulling momentum into every turn he took, crossing the line with the quickest lap time. He’d done it. He was starting from Pole in Singapore. 

        That night, it wasn’t him with his eyes glued to his phone screen at 3 in the morning. No. That night, it had been y/n with her phone stuck in her hands, staring at his contact saved to her phone. Cameras caught her watching the qualifying session, a video circulating of the way her eyes lit up when Carlos set his time. 

        He didn’t see that, though. Not when he was in the car, celebrating getting pole position. 

        Still, she hesitated to click on his contact. Was it right for her to send him a message? He broke up with her. She had gone through a whirlwind that season and she didn’t hear a single word from Carlos. A sharp pain struck her injured wrist, the one she held her phone with, resulting in the block of glass and metal to hit her square in the face. 

        “Good job today, darling. Wishing you luck for tomorrow’s racefhkwe”

        Her eyes widened, mortified. The message was sent. She sighed, typing up another message, deciding there was no better time to say the words. 

        “I miss you.” 

        She spent the rest of the night in a dreamless sleep, awaiting a response to her message. Though, she knew Carlos well enough to know he kept his phone usage to a minimum on Grand Prix days. 

        Before the Grand Prix started, he pulled out his phone, killing time in the minutes before he had to enter his car. It was then he saw the message she sent him at 3 in the morning. His eyes grew wide, reading the three words over and over again. 

        “Carlos!” his race engineer called out to him, “The driver parade’s about to start.”

        He had no time to reply y/n’s message before he was pulled in all sorts of directions for Grand Prix duties. Soon enough, he was in the car, still not having been able to reply to her message. He was determined to get the whole race over with, eager to finally reply to her. It paid off in his favor. He crossed the line first. When the celebrations with the team at parc ferme were through, he made his way into the cooldown room in preparation for the podium ceremony. 

        He’d gotten so used to looking for her over the race weekends that he was sure he could spot her in any crowd. This time, his eyes grew wide as he climbed onto the top step of the podium. He blinked, believing his eyes were deceiving him. In the red sea of Ferrari, McLaren, and Mercedes staff, she stood out, clad in her Red Bull team shirt. She cheered excitedly with the crowd, despite the sling her arm was in.

        Despite her injury, there she was, joining the crowd to celebrate a podium ceremony Red Bull took no part in. He didn’t think he was going to see her anytime soon after her injury. Nothing was going to keep her from Formula 1. He was certain of that now.

        It was unmistakable, the glimmer in her eyes as she cheered along. The joy that was painted on her features as she gazed up at the top three finishers of the Grand Prix. A part of him hoped that gaze was meant for him. 

        When the ceremony ended, the team, including him gathered in the garage for celebratory pictures. To his surprise, there she was. 

        “y/n, what are you doing here?” he questioned, shock evident in his expression as he wiped the champagne away from his face. 

        “The team invited me after the podium ceremony,” she explained bashfully, her arms wrapping around her torso, unsure of what to do with her hands, “You never replied to my message.” 

        “I wanted to,” he breathed out, relieved she was finally talking to him, “I saw it right before the driver’s parade started. I wasn’t able to reply. If it’s any consolation, I miss you too.” 

        “We can talk about this later if you want to, yeah?” she smiled up at him, that twinkle in her eyes returning, “Go celebrate your win with the team.” 

        “No. No,” he shook his head, unwilling to put the conversation off any longer, “I made a mistake that night in Monaco. I thought, I thought that whatever I was doing was better for you. I thought it would have helped you shift your focus to other options in racing. I was an idiot.” 

        “Yeah. You were,” she gave a small smile. 

        “I’m sorry, y/n. Really, I’m sorry,” he frowned, “I know it will take time for you to forgive me, but I want you to know that I’m proud of you and I still love you. I was too guilty to tell you then, but I was so happy, seeing you make your way back to the grid this season, and—”

        “I forgive you,” she cut him off, tears in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his tall frame, “I love you too, Carlos.

a/n: this was a draft i found from last year and decided to fix up today, my writing's hella rustayyyy 😭

F1 TAGS: @errrrrat / @ricsaigaslec / @veronicapaula / @buendiabebeta / @abditory-77 / @navia3000 / @revengze / @love4lando / @princessria127 /

CS55 TAGS: (OPEN)

[alrxiin]

so... thanks for the idea @mokozroach , now that I'm done with my winter break, I have done it :3

(not proofread)

TW's : 'Cheating', fighting, mentions of character getting hurt, character death, su!cid3 mention.

Sam x Darlin' (GN reader) | angst

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

"I'm Losing Hope In Our Lives Apart."

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

A week. It's been a week since the death of William, other Vamps speculate the cause was Demon Blood, but even after such long time there's nothing sure.

The death hit Sam hard, to say the least, especially after the Summit and the other murders... but Darlin' has been next to him every day, making sure he was fine and taking care of himself.

This day was different though, Sam had told them he's going on a walk, which isn't actually that unusual for him. What was unusual, is that when they went out to get him – since they had made food and didn't really like eating alone anymore – he wasn't in his usual spots that he would end the walk in.

Not in the small spot where tree's didn't grow and made a perfect place to watch the stars.

Not anywhere near the hills he would sit on and watch Dahlias lights shine at night.

Nowhere. He seemingly was nowhere.

Worried for their mate, they made sure the house door was locked before heading out to look for Samuel carefully sniffing around to catch his scent – which was fairly easy considering the time they had spent with him.

2 years, they have been together for 2 years, and they could recognize his scent anywhere.

Following his trail, they stumbled through the woods mindlessly, going into Vamp territory just like the first time they had met when they were after Quinn.

Close, they felt him so close now, looking around through the trees, and finally they saw a blonde tuft of hair.

Relief washes over them and they quicken their pace, going around the trees to him, only for shock to go through their body when they do.

There he was, Samuel Collins, sitting on a fallen tree, and on his lap, Alexis. A nightmare come true.

Since the very first time Sam has told them about her, they hated her for what she has done, and – to a point – feared that she would weasel her way into their lives. Exactly like she had now, and it took every ounce of self respect they have not to burst into tears, but it had brought them into being violent yet again.

Hitting something that would definitely hit back.

Walking out and up to them, hands balled up into fists, they spoke up finally.

- "You absolute bitch..." —

- "Alexis?.." — Sam's voice came through weakly, like he was disassociated, the hold Alexis has on him still strong.

- "What did you just call me?" — She scoffed, getting off of him to face them, irritation showing on her face.

- "I called you a bitch. What are you, deaf?" — And with that, she lunged at them.

They knew they stood almost no chance against her, they found that out so many times before while fighting off Vamp after Vamp, she overpowered them with ease. Yet they had no intention of stopping, putting up a fight like they had always done before.

Every bit of emotion getting out of them as they fought, taking hit after hit from the woman, and striking back when they had the chance, taking it as far as turning to try and get their chances up.

They knew that Sam wouldn't do something like this on his own, that she had to do something to get him to be with her.

They hated it so much.

Lost in thought, so many emotions going through their head – betrayal, anger, confusion, whatever the hell else there is – and before they knew it, Alexis struck again, landing a final blow.

They gasped, finally conscious yet again, and instead of giving her the satisfaction of looking at her, they instead looked at Samuel.

It's like something snapped in him, the invoking she had done going loose, and he was looking back at them again.

- "Wait... no." — His voice quivred, and he got up from the log, quickly jumping into action and running up to them as they fell back, already too dizzy to stay up.

- "Darlin'!.. shit, please don't do this!.." — He took their hand, shaking ever so slightly as he panicked. His powers had weakened from the sort of trance she had put on him, and he would have no way of healing the damage Alexis had done, not like this.

And in the end, it was too late, and Darlin' layed limp on the ground..hand so cold in his.

- "Awhh... poor little puppy. All bark, and yet, no bite." — She put on a pity face, only a giggle escaping from her as she stepped closer, putting a hand on Samuel's shoulder.. only to have it pushed off in a hurry, with anger on his face and tears in his eyes, he gazed up at her.

- "Why, why do you always do this?! Why do you always take everything I have away from me?.." — His voice broke at the end, unable to maintain the threatening tone, as a sob ripped through him.

- "Oh Sammy... you must realize they were a downgrade from me, do you not?" — Her voice, terrifyingly calm and collected. She put a hand under his chin, lifting it up to face her properly, with a touch so gentle...

- "They were just a lost puppy, that turned everyone away and clinged to the first person that showed a little care. But now, you don't have to worry.. you know well that we're a gorgeous match." — The smile, meant to pull him in, only made him come to his senses.

Sam pulled his face away, and his eyes turned a copper red in anger and disgust.

- "I would rather die, than be with someone like you, Alexis." — His voice came out muffled, gritting his teeth to try and keep his composure.

The woman, was left in a form of shock and he took that chance, picking up his mates limp and pale body into his arms, before speeding away back to their house.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

Not even a week later, the Shaw Pack got worried from the lack of contact from Sam, knowing how heartbreaking it is to lose someone – a lover nonetheless – so tragically, without even as little as a goodbye. And it wasn't until Vincent had called, that they had gotten the news...

"Samuel took his life." — was what he said.

He couldn't have gone on without them, without the only true spark of light in his nocturnal life that he had.

He had no one.

And now, he hoped he would see them again in their next life... Together, in every universe, every form. Forever.

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

14. Let's Get High and Fuck

Cooper Howard × Fem!Reader / The Ghoul × Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence. From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen @one-of-thewalkingdead @giggle-shade

Walking along the sandy land all I could do was ponder on these distracting feelings. The heat on the back of my neck as we walk makes me tense. His eyes are addictive to look at, but when I give in and allow myself to gaze his way, I can not stand the pounding of my heart. The ghost of a memory unknown in my mind. So many memories were lost through the years of my torture. (Y/n), Melody, back and forth battling for space. I hadn't thought of myself in a long time. My body aches as I remember the special moments of her life... of my life.

The Ghoul's coughs caught my attention. He stops in his tracks bringing his canteen up to his mouth, the droplets landing in a large collection of radiated water in a round barrel. Lucy pants as she watches his actions. Her tongue projecting, begging for her to break. Just for a simple sip.

He dips his canteen into the puddle collecting the water. Lucy stumbles over and kneels next to the barrel. She dips her hand into the water and begins scooping it into her mouth. I can't say it wasn't satisfying to see her struggle. The closest I could get to hurting Henry MacLean was her, and that was just peachy at the moment.

The Ghoul nods as Lucy drinks the dirty water. "Now you're getting it." Lucy shakes as she gulps more of the water. The Ghoul tilts his head at her, "How does that Golden Rule jibe with what's going through your head right now?" Lucy glares at him, "What are you?" He smirks, "Oh, I'm you, sweetie. You just give it a little time." He spits up in a coughing fit once more, this time very powerful. He hunches over turning away from Lucy and I.

We make eye contact, a single choice, a 50 50 shot. Or if it went well, we could both get away. I nod once, and with that, we both sprint off in different directions. I race into a building shielding myself behind a wall, being able to peek out of the window near my head. I hear the scuffle of Lucy getting captured. I run my hands through my hair processing a plan. Did I need this shit? I was comfortable in my little bar singing for stupid drunk wastelanders who tipped well. Revenge smelt so sweet, but it wasn't worth getting severely damaged over. Eseshellay now that my trusted maintenance assistant is fucking dead.

The crunch of their steps stops, and I wait, shotgun posted up and aimed at the door. It was silent and my hopes raised. I lower my gun and sigh, I had done it. Just as I pass the open window, a loop straps around my middle. I look down in shock, before following the rope to its wielder. The Ghoul tightens his grip on me with one tug, he makes me tumble out of the window. I hit the sand with a thud, my arm breaking the fall, and the arm breaking in the process. The Ghoul pulls me back to him, "Where the fuck you think you goin'? Huh? Been long enough, honey. Ain't letting you go for shit." He mumbles lowly as he straddles me, his knees clasping against my hips.

That burning in my chest begins again, the slow ignite of the flame heats my body. My core aching with a certain want that has been disregarded for years. He grounds his hips down as he rips my hands up, my one arm limply in his grasp. He looks at it with a certain sliver of care. He quickly flips me over, my back facing him. He bends my arms back, takes my wrist, and ties them together tightly. I couldn't control the small whimper that left my lips. The small noise had a large effect on the Ghoul as I could feel a growing hardness in his pants. I stare up over my shoulder with wide eyes, surely shocked. He smirks down at me, "Shit, darlin', you think I could keep it down for you?"

He hauls me up and pushes me forward with Lucy. I shrug at her, a sad sorry defeat. My hands are still tied behind my back and my arm is still broken as I travel through the sand. The building coming into view makes my insides uneasy. I look at the Ghoul with panic. He doesn’t look my way, too distracted by his own determination to keep going.

We pass through a fence, the three of us walking up to the intercom. I look down in defeat. At least I would finally die. They would take my heart, the only lifeline I had. I could finally rest. I could finally be with my Cooper. The Ghoul presses the red button, "Transaction." Seconds later the attendant, answers, "Yes?"

"Two-month supply of vials. Exchange one female. Near mint condition." One? I look up to meet the Ghoul's eyes. His hazel eyes were so warm. His gaze comforting in the situation of life and death. The attendant voices again oulling his gaze away from me. "Condition grading requires physical evaluation. Please send her in." The lock buzzes, allowing the doors to open. Lucy stares into the dark building, "What's in there?" The Ghou pulls out his gun and aims it at Lucy, "You're about to find out." "You're selling me?" Lucy looks at me, tears in her eyes. "(Y/n), please." I look away at the sound of my name. I couldn't do anything, if this Ghoul was keeping me around, I had another day promised to live. I wasn't going to give up the chance to return home. I meet her eyes, sorrow in mine, "You can't always be a good guy out here, Lucy. I'm sorry." She stares at me with wide eyes, anger and panic in her gaze. The Ghoul pushes her roughly, "You got problems out here, too. Best you try your luck behind that door." She stumbles on, advancing through the doors leaving the Ghoul and I in silence.

He looks down at me, blinking heavily. He swallows dryly, a low wheeze in his lungs, and topples to the dirt motionless. What a convenient thing to happen to allow me to escape...

I don't take a second thought as I run away, tracking our previous steps. My heart beat quickly, yet a smile was not on my face. I was going home. I should be happy... right? I stop running and lean against a crumbling brick building. I rest my head on the wall, closing my eyes. My head hurts as memories flash through my mind. Unwilling I am made to see the most happy moments replaying. Most of them Cooper and I. The early mornings making breakfast and sipping coffee as he makes jokes. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of hazel. They would always light up when he saw me. I could tell he was truly happy when we were together. The truth always held in his orbs. I could always see the threads weaving his soul through his orbs.

I missed his eyes the most...

His eyes...

His fucking eyes...

"Oh fuck..." I push myself off the wall and sprint back in the direction I just came from. Half a mile away a stampede of Ghouls is running in scattered directions, rushing past me paying no mind. I push myself harder. If he were to die without knowing... Without me finding out if he could be...

The entrance of the building came into view, but no Ghoul on the ground. So, that was a good sign. No Lucy either...

I walk into the door, the scatter of glass bottles and heavy panting can be heard the closer I get to the middle of the store. The Ghoul hunched over the coffee table, digging into the supply box, scooping several vials and bottles of pills into his hat.

It had to be him. That or someone just decided to jack Cooper Howard's closet after the bombs dropped. "You feeling better?" The Ghoul whips around, his hand automatically grasping for his gun at his hip. A sly smile working on my lips. I look over his body, the long duster coat shielding most of him, but I can still imagine. "Looks like it anyway." The Ghoul tilts his head, a light grumble rising from his chest. "What are you doing here?" I walk towards him, looking down at him as he stays on his knees. A sight I could've only imagined until now.

"Not much I can do with my hands tied behind my fucking back, and a broken arm can I?" I turn around, pressing my ass closer to him, twisting my bound wrists. "If you don't mind." He grants my request, cutting the rope. One arm falling limply to my side, still broken. I'll have to work on that...

