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dotster001 · 5 months

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Waking Him up with a Kiss

Summary: Malleus/Silver/Jamil x Gn!Reader. You wake your lover up with a kiss.

Requested by an anon. Fuck you, Tumblr.

CW: Jamil is kinda sus but I wouldn't be doing him justice if he wasn't.

Also! Always get consent from your partner before kissing them in their sleep! That's a cool kid thing to do!

He'd been hinting at this for a while now. All his life, Lilia had regaled him with fairy tales where the sleeping prince or princess was woken with true love's kiss. Malleus had always been a hopeless romantic, and, damn, did he want that!

He'd left the books out when he slept over. He made sure that if he knew you would come looking for him, he'd nap on his back. He sighs dreamily (and loudly) whenever he rereads those fairytales next to you. He waxes on and on about how romantic being awoken with a kiss is. He knows he's dense. But he thinks you're worse.

Lilia giggles and says to be patient, Silver says to just tell you what he wants, and Sebek says to just banish you for the treason of making him sad. He decides that Lilia has never steered him wrong before, so he decides to be patient.

And one day it happens. He's dreaming of you, walking through a meadow, hand in hand. You turn to him, your radiant smile glowing brighter than the sun of his dreams. You press your lips to his, gentle as a cloud, and it feels so real that he doesn't want to wake up.

But he does, and he moans a little as he regrets losing the dream world. But the feeling of your lips doesn't fade. Light as a cloud, gentle as a dove, a feeling that makes him feel so full inside he thinks he'll burst.

His eyes flutter open, and there you are, on your knees in the grass, smiling softly as you push one of his dark bangs away from his eyes. He smiles sleepily, putting together that his dream came true.

“Now that you've given me a taste, I hope you know that I am insatiable,” he said, his voice still husky with sleep. You giggled, as though you thought he was joking.

Oh, you sweet little human.

He is not joking.

He has told you this on many occasions. If you are hanging out, and he falls asleep, do whatever you need to to wake him up. He originally tried to be chill about it, but eventually he let on just how much it distressed him when he missed time with you. He didn't want to miss out on any time with you. Yes, it was partially for you. But if he was honest, it was mostly for him. It hurt his chest to think about losing time with someone he loved. Being around the fae taught him every moment mattered.

Usually, you try everything. You shake him, you steal his pillow, you bang a pot, you set three alarms to go off at the same time. But today, you tried something different.

Silver blinked his eyes open, only to be met by your uncertain ones staring back at him, your face hovering a few inches above his.

He gently lifted a hand to his lips, the ghost of your kiss lingering. He may not have been fully awake for it, but he knows it happened.

His mind was immediately transported to a moment in his youth. He was sitting by his father, sniffling sadly because he fell asleep during Lilia's birthday party.

“Ah, my sweet son,” Lilia said with a warm smile, gently nuzzling his cheek against Silver's. “I know it's not your fault. Even doctors have told you you can't help it. I am not upset at all.”

“But it's your birthday,” Silver sniffled. “I feel like I must be cursed.”

Lilia's eyes widened in understanding.

“That must be it!” He said excitedly. He ran to the nearby bookshelf and pulled off a book, before nodding sagely.

“Yes, that must be it, look,” he flipped to a page in the story, pointing to a picture of a sleeping princess being kissed awake by a knight in shining armor. “I know this curse! When you find true love, perhaps their kiss will save you!”

Silver excitedly nodded at the picture, his eyes wide.

Lilia snapped the book shut, authoritatively. “But until then, I don't want you to be sad when you fall asleep. Your hero will save you one day. And they might be sad that they took a long time to save you. So if you are less hard on yourself, it might help them feel better. Promise?”

Silver nodded happily.

Lilia is a menace, filling his son's heads with fairytales. /Affectionate

In the present, Silver smiled softly.

“Did you kiss me awake?”

“Sorry, I know I should have asked, but I figured when you said wake me up however I can-”

“That's correct. I could have said it plainly, but this is definitely what I pictured when I said that. But in case you need me to verbally say it, yes, please continue to wake me up like this. I think I will wake up every single time.”

You smiled at him, still hovering over him, making him long for your kiss again.

“You know, I wasn't awake for the last one. Would you please kiss me again?”

You giggled, then leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

“I feel like I need more ways to show my love for you,” you said thoughtfully. Jamil sat next to you on your bed in Ramshackle, reading over your report, and checking for mistakes.

“And what makes you say that?” He hummed in amusement.

“Seriously? You do everything for me! And I'm just kinda here!”

“I'm perfectly satisfied with that. In fact, I'd rather do all the hard stuff so that you have the energy to shower me in affection when I'm done,” he snickered to himself. If anything, a small selfish part of him liked the idea of you feeling like you had something to prove. It made you a very physically affectionate lover to “make up for it”. And while he was easily flustered, he very much liked the gentle caresses, warm embraces, and hungry kisses you gave him.

“Tell you what,” he hummed, handing you back the marked up report. It would take you hours to make the corrections. He loved you, but you were at a disadvantage when it came to college courses in the laws of magic. “I'm going to take a nap. When you finish, I'd really feel loved if you kissed me awake.”

He laid down, resting an arm over his eyes.

“You could just stay the night if you're that tired,” you said in that tone of voice that only came when you were pouting.

“Can't. Kalim has a test tomorrow, and I need to make sure he wakes up for it.”

You grumbled something, but he was already out cold.

He felt…warm. He softly sighed, as he felt your kiss deepen. Still not opening his eyes, he wrapped an arm around your neck, and continued sleepily kissing you. Yeah. This is the life he wanted. To be rewarded for his hard work with your affection.

He finally opened his eyes with a scowl when you pulled away.

“I didn't say to stop. This is about expressing your love, right?” He snickered.

You pouted. “I miss when every single thing would fluster you.”

He scowled and stood up, stretching away the sleepiness as he prepared for his trek back to his dorm.

“I don't.”

You smiled sweetly, then reached out for his hair.

“Luckily, I can still make you all blushy when I play with your hair.”

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @stygianoir @pikeru565

“Good night love,” he scowled as he stormed out of the room.

....

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #silver x reader #silver #twst silver #twst silver x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper

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marvelandponder · 1 year

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one amazing thing about the Owl House finale is that it finally contextualized for me one of the central metaphors of the show. Spoilers for the series finale Watching and Dreaming ahead.

we good? no one spoiling themselves? beauty

for a long time now, I thought we had a pretty standard coming-of-age metaphor dichotomized by the show's central antagonists. you've got your protestant witch hunter Belos who introduces a maturity and ugliness to Luz's narrative; he clearly represents a particular, restricting form of adulthood, and just when Belos becomes his most threatening, boom, enter the Collector, Luz's dangerously naïve inner child to ruin all her development on the Boiling Isles. Seems simple enough

what I didn't anticipate was just how specific and personal their roles in the story actually are to Luz once you have the full context from the series finale

look again

this story - this whole series - is about the grief that a neurodivergent kid experienced at a young age, introducing the cruelty of loss and adulthood before she was ready to handle it. and, how to reclaim a more whole understanding of herself as she rebuilds her life with people who get her

Belos is designed to infect the titan carcass like a disease. a cancer. it's super goddamn significant that the titan is King's dad (King, who became Luz's younger brother). they set up Belos not just to be another fascist kids' cartoon villain (although yeah, he do be doing some of that), but to specifically become a force that oppressed the weirdness from the one place that understood Luz. the Iles. the dad. And by the end of the story, Belos's goopy body-horror isn't just for show, he's just like the cancer or other terminal disease that took Luz's dad from her

he's the thing Luz hasn't processed in season 1 that comes in at the end like a warning. he's the threat that forces Luz to grapple with her own humanity, feeling somehow (often completely unjustifiably) harmful to those around her, through the grief she doesn't want to be a burden or the weirdness (neurodivergence) others don't understand. he's the force that says there is something wrong with you, Luz, give in to your grief, this is what you can't face. this is the lie you've been telling to those closest to you: that you're okay

then you have the Collector. (notable that he's a collector, and we see Luz's mom and dad had quite the collection of nerdy memorabilia)

the Collector is the child too young to understand death. Too young to understand consequences, or why their playmates don't feel like playing anymore with someone so weird and maybe a bit too involved in their own world. The Collector is Luz's inner child, that kid we see right before the "worst week ever" — the one who didn't and couldn't understand what was about to happen even as it was going down. unapologetically weird, a bit destructive and short-sighted, but wholly colourful, wholly themselves. that's why the Collector wants to live out Luz's adventures, but without all the depth. just the fun escapist fantasy

but don't think I forgot the internal conflict! :D

because Camila's role also gets an added depth too: Camila was framed at the outset of the series as someone who loved Luz, but wanted her to fit inside a box that she just didn't. later, Luz completely misconstrued her mom's breakdown when she learned that Luz chose to run away. as many people have pointed out by now, Luz misremembers the actual dialogue that Camila says: Camila only wanted her daughter safe, not to lose her. Luz meanwhile felt like she had to choose to destroy this part of herself, or give up her connection with her mom altogether

but we know now Camila actually deeply relates to Luz. she may not understand Luz's fascination with horrific things like on the boiling isles (very akin to a kid getting more grim hobbies in the wake of a death, like Luz's taxidermy), but she loves Luz for who she is. all of her. she never wanted Luz to change

Luz was the one framing the central conflict of the show as go back to her mom or stay in the boiling isles. Luz was the one who felt like she had to punish herself by rejecting the one place where she felt like herself. once Camila realizes what's been going on, and how deeply connected it is to the loss of Luz's dad, she knows Luz is trying to make a "very bad choice for herself." And she won't let that happen (what a great mom!!)

But Luz does have one real choice ahead of her

because of the inner child who once again has to confront death (this time, Luz's own), Luz is able to connect with a father figure, the titan, the one place she feels understood. in the form of a power-up that makes her into a fantasy witch straight out of the Good Witch Azura, the one place she got joy after that huge loss, the titan gives her the strength to face the cancer—a force draining everything good in her life from her and making her question she deserves it in the first place—but only if she can choose herself

and that means choosing happiness, choosing found family, choosing love and friendship and self-discovery in the place she feels most at home! every bond she's forged, everything she's worked for, it all comes down to choosing to face grief and move on in life with weirdos who stick together.

hoot hoot, that's some good metaphor

#the owl house #toh spoilers #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #king clawthorne #the collector #emperor belos #camila noceda #i may update the post with images at some point but I figured that's more likely to unintentionally spoil others #watching and dreaming

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 1 year

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So this is a weird ask but I figured an Actual Welsh Person would be the person to go to, and you've been pretty gung-ho about the language thing. So I hope I'm not bothering you with this.

