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breitzbachbea · 2 years

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Had an idea for a Jerusalem AU snippet about the beginning of Charlie's and Dilan's unlikely friendship. So enjoy their - supposed - first meeting while Charlie stays behind as a pawn in Jerusalem, so that the rest of the Pilgrims can explore the area around the city in peace.

Suddenly, the door opened and Charlie lifted his head.

He winced the next second when he was faced with a tall woman; her face was wrapped into veils, as was the custom for the place.

He didn’t know that the Na’ib was married, but of course he’d be. The woman seemed to have gotten lost on her way to or from the Harem.

Instead of that, all he got out was a “Greetings?” while she cocked her head.

She said something in the native language – Arab it must have been, though Charlie understood not one sound. As no time passed but she also made no effort to move, he realized it might have been a question. “I’m sorry, I don’t … I don’t … Translator?” he asked. When she frowned, he pointed to his mouth and then his ears while he repeated the word. “Translator ...” He kept eye contact, the brown eyes the only point in her face he could focus anyways. “Dragoman?” A spark of recognition seemed to light up. “Frank! Dragoman … “ he pointed to his mouth again. “Frank.”

She nodded. “Frank,” she said as if she spoke to a little child. Then the door closed and he was left alone again.

Not for long however, as she returned with another man, clad in the customary wear of a Christian or Jew of the place, but with features that very well would have made a French person of him.

And Charlie was in luck, since he did speak French, albeit it broken, and introduced himself as Nicolo. He knew he would have had no luck looking for someone who knew Irish or the Norse language in this place. Harry only ever had found a familiar tongue when he met another Latin speaker.

“She’s asking who you are,” Nicolo said.

“Oh! Well, I’d honestly love to know what I am, here, and all – “

“She means your name.”

“Oh. Right. Charles of the Higgins Clan, from the Liberties.” When even Nicolo gave him a blank stare, he sighed. “Tell her that. And that I am a knight.”

So he did. She seemed pleased with the answer, now interested in giddy. In fact, she squatted down to look at him on his eye level. Something about those eyes seemed familiar …

“She wants to know about the place you're from and your family,” Nicolas said.

“Well, the Liberties are outside of Dublin, which is in Ireland, which is a rich island next to England, Wales and Scotland,” Charlie said. “My father’s name is Connor. We come from Irish and Norse people … Vikings? Ask her about Vikings, does she know what a Viking is?”

Apparently she did, because she said something and then looked with big eyes at Charlie.

“She said that Vikings haven’t come here in a long time. And that … well, she said that the Na’ib did his job right.”

The next moment, the man in question made himself heard and she got up, before she shouted back to him. There was another voice, calmer and more quiet than either the woman or the Na’ib.

She gestured to Nicolo to come with him, so Charlie was alone once the door closed. There were however, windows in the room, and he let his curiosity get the better of him. At least it’d be a story to tell to the others.

And what a story! The woman was standing with her back to the room, but she evidently had taken her veil off while she talked with the Na’ib, just another indicator that she was his wife. Something about the silhouette seemed oddly familiar however …

She then turned to the side as she laughed about something.

Charlie’s eyes went wide and he knocked his nose against the grate in front of the window.

An action he immediately regretted when his eyes met the Na’ib’s. He wondered whether or not he should have ducked when he said something. She – or he? – in turn said something to him. The cheery expression on their face hadn’t darkened a single shade. At least their words seemed to change the Na’ib’s expression from grumpy to merely uninterested.

He used the chance to duck. The two talked for a while longer, sometimes a third voice cut through from further away. Then Charlie heard receding steps.

He wasn’t quite sure what to do with the revelation. His head was too confused to think clearly about what he witnessed.

So lost in thought was he that it came as a surprise to him when the door opened again.

In the doorframe, they stood. The Na’ibs right hand. That’s why the brown eyes had been so familiar. Nothing of the former appearance remained, however – They were clad entirely in the familiar uniform of a Mameluck official.

No veil covered the wide grin.

Half behind her stood Nicolo, who faithfully translated again.

“She tells you to get up. She’s in charge of you now,” Nicolo said.

Charlie forgot to get onto his feet. “She?”

Nicolo made no attempt to translate his surprise until she nudged him. She laughed and then responded.

“Well, only a man can do the job. So she’s a man in the military and a woman in the house.” Nicolo grimaced, obviously very unhappy with what he had just relayed. “She also said that no one in the city would believe you if you told of what you saw … So you might as well know.”