"Thanks," I walk around him, taking a seat on the couch, I kick the dead body off the cushion beside me before lifting my legs to rest. The Ghoul tracks my movement with his eyes. His questioning orbs stare into mine directly. Who was going to break first? Did he remember me? Was he even him? I look down at the powder on the shard of a mirror. "You going to take that?" He slides it over the table with a grumble, "Not much fucking use without a nose, sweetheart." I giggle as I quickly snort the line. I tip my head back as the drugs burn in my brain and existing nerves. I was thankful this was one of the effects I could still enjoy. A good habit? Fuck no, but this was the wasteland. Had to do something to numb reality.

I looked back to the Ghoul and I could see him. A smile on his face as he watches me, unable to hide the warmth I provide his soul. "I kinda dig the whole no-nose thing." He tilts his head, "A ghoul kinda girl, huh?" I shrug avoiding his eyes. "Maybeee."

I lean up and dig into the box of various drugs. Pulling out some chems and pills I smirk at him. "You wanna party a little?" He raised his hairless brow, "Shit, I ain't saying no to a good time."   

I snort a line and knock on the table as I feel the numbness swell in my body. After a bottle of liquor, several pills, and a rolled joint the Ghoul and I were both slumped on the couch. I cough as I pass the joint to him, the parallel in the universe replaying.

“Good shit, isn’t it, darlin’?” I agree as I stand to my feet. I look at myself in a mirror. I was built to perfection, not a hair out of place, nor a smudge of makeup. I watch him look over my frame in the mirror. He meets my gaze and locks in. "I had a life before all this shit. A good life." He watches me intensely in the mirror. "I was a fucking star. You think this here is something, you should've seen me back then." His lips tug in a small smile, he blinks slowly as if imagining my words. "I was engaged too. That actor from the movie poster. Cooper Howard. Fine mother fucker. I'm telling you." The smile on the Ghoul grew even more. I was playing with his ego, one thing Cooper Howard was fond of. Clearly, nothing had changed that much.

"I just have one question for you." I turn around, facing him, beginning to stalk his way. I waltz towards him, playing a game of cat and mouse. I wanted him to break first. I stop in front of him, his eyes gazing into me. His hat was still abandoned on the table, now empty with the supply stashed in the saddle bag. I see a single corner of a photo tucked into the band of the hat. Our photo. I take the hat between my fingers, plucking the photo out of the band. I place the hat on my head and press a hand onto the Ghoul's shoulder, pushing him back onto the couch. I stare into his eyes, traveling into his soul. He's lived for too long, in search of me. When I breathed, so did he.

I hold up the picture for his viewing. He switches his gaze from the photo to my orbs. I lean in closer, our faces exchanging the same oxygen. "Do you think I'm fucking stupid, Cooper?" His eyes are closed as I speak his name, a breathe leaving his dry lips. I place a hand on his wrinkled cheek, resting our heads together. His ungloved hands claw at my clothes, pulling me into his lap. I melt into him, merging into his frame, getting as close as we could. I nuzzle into him, our foreheads still together. I wrap my arm around his neck, "I thought you were dead." His grip on my jacket was so tight I could hear the seams fighting to stay sewn shut. Cooper looks up at me, with an undying smirk. "Well, darlin' you did say you'd wait 200 years to love me. Can't hate me for taking that literally." I lean into our lips just an inch apart. I ghost over them before pulling back with a smug smirk, making him chase me.

"You ain’t runnin’ from me." He grabs the back of my head, pulling me flush against him in a heated kiss. Needy and rushed as he clawed at my clothes. The jacket was long removed, and my pants slid down my legs with haste. Cooper lowers himself near my legs. He pulls them apart just an inch before I shut them. It had been so long, that I was nervous in the simplest way to say it. He didn’t like that, shoving his hands between my thighs and splitting them apart with ease, pushing them far enough to make me wince from the stretch. 

He tucked his fingers beneath the waistband of my underwear and ripped them free, the poor thin fabric never stood a chance. The cool air hit my exposed flower like a slap, showing my needy cunt to him above. His fingers daringly intruded my slit, thick and rough against my warm, velvet skin. Bucking my hips to free myself only made his pleasure that much easier, his fingers easily welcomed into my soaked walls. Cooper rests his head against my knee, placing several kisses and nips at the skin. “Spread your legs, baby, that’s it… Wider.” I moan as his fingers dig deeper, curing my most sensitive glands.

My body was beyond harmonizing with my mind for once. It was all a perfect world when Cooper was around. The blissful sensation dawning upon my body was a rush of warmth deep in my belly. It coiled in my gut like a constricting snake. I shutter, fighting against Cooper to close my legs. He holds them open, his eyes glued to my pussy as he pumps his fingers in and out. "That's it, you're taking my fingers so well, honey. Such a good girl." I archer up for him, pulling him closer. I had to have him.

He sank onto me, our mouths meeting with a passionate kiss. He ground into my frame. He was already rock-hard. I ran a hand over his chest, leading it to his pants, unbuttoning them in a rush. The bulge straining against the fabric finally released, revealing him.

I widen my eyes in shock. He had grown surely! He was certainly girthy; veins spidering along the length, tracing to the bulbous red tip, a pearl of pre-cum sliding down the head of his cock. He meets my orbs, cares appearing in secret. He whispers in a calm voice, "Is this okay?" I nod, "Please, Coop. Please."

He wasted no time, he plunged himself in, my body giving no resistance. I winced initially, my walls stretching almost uncomfortably to accommodate his width, filling you to the brim. “Fuck,” he breathed, his voice nearly stuttering. “So damn tight.” He pulled back and slammed his hips forward, sending forth a wave of absolute knee-trembling ecstasy.

I was a moaning mess, sprawling on the couch, clinging to him as if he could slip away. "You feel so good!" I swore out loud, my body melting within his hold. my back arched, head tilted to sing my pleasure to him.

He’d snaked his fingers to my center, fiddling and teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves. I hardly could comprehend the second build of the release. With a few quick strokes, the coil wound deep sprung, manifesting as a scream.

Cooper’s lips were quick to find my own, swallowing the outlet of my pleasure. He dragged his fingertips in conjunction with his thrusts, wringing my orgasm to the last drip. He relented once satisfied.

“Almost done, sweetheart,” he grunted in between heated kisses, moving his hand to grip the arm of the couch, providing more leverage for himself. Without another word, he drove himself even faster and harder. It wasn’t much longer until he pressed deep, a guttural growl resonating within his torso as he released his spend within me. He groans out with his eyes closed.

The stillness encircled the two of us, my heart hammering within my ears almost deafening as it settled. Cooper's frame, shaken slightly from his heavy breathing, straightened up but not before fluttering his lips against mine for another kiss. He pulled out of me, causing me to whine at the loss of feeling.

While tucking himself back into his pants, he grabbed a spare cloth from behind himself to help clean me up. I stare at him as he wipes me clean. He was still the man I loved. He just wore the story of someone who has run through some tough shit. "You're so handsome." Cooper looks up at me with a confused look before he shakes his head and looks away. "Shit, darlin', you need to get your eyes checked." I move quickly, grabbing his face in my hands. "I might even say, you're more sexy now. I am digging this bounty hunter badass. It does it for me." Cooper forces down a laugh, "You're a fuckin' idiot." Where before he could laugh freely, now he pushes it down and remarks with smartass comments, but even I could see past his wasteland bullshit.

[ryomensgirlfriend]

FATEFUL WISH

CHAPTER ONE

Sukuna x fem reader ! jujutsukaisen

summary: In a realm where the line between hatred and intrigue blurred, a woman with a fiery mind found herself serving the King of Curses. She despised him—no, he repulsed her. Yet, despite her disdain, she couldn't deny the spark of intrigue that flickered within her whenever she was near him.

content: true form! - explicit content - violence and mention of blood - sukuna in his own warning - size difference - manipulation -touch without consent - 18+ warning later on in the fic - fingering - degradation - etc. i’ll add more later

7.1k words

"She's returned!" Laughter erupted from the men as you entered, a dead boar slung over your shoulder.

You strode into the booze store and casually dropped the boar onto the floor, its blood splattering across the tiles.

The elderly men erupted in applause and praise, some even finding it amusing that a young woman like you could accomplish such a feat.

"Tch, brat, you've stained my floor!" Your old man, Wasuke, grumbled as he approached from behind the counter.

"Well, I've proven you and these old bastards right, so give me the money," you demanded, your arms crossed.

Wasuke, with a stern expression, grabbed your ear, causing you to wince in pain.

You had been under Wasuke's care since you were seven, with no parents and no memory of them. You had once been a slave, sold on the market, but you managed to escape and stumbled upon Wasuke, who took you in, in exchange for your labor in his store

Despite his constant scolding and frequent outbursts of anger, it was clear that Wasuke's parenting style was not that of a loving and caring guardian. He was sometimes annoying to be around, always nagging and perpetually difficult to handle.

Your feelings towards him were mixed, to say the least. There was a deep-seated resentment, yet buried beneath that animosity was a genuine, albeit reluctant, sense of care.

Twelve long years had passed living with him, during which he had imparted his martial arts expertise to you, since he had been an ex-martial arts trainer for sorcerers.

He may have been a respected and well-known figure to others, but to you, he was no different from the other elderly customers who frequented the store.

You had been raised predominantly among men your whole life, with the exception of Saiko who was Wasuke's niece.

Saiko was a welcome relief from the monotony of the store and the grumbling old men who populated it.

She would often drop by to lend a helping hand and whisk you away to festivals whenever she could.

It was clear that she pitied you for having to endure the company of those old men and sympathized with your situation.

Saiko didn't mince words when it came to her disapproval of how her uncle raised you, often lamenting the fact that he had brought you up more like a man than a woman.

In the village, everyone admired your physical beauty—your well-figured body and an enticing face that drew the eyes of every man.

However, your scars and personality was a stark contrast to your physical allure.

You had a penchant for sake, a penchant for cursing, and a strong inclination to engage in arm wrestling competitions.

Your reputation for recklessness, wild behavior, and a brazenly loud mouth made you less appealing to the young men in the village.

Working in the store as a woman came with its fair share of challenges. The men would often subject you to sexist and misogynistic comments, leading to heated confrontations where you would try to fight them.

Wasuke, your old man, would step in, of course, restraining you and delivering a stern scolding before piling on extra labor as punishment.

Earlier that morning, the old men had pestered you with their skepticism, claiming that no woman could be strong enough to even catch, let alone kill, a rabbit.

You saw it as a challenge and promptly made a bet with the old men before heading into the forest, eventually leading to your current situation.

Wasuke's scolding voice snapped you back to reality. "You'll scrub the floor till midnight, you hear me!" he admonished, finally releasing his grip on your ear and letting out a disgruntled huff.

The men in the store chuckled among themselves as they watched the scene unfold. You couldn't help but hiss in frustration, kicking the boar that lay on the floor. After all this, you were still determined to get your money- rightfully so.

Your steely gaze locked onto the old man who had made the bet with you. You approached his table and slammed your hand down, a threatening tone in your voice as you demanded, "My money."

The old man cleared his throat, reluctantly handing you a few bucks. "That's all I have, brat" he grumbled. You rolled your eyes at his excuse but took the money nonetheless. At least you had managed to claim your victory and get some cash in hand.

The day dragged on as you diligently followed Wasuke's orders, scrubbing the floor with water and soap, hoping to remove every trace of blood from the wooden surface.

Wasuke observed your efforts from a distance, idly slicing an apple and taking bites between sips of tea.

He had taken care of the boar, hanging it up to dry for future use.

In his eyes, you were akin to an obedient dog, but you understood that you owed him for all that he had provided. He might have treated you unfairly, but in the end he was still your father figure.

After hours of scrubbing, you finally completed the task. Feeling exhausted, you stepped outside and splashed the blood-soaked water onto the grass.

Gazing down at your battered hands, a sigh escapes your lips. Scars crisscross your body, souvenirs from hunts and clashes with swords.

It's yet another aspect that repels men—a body adorned with marks they find unappealing. Yet, you're indifferent.

Their shallow judgments hold no sway over you. You have no intention of settling down with any of those weak idiotic men.

None of the men in your village ever held your interest. They were mere chatterers, lacking prowess in combat and charisma. Merely wealthy, they fancied themselves as climbing the social ladder through coin alone—a pitiable notion.

Love itself was a foreign concept to you.

Your standards were far higher. You sought a partner of formidable power, capable of crushing enemies effortlessly, yet being kind and gentle. That was true attraction to you.

Oh how you wished for a strong powerful man.

"Y/n!" Saiko's voice rang out from a distance, pulling your attention away from your thoughts. You turned towards the sound and spotted Saiko standing there with her two friends and a man who was accompanying them.

You waved and quickly made your way over to them, feeling the disapproving glances from the two other girls who clearly had their own opinions about your unconventional behavior.

They had never really liked you- probably due to the fact of your man-like attitude which they found impudent and distasteful.

"Hey, Saiko," you greeted her with your usual poker face.

Saiko flashed you a grin. "Do you want to come with us to the Haiko festival?" The Haiko festival was an annual celebration of spring, symbolizing growth and happiness.

The man accompanying them, Haru, cast an odd and annoying gaze your way. Haru's behavior was always revolting to you.

He seemed to alternate between lusting after you and showing annoyance, yet he would disregard you in front of others and toss mean comments in your direction.

Haru couldn't resist making a snide remark about the apron you were wearing, stained with boar blood. "I hope she's not coming dressed like that," he remarked, his hand crossed over his kimono.

You brushed off Saiko's invitation and replied, "It's fine, I've got other things to do." Before throwing a veiled threat that hung in the air, unfinished, as you held your tongue for the moment.

Before Saiko could insist you had ran back to the store. You threw your apron to the ground before walking inside the store.

As the sun began to set and customers slowly trickled out of the store, you decided to grab a broom and clean the floor.

Wasuke, on the other hand, was comfortably seated with the other men, enjoying their sake. The desire to join them and escape the mundane tasks of cleaning and serving customers gnawed at you.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, you put your broom aside and marched over to their table. "Old man, I'm done," you declared sternly, a frown etched across your face.

Wasuke glanced up at you, setting his sake aside. "Good work, you can go," he replied, a hint in his words that implied you could attend the festival, which you had no interest in going to.

"I'm not going, let me join you!" You boldly pushed your old man to the side and took a seat, grabbing a sake.

The other men chuckled at your audacious move, while Wasuke came dangerously close to throwing his drink at you, but he managed to restrain himself.

"You impudent brat, can't you see this is old men's business?" he scolded you, to which you responded with an eye roll. "I've grown up with you old men, doesn't change anything," you retorted.

Wasuke sighed, then a mischievous idea crossed his mind—an idea good enough to keep you occupied for a while.

"Oh right, you have one last task for the day, brat," Wasuke began, a sly grin forming on his lips. The other men, sensing his plan, grinned as well.

"What is it?" you asked.

"Go to Hanako's house and bring back five pack of flour. We'll need it," he said, chuckling at the thought of your impending encounter with Hanako.

"Are you joking?! That woman moves like a sloth! It'll be daytime before I come back!" you protested, rising from your seat.

"It's an order," Wasuke chuckled, taking another sip of sake. In frustration, you threw your sake on the ground, shattering the cup into pieces. "Have fun cleaning that, you bald-headed, old, wrinkly bastard," you hissed before storming out of the store.

Wasuke grumbled at the mess you had left behind. "That brat," he muttered, shaking his head in exasperation.

Walking to Hanako's house was always an exasperating experience. You harbored a deep-seated resentment towards that woman.

Her short-term memory issues were maddening, and she moved with the speed of a snail. At times, you had to resist the urge to give her a gentle push just to keep her moving.

Hanako's house was tucked deep inside the forest, and she lived a solitary life. Few people visited her, mostly when they needed flour, which she produced miraculously despite her sluggish pace.

After reaching her door, you knocked impatiently, knowing it would take her an agonizingly long time to answer.

Your prediction was spot on; it took her nearly two minutes for her to finally open the door.

"Y/n...!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up with a warm smile upon seeing you.

"Yeah, greetings, I need flour," you blurted out quickly, eager to get this errand over with.

After a good ten seconds, she replied with a confused, "What?" That's when you remembered she also had poor hearing.