Is there a cultural consensus on foreigners learning Welsh? I'm American and I don't have a single shred of Welsh ancestry. My family is historically German, and we've been here since the English Colony days, so it honestly seems really weird even to try to claim some tie to German heritage.

Anyway, my point is, I have absolutely zero legitimate claim to the Welsh language. I don't plan to travel to Wales in the foreseeable future. I have no reason to learn Welsh except that it sounds pretty and I enjoy a challenge.

Putting aside the issue of "lmao it's gonna be stupid difficult to learn an endangered language if you don't have anyone to speak it with" (I have a loose plan for dealing with that, and the experience of learning two languages to "can read most novels without needing the dictionary" level without anyone to speak them with in person already) entirely, do you reckon it's okay for me to study Welsh? I know Americans are really, really bad about just kinda assuming the whole world belongs to us, and I'm trying not to do that here. Especially because Welsh IS endangered.

I imagine your average Welsh person probably doesn't care what some random American does. But like, for people who care about the language...Would it be considered disrespectful or overstepping for me to study it? I don't expect you to speak for the entire country, of course, but I respect your opinion and I feel like you'd have a grasp on what the general feeling towards a foreigner like me might be.

Thanks for your time.

I honestly, truly, do not understand how the discussion around cultural appropriation has been twisted in the cultural zeitgeist to such an extent that people now feel anxiety about learning other languages.

This is not a personal attack on you, Anon - the gods only know that you clearly care and want to do the right thing, and that's beautiful and wonderful and also I will come back to extolling your personal virtues at the end of this post, so stay tuned. But I do want to take a moment here to talk about the broader issue at play, which I have seen echoed multiple times elsewhere, because fuck me what are we doing to ourselves.

Learn. Languages.

That is what languages are for! To be used for communication. If you don't learn languages, you are forcing everyone else to use yours. How have we somehow, as a culture, twisted that into being the less selfish option? How have we done that? I posted my favourite Welsh idiom recently, and someone reblogged it and wrote in the tags that they loved the idiom and would start using it, but they would do so in English because their "Welsh pronunciation would make their Welsh grandmother spin in her grave."

What kind of mental gymnastics is that?

How the fuck do you twist it so badly that you think taking a Welsh idiom for your own and exclusively using it in English is less offensive than saying it in Welsh but maybe a bit wrong? I've literally had people proclaim to me that they're learning Welsh on Duolingo but they never speak it because they're too self-conscious, and they tell me this not to highlight a massive flaw in themselves that they need to work on, but as though I'm supposed to pat them on the head and thank them for... still making me speak English to them.

There was that post where a Deaf blogger received an anonymous ask saying learning sign language is cultural appropriation, as though Deaf people haven't been calling for Sign to be taught in schools. As though a Deaf person being entirely isolated in everyday hearing society unless they have an interpreter with them is less offensive than a hearing person being able to use BSL.

Like, these are not sacred or religious languages. The purpose of Welsh or BSL or what have you is not to perform the Eleusinian mysteries. It's a living everyday language, same as English -

Except it's not the same as English. As Anon here so rightly points out, Welsh is endangered. That means we are desperate for people to learn it. That's how it will survive. That's how we reversed it from 'dying language' to 'living language', in fact - we managed to get lots of people to learn it. You know what is a threat, though? People not learning it because, like poor Anon here, they've been somehow convinced by Western society that you're only allowed to learn languages if you personally have a historic or cultural connection to them that you can prove via six forms of ID and a letter of recommendation from a druid. Or people never using it because they're too embarrassed to try and risk losing face by getting it wrong, or maybe sounding a bit silly, and thus forcing us to use English anyway. Those are threats.

Anon. Listen to me, feel the sincerity of my words: we adore you. We adore you. You cannot imagine how appreciated it is when someone learns Welsh. You cannot imagine how touched we are that you wanted to, that you tried, that you respected us enough and considered us valid enough that you made the effort. Our closest neighbours are the very people who are still trying to stamp out Welsh to this very day. Do you know the number 1 reaction I get, by a country mile, when I tell English people that I speak Welsh? It's some variant on a scoff, and the sentiment "Why? What's the point? Bit useless, isn't it?"

By a country mile. That's the reaction I expect, and brace for, and is overwhelmingly what I get.

So when someone who isn't Welsh actually chooses to learn Welsh?

Imagine what that feels like! To go from not-even-hidden disgust, from outright mockery and often active suppression campaigns, to a foreigner earnestly telling me that they love and respect my language so much they're trying to learn it. Imagine how that feels.

Please learn Welsh. Please learn it. We will love you for it. We will build you a statue. We will bake little Welshcakes with your face on in icing sugar. We will write you poems in complex rhyme. We'll name an Eisteddfod prize after you. We'll name at least, like, three sheep after you. Thank you, thank you so much for even wanting to learn. You're a delight and a marvel and a wonder. Your hair looks great today, as it does all days. You're a strong, independent human being of immense wisdom and compassion. If this were a Welsh myth you'd be a wise salmon the heroes came to for advice. What a fantastic human.

The welcome awaits if you choose to learn

#linguistics #asks #long post

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solaireverie · 5 months

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f1 | i'd be the man

summary: [ drabbles ] you're the formula one driver and he's your wag. (aka the toto wolff-ification of the fast car boys)

warnings: mentions of racism and sexism

author's note: i had so much fun coming up with non-f1 jobs 😂 i'm convinced that most of the boys would still be obsessed with f1. considering doing this for other drivers, drop some suggestions? 👀

→ CHARLES LECLERC

Charles is a fashion designer who works for one of your sponsors. You find his designs slightly... peculiar and aren't afraid to tell him. Determined to prove you wrong about his vision, Charles volunteers to be your primary point of contact for your partnership with the fashion house.

Your meetings are contentious in the beginning, neither of you understanding the other. You leave each consultation with a throbbing migraine and a barely suppressed urge to throw something at Charles. If only he weren't so damned stubborn. (At the same time, you know that his passion for his craft is half of why you even deign to meet with him.)

A grudging respect forms between you after months of friction and endless banter about what exactly you want your sponsorship to look like. If hard-pressed, you might even call it a friendship.

Charles has been a Formula 1 fan since childhood and is secretly a fan of yours. You find out after you meet him for a design meeting after a rough race and he suddenly goes on a rant about how the driver who took you out was being ridiculous and how you deserved better. You're completely charmed and interrupt him by asking him out on a date.

He's the absolute best boyfriend that you could ever ask for, following you to all the European races and supporting you from Monaco when he can't make it. Charles delights in being able to provide a bit of stability for you in your hectic life. He puts up photos of your race wins in his studio and proudly tells all of his clients about his girlfriend and her achievements.

(You still won't listen to his fashion advice, though.)

→ MAX VERSTAPPEN

Max runs the cat shelter that you adopt your cat from. You notice how cute he is the first time you meet him but you're too shy to make a move — besides, Max cherishes his quiet life and you don't know how open he would be to associating with a public figure like a Formula 1 driver. Still, he's funny and kind and you somehow keep talking.

It starts out innocuously, just pictures and updates about your new cat (because Max cares about all of the cats that he's ever taken care of, even the ones that have been adopted into good homes) and occasional behind-the-scenes updates when you find out that Max likes Formula 1.

Without realizing it, Max becomes one of your closest friends. He catsits for you when you're out of the country for races, picks you up from the airport after international races, and cheerfully beats you at sim racing whenever you have the opportunity to game together.

Max realizes that you're basically dating around a year into your friendship. You sleep at his place, in his bed, more often than not. Sassy likes you more than she likes him. You have his coffee order memorized and he knows your parents. (Your mother adores him and constantly encourages you to make a move.)

He's patient, however, and waits for you to realize your own feelings as well. Dating comes as naturally for you as your friendship did. Although Max doesn't always enjoy the media scrutiny that comes with dating a Formula 1 driver, he takes full advantage of the attention to defend you at any given chance.

In fact, you've been asked multiple times by your team principal to get your boyfriend to calm down before he offends another driver, but you wouldn't change Max for the world.

→ LANDO NORRIS

Lando is a Twitch streamer with a decent following who specializes in gaming, especially e-motorsports. He gets the chance to visit your team's garage when he wins a e-sport tournament. He's an unabashed simp fan and immediately makes a fool of himself when he meets you, but you find it adorable.

(Lando swears up and down to anyone who'll listen that he didn't mean to blush and accidentally propose on the spot.)

You cheekily tell him to take you out on a date first and he surprisingly gets his act together and actually follows through. Lando is incredibly kind and clumsily charming despite his awkward exterior. You can tell that he genuinely likes spending time with you and wants to hear what you have to say.

Lando switches to Youtube and vlogging when your relationship stabilizes so he can spend more time with you. His fans — and yours — love catching glimpses of his elusive Formula 1 driver girlfriend in his videos. It's a running joke among his fans that Lando is your sugar baby, which Lando finds extremely funny and shamelessly accepts.

Eventually, both of you realize that you've found the love of your life and you start thinking about marriage. You propose to each other at the same time, on the vacation that you each planned for the other, while your mutual friends who knew about both sides die of laughter from the sidelines.

Lando insists on taking your name as well and declares that he's now officially your trophy husband.

("Get it? You get trophies from your job, which brought us together, so technically I'm a trophy now too?" "Yes, Lando, I understand double entendres perfectly well." "Ooooh French, fancy!")

→ LEWIS HAMILTON

You meet Lewis in your childhood. He karts at the same track as you and you bond over the shared experience of being "other" from the other drivers. No one ever bets on either of you to be fast, to win, so you bet on each other. Lewis supports you with his entire being, even when he chooses to leave racing to chase other dreams. You dreamed of reaching Formula 1 together but Lewis, in this world, is happy cheering from the paddock.

Everyone around you is convinced that you're dating Lewis, who has become a highly successful model and philanthropist. Who else would would take time out of their insanely busy life to follow you around the world? The closeness between you doesn't help either — Lewis acts like your partner more often than not.

Despite appearances, however, Lewis is just your best friend, and it stays that way until a PR disaster with your respective relationships calls for extensive damage control. The best distraction that your media teams can come up with is that you fake-date each other: what better to appease the masses with than the ever-beloved tale of childhood friends to lovers?

The fake relationship changes something in your previously stable friendship. Suddenly, you can't stop seeing Lewis in a different light and you find yourself wishing that the romance was real. You're terrified of losing one of the most important people in your life, so you keep quiet about your true feelings for months as things calm down.

Eventually, your manager gives the all-clear to end the ruse and you end up scrambling for a reason to maintain it. By that time, Lewis has caught on to you. He stops by one night with a bottle of wine and your favorite movie. As the credits play, he leans over and kisses you softly — the first time he's kissed you out of the eye of the public.