Another thousand thoughts ran through his head. She asked Nicolo something, who responded with “Up”.

She held her hand out to Charlie. “Up!” Finally he got onto his feet. She said something to him.

“We’ll show you the stables and the soldiers training – that should be of interest to a knight like you.”

“Sweaty men on horses? Sure is,” Charlie responded. He put all the confusing thoughts at the back of his mind for now as he followed her and Nicolo. One question had to be asked though: “What is your name?”

She turned around to him after Nicolo had translated. “Dilan,” she said. It was translated with the string of words that followed:

“Dilan, son of Kerîm, right hand of the Na’ib Sadık, son of Alaattin. A military leader.” She beamed with pride.

The mess in his head wouldn’t stay quiet. It was as if he had discovered both an enigma that only ancient philosophers and fairies could come up with and at the same time, the solution to a problem that had plagued him all throughout his life.

“Very well, Sir. Lady. I – “ Charlie looked to Nicolo for help, but received no reaction at all. “Dilan. Very well, Dilan. Thank you for your hospitality.”

She smiled as an answer and then gestured him to follow her again.

#also apparently Dilans dad got a name now. Congratz my dude.#I wondered if I should have rendered the names in Arabic but it really doesn't matter. Charlie knows jack shit about the place.#He has never heard of a Kurd in his life and to his ears Turkish and Arab is all the same - unintelligible.#also there is some gender fuckery afoot. Charlie sees a non-heteronormative way to live and has a epiphany. love that for him.#beablabbers #the pen is mightier than the sword #writing #charlie #dilan #sadık #storie nostre #I was going to have her take her veil off in front of him but that's not proper. it happened in the evagatorium but only after the pilgrims #asked her to. I think Dilan should enough brains and a sense of propriety to not do it in front of strangers who didn't even ask.#i keep thinking about the the good news pippin knows fuck all post bc I recently came across. same reasoning here I guess.#Dilan must have told Sadık that he is prestigious enough to be a good pawn but also comes from some nowhere island and is half people #they don't ever have beef with and also is JUST a knight so. Probably not a spy let's show him the horsies and tell him not to fuck with us #also simply fyi bc I switch pronouns a lot - Dilan is a transwoman who uses she/her.

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reginrokkr · 2 years

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"Babe I'll be the DPS in your domain anyday." ;))

❝...❞

❝Whom am I to deny a challenge? Very well, then. I hope you ready yourself for the grandiosity of the Twilight Sword. En garde!❞

@scarletooyoroi ✦

#scarletooyoroi #◟༺✦༻◞ What use has the veil of falsehood? ┊Ask.┊#◟༺✦༻◞ Sapphire flames in their wake ┊IC.┊#suggestive tw #spoiler: Dain doesn't think #that what he's saying can come across #as dirty in the slightest djfhjg #also don't look at me #but I had to search this up #to understand the innuendo #LMAO

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uzurakis · 24 days

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jjk men w gf who’s overly sensitive and they said something that hurt her feelings? ^___^

FALLING INTO ARGUMENTS?!

featuring: megumi fushiguro. gojo satoru. itadori yuuji. geto suguru.

n. nonnie, allow me to spice your req a bit by make them getting into arguments which hurts your feelings in the process. sorry it took a longer time to write this cause i really don’t want to mess their characterization on this one t—t you also didn’t say i need to end it with comfort so…

GOJO SATORU.

the atmosphere was heavy with tension, as if every breath you took stirred up a storm of unresolved emotions. the soft glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, accentuating the lines of frustration etched into gojo satoru’s face. his piercing gaze fixed into yours, a silent challenge hanging between both like a veil of uncertainty.

as you stood before him, the weight of his dismissive words bore down on you like a crushing weight. it was as if every syllable was a dagger aimed straight at your heart, each one leaving a deep, painful wound that threatened.

you cried out, "i can help, satoru," your voice quivering with a mix of hurt and desperation. "please, just let me help you."

however, his reply felt akin to a blow to the face. "i don’t need your help, alright?" he yelled, his voice snapping like a whip. "i've got this covered myself.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, filling the space between you guys with a palpable sense of defeat.

you begged, your voice almost audible, "but satoru, we're supposed to be in this together. i thought you trusted me. isn't that what relationships are built out of?”. nevertheless, his expression remained impassive, a mask of indifference that hid the pain lurking beneath the surface. “trust has nothing to do with it," he replied, voice colder than you had ever heard it before. "i do better alone."