Fed up, you shouted, "I NEED FLOUR!"

"Oh... Yes!... Of course!" she responded, turning away to fetch the flour.

Fed up with her slow pace, you decided to take matters into your own hands. "You know what, don't move. Just tell me where the flour is, old woman," you hissed, walking inside her house without waiting for her permission.

"Oh... uhm... yes! Of course! It's... over there!" she replied painfully slowly, causing your frustration to skyrocket. You scanned her house, trying to decipher her vague instructions.

Let's just say it took about a painstaking twenty minutes before you finally located the flour and another five minutes trying to hand the money over to her.

Once you were done dealing with her, you let out a sigh of relief. If you had left it up to her to fetch the flour, you feared it would have taken about ten hours.

"Thank you, goodbye," you told the lady as you finally left her house, heading back to the village, grateful to be free of the ordeal.

However the walk back wasn't as exciting as you would have wanted it to be.

The smell of smoke hit you, causing your heart to race with unease.

Smoke? You thought to yourself, growing increasingly anxious. It wasn't just a hint of smoke; it was a thick plume, billowing up into the sky.

Panic coursed through your veins as you sprinted through the forest toward the village, each step heavier than the last.

There was no way... it couldn't possibly be...

Arriving at the village, you were met with a nightmarish scene. Blood and severed limbs were scattered everywhere, houses engulfed in flames, and not a living soul in sight.

Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach as you ran towards the store as fast as your legs could carry you.

As you entered the store, you felt a wave of nausea wash over you. An old man's decapitated head lay on the ground, separated from its body.

You navigated through the gruesome scene, stepping over lifeless bodies.

But then.....

The sight that met your eyes was beyond horrifying. Wasuke's head hung lifelessly on the wall, detached from his body.

His lifeless form lay sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a nightmarish tableau of blood and death. The putrid stench of decay and brutal violence hung heavy in the air, and you could hardly believe what you were witnessing.

The overwhelming horror of the scene left you on the brink of vomiting, the world spinning around you. Everything you had known was gone, your home was reduced to ruins.

This life you had built had been stolen from you, and a raging storm of emotions threatened to consume you. You wanted to cry, to scream out in agony, but there were no tears left in your eyes.

All that remained was an all-encompassing hatred and a burning, uncontrollable rage.

Just as you were about to reach for your katana, a palpable presence materialized behind you.

Whirling around with lightning speed, you found yourself face-to-face with a monk, their short white hair stark against their skin, a crimson line adorning their hair. Their piercing pink-violet eyes bore into you, accompanied by three imposing figures clad in black kimonos.

"Hmm, pretty face, she'll suffice," the monk remarked.

Before you could react, the men advanced toward you, prompting panic to surge through you.

With swift reflexes, you grasped your katana, assuming a defensive stance. Who were these interlopers, and what were their intentions?

The monk sighed wearily before suddenly appearing beside you in a blur of movement. In an instant, their hand connected with your neck, plunging you into a deep slumber.

You're not sure how long you've been passed out for. When you regained consciousness, your surroundings were engulfed in pitch darkness, the unsettling sound of chains rattling pierced the silence.

Attempting to rise, your efforts were thwarted by the unyielding grip of the restraints binding your hands and legs.

Reality crashed upon you with chilling clarity—it wasn't a mere nightmare.

This was real.

Panic surged anew as muffled cries beside you reached your ears, echoing the fear that gripped your heart.

Abruptly, the door creaked open, entering an elderly woman flanked by guards bearing torches. In the flickering light, the full scope of your predicament became apparent.

Alongside you, we're twenty other girls shackled in the same grim fashion.

"Take them to the washing hall," the lady commanded, her voice cutting through the air.

With a sense of mounting dread, the guards seized the chains, dragging you and the others along in their wake. Struggling against the iron grip of your captors proved futile, as they propelled you forward with relentless force.

Confusion swirled with a seething undercurrent of anger. If only you could break free and unleash retribution upon these contemptible oppressors.

As you were forcefully seated down in the washing room, rage surged within you, boiling over as you struggled against the chains that bound you. "Who are you?! I'll kill you!" you spat.

"Silence," the guard retorted, yanking harshly on the chains, stifling your protests.

Suddenly, the monk who had plunged you earlier strode into the room.

Their presence commanded attention as they surveyed the captive girls before focusing on the first one.

With a grip as firm as steel, the monk seized the girl's face, scrutinizing her with an unsettling intensity.

Then, without preamble, they ordered her to strip, inspecting her body with a cold detachment.

Your stomach churned with disgust as the monk told the girl to spread her legs. The girl's cries fell on deaf ears as the guards forcibly complied, violating her privacy.

In a chilling display, the monk stood aside, allowing the women to carry out the invasive examination before delivering their verdict.

"She's pure," the lady declared, her tone devoid of any empathy or remorse.

What followed was a degrading examination, each girl subjected to the same invasive scrutiny.

Anger seethed within you, a blazing inferno fueled by indignation and a fierce determination to break free from these vile captors.

And in the end, the monk approached you, their hand gripping your face as your scowl conveyed defiance and unwavering resolve.

The sudden impact of a slap against your cheek jolted you, momentarily stunning you into silence.

"You, a mere weakling, dare to look at me like that?" the voice intoned, calm yet seething with disdain.

The monk hated being regarded with such contempt by humans they deemed unworthy of life.

Your unwavering stare only fueled their irritation—a scoff escaping their lips, recognizing the defiance mirrored in your gaze, a trait they had seen in their master, the strongest sorcerer alive.

But what right did you, a mere village girl, have to challenge them? You knew nothing of life beyond the confines of your humble existence, nothing of the harsh realities of the world.

"Pathetic. Strip her," they commanded, their voice dripping with disdain. While the other girls had fought against their fate, you remained frozen, your eyes locked onto the monk with a mixture of hatred and disdain.

Scars adorned your body, evoking a grimace of disgust from the lady overseeing the proceedings.

However, before the guards could carry out the degrading task of spreading your legs, the monk intervened.

"No need. Her body is already vulgar to look at . The king would be repulsed by the sight. Put her in the servants' section," they declared with finality.

With a nod of acquiescence, the monk left, ushering away the selected girls to the concubine chambers, leaving you and a handful of others behind.

"Let's go," the lady demanded, but you refused, "Curse you," you seethed, your words met with another harsh slap across your cheek.

"You won't survive for long if you continue behaving like this, young girl," the lady warned as she seized your arm, attempting to compel you to stand.

Jerking your arm away forcefully, you retreated several steps. "Touch me again and I'll kill you, I swear!" you growled, tears threatening to form in your eyes.

The lady scoffed, her demeanor condescending. "Do you know where you are, child? You are in the King of curses kingdom. You are forever enslaved to serve him for the rest of your life," she explained matter-of-factly.

"I do not care, let me out!" you groaned, frustration and anger coursing through your veins.

You couldn't give less of a fuck for the identity or power of this formidable presence; all that mattered was escaping this wretched place by any means necessary.

"Fine, if you want it the hard way," the lady conceded, turning to address the remaining guards. "Lock her in the dungeons for a week, give her no food. Water every two days," she commanded, her tone resolute.

The guards bowed obediently before seizing you once more, dragging you back to the depths from whence you came.

Despite your screams and resistance, hurling insults and curses in a futile attempt to assert your will, your feeble frame stood no chance against the overwhelming strength of the two burly men.

You despised this powerlessness, loathing every soul in this accursed place.

The pitch-black room swallowed you whole as the heavy doors slammed shut, leaving you utterly alone.

Desperation fueled your cries as you screamed, shouted, and pounded on the unyielding barrier, but your efforts fell on deaf ears.

Determined to find an escape, you traced the walls with trembling hands, seeking any hint of a window or exit, but all you found were small, mocking holes that offered no solace.

Exhaustion gnawed at your bones with each passing day, draining your energy until even the will to scream ebbed away.

The torment of receiving water every two days did little to assuage the relentless ache in your stomach, and tears, once foreign to your eyes, now streamed down your dirt-streaked cheeks.

Your once-familiar life in the village had been obliterated by these unknown aggressors, thrusting you into a realm of darkness and despair.

What did the king want with you? Death would have been more preferable than whatever the fuck this was.

Finally, the agonizing week drew to a close, marked by the creaking of the door as it swung open, casting a harsh light that made your eyes recoil. "Hopefully you've learned your lesson," the lady's voice pierced the silence as she stepped into the room.

Exhausted and depleted, you offered no resistance as the guards lifted you from the cold ground, their grip firm yet strangely gentle.

Stepping into the dimly lit hallway, your eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden brightness. It felt as though an eternity had passed since you last saw the light of day.

As you were escorted down the corridor, you caught glimpses of other girls clad in pristine white kimonos, their movements purposeful as they tended to their tasks.

But you remained silent, your mind consumed by questions without answers.

You found yourself in a large room, lined with futons on the floor, and several girls sitting quietly. As the lady entered, the girls rose, bowing in deference. The guards dropped you to the ground before exiting the room.

"Kira, bring her the white kimono," the lady commanded. Kira nodded and quickly retrieved a white kimono before hurrying over to you.

The lady turned to you, grasping your chin firmly. "Listen closely to me now," she began, her voice stern.

"From this moment forward, you will attend to duties such as cleaning every corner of the palace. You are not permitted to enter the royal section of the palace. It is imperative that you comply, otherwise, you will meet a swift and merciless death. These young palace maidens will provide further explanation. Do you understand?" With her grip released, your gaze remained fixed on the floor, offering no response.

"Assist the girl in cleaning herself," the lady ordered curtly before leaving the room, her presence leaving an unsettling atmosphere in its wake.

The girls rushed towards you, concern etched on their faces. "Hey, are you okay?" Kira asked, her voice laced with genuine worry.

You glanced at her momentarily, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

With their help, you made your way to the washing hall, cleansing yourself thoroughly before returning to your servant room.

They offered you a simple porridge and a cup of water, a meager sustenance that barely filled the void within you.

Days passed, each one filled with new revelations about your surroundings. You learned about the hierarchical structure of the servant maids, where skill and efficiency determined your rank.

The better you were at your tasks, the higher you would ascend in status, earning privileges such as access to the royal section and even occasional leave from the palace for errands.

As a low-ranking servant, you found yourself confined to the deepest corners of the palace, tasked with menial and backbreaking labor.

It infuriated you to be treated worse than an animal.

Yet, you heeded the woman's words, holding your tongue and following orders to avoid repercussions.

Defiance came with consequences; the head chief maids held the power to lower your ranking and administer punishment as they saw fit.

The servants girls didn't seem to like you anyway. They viewed you with suspicion and disdain, deeming you strange and vulgar due to your unconventional mannerisms.

It was true; you had grown up surrounded by men, adapting their rough and direct way of speaking.

But their opinions mattered little to you. You were very determined to escape this gilded prison, to reclaim your freedom and carve out a destiny of your own making.

As you scrubbed the floor, enduring the insults hurled at you by the other servants, a simmering anger brewed within you.

If only you could unleash your anger and beat the shit out of them. But you knew better than to jeopardize your reputation in this palace. Climbing the ranks was your only ticket out of this misery.

Amidst the labor, you often overheard whispers among the servants, tales of a man known as the "King of Curses."

His reputation preceded him, with stories of his malevolent deeds spreading far and wide. It was said that he roamed the earth, leaving a trail of destruction and evil in his wake.

The recent rumor circulating among the servants was that he had seized the throne by beheading the former king of Japan, claiming power with an iron grip.

They spoke of his cruelty, how mercy was a foreign concept to him, and how those who dared to cross him met a fate worse than death. It was this very man who had sentenced you to this life of servitude.

"Did you hear? One of the concubines was killed today," a maid whispered, though her words carried clearly to your ears.

"Poor soul, she must have angered the king," another servant whispered in response.

You turned to them with a scowl, your contempt for the man known as the king evident in your tone. "Or perhaps she chose death over enduring another moment in the presence of that vulgar man," you retorted, your words dripping with venom.

The servants' eyes widened in shock, but they quickly returned to their tasks, choosing to ignore your words.

Speaking ill of his highness was utterly forbidden and a sin, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. After all, it was he who had condemned you to this life in the first place.

As long as the head maids didn't hear you, you were willing to risk the consequences to voice your disdain for the man who held sway over your fate.

Suddenly, the head maid rushed into the hall, her voice urgent. "You three," she addressed you and the other servants with a sense of urgency in her tone. You looked up, your frown deepening as you awaited her words.

"Hurry to the royal section," she instructed, her words rushed and frantic. "Eleven servants have just been killed. Go clean, hurry, hurry!" With that, she turned and dashed off, leaving you and the others to digest the shocking news.

Eleven servants dead? The gravity of the situation hung heavy in the air, but instead of fear, you felt a surge of excitement.

Perhaps if you demonstrated your efficiency in the royal section, you could earn favor and rise in rank. With a sense of purpose, you quickly rose to your feet, the other girls following suit, and hurried after the head maid.

As you made your way to the royal section, you couldn't help but notice the panic spreading through the palace. Other maids rushed past you, adding to the sense of urgency in the air.

After a tense ten minutes, you finally arrived. The grandeur of the surroundings was undeniable, a stark contrast to the mundane halls where you usually toiled.

However, any sense of awe was quickly replaced by amusement as your eyes landed on the severed bodies and limbs littering the ground.

It was clear that someone had incurred the wrath of the king, and the consequences had been dire.

Without hesitation, you set to work, cleaning up the bloodstains as guards removed the grisly remnants of the tragedy.

Though your kimono stained with each swipe of the cloth, you worked diligently, hoping that your efforts would not go unnoticed amidst the chaos and carnage.

As the other girls trembled at the sight of blood, their fear palpable in the air, you remained composed.

Blood was a familiar sight to you, a residue of your past life filled with fighting and hunting. It didn't scare you; it was just simply disgusting.

"Y/n, can you take that section over there?" one of the girls approached you, her voice trembling with fear. You raised a skeptical brow in response.

"Where?" you questioned.

"U-uhm, it's close to the king's chamber. P-please, I'll do anything, I'm scared!" she pleaded, dropping to her knees in a display of desperation.

You scoffed at her pathetic display, finding her submission over something so trivial to be contemptible. Nevertheless, maybe this could be your chance to get a peek of him.

Was this Ryomen Sukuna truly the fearsome figure they spoke of, or just an old grumpy man?

"Move," you commanded, pushing her aside without a second thought.

She mumbled a series of "thank yous" as you made your way to the designated area. It took you mere minutes to arrive at the hall, which was eerily empty save for a few splatters of blood on the ground.

Your gaze settled on the grand golden doors in the center of the hall, and you couldn't help but wonder if that's where the elusive king resided.

With a huff of annoyance, you dropped to your knees, determined to complete the task assigned to you, regardless of the potential dangers that lay beyond those imposing doors.

As you scrubbed, growing weary of the monotonous task, a sense of exhaustion washed over you.

Your days seemed to blend together in an endless cycle of scrubbing and servitude, and you were growing increasingly tired of it all.

With a disdainful sigh, you tossed the sponge aside, feeling the weight of frustration settle on your shoulders.

Just as you were about to rise from your kneeling position, the grand doors before you swung open with a resounding creak, and a piercing cry echoed through the hall.

"M-my lord!" a feminine voice shrieked in terror.

A shiver raced down your spine as an overwhelming aura of malevolence enveloped the area, suffocating you with its intensity.

Instinctively, you fell to your knees, pressing your forehead against the cold floor as if seeking refuge from the sinister presence that now filled the room.

The so-called king emerged from the chamber, dragging the woman by her hair as he descended down the hall.

With each step he took, the air grew heavier, the darkness of his presence weighing down upon you like a suffocating blanket.

Uncontrollably, your fingertips began to tremble, the sheer malevolence emanating from him rendering you powerless in its wake.

You could hear the woman's pleas as he passed by, her cries for mercy falling on deaf ears. The unsettling aura clung to you like a thick fog, leaving you paralyzed with fear.

As the king and the woman disappeared from view, the oppressive atmosphere slowly began to dissipate, releasing you from its suffocating grip.