You're lost for words and he quietly assures you that no matter what happens if you pursue a real relationship, he'll always be your Lewis.

Ten years later, happily married with a couple of championships under your belt, you couldn't be happier that you had chosen to say "hi" to the boy at the karting track.

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist | taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii

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fooled-around-and-fell · 23 days

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more sunshine! gojo and grumpy!f reader pleaseeeeeeee I ship so hard

you got it baby

her rage keeps him going.

summary: gojo satoru is trying to get his grumpy girlfriend's attention by flirting with another girl at a party. wrong move. pairing: sunshine!gojo satoru x grumpy!female reader content warnings: jealousy, reader being a badass, gojo being madly in love, cursing, adult themes at the end, borderline toxic gojo satoru?

Masterlist

-----

"Baby."

"Sugarpie."

"Honeybunch-"

"Yes, Satoru?" You sigh, trying to finish the report you need to give Yaga. The frown deepens on your forehead as Satoru moves to sit in front of you, head leaning in, blocking your view of the paper completely.

"Sato-"

"Let's watch a movie." He blatantly says. "I'm bored."

You take a deep breath, pushing his head away. "I'm kind of in the middle of something, Toru."

Recently Yaga has been giving you more reports to fix. It's the kids' reports that are either too messy or filled with too many unnecessary details. It keeps on piling and piling and piling on top of your own work and you barely have time to do... anything, really.

And Satoru being Satoru, is not interested in paperwork. So you have to pick up his share as well, and it's sending you over the edge.

"Come on~" He whines, "It's been a while since you and I spend time together."

"We live under the same roof," You counter, "We go home and leave for work together every day."

He huffs, "It's not the same and you know it."

You sigh, promising him you'll watch something with him soon, but of course, you being busy, it gets forgotten. And it stays that way for a few days until the spring break party Jujutsu High decides to have.

You haven't properly talked to Satoru since then. You know he's upset that you've been so busy, but there's honestly not much you can do. You can only hope he understands and he'll be a bit more patient until things die down at work.

But of course, it doesn't happen that way.

You have to attend the spring break party just as Satoru is also required to. There aren't many people to begin with, but there are some new faces. New and pretty faces.

Stepping into the hall, you cringe at the sight. The higher ups are looking to create a new impression on the new students. It seems they want to look more approachable and 'trendy', seeing how the hard way didn't work so much with your and Satoru's generation.

It looks like a really bad frat party.

"What in the world..."

"Just drink." Shoko hands you a tequila shot while she downs one herself, "We've done more than enough these past few weeks, who cares what this party is about."

You drink the shot and cringe even more at the sharpness. "Oh God- this is horrible."

"It'll get the job done," Shoko chuckles, already downing her second shot.

Sighing, you scan the room to find Satoru. You figure with the spring break coming, you'll have more free time and you both can finally take a vacation together. As an apology for being so busy lately, you've bought tickets and you want to surprise him.

"Hey, have you seen Sato- Oh you've gotta be kidding me."

In your eyesight is Satoru talking very closely to a woman. She's not anyone you know, but from her body language, she's not anyone you want to know. Your eyes squint to assess the situation -- maybe you're overthinking this? Maybe she's just like Miwa, she just admires him- nope. That hand slowly trailing up and down Satoru's arm is not friendly at all.

And Satoru is allowing all of this?

"Shoko," You call her, "Let's go play darts."

"Uh-oh."

Satoru's doing it on purpose. He knows it will irritate you, and he knows technically he shouldn't be doing this, but you've been so busy lately and he's desperate for your attention.

Borderline toxic? Maybe, but again, he's desperate.

And it's not like he's interested in this girl who's talking to him about something she did the other day -- he can't even remember her name. But when he sees you shooting glares his way, a small smirk plays on his lips because he knows he's caught your eye.

He just didn't expect you to take it into such extreme measures.

One second you're sitting by the bar with Shoko, and suddenly there's a red dart that whooshed its way between Satoru and this girl. The dart is right in front of her eyes, almost scratching her nose.

"Oops," He hears the threat in your tone despite the smile on your face. "Looks like I missed my mark."

"By a mile..." Shoko mutters. The target board isn't even anywhere near where Satoru is standing.

You make your way to Satoru and the girl whose face has turned white. "I'll just take that-" you pull the red dart that's quite stuck in the wall, but not before sparing the girl a cold glare, "and if you'll excuse us, I'd like to have a little talk with my boyfriend here."

Satoru lets you drag him by the arm outside. To be completely honest, he's quite turned on. Seeing your possessiveness over him, your rage, your jealousy, he wants all of it.

"Are you done acting up- mmp!"

Satoru pulls you to him, his hand keeping your neck in place so he can kiss you properly while also not letting you escape. He forces his tongue into your mouth, taking your breath away completely.

"Satoru-"

He shushes you, lifting you from the ground to sit on the bench, your legs straddling his waist while still making out with you.

"I'm not done talking-" You finally push him away with a pant. "What's gotten into you?!"

You notice something poking your ass and you slap his shoulder, "Are you seriously getting turned on right now?!"

"Mm, baby," He tries to kiss you again, "You know I love it when you yell at me."

You scoff and grab his chin roughly. "So you did all of that just because you wanted some attention?"

Satoru gulps.

"Are you really that needy, Satoru? Hm?" You tilt your head, peeling his blindfold off. "I guess I have been neglecting you and your needy cock for a while, huh?"

He nods helplessly.

"I guess it is partially my fault for leaving you unattended for so long," Your hand travels down to grab his cock through his pants. "But just so we're clear, Satoru... don't ever pull that shit again, understand?"

He moans and nods his head again.

"Good." You peck his lips, "You're mine. And I don't let anyone just touch what's mine."

Satoru could come right then and there.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru x you #satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #satoru angst #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru jjk #gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x female reader

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wonwoonlight · 6 months

Text

when you're fighting and jeonghan takes things a little too far.

A/n: just some random words vomit. As always, idk what this is🫶🏻

You don't like fighting with Jeonghan because of obvious reasons. Then again, who actually likes fighting with their significant other?

But you don't like fighting with Jeonghan because it's eerie silence and cold shoulders. It's you two, the most hard headed people on the planet trying to outlast the other. It's a battle of pride and it always ends with you eventually giving in to his apology regardless of how upset you actually are.

Of course there are times when you're in the wrong. But you apologize pretty quickly when it's on you, unlike Jeonghan who deems it necessary to fight first and apologize later when you're even more upset than you initially were for obvious reasons.

You always give in because you love him and you don't like the fact that you're not talking to him.

Apparently, Jeonghan is a little too comfortable with that fact and he may have taken you a little for granted, pushing your buttons further even when you have sternly told him that you're not comfortable with the fact that he's meeting up with his ex-girlfriend that he dated for five long years–which is more time than the entirety of the period you've known Jeonghan to begin with.

Perhaps it comes from a place of insecurity. But the ex texts him out of nowhere at one in the morning, pretty much sober from the way she has texted him, and he’s ready to just okay-ed her invitation to join her in some pub because, apparently, she sounds sad and it seems like she needs someone to talk to. That he worries she might be by herself at this hour because, according to the information that you don't fucking need, she tends to be reckless at ungodly hours.

You offer to go with him, understanding where his worries might come from and is actually glad that he knows the world isn't kind to unsuspecting women, even more at these hours. A little proud also that he's trying to do something about it.

But Jeonghan, for some reason unknown to you, decides that you coming with him wouldn't be necessary. And the talk spirals much too far away to the point where he's annoyed and he's giving you an attitude about you not trusting him and et cetera et cetera.

"Fine." You give up, resigning yourself to the ugly feeling in the pit of your stomach. You can't even look at Jeonghan right now. You don't understand why the two of you are even fighting about this. Is it that important for him to go see his ex? Or are you really being as unreasonable as Jeonghan is trying to make you be? But you're upset and apparently that's not enough for Jeonghan to relent. "Whatever. Go if that's what you want."

"What–" He doesn't even get to finish his sentence, because you already turn away to return into your shared room, not minding whatever he might have to say. You never do this, and as much as it pains him to admit that he might've taken things a little too far, he didn't realize that it is to the point where you'll retort to this.

You don't even look up when he calls you, doesn't try to listen to whatever he has to say and simply acts like he doesn't exist. You'd usually at least react to what he has to say, but right now you don't even look like you're upset, which scares him even more.

He's been on the receiving ends of your silent treatments, which he actually admits is on him, but you would usually still look at him, still look like you're listening to him. Which is how he's always been able to make you forgive him.

He knows what to do when you're annoyed, when you're sad and upset. But this?

This is a new territory that he doesn't know how to thread. He'd usually ignore you back, a little too prideful and too childish to admit that he's wrong. But he can tell that this isn't like the usual silent treatment you've given him before.

Fine. A single word that's not fine at all and still rings in his head right now because you never sound like that.

Like you're done with him.

"Baby, please…"

You continue to ignore him, playing with your phone and obviously texting someone that he hopes isn't about him.

"I'm… I'm not going, okay? I'm sorry." He admits in record time. "I don't even… I'm sorry. I don't want to give excuses. I've upset you and I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

Jeonghan sees your fingers pause, which at least he presumes means you're listening to him. He kneels beside you on the bed, glad that you're not rejecting his presence. He reaches for your fingers, and you let him as he cradles them inside his palms and takes a deep breath.

"Don't…" He exhales before he opens his eyes, catching yours and breathes the next words like it's a secret. "Don't let go of me?"

"What?" You ask, startled and caught off guard at the sudden change of topic. "Where did you even get the idea? Han, I'm not breaking up with you."

"You just…" You pull his fingers, asking him to sit next to you on the bed which he immediately complies to. He buries himself in your neck almost immediately, and suddenly it's you comforting him instead of the other way around. "You sound done with me and I can't get that out of my head."

You sigh, your fingers combing through his hair to calm him down.

"We'll talk about it later, okay?"

"I love you. You know that, right?"

"I love you too, Han."

He buries himself further into your embrace.

#jeonghan angst #seventeen angst #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan scenario #jeonghan fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen au #khione.fics #seventeen scenario #seventeen fic

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kisakis-boyfriend · 8 months

Note

May I get head canons of Kaveh, Bennett, and Freminet getting hit with some sorta sex pollen so reader blows their backs out to save their lives? Big Fuck-or-Die Vibes

You sure can! Reader is a dom/top male as usual~

All characters are depicted as 20+ as well~

Kaveh

Just my luck, he thinks as a blast of pollen hits him directly in the face. Nothing good ever comes from touching strange plants...