with those comments, the abyss between you and gojo deepened, threatening to swallow both whole. then as you turned to leave his room, the weight of his rejection settled like a stone in your gut, leaving only a hollow ache and the bitter taste of regret.

the silence of the room was deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning and the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat. every fiber of his being screamed for him to go after you, to swallow his pride and beg for your forgiveness, but something held him back, he didn’t want to pull you into his mess any further.

with a heavy sigh, gojo sank into his chair, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he let out a long, ragged breath. the weight of his actions settled on him like a leaden blanket, suffocating him with its suffocating embrace.

tears threatened to spill from his eyes, but he blinked them back, refusing to let himself break down in the face of his own weakness. he had always prided himself on his strength, on his ability to handle any situation with ease and confidence, but now, in the aftermath of this argument, he felt more vulnerable than ever before.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

"are you okay, megumi?" you asked softly as you reached out to touch his shoulder.

his usually calm demeanor was replaced by a tense energy that crackled in the air, setting your nerves on edge as he flinched away from your touch, his expression hardening as he turned to face you.

he snapped, "i'm fine," in a tone that was unlike anything you had ever heard. "stop asking me that."

the words were like a slap to the face, leaving you feeling with hurt and confusion. all you had wanted was to help him, to ease the burden he carried on his shoulders, but instead, you found myself faced with a wall of anger and resentment.

you tried to protest whilst trembling with suppressed emotions. "you know you can always talk to me, right? you don't have to go through this alone." yet he shook his head, his eyes dark with pain as he pushed you away. "i said i'm fine!” insisted, tone slightly went higher. "just leave me alone."

the tears threatened to spill over, but you just held it down and bit your lips. with a heavy heart, you turned and left his room.

as the door closed behind you, megumi let out a frustrated growl, the sound muffled by the empty room. he cursed himself silently, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as the weight of his harsh words settled heavily on his shoulders.

"damn it," he muttered under his breath, very much thick with regret. "fuck you, fushiguro.”

the memory of your hurt expression haunted him, a reminder of the pain he had caused with his thoughtless words. he had never meant to hurt you, never intended to push you away, but in his fear and uncertainty, he had lashed out without thinking, building walls around himself to keep you out.

now, as he stood alone in the quiet solitude of his room, he realized the magnitude of his mistake. he had pushed away the one person who had always been there for him, the one person who had never given up on him, and now he was left to face the consequences of his actions.

with a heavy sigh, the man sank onto his bed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to make sense of the mess he had created. he knew that he needed to apologize, to make things right, but the thought of facing you again filled him with a sense of dread.

ITADORI YUUJI

under the soft glow of streetlights, yuuji and you found yourselves standing at the edge of a heated argument that threatened to consume the bond between you. the cool night air was heavy with tension, each word you and he exchanged hanging in the air like a cloud of unresolved emotions.

"i just wish you would trust me, yuuji." you said, sounding frustrated as you looked for any indication that he might understand.

however, he shook his head, his expression stubborn and closed off. "i do trust you, but this is different. i need to handle this on my own, babe.”

his remarks pierce deeply. it seemed that he was shutting you down even though all you wanted to do was to help him. you looked at yuuji and said, "i can't just watch you struggle."

"just, give me some time alone, okay?”

the hurt in his voice mirrored your own. as you watched him walk away, the sting of his words lingered like a bitter taste in your mouth. just as you turned to leave, you heard him call out your name, his voice filled with panic and regret. "wait! baby, i'm sorry. i didn't mean it like that."

you turned back to face him, the ache in your chest easing slightly at the sight of his vulnerability. in that moment, you understood that beneath his tough exterior, he was just as scared and uncertain as you were.

"it's okay, yuuji," you calmed him down, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "we'll figure this out together."

GETO SUGURU

you couldn't stand idly by as suguru pushed himself into further depression from time and time again, and tonight, you had finally reached your breaking point.

"suguru, you need to take better care of yourself," you begged, tinged with frustration and concern. "you can't keep treating yourself like this."

“is there really nothing i can do to help you?”

only he scoffed at your worries, waving off your concerns with a dismissive gesture, expression stubborn and unyielding. "i'm fine, babe.” with a deep sigh, geto suguru pointed out, "and what would you know about my problems, huh?" he reacted with resentment.

those words cut deep, leaving you mourning with hurt and disbelief.