With a sense of panic rising within you, you hastily rose to your feet, your mind reeling with questions and dread.

Who was that man? What manner of darkness lurked within him? In that moment, you couldn't help but wish that you had never set foot in this place.

As you swallowed the lump in your throat, your eyes remained fixed on the golden doors that beckoned you with an irresistible allure.

Despite the fear and uncertainty gnawing at your insides, curiosity stirred within you, driving you to take a step closer.

Retreating would have been the wisest course of action, but wisdom had never been your strong suit.

With a resolve, you stood up and made your way toward the kings chamber, casting a cautious glance over your shoulder to ensure that no one was watching.

Surely, he wouldn't return, would he?

With trepidation, you crossed the threshold, stepping into the grandiose room that befitted a king.

Your eyes widened in awe as you took in the opulence surrounding you.

In the center of the room stood a magnificent king-sized bed, on the side by a cushioned seat piled high with books and scrolls on one side, and a grand window offering a breathtaking view of the city on the other.

Approaching the window, you gazed out at the sprawling cityscape below, your eyes wide with wonder at the sight unfolding before you.

It was the first time you had seen the world from such a height, and the view took your breath away.

Your attention was drawn to a pile of scrolls lying on the ground nearby, their elegant kanji script catching your eye.

Carefully, you picked one up, feeling a sense of reverence for the knowledge contained within its pages. With trembling hands, you unfurled the scroll.

As shouts echoed through the halls, panic surged within you, prompting you to abandon the scroll and flee from the king's chamber.

With hurried steps, you made your way back down the hall, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to escape the impending chaos.

"Y/n! Where have you been?!" The head maid's reproachful tone seized your attention, her grip latching onto your arm and yanking you backward.

You yanked your arm away, irritation simmering beneath the surface. You refused to be controlled, even by someone of higher rank.

"I was attending to my duties," you retorted, your words tinged with annoyance as the head maid seized your arm once more, her forceful tug propelling you forward.

Resentment bubbled within you as you were herded back to the lowly halls of the palace.

Being ordered around like a mere dog grated against your pride, and with each step, your patience wore thinner.

Retreating alongside your fellow servants to the humble quarters nestled within the recesses of the palace, you bristled at the head maid's admonishments.

"Wandering without permission and insolence towards your superior? Your status will be relegated to those tending the stables," she hissed, hurling you into your chamber.

How dare they treat you with such disrespect?

You were not just a servant; you were far greater, far stronger than any of them could ever imagine.

And as the anger within you reached its boiling point, you knew that you would not remain subservient for much longer.

It was only a matter of time before the volcano of your rage erupted, engulfing everything in its path.

As the door slammed shut behind you, a primal scream of frustration tore from your throat, punctuating the air as you swept a nearby vase to the ground, shattering it into fragments.

The startled gasps of the other servants echoed in the chamber.

"What are you staring at?" your voice lashed out, hurling the broken pieces towards them. They recoiled, unnerved by your sudden outburst.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. How could you ever reclaim your standing in the hierarchy?

The king's incompetence, the insufferable maids and servants—all of them conspired to aggravate you to no end.

Biting your nails between your teeth, you sank onto your futon, ruminating furiously. There had to be another path forward, a different strategy to get the hell out of here.

A day had passed and the command to relocate your belongings to join the other lowly servants outside only served to stoke the flames of your rage.

There seemed to be no escape from this oppressive existence, and a sense of defiant fury burned within you.

Driven to the brink by the fuck of it all, you lashed out, hurling a vase at the head maid with a primal scream of frustration. "Try me, you old hag," you seethed, pulling out a knife you had grabbed from the servants' kitchen.

Gasps and screams echoed around you as the other girls recoiled in horror, scrambling away from the unfolding scene. "Call the guards!" the head maid shrieked, her voice tinged with panic.

With a roll of your eyes, you launched yourself towards the head maid, the knife slicing through the air as you mercilessly slashed open her throat.

Blood spurted forth in a grisly fountain as she collapsed to her knees, gasping for air in her final moments.

Disgust twisted your features as you continued your assault, stabbing her repeatedly until her lifeless body lay at your feet.

With a scoff of contempt, you stepped over her corpse, fully resigned to the fact that you were prepared to fight until your last breath in this infuriating palace, regardless of the consequences.

Their biggest mistake was taking you in.

The chaos erupted in the palace as screams and cries echoed through the halls.

The other servants scrambled away in fear as you stood amidst the carnage, your chest heaving with anger.

Blood stained your hands, a grim reminder of the violence that had just happened.

With a cold resolve, you moved forward, knowing that there was no turning back now. The guards would soon arrive, but you were prepared to face whatever consequences awaited you.

As the sounds of approaching footsteps grew louder, you squared your shoulders and braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation. Whatever awaited you, you were prepared to face it head-on.

As more head maids rushed onto the scene, you continued your ruthless onslaught, efficiently dispatching them with chilling efficiency.

The sensation of taking lives, once foreign and repugnant, now stirred a twisted excitement within you—a dark thrill of wielding power and dominance.

But your newfound sense of empowerment was short-lived, shattered as swiftly as the lives you had taken, when black-clothed men swarmed around you, their presence signaling the arrival of the guards.

Overpowered and outnumbered, you found yourself shoved to the ground, the knife torn from your grasp over a cacophony of groans and angry protests.

Blood stained your once pristine kimono, a grim realization to the violence that had happened, while streaks of crimson marred your face.

Great, they were going to lock you up and torture you again, huh?

Uraume ascended the grand staircase, their steps measured and purposeful as they approached the throne where Sukuna reclined in regal splendor.

With a deferential bow, they took their place beside the king's seat, awaiting Sukuna's command.

"The troops that have formed are in the west, it appears," Uraume informed.

Sukuna huffed, his posture relaxed as he leaned back in his seat, his gaze piercing the empty room.

"Shall I go and execute each one of them?" Uraume inquired, their voice gentle and serene, betraying the bloodthirsty nature that lay beneath.

"No need," Sukuna replied curtly.

Uraume sensed the dark intentions swirling within the king's mind, a prelude to the violence and carnage that would inevitably follow.

Sukuna had always reveled in the act of taking lives, finding satisfaction and pleasure in the chaos he wrought upon the world.

Just yesterday, the insolent servants had met their demise for not following the orders right. Their lives snuffed out without mercy or remorse at Sukuna's command.

He cared little for the value of human life, for in his eyes, the world existed solely to serve his whims and desires.

Uraume knew all too well the horrors that Sukuna was capable of unleashing on the world. There was no shred of remorse in his actions, only a sense of twisted satisfaction and contentment.

Chaos and destruction followed in his wake, leaving nothing but devastation in his path.

Sukuna was indeed a force to be reckoned with, a harbinger of terror and despair in a world trembling beneath his unfathomable power.

As Uraume was about to broach the subject of Kenjaku's arrival, the head lady burst into the throne room, her body bending in a deep bow until her forehead touched the ground.

Sukuna's gaze hardened at the unexpected intrusion, his irritation palpable.

Descending the grand stairs with a scowl etched upon they features, Uraume addressed the trembling servant. "Your presence is rather unwelcoming. Do you know no better than to request an audience first?" they admonished, their voice laced with disdain.

The head lady swallowed hard, her fear evident as she pleaded for forgiveness. "Apologize for my impudence, I deserve death, please grant it," she implored, her voice trembling with trepidation.

Uraume sighed heavily before pressing for an explanation. "What is it that has you in such a rush?"

"T-the village girl you took in two weeks ago has caused havoc in the central hall," the head lady stammered, her words rushed and panicked.

Uraume's brow furrowed in consternation as the head lady provided more details. "The defiant one with scars all over her body. She has killed three head servants early this morning," she explained, her voice quivering with fear.

"Instruct the guards to kill her—" Uraume began, only to be interrupted by Sukuna's authoritative voice resonating through the room.

"Bring her to me," Sukuna commanded, his tone brooking no argument as his fingers idly tapped against the arm of his throne.

With a respectful bow, Uraume acquiesced, stepping aside to allow the king's decree to be carried out.

"My apologies, bring her here," Uraume instructed the head maiden.

Their foremost duty was to serve the king's will, and speaking without due consideration had been a lapse in their judgment that they now regretted.

As the head lady hurriedly departed the throne room, instructions were swiftly carried out, and soon you found yourself being dragged from the dungeons, your body protesting with every groan as you struggled against the iron grip of the guards.

Your once pristine white kimono was now stained with blood, and your hair was out of order, a testament to the violence you had endured and the defiance that still burned within you.

"Free me now!" you roared, your voice reverberating with raw fury as you fought against your captors, but their hold remained unyielding as they ushered you towards the throne room where your fate awaited.

As the doors swung open, that same palpable aura of dread washed over you, signaling the presence of the man responsible for your plight.

It was terryfing and dark.

Fear rose within you as you were pushed to the ground, your head forced to bow before the imposing figure seated upon the throne.

All around, eyes watched you with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, their gazes weighing heavy upon you.

You heard the echo of heavy footsteps descending the grand staircase, sending a shiver down your spine as anticipation mingled with fear.

As the guards stepped aside while your arms was still tied behind your back, you dared to lift your head just slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of two feet standing before you.

Suddenly his hand gripped the roots of your hair, a hiss escaping your lips, as your head was forcibly lifted.

Through the strands obscuring your vision, you finally saw the king's face. His crimson eyes bore into yours, framed by elegant black lines that accentuated his sharp features.

His nose and jawline were sculpted with precision, and his pink locks stood out against the darkness of the throne room.

"What is your name," his voice rang out, more command than query, sending shivers down your spine. It was darker and raspier than you had anticipated, instilling a primal fear within you.

"Y-y/n," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Sukuna's lips curled into a sinister grin as he tilted his head, his red eyes gleaming with malice. "The smell of your fear is sweet. Perhaps I'll have some fun with you, fierce eyes," he declared, his words dripping with wicked amusement.

Terror and curiosity warred within you as you stared into his menacing gaze, feeling as though you were being consumed by his presence.

The realization dawned upon you that everything you had once known to be reality was about to change. How many times would a foolish girl like yourself find herself at the mercy of the strongest man alive?

After all, wasn't that what you had wished for?

[moonpedri]

honey.

summary: you knew pedri was no good for you, but you couldn't help yourself and give in when all he wanted was a little luck before his match.

pairing: pedri x reader

genre: fluff, suggestive (readers best friend is dating pedris brother)

warnings: none, except some making out

word count: 2.8k

a/n: my first ever request!! this was supposed to be a short imagine, but turned out a little longer than attended. let me know what you think and have fun reading!🤍🤍 (not proof-read)!

────────────

You do a little spin, considering yourself in the mirror. You honestly can't remember the last time you wore the red-blue jersey. It's been a while since you attended one of their games - not that you watched that many anyways. But today's the club's second to last league game, two more an they win LaLiga. And since Sofía, your best friend, is dating the older brother of Barcas youngest star player, she insisted on you wearing the infamous #8 jersey as well. "It's a special occasion, we're all wearing it.", she said, leaving no room for argument.

You were currently at her apartment, getting ready on the floor of her bedroom. Sitting in front of the big body-mirror you watch as Sofía plugs in the hair-curler; all while listening to DESPECHÁ by Rosalía in the background.

Sofía and you met at "Dulces", a small café in the big metropolitan city. In desperate need for a part-time job to somehow finance both university and rent, you stumbled across the shop you now almost dare to call your second home. Sofía's parents own the café. It's humble compared to the rest of the city, located in the very heart of it, but it outshines each and everyone of them.

The outside was decorated in pastels and different flowers. The big window gives a nice view into the inside of the shop. Its interior was just as cute, a few small tables taking up most of the space. And just like the outside, the inside gleamed in pastels and flowers.

Sofía helped you get adjusted quickly, making work a lot more comfortable and the adjustment to your new home a lot less overwhelming.

At one point in your friendship she introduced her boyfriend Fernando to you. Which honestly came to a big surprise to you, because all she ever said was that she was just "talking to some guy" and that it was "nothing serious". Turns out he's the love of her life and she hid the entire relationship for a whole week from you.

"We didn't know it was that serious either. We decided to keep it a secret to be completely sure about us. No one knew, not even his brother, trust me.", she tried explaining to you in panic, when she saw your upset and hurt expression. Yada yada yada. It didn't make any sense to you until you found out that he is actually the brother of FC Barcelona's notorious midfielder Pedri. Though it was not the footballer himself, anything concerning the Gonzalez family they preferred to keep private. And you respected that.

You wouldn't be able to be mad at her for longer than a few hours anyways, and never over something as trivial as this. You loved her too much for that.

The moment you knew though, your entire routine changed. Suddenly you were swapped into this whole new lifestyle of spontaneous trips and football matches; something uncommon to you prior. You've gone to maybe one football game before meeting Sofía.

Her phone suddenly vibrates on the vanity table and you watch as she picks up the phone with a smile on her face. You sigh. At least Fernando treats her right. For the short time you've known him, he has been nothing but a sweetheart to not only his girlfriend, but you as well.

He invited you over to dinner often and even acted as a chauffeur when you and Sofía got particularly drunk one night.

The same can't be said about his little brother though.

Considering how often you have been over at their place and attended his games, you've seen pretty little of him. Not that you complained, he's an attractive guy, no question. But whenever you two were around each other the air suddenly got weirdly thicker in a way. And it gradually got stronger and stronger the more you met.

You're not dumb, you got the hints. Your days as a naive teenager have been over for a long time now. His touches started lingering longer than what's deemed appropriate, his eyes went places they shouldn't.

And Pedri's not stupid either. He wouldn't directly approach you; not if he was 100% sure you wanted the same.

You would lie if you said it didn't affect you. Of course, it did. It was irritating at first, however irritation turned to anticipation really quick and each time you wondered how far he would go this time; If he would ever go further than the heated kiss you shared on the beach two weeks ago.

It was in a moment of weakness admittedly, it didn't mean anything. But what were you supposed to do, when he looked like sex-on-legs in those red swim shorts, when his large hands covered your back and shoulders with suncream, when he glistened so beautiful under the harsh sun and when he finally dragged and hid you behind your sunshade. You just had to taste him once. Just once.

But that's the furthest you would ever let "this" go - harmless teasing.

You heard what people said, what the articles reported. Hell, even his own brother dropped some hints sometimes. The love life of that of a footballer often went hand-in-hand with infidelity. Not always of course, but you shouldn't expect from a young superstar to commit to a monogamous relationship so early into his rising career. That would be naive.

And you definitely didn't expect this from Pedri.

You knew all he wanted was to fuck you probably, have his fun with you and then discard you like the rest. That's not what you wanted though. You were not some plaything, especially not to some athlete. You had neither time nor the nerves for that. And you didn't have feelings for him anyways, so this whole thing was absolutely pointless to think about.

With a sigh you stand up. The jersey was tucked into a crop, showing off your little belly button piercing perfectly.

"You look really pretty.", Sofía says from behind you. You can't lie, the jeans hugged your ass in all the right ways and for once you managed to not have a bad make-up day.

"Just in time as well, the driver texted. Let's go.", she informs you. You grab your bag and head out.

Pedri (or Fernando, you honestly don't know) was nice enough to arrange a chaffeur for the two of you. The brothers and their parents already went ahead hours ago, like they almost always did in support of their son and brother. Seeing no point in waiting inside the stadium for hours, both you and Sofía decided to tag along later, being able to sleep in.

You arrive at the Camp Nou pretty quickly, considering the traffic and masses of people surrounding the place.

Once inside, you're welcomed with loud cheers and chants of the Culers, cheering passionately pre-match for their favorite club.

It was a bit difficult getting through, but you find Fernando eventually.

"You've made it!", Fer greets the two of you with a loud cheer. He sweeps up Sofía in a tight hug, "You look beautiful.", he whispers to her and presses a kiss to her forehead. It takes everything in you to suppress a gag. They were disgusting.

"Can you guys hurry up?", you interrupt the love birds, wanting to take seat.

Fer makes a face at you, "You're just jealous."

"Absolutely not."

He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, yeah. I would have said the same if I was boyfriend-less. It's okay, __. He will come eventually, bless his poor soul."