The effects come on quickly, sending tingles throughout his entire body, the feeling is especially noticeable in the area between his legs

Kaveh calls out your name, stumbling towards you and clinging onto your arms for stability. You're understandably worried and reach out to cup his face when he suddenly drops to his knees, humping at your leg desperately

You stare at him wide-eyed, watching him whimper as he clutches your pants tightly, begging for you to fuck him

Kaveh cries until you finally do just that, not even bothering to fully remove either of your articles of clothing. Instead, you simply pull his pants down so that you have access to his hole, and pull your own down far enough to shove your cock into him

His legs tremble as you ram into him relentlessly, overtaken by some unfathomable pleasure coursing through his veins

The only thoughts floating around in that pretty little head are “need cock” and “needtocumneedtocumneedtocum!! ”

You end up fucking him for a while as the effects of the mysterious pollen persist for hours. Just pounding his wet hole over and over, making his pretty back arch so far off of the ground, cumming again and again as he cries and moans loud enough to lose his voice that night

Kaveh is so incredibly embarrassed about it the next day...he doesn't fully understand what came over him and apologizes profusely 😞

Bennett

He doesn't think much of it at first. After all, he's used to things like this happening, well aware of his terrible luck

But he quickly realizes that something is wrong. A little bit of pollen shouldn't cause him to think of being railed by your thick cock out of nowhere...

Bennett tries to hold it together, not wanting to bother you with something so lewd all of a sudden, but he soon gives in and tells you about his thoughts

You're a bit concerned about why this happened and what kind of plant could do such a thing, but you save those thoughts for later, swiftly pinning Bennett to the wall of some ruins and removing his shorts

If you don't want to get caught by some poor adventurer passing by, you'll have to cover Bennett's mouth or create a makeshift gag because he is LOUD

He's wet literally everywhere. Drool running down his chin, cum dripping down his dick from multiple orgasms, his ass is wet and messy because you've been drilling into him for over an hour now, tears are probably running down his pretty cheeks as he's so overstimulated too

But he insists that you don't stop, clawing at the back of your shirt and screaming “yesyesyesyesyes—!! ” as you pound into him harder

Also embarrassed about it when he finally comes back to his senses. Your reassuring smile does ease his mind a little though 🧡

Freminet

You swam away for only a second, taking a picture of some pretty seashells before returning to your diving partner...only to find him swatting away some sort of goo? Spores? You weren't really sure, more concerned with helping Freminet to the surface

Quickly ascending to the surface world, the two of you found a secluded place to sit so that you could assess his condition

By that time though, the substance had already begun to work its magic. Freminet breathed heavily as his dick brushed against the fabric of his pants

You reached out a hand with the intent to feel his forehead, seeing as his cheeks were a deep crimson, but Freminet grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand down to his bulge. Immediately moaning and humping against your hand

Apologies spilled from his lips, simultaneously begging you to fuck him in the same breath. You were concerned, but quickly connected the dots

After finding a soft spot in the grass, you removed his clothing, slipping your pants off and pushing your cock into his ass

Freminet's hands dig into your arms as you force your length deeper inside of him, broken moans falling out of him as tears spill down his cheeks

He begs for you to go faster, fuck him harder, cum in him again, please? Just don't stop or he'll cry harder

His small body bounces with every thrust, surely there will be dark purple bruises covering his waist due to the vice grip you have on him

He'll be incredibly sore for the rest of the day, walking with a limp because of how hard you fucked him, probably still apologizing for asking you to do that so suddenly...

Freminet will also need tons of aftercare and reassurance, just be extra gentle with him for a few days 💙

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

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ddarker-dreams · 3 months

Text

mini love report — scaramouche

relationship health diagnosis — 50%*

symptom one — deeply insecure

for all his bravado, scaramouche is acutely aware that he's unpleasant to be around. he'd ask if you hit your head recently after hearing your confession. initially, he regarded you with suspicion (and loathing, that's what this churning in his stomach has to be). his beauty has been praised for centuries. traditionally, when his admirers draw closer, they're put off by his brutal honesty. he subjected you to the same treatment. instead of running for the hills like you probably should've, you stuck around. he compared you to a 'cockroach infestation.' very charming.

beneath this veneer of vitriol, he's internally panicking. he's irritable when you're around and wretched when you aren't. his underlings don't know which is worse. he was at a loss when he realized you genuinely weren't bumbling back into his life for his appearance or status. seriously, what is wrong with you? it'd be easier to understand if you had some grand ambition in mind, using him as a means to an end. without this excuse to hide behind, he feels... vulnerable. uncomfortably so.

everything he gets attached to is taken from him. he's forgotten, abandoned, discarded when his worth is found lacking. you could find someone else. someone kind, open, and warm. someone who isn't him. it's terrifying, a thought that makes his skin writhe. especially since, should this premonition come to pass, even he doesn't know what havoc he'd wreak...

symptom two — clingy

once scaramouche likes you, you're his person. not even in a strictly possessive sense (although there's plenty of that), but you're essentially all he's got. he's around more often than he isn't. he insists that without him, your 'stupidity would do you in,' so he considers his hovering a 'necessary evil.' this is for your sake! strictly yours. not his, no, whatever gave you that idea? a bit presumptuous, don't you think?

his habit of acting as your second shadow relates to his aforementioned insecurity. whether he realizes it or not, he's always trying to prove his worth to you. tasks you mentioned dreading will find themselves completed, he'll drag you outdoors if you've been overworking yourself, and he silently sits freshly cooked meals beside you. he once cut vegetables into heart shapes, only to feel so embarrassed, that he diced them into a dusty substance.

symptom three — unconditionally supportive

so long as it doesn't take you away from him, he'll help you accomplish anything you want, good or bad. this is what could come to him most naturally. he loves the thought of you relying on him. it makes him feel wanted, like he's fulfilling a role no one else could in your life. it doesn't have to be material items either. if you're struggling with an issue and come to him for advice, he's noticeably pleased, like a cat that got the cream. you sought him out, you value his input.

he excels at putting together plans and breaking them into doable steps. next-level executive function. you might not want to consult him if you've gotten into a disagreement with a friend, but if you're struggling to know where to get started on a project or goal, he's got you covered. he'll wave off any of your doubt, flicking you on the forehead and grumbling that 'it's doable, just leave it to him.'

primary area of concern

scaramouche views the world from a bitter lens. whereas some try to see the best in others, he sees the worst. this skepticism that's built up over centuries isn't going to disappear overnight. he'll make assumptions about your behavior that aren't necessarily true. he won't come outright and tell you his concerns either, the idea is foreign to him. it ends up falling on you to dispel his misconceptions, which can be an exhausting endeavor.

integrating him into your life proves to be a challenge as well. he can fake a sweet, friendly personality, but he'd only do that for interactions he sees value in. namely, leaving a good impression on your parents/any seniority figure whose approval is meaningful to you. he isn't trying to build a real connection, he just knows it'd be advantageous to win over those who you could you against him. he has no qualms about manipulating them either. he'd do this outside of your purview so you remain none the wiser.

prognosis

it isn't a smooth road. there'll be times where his words cut deep and his involvement in your life feels suffocating. he isn't sure what he's doing and it shows. however, when he extinguishes the light in your eyes, he stills his traitorous tongue. the guilt gnaws at him incessantly. it's a self-fulfilling prophecy on his part — by fearing that he can't make you happy, he's more susceptible to doing just that. should you stick around, this loop isn't destined to repeat forever. his trust in you will build. it's a fragile thing, sown in soil unconducive to growth. be tender in your nourishment and the roots will coil themselves around you.

*the universe has tried (and failed) to wrench you apart (0-20) your friends are praying that you'll break up (21-40) 'well it could/has be worse' bargaining mindset (41-60) a lil messiness as a treat (61-80) pure and wholesome (81-100)

#all that being said. it's still worth it though #mini love reports #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche brainrot #valentines 2024 event

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4ngel-inc · 2 months

Text

SLUTTY OSAMU DAZAI — 𝓒𝓡𝓨 𝓕𝓞𝓡 𝓜𝓔 ᰔ

summary — after catching dazai flirting with another woman, you decide to remind him he's yours. sure, you're a little mean about it, but how else will he learn to behave himself?

tags — [ MDNI / 18+ ], dialogue heavy, fem reader, dominant reader, submissive dazai, dirty talk, punishment, verbal degradation. 2.1k words.

you're certain dazai doesn't know what's coming—how could he? you've been tugging on his arm the entire walk home, your fingers interlaced with his as you laugh at all of his cheesy jokes just the way he likes, fluttering your eyelashes when he looks over toward you with that beautiful smile that makes nearly everyone melt.

you almost feel bad, the way you're deceiving him, the way you're hiding how angry and frustrated you are at how disobedient he's been—but he's just so gorgeous, you can't help but spoil your sweet little baby with a few soft kisses and fake laughs before you get home. what could it hurt, after all? the cafe is only a few blocks from your shared apartment, surely indulging his ego for a short time longer couldn't cause any harm.

when you finally enter your shared home, dazai sighs, happy to be in his safe space that smells so much like you again. "ah- that was fun," he hangs his coat and scarf in the entryway closet before turning towards you, smiling as he takes yours off for you as well. "this looks pretty on you, i like the color," he unwinds your plaid scarf from your neck and hangs it up before sliding your coat down your arms, carefully ruffling it into place before he hangs it back on the velvet hanger.

"i'm glad you had fun," your voice is still as sweet as it was on the walk home, "you looked handsome."

"awww," he tugs on your arm to pull you in, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he gazes down at you lovingly, his eyes eventually falling to your lips, "you always know just what to say, angel, i swear my heart beats faster when such sweet things fall from these lips," he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip and leans closer to kiss you, but you stop him with a hand against his chest just before his mouth touches yours.

he frowns, eyes fluttering back open, "something wrong? i wanted a kiss." you detect the hint of a whine in his tone, and it makes your heart clench—you really should be nicer to him, shouldn't you? surely he didn't mean to be so insufferable at the cafe, but it's been much too much lately. every time you turn around, you catch dazai making eyes at another waitress or flirting with the barista at your local coffee shop. it's just. . . too much.

you've even been extra patient with him lately, understanding he's probably just feeling a little needy—but despite all of your sweet kisses and compliments and the way you ride him until he's practically crying each night, he still wants more. your love isn't enough for him, clearly. but if he's going to look elsewhere for affection, you might as well remind him what he's missing out on every second his mind isn't on you and you alone. you've practically given him everything, what would happen if you took it all away?

"yes, i know you wanted a kiss. but why take one from me? my kisses are precious." you separate yourself from him a bit, and he looks like he might cry already.

"i don't know what that means?"