"suguru..” you claimed, “do you really think i would just stand there as you destroy yourself? when you mean so much to me?”

his eyes softened at your words, a flicker of regret passing over his features before he shook his head, expression hardening as he turned away from you. "i don't need your help," he spat.

“i can take care of myself."

the finality of his words hung in the air like a heavy weight, crushing the last vestiges of hope that lingered in.

"fuck, i'm sorry," he murmured right before you decided to walk away. "i didn't mean to worry you."

“i, i just don’t know what to do with myself. shit, i’m so sorry.”

you turned back to face him, tears welling in your eyes as he crossed the room to pull you into a tight embrace. his familiar arms curled around you, providing comfort and warmth despite the tension. you could feel his heartbeat against yours, a rhythm that expressed both guilt and tenderness. at last, words were unnecessary as you allowed the quiet to envelope both, saying more than any apology could.

@uzurakis — requests are open! <3

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 6 months

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"Nightwing."

Dick froze halfway across a rooftop, the lights and gunshots of Bludhaven disappearing in an instant. A scowl flashed across his face, teeth clenched and bared, before he forced it back. His face smoothed back out and his voice took on a pleasant, amused tone. "Slade. How did you get this frequency?"

"Nevermind that," Slade scolded. "We have more important things that need discussing, and information to be revealed."

"Is this about Constantinople?" He asked with a lilt, propping one hand on his hip. "Because I thought I told you, those geese totally counted as villains and deserved arrest--"

"I found a child vigilante. What do I do with it?"

"Ex-cuse me?" His fist clenched. "Is this a trick question?"

"No."

"What do you mean, 'what do I do with it?' You know what to do with it; you become its nemisis when their 15 and haunted them for the next decade." His voice was thinly-veiled rage. He couldn't stop himself from shaking. That poor kid, Slade has his sights set on them. He's going to torture that kid, or worse, and now I have to track Slade's trail back to wherever he found this kid--

"I can't do that! He's only eight years old!"

"What?"

"There's this eight year old meta brat running around a Mid-West town in his pajamas while adults shoot at him. There isn't a mentor in sight, and one of the kid's rogues has threatened to skin him. What. Do. I. Do?"

#Dick: IDK man you smelt it you dealt it. congrats on the new kid; i'm sure rose and joey will be happy #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc #c: slade wilson #c: dick grayson #c: danny fenton #child danny fenton #reluctant murder uncle slade wilson #dick grayson's well of unending rage #slade will reluctantly mentor this child #maybe it will help him murder the mayor he was hired to assassinate #Batman: Why did you encourage Deathstroke to steal someone's child!?!?!?#Dick: first of all he's been avoiding child support and custody for over a decade. I'd assumed he'd keep the trend going!

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sea-lanterns · 4 months

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THE DRAGON'S BRIDE

synopsis: (dragon! AU) you were sacrificed to become the dragon's bride.

featuring: ningguang, yanfei, ganyu, xianyun, kokomi, ei

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, transfem characters (all of them), arranged marriage, hemipenes (double c.o.cks), double pene.tration, an.al, monsterfu.cking, size difference, size k.ink, mating cycles, ruts, marking, hum.ping, hand jo.bs, mat.ing press, rough s.ex, breeding, unprotected s.ex, creampies, womb tattoos, fu.cking in middair, not proofread.

art credits: the ancient magus bride

Every twelve years on the year of the dragon, the people of Teyvat offer sacrifices to Celestia’s most powerful beings; the heavenly dragons. Born with the power to bestow good fortune or destruction, the people of Teyvat have started a twelve year tradition, where they must sacrifice the best riches, treasures, food and gold they can, to honor these ancient beings, in exchange for another twelve years of success.

However, on this particular year of the dragon, all the dragons residing in Teyvat have strangely rejected the people’s treasures. Worried that they might be facing a twelve years worth of bad fortune if they failed to please their dragons, the people of Teyvat asked the dragons, "Why did they reject such plentiful treasures?”

The answers that were given were simple, yet heartbreaking.

“I wish for a bride. The most beautiful maiden in your region. I want her to be mine.”

Never had the people of Teyvat sacrificed a person before to the heavenly dragons. It terrified them beyond belief to wonder what would happen to the poor maiden who was chosen to become the dragon’s bride. But, in order to ensure another twelve years of plentiful success, the villages all across Teyvat began picking out the most beautiful woman they could find in their region, and that beautiful woman just so happened to be you.