Both you and Sofía punch Fer on the shoulder at the same time. "Don't be rude!", your best friend defends you. He rubs his shoulder sulkingly, "She started."

Sofía gives him another stern look before kissing him on the lips and rubbing his shoulder affectionately. What a traitor.

You surpress another eye roll." Where are your parents?", you ask. It's been some time since you've seen them too. You've met them even less than their youngest son, but the few times you have, they have been nothing but sweethearts.

"Getting food.", he says, "By the way, my brother wanted something from you.", Fer informs you.

You furrow your brows, "Right now?"

He nods, "Don't know what though. He said he'll wait somewhere downstairs." And with that he turns his attention back to his girlfriend, leaving you on your own.

Knowing that he won't be of much help anymore, you stand up and make your ways through the stands.

Lucky for you, you've been at the Camp Nou often enough to roughly know where to go. Otherwise you would have long gone lost.

When you find the door for the private area, you take a deep breath. Dealing with Pedri requires a calm mind, or else he wringgles his way into your head fast enough to make you go completely mad.

You step inside and shouldn't be suprised to see him already waiting for you. Yet you are.

He looks good in his sports uniform, the shorts doing nothing but only highlighting his lean but muscular legs.

Before you could take another step forward though, a security man yanks you back by your arm. "Wrong way, ma'am.", he says in a deep voice. He was huge, hovering over you with ease. It was a menacing sight.

"I'm-"

"She's with me.", Pedri tells him. He signs something to him with his hand, indicating him to leave.

The security guard contemplates to argue that it's technically against the rules, but apparently his last minutes of peace seem more precious to him in that moment and he gives you one final look, before leaving. He still has long and tiresome hours ahead of him.

Pedri walks towards you while saying something, yet you were still stuck on the words that left Pedri's mouth a moment ago. It was a simple sentence, nothing special really. Nonetheless your brain couldn't help but think about what if it was taken out of context for a split second. "She's with me. She belongs to me. She's mine."

You immediately shake the thoughts out of your head and instead focus on the boy in front of you. Calm mind, you think to yourself. "What do you want, González?"

Pedri actingly clutches his heart in a hurt manner, "I thought we're on first name basis __, you're breaking my heart."

You roll your eyes, "I'm serious, isn't your march starting, like, any minute? What do you want?"

Suddenly he pushes himself off the wall and positions himself right in front of you. His demeanor changes immediately. He crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows cockily, "I summoned you here, my lovely __, to receive my good luck kiss."

What.

You stare at Pedri with big eyes. If you were to be eating something, you surely would have choked on it. You must have misheard him. "Your what?"

He grins, "My good luck kiss. I couldn't possibly go without it today."

You think that he may be confusing your intentions somehow. There was no other explanation for it. "Look, what happened at the beach was a one-time-thing. Nothing serious.", you try to explain to him. You cannot deal with this right now.

"Never said it was, princess. Didn't say this one is either. Except for my match, of course."

You scoff at him. He's unbelievable.

He's always like this; acting nonchalant whenever you two talked, treating you like it was obvious and natural for you to give him whatever he wants. A mundane and ordinary thing for you to do.

Pedri takes a look at his wrist, pretending to read his watch (he isn't wearing one), "Which is starting very soon, so you might want to hurry up, sugar."

"You're being ridiculous."

"Never. Do you want us to lose, princess?"

You stare at him in shock. Is he trying to guilt-trip you right now? "Your inability to score has nothing to do with me."

"I'm serious.", he adds, ignoring your jab at him altogether. You can see the way his expression changes to a more genuine one now.

When you say nothing, he takes another step forward. Your eyes widen, when he touches your waist. You don't stop him. You don't stop him either when his other hand settles under your chin.

"Did you change your lip balm?", he asks suddenly, his thumb brushing your bottom-lip down gently. You did, however you didn't think he, or anyone else for the matter, would notice. Who even chatches something so unnoticable, unless you stare at their lips all the time?

Pedri was truly out of his mind, yet you somehow love the attention he pays you. You feel pretty under his gaze, you feel seen.

And it annoys you so much, because it goes against everything you hold against him. You shouldn't feel the way you feel right now, your legs shouldn't feel weak and your skin should not be burning.

But he looks so unbelievably good up close, you begin to lose yourself in his eyes. You never wanted someone so much.

The air around you is thick enough to cut through, oxygen dreads to disappear out of your lungs.

You nod, "Yes.", not able to say any more.

Pedri takes one last look at your mouth, "Can I guess the flavor?", he whispers almost. His face is only inches apart from yours.

And so you give in to him.

You don't know who leans in first, all you know is that his lips feel like heaven on earth. They move firm, but gentle, against yours.

His right hand grabs your neck, pulling your face even closer to his. You shudder, when you feel his tongue lick against your bottom-lip, and you grab his shoulders for support.

Pedri was like a drug; toxic and bad for you, but irresistible. The more you have a taste of it, the more you want it. And right now, he's the worst drug you've ever had. You're addicted.

Your tongues move in synch and Pedri pushes you harshly against the wall behind you. He slips his thigh between your legs and you gasp. "Wait."

With a plop you seperate from each other. Your entire body feels like its on fire, Pedri's swollen lips only an indicator on how you must look like right now. "We can't.", you say out of breath. You sound extremely unconvincing; even to your own ears.

Pedri notes that too. He licks his lips and winks, "You're right, I should head back. Next time, I'll make more time in advance."

He presses a final soft kiss to your lips before hurrying back to the cabine, not giving you a chance to oppose. You inwardly curse yourself for giving in so easily again.

When you head back to Sofía and the others, no one asks or says anything. You decide to ignore the mischievous gaze Fernando sends you.

The match starts with a whistle moments later. The entire first half of the match goes by in a blur. After the incident earlier you cannot focus on anything. For all it's worth though, they have not scored any goals yet. You're suddenly worried that it may be your fault somehow, even if you don't know how exactly it could have been your fault.

Nevertheless, they come back stronger in the second half. Lewandowski scores a goal in the 63th minute, assisted by Pedri and everyone cheers loudly.

That happiness doesn't hold on for long though, when only 7 minutes later Mallorca gets a penalty. Fernando yells at the referee, calling him names and you find yourself nodding along, not understanding his ridiculous decision. "You fucker, that was clearly not a foul!"

They make the goal and by the 90th minute everyone around you began loosing hope. But what did the German proverb say? Hope dies last.

It manifests itself in the form of Pedri, when the ball suddenly gets to his feet - a pass from Gavi. You watch as the ball is seemingly glued to his feet. Pedri dribbles past his opponents inside the box and shoots...!

A roar errupts inside the Camp Nou. Everyone jumps up, screaming and crying. His name booms loudly through the stadium speakers. Sofía engulfes you in a tight hug and you can't help but cheer as well.

Pedri scored the winning goal.

He runs to the stands shouting, his teammates clapping him on the shoulder or hugging him. Gavi is hot on his trail and they do their handshake. You anticipate him to do his signature celebration next, but he doesn't.

Instead he pulls his arms close to his torso and flutters his hands up and down. Then he points to your general direction. Your eyes widen in recognition. Ferran and Ansu imitate him with a laugh.

"A new celebration?", you hear his father ask from behind you.

To everyone it looks like some silly celebration he made up with his teammates before the game; dedicating his final goal to his loving family by pointing there.

To you, it looks like exactly for what it is.

Pedri was imitating a bee. A bee producing honey - the flavor of your new lip balm.

He's just absolutely shameless. And somehow, you like it.

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© moonpedri - DO NOT copy, translate or post my work anywhere without my permission!

[songclangen]

bee

”Heatherpaw! Heatherpaw!”

Beekit pressed up against her father, watching her sister touch noses with her new mentor. She was adopted, and a moon older than Beekit, so she’d start her warrior training earlier. Beekit was insanely jealous.

”Icymoss is like the best warrior in the Clan, and she’s a moon ahead of me. How am I supposed to ever catch up?” she thought out loud once the cheering had died down.

”There are plenty of good warriors in SongClan,” Honeystripe corrected her, tapping her head with his tail as he approached Heatherpaw to congratulate her.

Beekit hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, and sincerely hoped Heatherpaw hadn’t heard her. She should be happy for her sister, and she was. But it just wasn’t completely fair. Heatherpaw was better than her at pretty much everything already, despite not being born in the Clan and having been very small when she was found. They were actually pretty close in size despite the moon between them, but Heatherpaw was lean and nimble, while Beekit still stumbled over her own paws if she got distracted by a butterfly.

”Congrats, Heatherpaw!” Beekit smiled, pressing her cheek to her sisters anyway. It felt a little forced, so she quickly continued talking; ”I wish Icymoss could become my mentor. You’re so lucky!” That didn’t help, did it?

”Thanks,” Heatherpaw nodded, voice even as usual. ”He’s kind of a goofball, you two would never get anything done.” 

Beekit forced a small laugh. It was hard to tell when Heatherpaw was joking, because her expression was always so unrevealing, but she’d started to get the cues. Still, she didn’t find it very funny.

”Speaking of…” Honeystripe mumbled, nodding to Icymoss who was stood at the entrance of the Camp. ”Don’t you have a territory tour to get to?”

Heatherpaw bounded off without saying goodbye, and Beekit let out a tense breath. She did like Heatherpaw, of course. But they were so different. They had always been different. Heatherpaw didn’t like to play that much, even when they both had been kits. She had preferred to hunt leaves or bugs in silence, and she didn’t like pretending she was an enemy warrior when they wrestled, so Beekit always had to be that. And Heatherpaw always won. Not because she desperately wanted to, she was just better. Beekit was actually pretty bad at play-fighting.

Once she did become an apprentice, she and Heatherpaw would be the only ones. The idea of sharing a den with her sister alone wasn’t all that appealing. Beekit had lots  of weird dreams all the time, and Heatherpaw would always scold her for waking her up. Not to mention, being one step behind her all the time in training would be annoying.

Maybe Tallbeam or Pronghorn could be her mentor. They were some of the best fighters and hunters in the Clan, and respected warriors. Really, as long as it wasn’t Bugskitter, she’d be happy. That tom really had it out for her. Once, when she was small, she’d asked why he was always so cold and nasty to her. My sister would still be alive if it weren’t for you, he’d said. Beekit had been so shocked and scared that she’d never asked him what he meant, and when she asked her dad, Honeystripe had just told her not to listen to him, that it wasn’t her fault. She still didn’t know what wasn’t her fault, but she would never hurt any cat. Whatever Bugskitter had been talking about must have been a lie. That’s what she told herself, anyway. Really, she didn’t really want to know, because the whole thing just made her feel awful.

The moon before her apprentice ceremony came and went. Any day now, Amberstar would call a meeting and set on her on the warrior path. Like the last few nights, Beekit found herself sleepless. Her uncle Bearfreckle was snoozing soundly in the nursery den (usually someone would to keep her company), his breaths light but weighed with sleep. It didn’t give her much comfort, though.

She didn’t know why she was so nervous to become an apprentice. Deep down, she knew it wasn’t just excitement, like everyone told her. And although she just knew she’d mess up a lot and probably be a terrible hunter and fighter, it wasn’t just doubt either. Something felt wrong. The idea of fighting itself felt horrifying, she couldn’t understand how warriors took such pride in it. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, ever! For any reason!

Restless and feeling like ants were crawling through her pelt, she got to her paws and got out of the nursery. The early Greenleaf air was cool and still. There was no wind and no sound of insects, just perfect silence. At camp’s edge she saw Gulldrizzle’s silhouette, keeping guard. She was facing out into the territory, so she didn’t notice Beekit.

Above, countless stars shone steadily down on her. Finally, a calm feeling began to spread through her body. She loved the stars. Pretty much everyone agreed that they were beautiful and comforting, since StarClan was up there. But when she looked up there, she got the same feeling as she did when she saw Honeystripe, or heard his voice. The comfort that told her no matter what, everything was going to be okay.

Laying down in the soft grass outside the nursery, she tilted her head so she could look up at them. They looked back, like they always did. Then, a shape began to take form between the little white dots. A milky white shadow, that grew more and more intense. Beekit threw herself up, and almost lost her balance when she realized the stars weren’t just above her, but all around her, even under her paws!

Her fur tingled with fear, breath quickening. Then, a voice.

”Don’t be afraid,” it said.

She looked ahead again, and the pale shape had turned into…a cat! A white cat, sitting a few tail-lengths ahead of her, with her tail neatly wrapped around her paws. The first thing Beekit noticed was how one of her ears was folded over her head. Her expression was bright and focused, and Beekit almost felt uncomfortable by the intensity of her deep gaze.

”Hello, Beekit” the she-cat mewed.

Beekit forgot to answer for a moment, then mewed back quietly; ”Hi.”

”You’ve grown so much!” the she-cat burst out with a big smile, then closed her eyes briefly as if to contain her emotions. ”See, I’ve been watching you ever since you were born.”

”Oh,” was all Beekit could force out, still a bit taken aback by seemingly floating among the stars. It finally hit her that she was dreaming, and that calmed her down a little. It was a weird dream, sure, but not weirder than the time she’d dreamt that she was an actual bee, flying between flowers, and all her Clanmates were also bees all living in a hive and making honey instead of hunting.

”Do…” the stranger paused, tilting her head. ”Do you know who I am?”

She sounded very hopeful, so Beekit made sure to think really hard. She’d never seen a cat with a folded ear, and she was sure she’d remember that. Finally, she shook her head slightly.

The she-cat sunk a little bit, looking down at her paws. ”No, of course not…” she mumbled, then stood up. ”That’s alright. My name is Peatswan.” She paused, looking at Beekit expectantly, like that would mean anything to her. It didn’t. Peatswan cleared her throat, looking a bit worried. ”Um, I’m a StarClan cat, but maybe you guessed that?”

Beekit hadn’t guessed that, but now she did notice the stars twinkling in the cat’s fur. They hadn’t been easy to see, since she was as white as snow. Then a chill ran up her spine.

”Wait…am I dead? Am I in StarClan?” she gasped, rising to her paws quickly.

The she-cat’s eyes widened, then she purred with amusement. ”No, you’re not dead. This is StarClan, sort of. Our hunting grounds are in a different place, but I thought maybe it would be good to talk to you somewhere less foreign. Though I now realize this isn’t very normal, either.”

As she talked, a weird feeling buzzed in Beekit’s chest. She suddenly realized her voice was familiar. Had she seen this cat in a dream before, and forgotten? Without thinking, Beekit walked up to the StarClan warrior. Peatswan tensed up, but Beekit couldn’t help herself. Once she was close enough to smell her properly, another chill spread through her body. The scent was sweet and so familiar, like walking into the nursery after being out of it for a whole day. Who was this cat? More and more, it was like she could almost remember, but it was buried deep in her mind.

Then she took a few steps back, realizing she was being a bit rude to this stranger. ”Sorry. Um…did you want to tell me anything in particular?”

Looking up at the she-cat’s face, she was surprised. The white warrior was smiling, but her eyes were so full of sadness and grief that Beekit felt her whole chest twist into knots. Had she said something bad?

”Are you okay?” she asked softly.

”Yes,” the she-cat nodded, almost laughing. ”Yes, I’m okay, Beekit. It’s sweet of you to ask. You’re right, I did want to tell you something.”

”What?” Beekit asked, sitting down in the field of stars.

”As I said, I’ve been watching you since you were born. So has all of StarClan. Do you remember when you were a little kit, and you dreamt that you were buried under the snow?”

Beekit shuddered. ”Yes, and then a blizzard came and all the dens got snowed in overnight…it was scary.”

”That was actually StarClan talking to you, in a dream,” Peatswan explained.

Beekit tilted her head, thinking. ”So it was like…a warning? I’m sorry, I didn’t know that…” she apologized, feeling bad. If she’d understood that, she could have told everyone to prepare for the storm.

”It’s okay, we knew you would all be alright. Otherwise we could have sent it to Ratquill or Riverpetal.”

”So why did you send it to me?” Beekit asked.