"why kiss me? there are plenty of people in the world you can kiss, why choose me?"

he whines, "don't joke around, honey bun. come here, you're the only one i want to kiss." he attempts to pull you back in, but you turn away, kicking your heels off before settling on the bar stool behind you with your legs crossed.

"we need to talk, dazai."

"w-why are you calling me that?" his eyes are glossy now, and he unconsciously juts his lower lip out a bit. his stomach twists and it already feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest, all from simply hearing his name leave your lips drenched with such a thick tone of disappointment. he's failed you again, that much he's sure of, but how? why?

"because you don't fucking listen when i'm nice to you, do you?"

"i- wh- where is this coming from? what did i do?"

"you disrespected me, again, but of course you know that- you just can't keep it in your pants for five fucking seconds even though you know it'll piss me off. come here," you gesture to him and he approaches you stoically, knowing better than to reach out toward you or try to touch you. "maybe you like making me mad, is that it?" you reach up to run a hand through his hair, and he almost thinks you're cooling down from your gentle tone at the last statement, until you land a soft slap to his face, with just the right amount of pressure to have his cock twitching in his pants.

his mouth falls open, unsure of what to say. despite the fact you're "punishing" him, he selfishly wants this game to continue, per usual. it is why he enjoys pissing you off in the first place, after all. you uncross your legs and jump from the barstool, striding into your shared bedroom, "come." he follows your lead like a lost puppy until you shut the door in his face. "oh, did you want to come in?" you call through the door sarcastically.

he's silent again for a moment before speaking, "do i have to sleep here?" dazai knows your ways by now, it wouldn't be the first time you've made him sleep away from you, though you've never actually made him sleep on the floor, only at the edge of your shared bed, as far away from you as possible, or on the couch when you're feeling particularly spiteful.

he pouts and begins to walk away until he hears the click of the door opening, "hmm, i'm not sure. do you think you deserve to come in?" your pretty eyes scolding him wordlessly only entices him more—he's always loved your eyes, the pretty color of your irises and fullness of your lashes only has his cock growing harder in his slacks.

"i'll do anything."

"anything? that's a heavy promise, dazai."

—

"you wanted to get fucked, didn't you? what if i fuck you here?" your finger traces over dazai's tight hole, threatening to press a finger in, though he knows you won't. you just love to tease him—love to threaten harsher punishment he knows you won't actually give.

though you never push him past his limits, the thought still intrigues him, though he won't pursue it. "n-not there," he whines, and you relent, leaning forward to kiss his shaft again, fingers playing with the bead of precum at the tip.

"this cock is so fucking pathetic, you expect me to fuck you? i'm too pretty for a man like you, you're nothing but a womanizer."

"i'm sorry, i'm just- s-so sorry," his head lolls back as you continue to tease his cock with your fingertips, squeezing the spongy head lightly, pulling a deep groan from him as he pulls his legs back farther, hands hooked under his knees like you'd instructed. his cock, balls, and asshole on full display has him feeling more vulnerable than ever, though he loves the feeling of being entirely submitted to you.

"yeah, you told me already. but what are you going to do to change?"

"i w-wasn't serious, only flirting. she isn't even as pretty as you."

"flirting? you know what, dazai, i deserve better than you. you think women are just disposable, don't you? do you only love me because i'm pretty?"

"no!" he practically screams, "i can be better, f-for you."

you pull away at his words, removing your hands from him entirely, leaving him feeling cold and lonely. "i want to believe you, babe," you sigh, clearly exhausted, "but i don't know if you really mean it."

"let me show you?" he whines, and you relent.

"fine, come here," you squeeze his slender waist, encouraging him to approach you as he crawls into your lap, your hands squeezing his ass as he settles on top of you.

"i'll show you, i'll be everything you need. you don't need anyone else, i don't need anyone else. can i just-"

"just what? tell me, what do you want, osamu?" hearing you use his real name for the first time feels like a salve, soothing all of his worries, a bit of his confidence returning.

"can i. . . fuck you? i think you're so pretty, so perfect . . . so smart, you're so good to me, i-" he goes on and on for what feels like hours, complimenting you, whispering sweet praises, crying for you to fuck him, laying on the bed stroking his cock, doing anything he can to make you believe him, and when you don't climb on top of him after all of it, real tears finally spill from his eyes.

"you don't love me," he states matter of factly, and it's enough. . . it's just enough to make you give in, to end this little charade before his feelings are truly hurt—something you'd never want.

"i do love you, baby. i really do . . ." you straddle him as you stroke his cheek, wiping away the tears as he sniffles, examining the wetness as you rub your fingertips together, seemingly deep in thought. "but please, don't disobey me again. it hurts." he nods, and you finally give him what he wants.

who are you to deny your sweetest baby, after all? you've been so mean, your angel deserves a little praise after everything he's been through, right?

—

"you like that, don't you?" your hands squeeze dazai's throat gently, and though he's unable to respond fully, his eyes roll back, cock hardening inside you as you ride him—your hips undulate back and forth as your ass ripples, his hands gripping it tightly, almost as if he'll lose you completely if he lets go.

"i-uh," his voice cracks, and you release your hand.

"what is it? tell me, baby. use your words."

"f-feels so good, think i'm gonna cum already," his eyes are pleading, asking you wordlessly if he can cum inside you as he grabs your hand and places it back on his throat, squeezing his hand on top of yours.

"y'gonna cum inside me? you want that, honey?"

he nods frantically, finally spilling into you as you ride him faster, your hips moving against his at an almost harsh pace. "oh, 'm-cumming, inside, cumming inside, wanna fill you, wanna fill you- oh, god, it's good, oh it's good, mm," his little whines and whimpers are like music to your ears as he babbles mindlessly, enough to have you tightening around him silently as you cum as well—though you don't make a show of it, you don't want any attention on yourself anymore, only on him, your devoted lover, your sweetest angel. the person you love more than life itself.

as the heavy breathing in the room calms to a more comforting silence, you nuzzle into dazai's neck, placing soft kisses there. "i love you, osamu. you know that, right? you were so good."

he smiles, squeezing his arms around you as your feet gently caress his under the covers. "i know, i just-" you look up at him inquisitively, waiting for him to finish his sentence, "i love everything you do to me, feels so good. 's that wrong?"

"no, of course not. it's perfect, it's us."

he sighs, pulling you against him. despite disappointing you, dazai finds comfort in the fact the two of you fit perfectly together, body and soul. you make him so happy, he'll never do anything to upset you again—he tells himself as much.

though, in all honesty, he could get used to your punishment—somehow it always makes him feel even more loved in the end.

#— love notes: [dazai] ୧ ‧₊#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #bsd headcanons

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verstarppen · 8 months

Text

˗ˏˋ MASTERLIST ˎˊ˗

the pit stop for all your reading needs !

mv33 ｡⋆˚ max verstappen

max and the three musketeers — mercedes is a just a tiny bit worried about your dates with their archenemesis

ln4 ⋆⭒˚ lando norris

in a galaxy far, far away — there's little time between fast cars and spaceships, but you make it work

dr3 ‧₊˚ daniel ricciardo

[ WIP ] pearls in his hair — they say alcohol brings people together, especially when you find a half-naked man by the lake of your vacation house.

ll40 ⭒𓈒ㅤׂ liam lawson

[ WIP ] rollar skate paparazzi — the guy you've been flirting with on the roller skate rink conveniently left out the part where he's super fucking famous

mv33 ｡⋆˚ max verstappen

[ WIP ] wrong kind of butterflies — max hates watching tv shows but he can't keep his thoughts away from that silly superhero show he watched on a 20 hour plane ride. and oh whatever shall he do when you actually meet on a charity party.

mv33 ｡⋆˚ max verstappen

best trophy in your showcase — cheaters deserve to get cheated out of their career, or at least that's how max justifies destroying your ex's life

cl16 ☾⋆˚ charles leclerc

oh no he's hot — your comic book signing takes a turn when a fan walks in wearing a t-shirt with a poorly photoshopped "charles lechair" or wheover that is [ WIP ] caramel splotches — charles makes an oddly specific reference to your youtube channel just once, but the internet decides to internet [ WIP ] apricot bowls — there's nothing charles wants more than to win a championship, but you, the baby and the cottage are a close second [ WIP ] beef? she's a vegetarian — no one could've possibly predicted the real reason why charles made a joke that he'll join eurovision 2024...but you do, and so does your ex

ls2 ✮⁺₊ logan sargeant

behind open doors — the relationship isn't as secretive as you think it is. texan egg hunt — the ricciardo urge to be obsessed with america takes a whole new meaning when your relationship with the only american on the grid is revealed...because of kinder eggs glitter bomb — logan has a very special helmet reveal on instagram to celebrate your olympics gold metal and a scavenger hunt seems like the appropriate way to reveal it to you [ WIP ] she's everything, he's just logan — not to flex, but how many f1 drivers can say they're dating a princess?

gr63 ˖♡𓍢ִ໋ george russell

get on with the show... — mercedes have a strict policy regarding office romance, but that can't stop Totally Spies because they can't read

op81 ✩°˖ oscar piastri

[ WIP ] fly me to the moon — the world hadn't seen chaos until you parked a miniplane in the pit lane your boyfriend lunchables [ WIP ] blueberry pastries — the mclaren and williams admins love taking advantage of the fact that you and oscar only seem to look like you're not absolutely miserable on camera when you're together meddle about — the singapore heat can't kill you, but the sight of him sweaty and disheveled just might

ln4 ⋆⭒˚ lando norris

[ WIP ] just a couple of besties — the king of spoilers himself, lando "oh is it confirmed?" norris, reveals to the whole world he has a girlfriend...and not a soul believes him.

dr3 ‧₊˚ daniel ricciardo

[ WIP ] you, me, and franz kafka — danny ric doesn't understand how a book about a guy turning into a insect can be interesting, but if it makes his girlfriend happy he'll read it- and maybe melt a few fans' hearts along the way

yt22 ★⋆.⁺ yuki tsunoda

cheap tricks on route 66 — losing a bag at a out-of-city gas station with an etched phone number seems a little too convenient doesn't it?

ms47 ❀˖˙⊹ mick schumacher

count me in — slowly but surely that fake dating plan you cooked up starts leaving its confined lines

last updated: 28/3/2024

#masterlist #f1 smau #f1 #f1 x reader

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httpiastri · 4 months

Note

literally any driver: burying head in crook of neck, night kisses and shutting the other up with kisses

lacii my love <3<3 did this with lando, hope that's fine! merry christmas again, and i hope you enjoy this!! 😁