Dressed lavishly in bright red silks, gold-clad jewelry, and chains binding your wrists together, you were left at the entrance of the dragon’s lair. The veil of your bright red wedding gown had covered most of your face, but underneath the fabric, a solemn expression of defeat wore down your face, tears running down your cheeks as you never expected that your wedding day would end up being sacrificed to a dragon.

A gush of hot air emitted from the entrance, and heavy footsteps began approaching you while you stood there and sobbed. The red veil of your wedding dress obscures your vision, as you see the silhouette of a big, monstrous, hefty dragon begin moving towards you from within the lair…

Too terrified to keep your eyes open, you welded them shut, wishing for your death to be a quick and painless one. However, the moment you felt your veil be lifted up by gentle hands, your eyes flitted open and widened at the sight you saw:

A beautiful, tall, draconian-looking woman, smiling softly at you before wiping away your tears.

NINGGUANG

The moment you two had met, Ningguang had transformed into her human form in order to make you feel more comfortable. Yet despite looking more human-like, she kept traits of her true self, such as her elegant horns, a golden, shimmering tail that protruded from her tailbone, and patches of gold scales that littered her skin in some areas. The human side of Ningguang was a good two feet taller than you as well, with sharp, red eyes that bore deep into your own, yet held a sort of softness with the way she gazed longingly at you.

On the night of your wedding day Ningguang’s eyes were angered at the sight of your wrists bound in shackles underneath the sleeves of your dress. Convinced that you were probably beaten at some point and treated like a prisoner before being wed to her, Ningguang tore those chains off in a fury, kneeling down in front of you and holding your small hands within her claws… You didn’t expect such tenderness from the tall, draconian-looking woman, yet your wife had taken the liberty of looking up at you, showing the respect she had for you as she kissed your bruised wrists with her lips.

“I will not let them hurt you anymore.” She whispered under her breath, and from that day on, you lived with Ningguang as her prized bride, realizing just how much she cared for you in comparison to the people of your hometown. Accepting her warm embrace, you spent your days as her wife being spoiled beyond belief by Ningguang and all her riches. The dragon woman loved to adorn you in the softest silks imaginable, have her jewelry draped across your beautiful body as she kept you curled up against her in her nest. It was clear that Ningguang truly loved you with all her heart, and she was intent on keeping you “marked” with her, till the very end of her immortal life.

Several months had passed of this pure, domestic bliss, until one day, Ningguang began showing signs of entering a rut; a mating period for dragons that gave them the urge to mate. Having sensed when your body had become the most fertile, Ningguang gently nudged your face one night with her nose, humming for her beautiful wife to wake up as she needed to tell you her needs. You were aware that her mating period would be nearing the days of your marriage, however you didn’t expect it to occur in the middle of the night when the both of you were sleeping!

Nevertheless, not wanting Ningguang to spend the rest of the night pent up until you could please her in the morning, you managed to stir yourself awake and sleepily drag your hand down the robe on your dragon wife’s body. Seeing that she was already quite aroused judging by the sight of the two tents stirring underneath her thin clothes, you dipped your hands down to give them a stroke, gently massaging her two cocks while you looked up at her for her expressions.

Breathing heavily, Ningguang stared down at you with those sharp, yet comforting red eyes of hers. “Undress me properly, dear.” She spoke in an authoritative tone, a smirk pulling at her teeth before she flips over to tower over you with her body. Because she was so much taller than a regular human, she loomed over you like a dark shadow, eyes glowing a fiery red, as she helped you slip off her robe and reveal her slim, yet well toned body.

Agile that she was, your wife quickly made work of pulling your nightgown off, kissing your neck and letting her two cocks drip their precum down to lubricate your thighs. Just like her body, lithe and slim, her cocks were just the same; on the slimmer side, yet still quite long with the way they hit against your cunt during your intense make out session with your lover.

Using her long fingers to massage your folds and get you wet enough to take both her lengths, Ningguang leaned down to whisper into your ear, unable to contain herself as she practically purred. “Such a good wife…so wet and warm for me…” She chuckled darkly at the way you got even wetter at her praise, your wife deciding that you were ready and pulling your legs closer to her so that they could wrap around her hips. In one swift move, Ningguang pushed the first tip in, spearing open your folds as her second cock rested just above your pelvis, still dripping precum onto your skin while she got you to adjust to her first penetration.