Peatswan twitched her whiskers with amusement. ”Isn’t it obvious?” she purred. ”You care so much about your Clanmates, and all you want is to help them and make sure everyone is okay, right?” Beekit nodded at this, suddenly feeling more understood than she ever had before. ”That’s why StarClan thinks you would make a good medicine cat. That’s why your dreams are so vivid, too. You have a very strong connection with us.”

”Really?” Beekit chirped, surprised more than anything.

She hadn’t really considered becoming a medicine cat before. The Clan had always had two, and Ratquill and Riverpetal were excellent at their duty. But then…Ratquill had passed away recently. That’s why Riverpetal hadn’t been able to hang out with her and show her stinky herbs the last moon; he’d been too stressed and busy. She’d felt so sad for him. But now, maybe she could finally help him!

”I’m going to be a medicine cat?” she meowed, standing up, paws restless with excitement. This felt nothing like her doubt about being a warrior, this felt completely right! As a medicine cat, she wouldn’t have to practice fighting, she would just get to help her friends and family when they got sick! That was the dream!

”Does that make you happy?” Peatswan meowed, though it seemed she knew the answer.

”Yes! Very!” Beekit mewed and threw herself forward to press her head against the StarClan warrior’s chest. ”Thank you, Peatswan!”

Peatswan laughed and pressed their heads together in a warm embrace, and although they had just met, it felt so familiar and comforting and just right, and Beekit was filled with so much warmth and happiness that her heart was about to pound out of her chest.

Then, she suddenly felt the ground materialize under her body and cool night air surround her, and Peatswan’s warm body was gone. She was laying in the grass outside the nursery again, but not for long. Brimming with excitement, she scrambled to her paws quicker than prey running from a warrior’s claws and bounded into the warriors den.

”Honeystripe! Father, wake up!” she yowled, crawling over her adult Clanmates where they slept. They all protested loudly to being woken up, some beginning to scold her, but she didn’t care.

”What is it, Beekit? Are you okay?” Honeystripe meowed worriedly once she found him.

”I just had the craziest dream!” she meowed, instantly being hushed.

”No one cares about your stupid dream, Beekit…” Breezebriar grumbled, his amber eyes glinting in the darkness.

”What did you dream, Honeybee?” Honeystripe continued, slightly calmed now.

Beekit took a deep breath, and began to retell her experience in a whisper; ”I met a warrior from StarClan, she was so beautiful and nice, her name was Peatswan, and she told me that StarClan has watched over me and sent me dreams — you remember my dream about the blizzard that came true, right? — and...” she trailed off as she saw her father’s expression change to one she couldn’t read, and suddenly everyone in the den were looking at her. ”What is it?”

”What did she say to you, Beekit?” Twigmoor asked from where she was laying nearby, deep curiosity in her face.

”She told me that I’m supposed to become a medicine cat,” Beekit said, feeling odd suddenly, but smiled at Honeystripe. ”Isn’t that great?”

Finally, he cracked into a smile, and she recognized the look in his eye. It was the same as Peatswans had been, in her dream. ”That sounds like something you’d be good at,” he said.

The stiff silence shifted, some beginning to purr congratulations to her, or speaking quietly to each other. Twigmoor leaned closer to her brother.

”You have to tell her now,” she mumbled seriously, and Honeystripe nodded.

”Tell me what?” Beekit asked, but Honeystripe just stood up from his nest and guided her out of the den with his tail. ”Sorry for waking all of you up!”

Honeystripe led her to the edge of the Camp, above the slope behind the leader’s den. There they sat down. Beekit was prickling with anticipation.

”What is it?” she repeated, studying his face with the unreadable expression.

”I want to tell you about your mother,” he said.

Beekit perked up. She’d wondered about her mother since Ratquill told her where kits came from — her father had been annoyed the old medicine cat her told her that when she was ”too young”, but Beekit had actually understood it pretty well — because that meant Honeystripe couldn’t have done it all himself exactly. Though, there were other families in the Clan that weren’t so obvious how they came to be. Either way, when she’d asked him about it, he had become quiet and upset, and not given her an answer. Even though she had been little at the time, she had understood that she shouldn’t ask about it. Besides, she had Twigmoor and Bearfreckle too, they had helped take care of her since she was born, and the three of them had always been enough. So she’d tried to stop thinking about it.

Honeystripe went on to tell her about how amazing her mother had been. Apparently she was very funny, and knew a lot of things that no one else seemed to know, and could copy bird sounds. Then the story turned very sad. When Beekit was born, her mother had died. Apparently this could happen sometimes, and there was nothing medicine cats could do, and it was no one’s fault.

Beekit was struck with a grief so deep that she had to crouch down.

”Was she Bugskitter’s sister?” she asked, looking up at her father, remembering the warrior’s cold words when she was little.

”Yes,” Honeystripe nodded. ”Bugskitter loved her very much, and misses her very much, just like I do.”

Beekit nodded solemnly, her mean feelings for Bugskitter melting away into sympathy. He couldn’t help being angry, and she could understand. After a brief silence, she asked;

”And Peatswan was my mother?”

”Yes, that’s right,” Honeystripe nodded, laying down next to her.

Beekit had known she and the white warrior were connected from the moment she felt her scent. It had resonated deep within her, filling voids inside her that had been there since she was born. It just felt stupid to start assuming things like that based on so little, and she had trained herself not think about her mother for so long. But deep in her heart, maybe she had known it.

”I’m so glad I’m becoming a medicine cat now, I probably get to see her again soon,” Beekit hummed, smiling to herself. Then she was suddenly struck with guilt after saying that, since Honeystripe clearly missed her a lot. She looked up at him to meet his eyes. ”I’m so sorry, Dad. It must have been so hard when she died.”

The emotion in Honeystripe’s eyes almost made her look away, but she held fast. ”You remind me of her so much, Honeybee. When you’re around, I don’t need to miss her so much.

[lily-alphonse]

for the rare pairs, did you ever get one with marlon and rasmodius? i haven’t been able to stop thinking about them together 👀

Old man yaoi is such a crowd favorite fr lmao

Ok you guys aren't ready for where I'm going to take this (except Human) because I had an idea for vampire!Abigail that involves Marlon and Rasmodius getting together. Cuz you know, like, 2 dads or whatever. (Technically 3 but Pierre? Ugh. He’s wimpy comic relief in this only)

For the purposes of this fic, Abigail is the wizard's daughter and only him and Caroline know.

Anyways I'm trying to do A LOT with this one so maybe I just do bullet points this time to give you the idea

There's no farmer, instead Marlon takes Abbie under his wing as a young adventurer

Rasmodius (because he watches everyone, like a creep) sees this and is like UGH not that THAT GUY, because Marlon is essentially his annoying coworker. Marlon tries to be buddy buddy with him and Ras is not about it. Like bro do your job protecting the valley and shut up pls.

Abbie stumbles on something she shouldn't in the mines, accidentally unleashing an ancient evil vampire and getting bit. It's very important to me that she turns into a bat. It happens automatically when the sun touches her skin, as a defense mechanism. She can survive in the sun as a bat.

So shit hits the fan obviously. Caroline goes to the wizard's tower screaming and freaking out because her daughter is missing and she is certain he has something to do with it (she hadn't known about Marlon) and Rasmodius pieces together it probably has something to do with the ANCIENT EVIL now on the loose. He assures her he is going to take care of it and has no choice but to team up with (ugh) Marlon.

Marlon doesn't know about Abbie. Ras is keeping all his secrets close and being careful about which info he gives to who. They go on an adventure of bonding. Important features of which are homoerotic wound dressing, and Marlon getting serious with Ras about his past and stuff. So he sees another side to him and starts to gain respect for the man.

A lot happens next that I don't have worked out yet sue me its just a concept rn. I have a few different ideas for how Abbie's side of things can go. She could potentially get out of the mines and turn into a bat which leads to her flying to the tower bc who else would believe her? Or she could be trapped in the mines with the original vampire and be like his spawn under his control or something.

Either way, we end up at a moment of truth where Marlon realizes Abbie has turned and feels like they need to kill her or otherwise trap her for eternity or something. And Ras is like tf no Im not condemning my daughter to that and Abbie and Marlon both are just [shocked pikachu face]

BATTLE OF THE DADS. DAD DUEL. FATHER FIGHT where they are physically fighting but also arguing about who knows best for her since the wizard has literally never spoken to her in her life but is also the one trying to save her, while Marlon actually did become a strong father figure for her but wants to kill her (only to end her suffering ofc)

Imagine they are fighting and Abbie just calls over them like "Not really suffering a whole lot, to be honest!" because this is a dark comedy as well as a romance.

Ras wounds Marlon badly enough (owie, it hurt his heart to do though, what is this, FEELINGS?) that he is subdued. Abbie and Ras take on the ancient vampire and nearly DIE but Marlon comes back and saves the DAAAY

He has the opportunity to also kill Abbie and doesn't, he's come around to compromise his morals for the sake of the ones he loves

Potentially even more homoerotic wound dressing and then they KISS with their old scruffy man beards and Abbie pretends to vom

The End

If you want this one to exist be sure to reblog and vote for it in the poll! This would be a hell of a fun one

Send me any Stardew Valley rarepair and I will tell you how I would make them work! (Even non-marriage npcs) If youre lucky you may get a mini fic out of it. Check the list below to see if Ive already answered yours

Rarepair Masterlist

@totallyhumanexe @chikoxiko come get ur old men

[badasgirlfriend]

paper rings ₊ ⊹ - bada lee social media au

the nasty bitches - golden squad - extras

masterlist

"Hi Y/N, welcome to Dwight High School!" said a girl with bright blonde hair and warm smile, greeting me right when I stepped out of the principal's office. "I'm the school's president Park Sieun, and it's my pleasure to give you a tour today. Let's get started!"

I was relieved that my time with the principal was finally over, he was beginning to annoy me with the school's history and how it was formed. Being a new student is tiring

And boring

I nodded along as Sieun explained every little detail, and when Sieun said "everything," she really meant it

"This is your locker" she said with a bright smile as she pulled the locker key out of her pocket and handed it to me. "I'll take you to the cafeteria next."

In my opinion, Sieun was a nice girl. I can see why everyone respected her so much. Everyone greeted her with smiles and happy looks every time they turned a corner or passed someone else.

She's the school's president after all

However, this all felt like an act. The whole nice, bubbly girl personality felt fake, like a mask being worn by a much harsher person beneath. The kindness did not feel like genuine concern. I'd notice after every smile she gave to everyone an eye roll came after it

But I could be wrong who am I to judge

"Alright" Sieun said with a clap of her hands, prepared to explain the cafeteria. However, she couldn't finish her sentence because someone shoved her hard in the shoulder, making her stumble a bit.

I looked behind her, my eyebrows furrowing in concern and surprise. I was struck by an amazing sight.

Three beautiful girls stood behind us, their flawless appearance capturing my attention and making me unable to look away. They were breathtakingly perfect, their beauty overshadowing anything she'd previously seen.

They were wearing the school uniforms like everyone else, but somehow they made it look so expensive

The smirking tall girl who probably shoved Sieun smirked at her "Sorry miss president, I didn't see you there." she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she made it clear that she had done it intentionally.

The two other girls began laughing and that was it for Sieun, she was fuming

"I can report you three-" Sieun attempted to make her way outside through the crowd of students, but the dark haired girl who stood in the middle of the two other girls blocked her path. She moved over to Sieun's left, completely preventing her from passing. The girl's smile was gone now

"You and I both know you dont meet the basic requirments to be the president of this school" she said coldly and even I was scared for Sieun "So know your fucking place"

She then turned to me and looked "New kid hm" she paused "Cute bag" was all she said and then they were gone

"That fucking bi-" Sieun stopped herself, taking a deep breath as she tried to regain her composure.

She then turned to look at me me smiled slightly. "Sorry about that."

I mumbled a "it's okay" as my attention was drawn to the three girls who were sitting in the middle of the cafeteria. Everyone seemed to be looking at them with different emotions, ranging from hatred, jealousy, admiration, and even more.

"Who are those girls?"

Sieun scoffed at her question. "I thought it was obvious," she responded with a dismissive tone.

"They go by many names, people call them the queen bees, the cunts, the plastics, you choose. But my favorite one is the nasty bitches."

Sieun spoke with pure annoyance in her voice "They make everyone's life a living hell. The three of them talk shit about each other but still stick together. They will do anything when it comes to ruining someone's day, whether it's gossiping about them or spreading rumors just to ruin them."

"The pinkish girl, that's Jang Wonyoung"

"She's the quiet one. She usually only follows what the other two do. Don't get me wrong, she's still a fucking cunt but I think it's all just an act for popularity." Sieun stopped and thought about it "She's a whore she fucks every man she sees I wouldn't be too surprised if she fucked her friends boyfriends

"Don't say that" I murmured

The blonde shrugged "It's true. Anyway she usually does the dirty work. There's a rumor that one girl called her friend annoying, and she ordered Wonyoung to get them suspended. Wonyoung then stole the school's winning medals and put them in the poor girl's locked locker"

"The blonde one, that's Park Chaeyoung also known as Rose"

"She should be grateful of her boyfriend, she spends all his money. Her favorite thing? To spread rumors so be careful." Sieun told me "She's the devil's spawn"

Sieun continued "She's the most backstabbing bitch you'll ever meet. If it means ruining your entire life, she'll do it in a second if it'll get her something good. The only goal in her life is to be like her friend, the one with brown hair. Everything her friend does is her life, she emulates everything from her. It's like they are the same person, she's so dependent on her."

Both our eyes moved to the only one who was left

"Speaking about the devil, that's Takahashi Yui"

"The leader of the group, as you might say, for some reason, people idolize the ground she walks on. Whatever Yui wants, Rose and Wonyoung will immediately agree to it. They're her dolls." Sieun's tone turned darker as she spoke about the Japanese girl. "She's the fakest person ever, just because she has money she thinks she can buy everything and everyone."

Sieun took another deep breath, the anger in her voice growing more intense with each word. "She's the worst person out of all of them, if you just look at her the wrong way, she'll use all of her influence to destroy you. She is the true devil of that group"

"Wow" was all I could say as I watched the Yui and Womyoung laughing loudly at Chaeyoung who was actively teasing the poor girl who was forced to sit with them.

My attention was caught by a loud burst of laughter coming from across the hall. I turned my head in the direction of the sound and saw a group of people laughing and having fun, seemingly without a care in the world.

"What about them?" I ask pointing at their table

Sieun turned to look and she almost melted "Oh they're the golden squad"

[zordanna]

The Moon And Her Stars

Ofelia Russel age 11

Eleonora Russel age 9

(So- i hate writing, i'm italian and english is not my first language i apologise if there are mistakes. This is just my brainrot about my hogwarts legacy mcs taking over my mind and art lmao)

The Russel family was one of the most affluent families in the wizardry society, despite the fame they weren't purebloods actually the information about them were almost inexistent. No one actually questioned anything ,the respect is easily obtainable when you can afford a ball every month with delicacies from all over the world. The head of this empire was Astor Russel, a man with a sharp mind and a deep carnal passion for money, The Daily Prophet frequently praised his achievments with articles over articles about his successful career and investments, however the image that he was trying to sell was far from the stylish polite gentleman he pretended to be, the moment the doors of his manor were closed the affable smile on his lips would always turn into an ice cold emotionless line. The house elves would step back terrified at his arrive, not even dare to look at him in the eyes fearing he might pour his unmotivated rage on one of them. However, Mr Russel had his favourite target for that, the one he thought responsible for every wrong thing in his life. Dear Readers, this little interaction whatever this is it's about Ofelia Russel and her sister Eleonora. Ofelia is the first daughter Of Astor Russel and Jane Dalia ,his first wife, who died while giving birth to Ofelia. Eleonora is the fruit of his second marriage with the witch Margaret Estrella probably the only woman he ever felt slight affection for, also because she desired power and success just like him, fueling his motivation.

This story begins with the Moon.

The soft rays of moonlight were tickling her pale skin,Ofelia groaned as she heard soft steps on the wooden floor of her room and the quick faint sound of a quill writing on paper.The young red haired girl opened her olive green eyes to scan the bedroom, a little smile crept across her face as soon she realised who was making all that noise. A messy nest of blonde curls was moving around the room carrying astronomy tools while mumbling incomprehensible words.