"lando, did i tell you about that time when i first met my friend clara?" the words are flowing out of your mouth like you're spitting bars. your boyfriend doesn't even get a chance to answer your question before you've started talking again. "oh my god, it's a great story. you'll love it. so, i was in a french class when my other friend, sarah-"

lando is smiling subconsciously as you ramble on about your adventures, just as you have ever since he picked you up from the club. his fingers help you slip out of your heels – not that you even seem to understand what's going on, way too focused on speaking – before one of his hands lands on your waist. he takes a deep breath to keep his composure and hold back the laughter threatening to burst from his chest at your continuous gibberish, before he guides you to his bedroom with soft touches. he chuckles quietly at the way you almost take the wrong turn and end up in his kitchen, too engaged in your storytelling to remember the layout of his apartment. he isn't surprised, though, because;

alcohol always makes you blabber.

in most situations, you're not the most talkative, preferring to choose your moments to speak with great care. but when you start to get tipsy, it is like you are the world's greatest extrovert. even after getting just a little alcohol in your system, you talk to anyone with ears, somehow assuming that they're really interested in whatever you're ranting about.

thankfully, if you have your friends around, they usually drag you away by your arm, apologizing to the poor stranger to whom you've over-explained the storyline of your favorite movie.

lando learned about this side effect of your drinking early on in your relationship. on your third date, after sharing a few drinks at a local bar, you wouldn't shut up for half an hour, not giving him a second to interject with anything. he'd been surprised, but mostly confused, until he got your text message the following morning: oh my god, i did it... didn't i?

he'd tried to pretend he didn't know what you meant, wanting to put it all behind you, but you'd persisted. i didn't shut up. i never do when i drink. i'm sorry :(

lando was always one to be quick to forgive and forget, not wanting you to feel too bad. everyone does some questionable things when drunk, and he'd seen tons of people act worse than you did. but after that date, there would be uncountably many more occasions of you not being able to hold back when booze was in the picture. award shows, drinking games at home with friends, podium celebrations. once, he even found you outside a club after a race, sitting on the curb with one of your hands petting a stray dog as your other helped you explain the meaning of life. safe to say, he is used to your habits by now.

so tonight, when he picked you up from your night out with a few of your friends, he wasn't surprised that your mouth didn't shut once during the trip back to his apartment. you were excitedly telling him about the people you'd met and the drinks you'd had, so eager to explain every detail to your boyfriend when you were getting into the car that you forgot about everything around you and he had to lean across the console to put on your seatbelt for you.

most of the time, he finds your habit endearing. but sometimes, like right now, it gets just a little tiresome.

"and then, when jamie came around, she was like, what are you doing?, and i was like, i'm just having some fun!"

you're both sitting on the edge of his bed by now, after lando's helped you change into something more comfortable for the night, your mouth still running like you're one of the gilmore girls. you don't even flinch when his hands reach for your cheeks and he stares intently in your eyes – but he can't do anything other than smile.

lando loves your voice. he loves it when you're whispering something in his ear when you're out with friends, when you're ranting to him about some stupid coworker, and maybe especially when you're moaning and whining his name.

but now, he reckons you've talked enough for today. your vocal cords must be sore, and his ears are about to fall off, so it's time to call it a night – and he only sees one way to shut you up.

mid-sentence, lando leans in, pressing his lips to yours. he swallows the yelp you let out in surprise, one of his hands gliding to the back of your neck to keep you close. it doesn't take long for you to relax into the kiss, your lips moving with his while your hands reach for the neckline of his hoodie.

it's so easy to get lost in kissing lando. when he parts the kiss, you find yourself wanting to seal your lips again, already missing the feeling. your mind is now completely blank; all you can think of is the kiss. the man beside you laughs at your hazy expression, utterly amused by how you're suddenly quiet for more than five seconds (something he's sure hasn't happened yet tonight).

when you slowly open your eyes, the very content look on lando's face makes something click in your mind. he sudden kiss, his big grin...

"was i rambling again?"

the silence that follows gives you your answer, and you throw your head back as you let out a little groan. "hey, don't worry about it."

"i really didn't mean to. you know how it is, it just happens, and i don't really feel it as it happens, you know? it's just, the alcohol, it's not my intention. i actually told sarah today that-"

and for the second time, lando pulls you into him, quieting you down with his own lips. this time, as you (for the most part) understand what he's doing, you can't help but giggle into the kiss. your boyfriend matches your smile, taking your bottom lip between his teeth as a joking warning. he lets it flop back against your teeth as he pulls away to look at you again, but you've already lunged forward, head resting against his shoulder.

"i'm sorry," you start, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. "i really am."

his arms snake around your waist before he leans back against the bed, pulling you down with him and into his side. "don't be," he answers, one of his hands reaching up to the back of your head, stroking your hair. "it's cute. you're cute." you continue hiding in his skin and he makes himself more comfortable in bed, pulling the blanket over you both. "we'll talk more tomorrow, okay?"

he feels you shake your head. "i'm done talking. i've talked enough. you know those tiktok videos where you only have a certain amount of words you're allowed to say every year? that's me. i've run out of words, i used them all today."

"oh yeah, i can tell," lando chuckles, pressing his lips to the top of your head. "close your eyes, baby. tell me about those tiktok videos tomorrow."

"didn't you hear me? i said no more words. i won't talk tomorrow because-"

lando sighs. it's going to be a long night.

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eternal-letters · 3 months

Text

— ꒰⁠ Twisted Wonderland ꒱

｡ ✉️ (II)

❝ I want to protect you— From all harms way. ❞

꒰ 💐 ꒱

Character(s) — Azul Ashengrotto, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia — (Separate)

Content — Fluff + Comfort + Angst (Just a portion) + Established relationship + Use of endearments + Mentions of bullying + Crying (Reader) + Word count: 7k

Note: Some are longer than others. That is not intended.

꒰ 💐 ꒱

｡꒰⁠ 💐 ꒱ — Azul Ashengrotto

Azul glances over at you— At your sleeping form on the sofa in his office. He can't help but have a soft smile form across his face.

He stands up from his chair— After placing the paper he was reading down on his desk. Azul makes his way over towards your resting figure.

He crouches down— Leaning over a bit to rest an arm on the small amount of freespace available.

Azul takes his time to admire your facial features— He lifts a hand to gently caress away any stray hairs on your face.

Azul's face flushes a soft rosy colour as he notices your eyes slowly opening— He didn't expect his gesture to wake you up. Azul starts panicking a little on the inside.

You see Azul— His face flushed and embarrassed. He immediately looks away, he can't look you in the eyes.

You sit up on the sofa— Rubbing your eyes from any lingering sleep. You gaze contently at Azul— Relishing the current look he has at the moment. All flustered and shy around you— Just you.

Azul turns his head just slightly— Just enough so he could look at you. His gaze towards you is always so soft— Loving.

Whenever Azul looks in your eyes, he would most often recall the time when you broke down one day— Telling him of the history of your eyes back in your world. The immense bullying due to your individual difference.

It pains Azul— So much as he hates seeing you cry. Those endearing eyes that he finds himself staring at the most— Filled with tears of your suffering. He understands the feeling of being bullied.

Ever since— Azul has been reminding you of such good things about your eyes. Almost everyday— Praising your individual uniqueness.

By kissing your eyes ever so delicately— Always mumbling a set of words. Gently caressing every inch of your face— Especially your eyes.

Azul snaps out of his thoughts when you call out to him. As recently— He's been zoning out more ever since you've mentioned about being bullied back in your world, merely because of your eyes— You find that concerning.

"Have you slept well, my pearl?", Azul asks in order to distract you— He speaks in a loving tone that he uses whenever he talks with you.

Azul gives you a smile— Then leans over to give you a gentle kiss on the lips before you can say anything. He takes hold of your hand— Giving your hand a small squeeze of affection.

As if telling you that he'll be able to protect you now— With every fiber of his being.

꒰ 💐 ꒱

｡꒰⁠ 💐 ꒱ — Vil Schoenheit

Vil doesn't like it— He doesn't like it one bit.

Vil dislikes how you would often turn your face and hide it from him. Is it so wrong for him to want— To have a need to look at your facial features that he very much adores?

One day— Vil has had enough of your behaviour. Which led to his fingers between your cheeks— Holding you firmly in place by your jaw. He leans over.

"My love— Why do you keep avoiding your gaze at me?", Vil asks you calmly— He adjusts your head at an angle. An angle just so that he could see your entire face.

He sighs lovingly— His features soften. But that doesn't last long when he notices that you were squeezing your eyes shut. Vil presents a frown.

"Look at me.", Vil's tone is firm— Commanding yet soft. He doesn't want to scare you.

You follow suit to Vil's order— Hesitantly opening your eyes. His features relax— He replaces his firm grip on your jaw by cupping your face in his hands. You could feel his thumbs gently caressing the sides of your cheek.

"That's better..", Vil says in a satisfied tone— Something that tells that he's pleased. Relieved even. His eyes stare directly into your own— You could see how warm his eyes look. "I'll say this again— Why do you keep avoiding your gaze at me?"

You remained silent— Vil detected a distressed expression on your features. He presses his lips together— Feeling his heart clench just by your look.

"What's wrong? Your expression hurts me..", Vil's voice drops to a soft whisper— He continues to gently caress your cheeks.

You tell him— You were hesitant about it first, but everything just poured out gradually. Vil listens— His brows frowned.

Vil repeats every word in his head. The bullying you've endured back in your world— Simply because of your eyes. The eyes that he finds so attractive and unique.

Every word— It pained him so much. You soon finished— Your tears threatening to fall from your slightly reddened eyes.

"Unfortunate, truly..", Vil breathes quietly. He doesn't know how to feel— Yet he feels a sense of annoyance. "My love, those potatoes simply do not understand your beauty."

Vil brushes his thumbs towards your eyes— Wiping the tears that have now fallen from your eyes.

꒰ 💐 ꒱

｡꒰⁠ 💐 ꒱ — Idia Shroud

Idia started to attend his classes in person more. That reason being— Just so he can be able to see you.

Idia was willing to endure the interactions with others— The crowded noisy environment— As long as he's able to see you. To hear you naturally— To also be able to gaze at a set of features that he cannot resist staring at.

Your eyes bring Idia so much comfort— He can stare at them all day. Everyday. He'll even choose you— Over everything.

It's unfortunate that you don't have any classes with him— But being able to see you in the hallways and during lunch is always a thought in his head. In which makes him gather the willpower to attend a lot of things in person— Only if he knows you're attending.

Upon one particular evening— He was just having lunch with you. As your friends had gotten into trouble with some students— And now serving their time healing in the infirmary.

You had finished eating early— As you just wanted to rest. You haven't been resting very well— And Idia knows why.