It’s no secret that dragons were big, strong creatures, yet when it came to their dick size, they surely put humans to shame. At the feeling of being stuffed full by just one of Ningguang’s cocks, you felt as if you were being engulfed by her entire body, your wife grunting and biting your neck as she slowly thrusted her hips into you at a slower pace. Each drag of her hips left the ribbed texture of her shaft rubbing wonderfully against your walls, making you whimper softly into your wife’s ear as she eases her way deeper into you, forming a small but noticeable bulge in your stomach.

Hours would go by of Ningguang just folding you in half. Breeding you, fucking you, just claiming you as hers over and over again as she filled your womb with her seed. It seemed that your wife could go on for even days, but at one particular orgasm, something felt different. As she shot yet another hot load through your womb, you felt a sudden burning sensation on the skin above where your womb would be. At your surprised yelp for help, Ningguang stopped her movements and immediately opened her eyes, staring down at you before gasping at the mark that had appeared on your skin.

A womb tattoo had appeared, an emblem unique to Ningguang’s status as a dragon, as it showed that the rut had successfully claimed you as Ningguang’s mate. Too happy to even care about the sex at the moment, your dragon wife immediately peppered your face in kisses and wrapped her long tail around your body, still sheathed inside you whilst she trailed the mark with her fingers.

“Bounded forever by this mark, I promise you will be spoiled beyond recognition, my love.” She whispered, wanting to be as close to you as possible, as your body had long accepted being the dragon’s mate a long time ago. The matter of her sex drive was no longer on the mind of the insatiable dragon, but the thoughts of actually having a future with you, was all that Ningguang needed to think about to satisfy her needs.

YANFEI

A dragon of morals and righteous principles, Yanfei was a dragon that intimidated you with how upright and intelligent she was the first time you met her. Upon first meetings, Yanfei had chosen her human form to greet you at the front entrance of her lair, her stature standing about just one foot taller than you, and having patches of green scales that littered her smooth skin.

The moment Yanfei laid eyes on you, the dragon woman immediately tensed up when she lifted up your veil, breath caught in the fiery dragon’s throat, as she never expected her human bride to be this beautiful. Her expression was quite adorable to say the least, a blush adorning the dragon woman’s features as she wiped away your tears that were streaming down your face. “Please don’t cry, my bride. Let me get those shackles off of you. You’re my wife, not my prisoner, I can’t believe they’d hurt such a beautiful thing…”

Though Yanfei was a dragon of morals and the law, it was evident that despite the calm exterior of her expressions, Yanfei was practically bubbling with anger. If she could, she would head down to your village to burn everything to a crisp for treating you so horribly, but because that was considered “unlawful” in her eyes, she settled for just having your abusers scorched to a cinder, while you were kept protected in her lair.

Of course, she’d never tell you she’d do that outright. Instead, Yanfei just keeps you in the safety of her den, surrounded by a library of law books from every time period and region of the world. When you showed even the slightest interest in reading one of the books from her massive collection, your dragon wife’s tail began wagging with how excited she was to show you and teach you the ways of the law. Whether or not you were genuinely interested in learning about the law is up to you, but it was worth it to see such a high and mighty dragon get so giddy and seat you in her lap, reading to you all the different laws she could find while stroking your stomach affectionately.

Domestic life with your dragon wife is quite the pleasure if I do say so myself. Yanfei often spent her time with you curled up in her nest, one hand on your stomach while she spooned you from behind with her long tail wrapped around your thighs. Sometimes the two of you would get frisky with each other as Yanfei had a surprisingly high libido, but it usually only ended up with Yanfei fingering you from behind, or you giving her a small handjob while you read law books together in the safety of her nest. It never usually escalated from that, however things started changing around the springtime of your marriage…

This time, what usually was your “cuddling time” had turned into more of a “humping time” as Yanfei started to get more turned on when the seasons changed. Sensing that a rut was on the horizon, Yanfei whispered into your ear that it was time to claim you as hers once and for all, grinding her erections against your rear while breathless whimpers left her lips.