"Eleonora, what in Merlin's name are you doing?"

Ofelia asked with a snort while stumbling out of her bed. Eleonora made a soft whine as she noticed her bigger sister woke up because of her.

"Lelia i'm sorry- Tonight there's full moon so i wanted to take few notes- i'm sorry-"

Lelia,only her could ever use that silly nickname.

Ofelia rose a hand to gently hush her apologies and walked next to her sitting under the large window of their room, she took the telescope from Eleonora's smaller hands and helped her setting it up. Eleonora smiled and snuggled next to Ofelia as they silently enjoyed eachother's company . The blondie adjusted the lenses of her telescope delicately twisting the golden carved rings with gentle movements,her freckled hands were always trembling but when it was about astronomy her moves were always precise.

"what are you searching for tonight, little Aristarchus of Samus?A comet? a new constellation maybe?"

Eleonora groaned at her sister's teasing and replied with a little grin that made her tiny nose wrinkle a bit.

"nothing in particular, i just want to observe the moon, isn't she beautiful?"

She crouched near the tiny telescope to observe the natural satellite of earth gazing at it with her curious big blue eyes , Ofelia couldn't care less about the the moon, her gaze was fixed on the funny little expressions of concentrtion and wonder Eleonora was making. Despite having different mothers their bond was probably the only thing that made them both survive in such an abusive environment,Ofelia often thought about that, without Eleonora she wouldn't be able to bear their father's rage or the burden of being the outcast in the family, Margaret never actually showed interest for her neither she did much for her own daughter Eleonora. While the two parents were out attending to parties and balls Ofelia took care of Eleonora with their house elf Dolly,it wasn't much but for her their trio was what she considered family .The age gap between them was of almost 2 years, Ofelia had just celebrated her 11th birthday and soon she would go to Hogwarts.That worried her deeply, she would leave Eleonora for almost two years in that mansion…and that wasn't good. Her train of thoughts was interrupted by Eleonora's sweet voice.

"Ooh look at that!"

Eleonora exclaimed pulling Ofelia by the shoulder to look in the lense, Ofelia squinted her eyes trying to understand what she saw that was so important to notice.

"I gotta be brutally honest with you…i just see a white glowing ball…similar to cheese"

She whined at Ofelia's statement and replied huffing a bit.

"Look better! let me just-"

She traced a figure with her finger on the reflected image of the moon and Ofelia actually started to understand what Eleonora meant, it looked like a girl's side profile.

"it looks like you! look there's even the mole under the eye"

The blonde said looking very proud of her statement, Ofelia rolled her eyes and chuckled seeing her sister so happy warmed her heart.

"Yeah ok now i can brag about the fact my side profile is carved on the moon's surface. And who discovered that? My sweet and talented little sister"

The redhead girl playfully pinched Eleonora's cheeks, the younger girl chuckled happily making those cute freckles move slightly. Ofelia smiled warmly at her, she was her joy, her little star, her hope and strenght.

"They look like stars you know?"

She blurted out fixing few messy blonde strands out of her sisters's round puffy face

"My freckles? Nah Dad says they make my face look dirty"

She said touching her own face almost to cover it.

"Don't listen to that man. like never. ugh"

Ofelia gently took her tiny hands in hers and squeezed them as she talked

"They don't look just like stars, they are made of stardust!" She stated trying to sound the more convincing she could.

"Stardust? really!?" Eleonora gasped touching her cheeks with a curious expression,Ofelia nodded and kept going.

"Mhmh! That's because you always have your nose up looking at the night sky! no wonder some stardust fell on your face!"

The older sister looked at how her little one immediately ran to the mirror to check. the tiny happy smile on her lips made Ofelia understand she was believing her.

"Come on star girl we gotta sleep now."

Ofelia mumbled taking her hand and guiding her to bed, she let Eleonora go under the thick covers and tucked her well so she would stay warm. When she moved to walk to her own bed Ofelia was stopped by a tiny grip on her nightgown. She turned around to see Eleonora gripping on the white cloth, she had a sad look, one of a lost puffskein puppy.

"Lelia…can you please stay here for a bit?"

Ofelia sighed and sat on the bed, she took Eleonora's unicorn plush and placed it in her arms like every night

"Of course little star.I'm not leaving till you are finally sleeping."

Eleonora squeezed her plush and with a drowsy mumble she said

"Don't leave…"

"Ok i can sleep here if yo-"

"Don't leave for Hogwarts…Or at least take me with you"

Ofelia's heart broke hearing her sister's pleading voice, she softly caressed Eleonora's forehead trying to soothe her

"I can't do that,you know it…But in just a little more than a year you will be in Hogwarts too, we will explore every corner and go to Hogsmeade to buy tons of sweets"

Eleonora seemed to be distracted by the images of a lighthearted life full of freedom Ofelia was narrating while combing her blonde locks. Seeing it was working Ofelia kept talking trying to make Eleonora bear the situation better.

"Hogwarts also has a massive astronomy tower you know? with a huuuge telescope, ancient starmaps and everything you can dream of."

Eleonora looked at Ofelia with curiosity and wonder as sleep was slowly taking over her body

"Really?"

"Really."

The blonde girl snuggled under the covers as she finally calmed down. Ofelia laid next to her and smiled gesturing towards the moon with her pale hand

"Whenever you miss me, look at the Moon. When it's not full yet it will mean i'm smiling at you, and i certainly expect you to smile back uh! Ok?"

Eleonora chuckled softly at the silly idea, but honestly she would feel less alone knowing they were under the same sky

"And when the moon is full, i want you to study everything about it, i want the cute sketches and the silly doodles understood?I want to see them all in your letters"

She spoke softly as she noticed Eleonora was finally falling asleep. Her blue eyes closed after a soft nod and her breathing became heavy and slow ,Ofelia kissed her forehead and whispered her last few words before sleep would take over her too

"I'll be your Moon and you can be my Stars…always together, holding hands in the vast darkness of the night sky"

No matter how dark the sky is, The Moon and her Stars will always shine trough, and when the light of the Moon is not enough The Stars will surround her with their spark guiding her across the sky till morning comes.

Like a sister reaching for the other

Holding her hand firmly while they walk side by side towards an uncertain future

They don't know where they are going or who they will become

They just have eachother for now

And that's enough.

[thedarkmistress16]

here's some long-awaited tony food for your thots

(im serious this is 100% PWP done in like, *check watch* 6-8 hrs or so in one sitting- it's all over the place, fam)

let me know immediately if any of you want me to community label this, if that makes you more comfortable. if you want another installment (it will have actual plot i promise) just let me know. None of the used images here are mine, they belong to their respective owners, I only own my garbage writing.

Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Experienced!Unfaithful!Reader x Jealous!Yandere!Tony Stark- Repression and Suppression

and here are some messy A03-esque tags for your reading pleasure (srsly read these before continuing or you void your reading warranty):

(Lime, Lemon, G-rape, Cheating, Physical Cheating, Unintentional Cheating, Affair, Noncon, Dubcon, Forced Orgasm, Overstimulation, Fingering, Oral, Vaginal, MxF, PWP, Love Triangle, Jealousy, Third Wheel Tony Stark, Sexual Deviant Tony Stark, Manipulation, Humiliation, Dirty Talk, Swearing, Teasing, Gaslighting, Sexual Coercion, Power Play? Beard Burn, The run of shame?, Lust used as a manipulation tool, Tony blatantly misunderstands words, The horny ruins lives, Reader’s never cheated in her life ong she just misses sex, Tony is all kinds of wrong here, OOC Tony Stark, His dialogue is probably OOC sorry about that, No descriptors besides gender have fun)

...

You don’t know how this happened.

…

Okay, you do know how this happened. You and Tony stumbled upon the same floor in an otherwise empty Tower and you both plopped on the same couch shooting the shit. No paperwork for you to do and no big baddie causing a commotion in New York for the Iron Man to stop. And you may have overshared a tad about the feelings you’ve been having at his prompting about your relationship status, but hey, that’s normal, even for sober people. Everyone needs to vent every once in a while. Or overshare, or both.

What you didn’t expect, however, was your totally innocent sex conversation with Tony to turn into dirty talk. Which, alright- fair, this was Tony you were talking to, so probably not your best moment.

“It’s not like he’ll find out.” Tony’s palm rests on your thigh. “And you said so yourself, he doesn’t give you what you need.”

But thankfully, that’s when your brain started working again, and you actively began to create some space between you, with his hand falling off your leg.

“No, Tony. You know who I’m with and you know he’ll be coming back.”

Tony follows you and- what the fuck? Was this couch always this small? The palm greets your thigh again, more insistent now if the pressure was any indication.

“Can you really wait that long?”

You stare at Tony, incredulous at the turn of events. He wouldn’t- would he?

You see him smile at you before diving in for a kiss.

Wide-eyed, your first reaction is to push him off, but he practically falls on top of you, keeping you pinned there as his tongue goes to work in prying your mouth open.

You struggle, and then, well, he knew how to kiss to get what he wanted, that was for sure. It was so different from what you were used to with him, all chaste and loving. Tony used the flat surface of the appendage to massage your tongue, and- holy fuck you really forgot what good kisses felt like. Tony feels so good- so warm and passionate, that his embrace sends you into a blanketed bliss.

And as you make out, that blanket grows more and more stuffy. You lose track of time, and- well, yourself. The next time you open your eyes, you’re greeted to a shirtless and more disheveled Tony Stark on top of you, kissing down your neck, and humping his bulge against you and- oh fuck your pants were gone.

Okay, this had officially gone too far. Yes, this was hot, and yes your body was awakened from the longest dry spell ever by his kisses, but you had to try and stop this. You had to get Tony to shut this shit down, and then blame your horny self later.

But first, Operation Turn off Tony.

“Wait!” Your hands fly to Tony’s chest, pushing with effort despite wanting to melt into a puddle. “I can’t- you know I can’t-”

Okay, your voice would’ve sounded commanding if Tony hadn’t run his hands under your shirt.

And if his arm wasn’t practically glued to the damn cushions you would've had more leeway to shake him off. And if he wasn’t so stron-

Wait- one arm?

…

…oh my god why is he pushing against you?

“Oh?” It comes out automatically and your body absolutely preens at the sensation before you come back down.

Oh fuck no- now two of his fingers are inside you and you’re not sure if you can even try to hold him off now.

Think of Steve think of Steve think of Steve think of Steve-!

“Tony, mmn-m, pl-”

“Why refuse this?” He pauses to let his fingers talk and the resulting squelching has you trying to seal your mouth in protest. “Why refuse me? When the sweet release you want is right in front of you?” His fingers fall away. “And when this-” he rolls his denim-covered penis over your pussy, eliciting a groan from both of you, “cock is ready and begging to be inside you?”

There is no hope to quell your blushing at this point either, you unhelpfully surmise to yourself. But even so, you don’t let up, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.

“He’ll, ah- find out, hah, Tony.” Fucking hell it was hard to form words now, “and he w-will-”

Tony, more envious than you’ve ever seen him, snarls in retaliation. “Don’t think about him! He’s not the one who’s going to be fucking you tonight.” He takes a moment to regain his composure before adding, “don’t worry, baby. I’ll make you feel so good you can’t stand it.”

“Ton- ah!”He hit a sensitive spot inside you, and your body jolted with the feeling. “P-please...ha...” You pant, trying to control yourself as his fingers retract. Trying to think of Steve instead, and all the other reasons why you shouldn’t be doing this. Why he shouldn’t be doing this to you and how he’s currently making you tingle in too many places.

In mock concern, he inquires, “what is it, baby? I’m right here...” You swear to the highest moon that Tony Stark’s teasing is the worst kind you’ve ever had to experience in your entire life; mainly because he does it in a way that pisses you off to no end.

“I- Tony, I n-need you to-” He shushes you, leaving you more baffled. He doesn’t even know your request yet and he’s already cutting you off. The playboy slides two fingers inside your wet canal and you cry out in surprise. They slip out within the next second, not allowing you to properly process the action. He languidly laps at his fingers and you actually whine at the sight, which is literally the worst reaction you could've had. Tony hums at the taste and his eyes, holding your own, gleam wickedly as you attempt to recover.

“Oh, you need me to fuck you baby? Say no more.”

You gasp, utterly scandalized. How the fuck did he interpret a nothing sentence into that? He’s already working on unzipping his jeans and you’re quick to remedy the situation, despite your breathlessness. “No, Tony, that’s not-” A hand swiftly comes down to palm your sensitive pussy and squeezes, attempting to shut you up with desire. You’re shameful when you realize his tactic worked, as you find it elicits a sexual groan from you strong enough to make your head tilt up towards the ceiling and your back arch off the couch. Tony tuts at your wanton display.

“Don’t deny it, honey. You’re absolutely dripping for cock.” He leans in close to your ear and latches his mouth onto your neck. The man nibbles and suckles enough to probably leave a mark before playfully biting your earlobe and whispering, “and I’m more than willing to provide that relief.” A small part of you finds it ironic he’d use the word willing when you haven’t vocally confirmed it in this case.

When he’s fully sheathed inside you, he sits still for a minute, groaning at the feel of you. Tony then starts circling his hips, not thrusting in the slightest, and at this point you’ve had enough of his games. If he wants to do this so badly then so be it. “No teasing…” you huff unpleasantly.

“Hmm? What was that?” His member is still nudging against the ridges of your vaginal walls, causing your lower body to spasm and tighten at random intervals.

“If you’re going to fuck me then actually fuck me.” You make your voice harsh to get your impatience across, keeping your gaze even. Tony simply winks and wastes no time setting a pace inside you, smirking pleasantly as your body shifts from his thrusts. He licks his lips at the sight of your breasts bouncing underneath your shirt and impatiently forces the fabric up to your neck to squeeze at one. 

You close your eyes and furrow your brows, focusing your efforts on meeting Tony’s thrusts and tightening your pelvic muscles frequently to help his orgasm along. Judging by his strained moans, the fruits of your past lovers' labor seem to be working. He starts to shudder and you beam with pride.

Jackpot.

That is until he yanks himself out of you completely, struggling to hold himself over your body.

“Mngh, hah- baby,” he laughs in between ragged breaths, “let’s not spoil the fun too early, now…”

Tony then switches to playfully dragging his cock along the splayed seam of your lips, right over your spasming hole, and you wouldn’t have been able to hold in that unholy moan if you tried.

He flips you over without a word, leaving you disoriented with an “oof,” as he re-positions you to make your ass hang lewdly in the air. Tony swats one asscheek and your hands scramble to find purchase before he tries something else, which you seldom find in the firm material. Another mocking sound escapes his throat at your reaction and you turn your head to glare at him.

“Could have given a girl a warning, y’know?”

“Well, sweetcheeks, I can’t very well tackle this raging problem unless I approach it from all possible angles~” His eyes rove over your new position admiringly. “And this view is definitely worth the effort.”

He winks at you, smirking all the while. You refuse to react, deadpanning, before giving up. “Fuck you, Stark.”

He says some other comment you don’t care about- on the lines of having patience- when something wet wiggles across your folds-

Your eyes widen. Was this a better advantage point for him to-

His tongue thrusts itself inside your walls and you lose all sense of thought, wanting to collapse into the couch already. Tony’s firm and swift in his movements, pressing the angle of his chin into your mound harshly and rubbing your sensitive areas consistently. The stiff hairs of his beard rub themselves across your clit as he leans forward and you lose all sense of yourself, screaming into the cushioned void and spasming around his mouth.

Your hips lull into a gentle rocking, you realize, when the sensations have dulled. You can still feel Tony between your legs, but licking you much more softly now. Your satisfied mews fall out of your mouth like a gentle stream, and you let yourself bask in the well-overdue afterglow.

Tony slowly parts from your pussy with a smacking sound, and you feel saliva trailing down your thighs as you whine. You hear him say the word “ready” and you hum questionably, not in the mood for words. He leans forward to kiss up your back and make a path for your ear, reiterating himself.

“You ready for me, honey?”

“Mm, you’re not-?”

“-finished? How kind of you to offer, baby. After all, I haven’t finished fucking you into forgetting him yet.”