You've been having nightmares— Ones of bullying. The bullying back in your world— Only because of your eyes. Idia's stomach churns seeing you cry and suffer— Yet, he feels like the people back in your world are people who aren't worth anything— It upsets him.

Ortho notices Idia's hair changing colour— A flame of red and orange. Ortho is quick with his words.

"Ah! Brother!", Ortho talks in order to snap Idia out of his thoughts— He succeeds in doing so. "I've scanned them and they're in a deep sleep! Why not hold their hand?"

Idia's eyes perked up at his younger brother— Then at your sleeping form. He slowly incases your hand with his own under the table— Making sure to not wake you up, or to be caught by other people other than his brother.

It would be so embarrassing— Having you or people know that he would often hold your hand in secret when you sleep. As he wants to be able to comfort you.

To provide you a sense of warmth and safety— Even if he himself can't even hug you without burning up. As long as you're not crying in your slumber— He's content.

꒰ 💐 ꒱

｡꒰⁠ 💐 ꒱ — Malleus Draconia

Malleus stares at you— Directly at your face most specifically.

"Child of man..", Malleus says— In order to get your attention. "I've always wondered.."

Malleus pauses a bit— His heartbeat almost quickens the more he looks at your facial features. He controls his breathing— Trying to compose himself.

"Your eyes.. are so unique..", Malleus leans down in order to get to eye level with you. He softly places both of his hands on your face— He gazes at you tenderly. "So gorgeous."

With those words— Malleus notices your eyes glossing up, along with a faint rosy blush adorning your features. His eyes widened a bit in surprise.

"Child.. of man? My lo—", Malleus stops mid sentence. His eyes filled with panic— As he sees that you're crying. It pained him.

Malleus immediately removes his hands from your face— Slightly stepping back to create some distance. He just stared at you— Bewildered. Malleus immediately assumes that he's done or said something wrong. The sudden crying is unexpected.

You notice this— You wiped your tears as you reassured him that he did nothing wrong. You told him why you were crying in the first place— In order to ease his mind.

You told Malleus about the bullying you had to endure back at your world— Just because of your eyes. You've felt insecure about it.

Malleus listens— Nodding his head to signal that he's listening. He seems calm— But the slight income of a brewing storm says otherwise. The skies dark and green— A single strike of thunder immediately halted your words.

Malleus is upset— You quickly held his hand, the skies clear. You sighed in relief mentally.

However— The lingering thought of you being bullied, because of your eyes? Malleus truly cannot believe it. His brows frowned— Then disappeared as soon as you looked up at his own vibrant eyes.

Malleus facial features softened— His heart feeling warm. He leans down— Giving you a quick peck on your forehead.

His fingers traces the corners of your eyes— The touch so tender. Malleus whispers something— Almost inaudible but you could make sense of it.

"Those beings are foolish..", Malleus softly sighs. The look in his eyes— It radiated so much warmth as he couldn't help but stare at you for a very long time. "So foolish for doing such actions towards someone so enchanting.."

꒰ 💐 ꒱

Sincerely— Eternal Letters

꒰⁠ Thank you for reading ꒱

｡ December 21, 2023 — February 11, 2024

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psychedelic-ink · 3 months

Text

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ⸻ 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader

⌜HOW MR. MILLER STOLE CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST⌟

genre: enemies to lovers, romance, fake dating, minors dni

word count: 3.7k

chapter summary: hanging garlands around town goes horribly wrong when you decide to decorate one of the polls. luckily a stranger with a rather soothing voice talks you through it and helps you down. But much to your surprise, he doesn't seem to be a stranger at all but rather a reminder of the past you've been trying to escape from.

warnings: age gap, canon typical violence, reader having a fear minor fear of heights, some threats, a brief make-out scene at the end, drinking

**dividers by @saradika

Jackson is everything you never expected in such a cruel world.

It’s been only a week since your arrival, yet you already feel fully incorporated into the community. Tommy and Maria Miller had surprisingly taken a liking to you. Later on, you learned that, especially Maria, wasn’t that keen on newcomers. If you had to guess why she decided to take you in, it would be the fact that you were half-dead and a mile away from their doorstep. It was cold, very cold. You still remembered how the wind sliced against your cheeks. When you came to, you met Tommy Miller. His smile was genuine and vaguely familiar for a reason you couldn’t quite understand. He had shown you around, then led you to your new home.

A home. Something you’d thought wasn’t possible anymore.

Something that you would protect to keep, no matter what.

It was a bit rundown, but solid nonetheless, like most of the survivors. Despite being only one person, the home they provided had three rooms and two bathrooms. You felt spoiled. You’d told Tommy about it, he had just laughed it off saying that after everything you’ve been through you deserve a decent roof over your head.

The words had stung at the time. He didn’t know who you were or what you’ve done. Jackson was a small community so you knew that Tommy Miller had been somewhat involved with the Fireflies but not like you. Never like you.

You feel slightly nauseous thinking about it. Snow crunches loudly under your boots as you make your way to Tommy’s. It’s lonely not being able to talk, not being able to say what you’re thinking freely. Most of the time it just feels like you’re looking through the other side of the glass, never truly comfortable around people that you frequently conversed with.

Standing in front of the door you take a deep breath, your skin tickles as your lungs expand with crisp cold air and you smile faintly upon the exhale. It’s hard, but you shouldn’t be complaining. You don’t have to fight to stay alive anymore. You don’t have cuts and bruises, you’re not a soldier anymore—you’re free.

Your mind drifts off only for a second, to that day when you made your escape. You would’ve been dead if it wasn’t for the man who spared you. His vacant gaze is still vivid in your head, waking you from sleep from time to time.

You follow your first knock with a second one. Heavy footsteps reach your ears and the door opens with a loud creak. Tommy’s eyes shine bright as he sees you, a half smile tugging at his mouth. If you had to call someone a friend it would certainly be him.

“Hey there Pecan,” he says. “Ready for some decoratin’?”

“Can I get out of it if I say no?”

He scoffs, “Don’t be a baby. It’ll be fun.”

“How is labor fun?”

You grin broadly and upon seeing it Tommy rolls his eyes. Stepping forward, he closes the door behind him. “You’re the goddamn second person to tell me that, you know.”

“Who beat me to it?”

“My pain in the ass brother.”

The two of you walk to the back to get the garlands. Everyone in Jackson had pitched in to make them, including you. “I keep forgetting you have a brother. Why haven’t I seen him yet? Does he hate you or something?”

“I’d say the opposite,” he huffs, opening the door of the garage. It’s full of boxes with “Christmas” written in bold letters. Luckily you don’t have to deal with those today. Only the garlands. “He’s like a mother hen. Too overbearin’. His name’s Joel and if you decide on gettin’ a tree you’ll see his ugly mug.”

You doubt that anyone related to Tommy would be ugly but you decide to keep that to yourself. “Why is that?”

“Maria appointed him as Christmas tree farmer. You can imagine his joy upon hearin’ that.”

“All by himself?” you ask a bit surprised.

“Nah. He has a couple of helpers but they work in shifts, everyone is pitching in chopping down the trees and getting them where they need to go. You’re free to help him out if you’re so worried.”

“I’m not,” you say a bit too quickly when seeing Tommy’s grin. “It just felt a bit unfair for an old man.”

“He might be old but he’s a fuckin’ beast,” he answers, leaning down and picking up one of the boxes. You follow, you take two since garlands aren’t exactly heavy. “I’ve never seen anyone as resilient as him. Honestly, it scares the shit out of me sometimes.”

“You can say that about a lot of people here.”

“You’ll understand what I mean when you meet him.” He heads out the garage and so do you, both of you leaving deep footprints on the snow as you head to the heart of the community. “And do please call him old man in person. I wanna see the look on his face.”

“I’m not going to sacrifice my well-being so you can laugh at your brother, Tommy.”

“You disappoint me, Pecan.”

Damn, Tommy Miller and his stupid stupid garlands.

You have no idea how long it’s been since you started hanging them all around town. You and Tommy had split up, deciding that it would be faster. At the time it made perfect logical sense but now, as your heart rams into your chest while decorating one of the polls, you decide it was a stupid ass idea.

You’re not exactly scared of heights but you’re not a fan of them either. Every time the ladder creaks, you have a miniature heart attack. You’d feel much safer if Tommy were holding the legs, even though you know it wouldn’t help much if the damn thing collapsed. You hear the faint chatter coming from below. Some people staring as you wrap the stubborn garlands around the cylinder wood. You hate this. Hate it, hate it, hate it.

When you’re finally done and about to climb back down, you can’t move.

“Fuck,” you hiss loudly, knowing that no one can hear you. You glance down—big mistake. Your entire body freezes over, your fingers tight around the poll. You have half the mind to hug the damn thing. Your throat tightens and you look up. This is it, after everything you’ve been through, you’re going to fucking die while hanging fucking garlands—

A strong gust of wind blows, swaying the ladder side to side, a sharp scream rips from your throat, and this time you do hug the pole. You notice a small crowd gathering. Another blow of wind and the unstable surface ceases to exist, you barely manage to bring your legs around the poll.

Screams and shouts that don’t belong to you reach your ears and you hope no one got hit by the ladder. Oh god. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, sweat beading from every pore despite the cold.

“Slide down!” you hear someone shout. A man, you register. A man with a deliciously raspy and deep voice. “Just slide down damn it!”

“No!” you shout back. “It took me hours wrapping the damn garlands I’m not doing it again!”

A weak excuse but still valid nonetheless. If you slide down all that work it rook the town to make these things would get destroyed thanks to your body. And even if it doesn’t, the damn things would slide down with you. There’s no way you’re climbing back up here. At least not until hell freezes over.

“You’re gonna fall and the ladder is busted,” the man shouts back. “And from the quiverin’ of your legs, I don’t think you’ll last until Greg brings the other one!” You hug the poll tighter, he was right, your legs—especially your thighs—were about to give out. And as if he can read your mind, the voice shouts out once more. “I’ll hang the damn things myself and fix’em up, just slide your ass down before your legs fuckin’ give out!”

You’re starting to get a bit lightheaded. Adrenaline and fear make your breathing uneven and quick. The disembodied voice is right. If you don’t slide down now your body is just going to give up and you are going to crack your head against the ground. A sharp exhale parting your lips, you finally start sliding down. You loosen your limbs, groaning every time you feel the needles of the garland ripping away and presumably falling above the snow. Fuck. You hope the stranger is good with his hands.

“That’s it, atta girl,” you hear him say, ignoring the way your body slightly clenches at the praise. “Just go down, I’m right here.”

More voices start to reach your ear the more you go down. You hear the voice of a girl, “I would’ve died if that happened to me. Holy shit.”

The man grunts, “Now’s not the time, Ellie. Keep your opinions to yourself.”