Eager to please your horny dragon wife, you turned around in her grasp and palmed her stiffie through the thin fabric of her clothes, adoring the way she growled with pleasure under her breath, suddenly pinning you down due to the draconian instinct of wanting to breed you right away. When you let out a surprised noise at her sudden string of dominance, Yanfei’s bright green eyes flickered with desire, steam leaking past her teeth with how hot her breath was, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit turned on at how hot this all was…

Fangs protruding from her teeth, Yanfei marked your body from your neck, all the way down to your tummy. With your clothes now strewn off, you got to see the mouthwatering sight of Yanfei’s two cocks just dripping with need, eager to slot themselves inside you and breed their wife silly with their warm, hot, seed. After a bit of prep, your dragon wife slowly slid herself in, her cocks a bit smaller, but on the girthier side when it came to actually fitting herself in.

With each thrust, Yanfei grunted and practically lifted your hips off the bed to fuck deeper into your cunt, serpentine tongue lolling out of her lips, as she couldn’t help but groan at the feeling of a tight, human pussy clenching so desperately around her. She wasn’t used to this, but hell did it feel so good. Pounding her hips into your thighs and purring at the way her cocks made a bulge in your stomach from how deep she was going inside of you.

It wasn’t long before your dragon wife finally reached her high, shooting her hot, thick load into you and successfully breeding you for the very first time. You felt the burn of a womb tattoo successfully mark itself on the stomach of your body, and at the blissful sigh of pleasure, Yanfei cooed before kissing the mark with her lips and carefully nibbling on it to show her love. A lovestruck expression on the young dragon’s face, as she was extremely pleased to have her bride finally marked down for herself.

GANYU

One of the friendliest dragons that resided in Teyvat, rarely anyone is afraid of the dragon named “Ganyu.” The first time you met, Ganyu took on a very gentle and mature form that gave her the appearance of a beautiful, petite, woman. In fact, everything about her was beautiful. From her form, to her lair, to her whole personality as well. Never in your life had you encountered such a caring and gentle “beast,” as Ganyu made sure that you were very comfortable on the first night of your wedding day.

When you first entered her lair, you were astonished to see just how homely it was. Ganyu had taken up the precaution of setting up human-like furniture for you. There was a lavish bed instead of a nest, paintings that adorned the walls instead of crystals, and even a nice, luxurious bath in contrast to a dragon’s usual hot spring. It seems that your new wife was very well prepared in ensuring your utmost comfort, and just seeing how she fidgeted nervously, hoping for your approval, was enough to have your heart beating at how romantic this dragon could be.

Even Ganyu’s dragon form wasn’t terrifying to say the least. While you’ve heard of dragons who were as big as islands, capable of obliterating villages in one, foul breath, Ganyu was quite the fluffy little dragon. She took on the form of a very soft and cuddly creature, just a giant ball of fluff that oozed such warm temperatures. As her wife, you had the luxury of curling up next to her dragon form every night to sleep with, and your dragon wife made quite the wonderful pillow if you did say so yourself.

All in all, living with your dragon wife was a surprising dream come true. She was gentle, protective, soft and sweet with the way she cared for you during your marriage. Domestic life with her was like living on cloud nine itself, but things started to change when springtime rolled around, as you found your wife starting to act more…distant for some reason.

Several times throughout the night, Ganyu would get up from her slumber to go somewhere in the woods and then come back. When you finally confronted her about this, she blushed and nervously admitted that the reason she kept leaving so often in the night was to “relieve” herself of her sexual frustrations. It had struck you then and there that it was Ganyu’s mating season now, and the poor woman had been spending her ruts alone as she didn’t want to freak you out or make you feel uncomfortable!

Ohhhhh poor Ganyu. Even as you were talking, there was a small tent beneath her clothes. She was just so aroused and pent up, but even then she thought about your comforts rather than her own instincts and lust. When you told her how you would be more than willing to help her out, that was all Ganyu needed to hear before excitedly pouncing on you and pinning you down on the bed. Too excited to control her own strength.

Admittedly, Ganyu didn’t seem like the type of woman with a big size. You were wrong. The moment those robes came off, you were met with the sight of two, girthy, hemipenes. Not long at all, but very thick in circumference. You could barely wrap your fingers around them when you tried to give her a hand job, and poor Ganyu was in awe at how small human hands could be in comparison to a dragon’s size. She was terribly worried for your pussy when she realized just how small you were, but the huge difference in your size was one of the biggest factors in turning her on in the first place.