Your brain almost fits the pieces together, already turning towards him to voice the question when you feel him line up his cock at your entrance. You don’t even bother doing anything other than bracing yourself as Tony thrusts into you, and you realize too late that you’re still too sensitive.

He’s more insistent as he fucks into you, just as his mouth, but he’s humping into all the right places despite your body singing to the point of pain.

“Ahn! O-oh!” At this point, you literally didn’t care that your face was practically being suffocated by the cushions that Tony Stark- your not-boyfriend- was pushing you into and fondling your breasts. You were about to get an orgasm on a dick you haven’t been treated to in months on top of a great orgasm, and it was quickly feeling like it was going to be one of the best ones you’ve ever had.

“Oh, fuck- yes, oh- Tony- fuck-! me!” You manage to scream out over your lack of breath, feeling his thrusts grow frantic. The determined mumbling he’s spouting over your ear becomes noise as your second orgasm crashes over you. Your ears are fuzzy but you can make out Tony proclaiming your name in ecstasy before he plops down on your back, causing your legs to fully give out.

You pant there, lying in sweat and regret, wanting to move just yet but knowing you have a lot of cleanup to do.

Tony shifts first, stroking your hair as he whispers once more, “So, was that a thorough fucking for you baby?”

Despite yourself, you laugh. Whether it was from the now spiraling guilt slowly ebbing away at your brain or that it was from the sudden feeling of loss in how to handle your new infidelity status, you didn’t know. You chalked it up to exhaustion.

Tony mumbles again, but you’re coherent enough to understand his words and nod, calmly lying there as he gets up. 

You waited until the bare ass of Tony left your line of sight before you shot up like a lightning bolt, gathering your clothes and racing toward the elevator in one fluid motion.

You impatiently return to your room to inspect Tony’s damages in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, trying to ignore the aftersex glow you still had. Your hands trail over your naked body, taking note of the reddened marks with each twist and turn. Yep, that was definitely a hickey.

They halt on your thighs when you feel a searing pain there and your eyes grow wide, mouth hanging open with a hiss.

Oh fuck. You had beard burn. How the hell were you going to explain that to Steve? Covering them up was one thing- but the itching pain you were going to feel?

The cum inside you suddenly shifts downward and you instinctively clench to hold it in, cringing at yourself. Another man’s mess splattered on the carpet of your and your boyfriend’s room is not what you needed right now.

Biting the inside of your lip, you hurry to the connecting bathroom and wash yourself of the sexual encounter the best you can.

[thecameronchronicles]

The First Time

TW: Loss of virtue. Smut. Language. Cheating.

SUMMARY: JJ can’t hide his feelings for you any longer, especially when he learns about what you’re about to give up for someone who doesn’t deserve you…

WORD COUNT: 2900

*Requested*

The First Time

It was all he had heard about for weeks. Your virtue. More specifically, how you were about to surrender that precious innocence to John B, your boyfriend and his best friend. But the idea had consumed him entirely to what should have been a fleeting conversation between confidants. But as John B described the details to JJ, his mind quickly replaced the imagery of his friend with himself. 

“I’m going to take her to the tower and show her the view…have some candles…and then start slow…”

“Make sure to tell her how beautiful she is,” Kie added as JJ hid the clench made of his fists at the thought of those words directed towards you. Words HE should have been saying. But the reasons he wore such anger wasn’t because of John B, but for the fact that he didn’t act on his feelings when he had the chance. 

“Just remember to do a lot of foreplay, because it’s gonna hurt for her,” Pope reminded him as JJ was desperate to be anywhere but in the confines of The Chateau, suddenly feeling smaller by the second. 

“What feels best for a girl?” John B now asked Kiara as JJ had to hide his scoff. He was going to take something so sacred and didn’t even know how to prepare you properly. Because of that, he was on his feet, now standing in the doorway, leaning against its frame, with his red cap twisting between his fingers. 

“Make her feel special. Take your time touching her and kissing her…Take her clothes off slowly and kiss her deeply…Listen to her body more than her words-but respect what she says, obviously…But she may not know what she likes, so focus on her skin and her breathing…if it chills when your fingers-” This was enough for him. The visions constructed from her words were too much to remain in place. And with verbiage from Pope of ‘what’s his problem’, he was set on his way to you…

You had stood before the mirror for over twenty minutes trying on different sets of lingerie to try and find which one would work best for the occasion. But of the various colors and styles, nothing would silence the overall insecurities behind you. After tonight, you would no longer be that inexperienced girl that was once a friend to John B. You would be his lover. And you couldn’t imagine offering that to anyone better than-JJ!

“What are you doing here?!” You berated him as he climbed halfway into your bedroom, leg hooked over the sill, as he stumbled inside. You quickly pulled your robe from the edge of your bed, its fabric within still damp from your recent shower, before concealing yourself from him. 

“I DO have a front door-”

“I can’t do it anymore…”

Immediately you released a deep breath, deducing this had to be about his dad. You had prepared your hand towards his back to console him in a gentle caress as your eyes scanned for any new bruising, but only found his eyes frantic to the ground as he began to pace. 

“J, talk to me…”

“You can’t do this…Not with him…” Confusion washed over you in waves of embarrassment and eventual humor. 

“Something I should know? I’m sure whatever it is, we’ll work through it-”

“He’s not in love with you.” Your eyes now narrowed to him in displeasure. Even if you and John B weren’t together for an extended period of time, you knew he cared about you and respected you-even if those three words hadn’t been spoken yet. You could feel them. 

“Not like I am.” Your eyes flashed wide as desperation developed behind his eyes. 

“I kick myself in the ass every day I didn’t make a move on you, but I saw what happened with Kie and John B and Pope and I didn’t want to complicate anything-but all I’ve heard about for months is how he was going to touch you and be with you-and he doesn’t even know-” He stopped himself, moving to you as you moved back in fear he would take you with aggression. Once he sensed this, he moved back towards the window to leave before remembering why he’d come here. 

“He wouldn’t hold you afterwards…and tell you that he could kiss you forever…He wouldn’t know that you’ve spent the last month making yourself ‘perfect’ with trims and all that other shit girls do-but you’re already perfect…” Your mouth parted in the want to reject him, but his words came to your heart in such a way that you could only stand in awe in his continuation. 

“He wouldn’t take his time…kissing every inch of you…worshiping you…telling you how every part of you drives him crazy…More so when you don’t even realize it…Like your smile…or when you get so lost in a laugh that you snort and you get that cute little blush that never lasts long enough for him…Or how you get so lost in your thoughts and he’s just hoping that even one of them is about him…”

“JJ…”

“I should’ve been the one to make a move…I should have been the one to tell you that you were worth breaking that damn ‘pogue on pogue mackin’ rule’ for…And I thought I was…I thought I was doing the right thing by staying away…knowing you were better off with someone like him, but I can’t stomach the thought of HIM getting something like that from you without understand how special it is. He just wants it over with so you can have sex all the time…and I-I just want..shit, I just want to make it special…I…” His eyes rose to you, finding your stillness and a mix of confusion and compassion across your face, the slightest hint of agreeability in your lack of rejection, driving him to move towards you. With palms set on either cheek, he pressed his lips to yours, knocking you off of your feet in surprise, and walking you back towards the door of your room. 

“I don’t want to hurt him…But I can’t pretend I’m not in love with you anymore…So if you can honestly look at me…and tell me you don’t feel even one shred of what I do…then I’ll go…But if I do…I can’t be around you…not after knowing he got to-”

“J…” You interrupted as he clenched his jaw. 

“I can’t…” He bowed his head, pushing himself off of the wall and slowly nodding, realizing the hole he’d dug for you both. But as he moved to the window in silent acceptance, you moved after him. 

“I can’t say that I don’t-that I-that I haven’t thought about it…” Hope lit behind his expression, “But I don’t want to hurt him…”

“I know…” His eyes fixated on your lips for a second, “I’m sorry…I…fuck…I just really wanna kiss you again…” You bit your bottom lip at the thought, moving a step closer. 

“Just a kiss?” He nodded, hands already hungry at your hips as he agreed with a repeat of your words before colliding against you. But instead of the door, he had you on the edge of your bed as your fingers pushed him to sit on its edge, a leg positioned on either side of his right thigh as he pushed the boundaries of your ensemble. The silk of the robe was parted and dropped as his breath shifted along with this new sight. Even if you’d worn a bikini before, there was something different in just the sight of lingerie. And it was enough to make him nearly breathless. 

“Shit…” His eyes looked up to you with wonder before his lips moved to your hips, kissing from one side to the other, before he stood to kiss you, running his hands over the lace of your panties, before lifting you around him until you were in a straddle. 

“J-”

“Please just be with me right now…we’ll figure out all the other messy shit later…just please…please let me love you…” He asked behind clenched teeth as your body pulled to reject him. He was your friend. He was your boyfriend’s friend-your boyfriend, who would be crushed at this betrayal. And yet, JJ’s hands made your skin feel alight in a way John B’s never could. His breathlessness, the desperation he had in his need for you. It was what you wanted. HE was what you wanted. And for that, you ignored that pull in your heart and replaced it with the lust in the moment, as you slowly nodded to him. 

In one swoop, you were on your back, his lips soft but deep against your own until you were panting against him for a break in breath. Granting this, he descended down your jaw and then your neck, hands rising to your breasts, and teasing the perimeter of your bra until your fingers brought him higher. 

“You’re perfect…” He breathed as you nodded towards him. 

“I wish I wasn’t the first…” Your expression contorted in confusion as this contradicted his former speech, “Because I don’t want it to hurt…” He looked up over you. 

“So I’m going to make sure you’re wet enough so the pain won’t last long, okay, sweetheart?” Your skin chilled as he kissed between your breasts, down your stomach, and to your thighs, where your breath hitched in anticipation. He cast a smirk before pulling your panties slowly from your waist and discarding them with a carless drop to his side. 

“Has he ever…”  You shook your head as he failed to hide his smirk. 

“Good…” He pressed a line of soft kisses within your thigh, leading to your core. 

“You do whatever you need to…yell, pull my hair…but don’t grin and bear it, okay? If you don’t like something, you have to tell me…I want you to feel good-that’s all I want…” You nodded as he returned to your thighs, leading closer to your sex as your eyes came closed to the loving kiss he made upon your lower lips. The rush of electricity suddenly between your thighs silenced your reservations that attempted to return, as his hands wrapped around your thighs to pull them apart. 

“I’ve got you, princess…Let me take care of you…” Your eyes came closed into a screwed stillness while you clenched your jaw to try and remain quiet. Even if your parents were separated from you by an entire floor, you didn’t want anything to ruin this moment, including their curious intrusion. But as his fingers moved to divide your clitoral hood and truly explore your clit with the flicks of his tongue, you struggled to remain silent. This worsened as your eyes came open momentarily to find him looking up at you in a survey of your reactions to him. 

“JJ…” You moaned. 

“Is that good?”

“I…I feel-”

“Let it go, sweetheart, let me have it-”

“It’s too much, I-” He smirked for a moment at the thought of THIS being too much in contrast to what was still to come.  For that, he would allow you a moment’s reprieve. 

“I need to get you ready for me, sweetheart…Let me try this…” He pulled his middle finger through your folds, making it wet enough for effortless insertion, before taking it inside of you. Immediately, your legs clasped together and your back arched to the curve made of his fingers. 

“I know it’s hard, baby…but you gotta get past the first few seconds…okay? I swear you’ll feel so good…but I’ve gotta get you ready for me…” He repeated this as you nodded, opening your legs as he repeated the process with a second finger, through your folds and then inserting its way into you. 

“Shit, you’re so tight…” He breathed to himself, steadying the urge to ravage you with his own selfish carnality. But he meant what he said. He wanted to savor this. 

“Can you try three?” You nodded, clawing at the sheets as he groaned to that third finger before you wrapped your hand around his wrist. 

“I need more…I need-”

“You’re not there yet-”

“J, please! I want you!” You whimpered as he growled to your plea, your body half spent already as it was breathless and willing beneath him; truly desperate. 

“We’ve gotta go slow, okay? I might need you to pace me…” You nodded as he undressed, your fingers helping with his shirt as you took in the stock of his body for a moment, before he was between your legs again. Only now, it was in nakedness. The sight of his cock was intimidating as it made your cheeks flush with embarrassment, before he teased your lower lips with him. 

“I want you to hold on to me…if it’s too much-”

“J please-”

“It’s gonna hurt…I don’t want to hurt you…” He regretted this moment for a second, wanting John B to be the one to have you so he could be with you and all you’d know was pleasure. But the thought of anyone else having you was too much to keep from acting on it, and so he remained steadfast. 

“Make love to me, JJ, please…” You trembled beneath him as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips while pushing his tip into you. 

Your fingers dug into his arms immediately, your body tightening around him as that initial pain was prominent above all else. Even as he spoke against your lips to breathe slowly, all you could focus on was the burn of his stretch. As your hands shook at his skin, he took them lovingly beside your head to pin them in place, before he moved to your neck and breast, stimulating you as he slowly continued his penetration. It seemed endless until he was completely inside of you, that thick shaft bottoming out against your cervix as you whined and whimpered in pain. 

“I’m so sorry baby…I know-Just keep breathing with me…” He steadied himself, setting his palms on either side of you as you nodded. 

“It’s gonna hurt just a bit longer…But I swear to God, I won’t stop until you feel good…okay? Anything you want…however long…I swear…” You nodded again as he began to pump slowly in recanting, thrusting in waves, testing your limitations as he’d slow when you’d wince, producing a soft kiss wherever he could, before repeating the process. This lasted until that burn turned into a tingling sensation and eventually pleasure. 

“Oh, J…Oh my God…” You began to breathe into him. 

“Does that feel good or does it still-” You began to move beneath him, toes curling into the backs of his calves as your winces turned to moans. 

“Faster…”

“Sweetheart-”

“Please…It feels so good…More, J-I need more…” You whipmered needily as he smirked, kissing your lips, before increasing his speed. 

“You feel so…so good…” He explained as he became lost in his own motions and you nodded. 

“Fuck!” He grunted as your hands wrapped within his hair, leading him back to your mouth. 

“Don’t stop-please…please don’t stop…”

“I don’t think I could if I tried…” He teased as you offered a momentary chuckle before whimpering beneath him. 

As his motions quickened, your bodies moved closer together. Fingers were more desperate and kisses were more thorough, words became nonexistent and all that came of sound was that of his hips meeting with yours in that carnal connectivity. Moans and groans filled the space as he took himself to your direction, slowing himself when your hands would come to his shoulders to motion such a thing, as he built himself to that edge, your body trembling for a distant one all your own. 

“I want you to come with me…I need to feel you with me…” You nodded. 

“Hold onto me…” You obeyed, arm around his neck and legs tightening around his waist, as you were taken back into a straddle. His hand took hold of your breast, leading it into a gluttonous feast, repeating the process with the second one, before ultimately climbing his kiss to your neck and to your jaw. 

“Use it…Use my cock to come, baby…I don’t want to move too fast…Because I swear I could split you in two with how badly I need you…So you do it…”

“I don’t know how to…”

“I’ll start…” He led his hands to your hips, guiding you up and down his shaft as your expression changed from worried to pleasure, his own following in suit. 

“Just like that…Oh shit…Take it, sweetheart…take it all for me…make yourself come…use me to make yourself feel good…” You nodded, stabilizing yourself in the grip made of his shoulders as his thumb now came to your clit. 

“Fuck! You belted as he slowed just for a moment before looking to your bedroom door. 

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t stop, please don't stop!” He clenched, his chuckle fading into groans of pleasure as he nodded against your chest as your fingers moved throughout his hair. 

“J, I think I’m…It’s…oh fuck…JJ…JJ!” 

“Come for me, princess…Fuck…” He groaned against you, stationing you still as he finished the work necessary to take you to that high, the rush of that first orgasm making you shake beneath him as he held you in place. 

“Are you okay?” He asked quickly once recovering from his own high, his hands to your cheeks as you nodded. 

“J…”

“I know…I feel like-” But to what he expected to be berating, came your hands to his chest to pin him down. 

“Do it again…” 

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