By the time you reach the end, your breathing is ragged and you can barely feel your legs. The man who’s been talking you through it holds you gingerly from the waist and pulls you away from the poll. Your feet skip over each other and you end up tripping backwards, right into the stranger's chest. You feel the warmth of his breath tickling the back of your head as you both end up falling. His body breaks your fall, his large hands still holding you from the waist. A pleasant shudder runs up your spine and you find yourself relaxing.

The crowd inches closer, a worried clammer coming from all directions. However, all you can focus on is the girl standing right across from you. She’s wearing a thick coat, her hair in a neat ponytail. She’s giving you a curious look, she also looks amused.

Your brows furrow, the brown of her eyes familiar.

“You plannin’ on gettin’ off me sweetheart?”

You push yourself up, realizing you're still sprawled on top of the stranger. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you scramble to stand, muttering apologies. He chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that sends a shiver through you.

"Easy there, no harm done," he says, getting up as well. The crowd disperses now that the crisis is averted, leaving you alone with the man and the girl, who's still watching you with that curious expression. “You a’right? That was quite a journey down.”

“I’m. . .” You turn towards him, still feeling disoriented, still feeling a bit shaky. You’re about to tell him you’re alright, and possibly thank him right after, but the words die in your throat. You hear the loud beat of your heart. Thud thud thud. The world is turning, spinning. You open and close your mouth, over and over again. His eyes meet yours. The same brown eyes you’ve seen in countless sleepless nights.

You don't forget the face of the person who determines your fate.

And in his case, you don’t forget the face of the person who spared you.

Recognition slowly flickers across his weathered features. It’s so subtle. His lips part ever so slightly, eyes in the midst of going wide but keeping his eyelids neutral. He blinks heavily and snaps his lips tightly shut. You do the same. Your mouth now a thin line as you take each other in.

Then you see the recognition, the surprise, turn into anger. You’re a brutal reminder of his past and what he’s done to get here.

“Joel,” the girl hisses, nudging him with an elbow. “Don’t be an asshole.”

You blink, eyes snapping to the girl. . . Ellie. . . the immune girl.

Despite her harsh warning, neither of you speak. You are eyeing each other like wild animals wanting to protect their territories. Your legs are still shaking, your body trembling. He looks different but at the same time not at all. There’s no blood on him, no weapons. And the vacant look you’ve grown accustomed to is now full of emotion.

No one notices Tommy until he’s standing next to Ellie, his chest heaves as he tries to gather his breath. His gaze fixed on you, “You a’right there pecan?”

You freeze once more. The familiarity you’ve always felt around him—

“He’s your brother,” you state. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as he nods. You feel sick.

“I’ve heard what happened are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” You’re not. Joel is still staring at you, taking in every detail. You take hold of yourself and force some emotion other than fear to flicker across your face. “I’m fine thanks to your brother, the ladder collapsed and I had to slide down,” you turn to Joel, ignoring the taste of blood in your mouth. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The playful lilt in his tone was completely gone. Ellie jumps forward, quickly taking your hand, everyone except you misses the way Joel flinches, jerking forward. “I’m Ellie and this caveman here is Joel.”

You clear your throat, “Nice to meet you Ellie and. . . “ You meet his gaze once again and say carefully. “Joel.”

He doesn’t say a word as you introduce yourself. Thankfully Tommy whistles and all eyes turn towards the ruined garland and the pine needles scattered above the snow. “Fuck. It’s gonna take days to fix this.”

“We still have time don’t we Uncle Tommy?” Ellie asks. “Joel offered to help fix it and hang it.”

Tommy’s head snaps towards Joel, a lopsided smile stretching across his lips as he shoots him an amused look, “Did he now?”

Ellie’s look matches her uncle’s, “He did.”

“Well then,” Tommy says, slapping his brother’s back. Joel glares at him, his brows knitted tightly together. “I’ll leave it up to you.”

“We should go,” Joel says suddenly, grabbing Ellie’s arm and dragging her away. Both you and Tommy are left dumbfounded as you watch Ellie furiously waving.

“Nice meetin’ you pecan!”

“Good,” Tommy grins, prompting your sharp glare. “The nickname is catching on.”

Alcohol buzzes in your system, making you grin like a fool as you lean back against the makeshift bar, enjoying the sight of everyone dancing and laughing. After a boring meeting of who would be doing what during the Christmas season, everyone had rushed out to get the bonfire ready. Faint music hummed in the background. Festive songs you’ve hadn’t heard since you were a little girl. You only recognize the melodies since you were a kid when you last heard them, the lyrics you can’t quite remember.

You watch Tommy and Maria from the corner of your eyes, he had his arms wrapped snugly around her waist. They were happy. Deep inside you can’t help but be envious. You hadn’t met a lot of people since coming here, it was hard to make friends when you felt undeserving of the comfort you received.

Your skin tingles as you remember Joel’s hands firm against your waist. You’ve felt something before recognizing him. Something sweet and playful. But it was ripped away thanks to your intertwined past. He was death. You can’t forget that. You wonder if Ellie knew what he’d done for her, you wonder if Tommy knew.

Shaking your head you take another swig of your drink. All these thoughts were sobering you up. You can’t have that. You need to relax, to forget. But despite knowing that, a nasty feeling of worry brews in your gut. What if Joel tells them? What if he makes the case that you’re dangerous and did unspeakable things for the cause? Will Tommy and Maria throw you out then—or worse—kill you? Joel is Tommy’s brother after all. . . you. . . you are nothing.

There’s a flicker of movement and a ripple amongst the crowd, lifting your head you see Joel giving Tommy a quick hug. He says something to Maria, a greeting you assume, and you notice Ellie heading off with Dina. Your heart skips a beat. You should go home, or at least stop staring at the man but you can’t. He’s the one you’ve been thinking about ever since you left the damn hospital. It was his eyes you’ve seen the nights you were jolted awake from the horrors the world had to offer.

You can’t decide on what to do and because of that, you’re suddenly facing an icy cold gaze from him. His lips are downturned, shoulders raised. You think about smiling, maybe raising your drink but you decide it would only add fuel to the fire.

A minute passes, a minute that feels like an hour, and he finally rips his gaze off of you, turning to Tommy instead. He squeezes his younger brother’s shoulder and quickly disappears.

You feel an unwarranted rage at him leaving. Running away. And suddenly you’re on your feet, following him. You can see his footsteps in the snow. You’re not sure what you’re going to say to him but you have to say something. This is your home now too and he won’t be taking that away from you. You’re not leaving after finding some semblance of peace.

You follow the footprints to a narrow space between two buildings. You notice moss in the cracks of the wood. You frown. Where the hell is he? There isn’t any place else to go from here, it’s a dead end.

You turn on your heel, only to come to an immediate stop.

His expression is dark, a harsh sneer on his face that makes you stop. You remember the stories, the ones about the things he’d done to survive. You swallow thickly and take a step back, but he reaches out and shoves against the wall. You gasp as Joel’s arm presses against your throat, your back hitting the wall with a painful thud.

"You’ve got some nerve, showin’ your face around here," he growls, pressing you harder against the wall. You can feel his warm breath against your face, his forearms causing you to struggle for air. But you refuse to back down, refusing to let him intimidate you. You stare right back into his angry eyes. “Tell me what you want.”

“Nothing,” you hiss. “I just wanted to talk to you, clear the air.”

“Clear the air of what?” he leans closer, your nose almost brushing. “You’ll leave right now.”

“No I fucking won’t,” you snap and claw at his arm. It’s getting harder to breathe. “Jackson’s my home too.”

His eyes narrow and he presses forward, fully cutting the airflow. There’s a vicious throbbing in the back of your eyes and tears gather in the corners. “I should’ve fuckin’ killed you when I had the chance,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You don’t know what to do, you can barely speak, only whimpers leaving your parted lips. You attempt to kick at his legs but he simply moves out of the way.

How can this be the same man who held you so gently before?

“Take this as a warnin’,” Joel loosens his grip, your lungs filling with delicious oxygen. “If I see you anywhere near Ellie—”

“Oi Miller, what the fuck are you doing?”

You should be relieved. You really fucking should. But seeing the panic flaring in his eyes, a similar emotion starts coursing through your veins. You both tense and you feel your skin growing taut over your body. Your eyes shift between him and the two friends standing. You recognize them, one of them is Marc, and the other Steven. Twins. Your eyes move gradually back to Joel, he meets your gaze, your eyes drop to his lips, a plan forming in your head—an ill-advised plan, but a plan nonetheless.

You kiss him.

You fucking kiss him.

The arm on your throat immediately drops and you fist the front of his shirt, pulling him closer until he’s flushed against you. His body feels solid against your own. Strong and tall. He hesitates, his lips still as stone. Not knowing what else to do to make it more convincing, you tilt your head, lick the seam of his lips, and moan absurdly into his closed mouth. Joel starts moving then. His hands trail down the sides of your body and grip your hips, squeezing as he moves his mouth.

Everything about the moment lingers. The kiss, the closeness, everything. His hands twitch and you find yourself rolling your body towards him, feeling the semi-bulge underneath his pants. When a second moan escapes you it’s not for show. Heat licks the base of your spine, your entire being screaming for him to come closer and closer and closer—

He stops. It’s sudden and cold. However, you take the hint and with a lazy smile turn to the men watching you with dropped jaws. Joel doesn’t bother to look in their direction, he’s still holding you, allowing you to use his shoulder somewhere to lean against. His grip on you is tight.

“Sorry guys,” you make an effort to slur your speech. “I might’ve had too much to drink and couldn’t keep my hands to myself. Love it when a man is a bit rough.”

You don’t know why but his grip on you instantly loosens. Both Steven and Marc look at you with utter shock.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Marc blurts out. “Get a room you two. There are families out.”

With that they both leave, grumbling to themselves something about young people you can’t quite catch.

When both of you are sure no one is near, Joel shoves you off of him. “What the hell was that?”

“A kiss.”

“Don’t fuckin’ pull that shit with me, people are gonna talk. They’re gonna think I can’t keep it in my pants.”

“Better than them thinking you were gonna kill me,” you say. “You should be thanking me for saving your ass,” you answer, trying very hard not to look down at the front of his pants. “Don’t worry so much nothing is going to happen. They’ll talk a day or two and then it’ll just blow over.”

He doesn’t seem that convinced, “Fine,” he grunts and you start to take your leave. Your mind is swirling with unidentifiable emotions. You need time to think. “I was serious, stay away from Ellie.”

As if you were the dangerous one here.

“Joel,” you turn to face him one last time for the night. Not prepared to see how his eyes were glossed over, the anger and hatred drained from them. He looks startled. “I’m not leaving my home.”

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