Oh, Ganyu was big. It took almost a half hour of prep but somehow she managed to squeeze both her cocks inside of you. One in your pussy and one up your ass. It was extremely uncomfortable at first, but Ganyu was (as always) super patient and understanding, almost immediately wanting to pull out the moment you showed signs of discomfort. When you wanted to carry on however, oh; she was so smitten. To see her human wife being so determined to take her two draconian cocks, wanting to make dear Ganyu feel the relief she’s been waiting for, oh it made her feel over the moon with how much she loved you…

After a few more minutes of praise and sweet kisses, Ganyu would start to move. She was so startled at how tight a human could be during the mating process, yet she wouldn’t lie and say she wasn’t the least bit turned on. In fact, as she slowly began to move, your tight holes squeezing her so blissfully, Ganyu began letting out breathless moans before thrusting a bit faster into your body. Each push of her hips felt like heaven to you the more you got used to it, and soon you found yourself cumming over her cocks several times throughout the mating process.

When Ganyu finally reached her first climax, cum gushing through your womb, the seal of your mating ritual had finally appeared on your tummy. A sign that Ganyu was your forever mate, bound by your love, and the moment Ganyu saw that you had been claimed, she practically cried tears of joy. “You’re mine…you’re actually mine…!” She couldn’t help but laugh, leaning down to kiss your new womb tattoo. “Thank you for allowing me to be your wife, my human bride…”

XIANYUN

A dragon of the sky, who lived high up in the mountains where no man lived, was a dragon that very few people have ever seen with their own two eyes. A mysterious yet elder dragon of the heavenly dragons, Xianyun was the one you were chosen to be a bride for, and waiting so high up the mountains for her arrival almost made you lightheaded with how little oxygen there was in the first place. Already stress-ridden with the thought of being a dragon’s bride on top of such low oxygen levels, you were on the verge of passing out while waiting for your wife, nearly toppling over if not for the gentle hands that cupped your face.

Upon feeling someone lift up your veil and caress your cheeks, you remember looking up and seeing a mature looking woman with piercing blue eyes. You were too weak to do anything, say anything even, but the moment you locked eyes on your dragon wife, she leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your lips, breathing out a cold, whispery breath that brought air to your lungs. Now filled with the oxygen you needed, your wife wiped the tears from your face and let you rest against her, muttering under her breath. “Human mortals are such delicate creatures. Can’t even breathe properly when the altitude is high…”

Though it sounded condescending, Xianyun placed a kiss on your forehead and brought you into her domain. It was clear that despite her disdain for the humans of this mortal realm, she had a soft spot for the delicate beauty that was you. Her bride to be as she wanted to make sure that you were comfortable in her homeland above the mountains. She cared about you so much in fact, that even after kissing you to give you a spell that’ll allow you to breathe at high altitudes, Xianyun summoned an eternal wind current to regulate the oxygen levels of the mountain. All for you, and only you.

Your dragon wife was a cold one. She gave off a blunt, almost bitter vibe that elderly women seemed to give off. Yet you knew she loved you underneath all that cold exterior, curling up around you with her long, lithe dragon body in bed, feeding you medicinal herbs whenever you got sick, and even bringing you with her on her travels by allowing you to ride her back as she flies. Although she didn’t show it much, you were her most precious lover, and throughout her immortal life, she has never been so infatuated with a human woman like you before…

It wasn’t long before the seasons changed, and your bond with Xianyun grew deeper. Though still somewhat cold and blunt, you saw her begin expressing more shows of affection. Wrapping her arms around you and stroking your thighs with her clawed fingers, you realized that Xianyun began getting more friskier than normal, something hard and firm pressing up against your rear whenever she hugged you from behind. She was not ashamed at the slightest, whispering under her breath into your ear, “My wife, I wish for a family of our own. As I am entering the mating season of this year, please give me the honor of breeding you with my kin.”

Ah, Xianyun. Only she can make something like asking for sex, very romantic yet awkward at the same time. Though you laughed at how she phrased her request at first, you gladly obliged and let the dragon woman take you to bed, letting her maturity and experience guide you for the mating process. Xianyun was no virgin, after all she was an immortal, however; she found your inexperience absolutely adorable, as she slowly stripped off all your clothes and took in the breathtaking sight of her human wife before her.

She never found humans to be that pretty, but the sight of you was just too gorgeous to take in. Immediately once your clothes were off, Xianyun’s two lengths began to rise with need, erect and aroused with how vulnerable you looked under her gaze. You were just so…small. So small and cute under the shadow of her body, and Xianyun was eager to dig in. Breath hitching when she moved herself forward, sliding her cocks into you while groaning with pleasure.

Like her daughters, Xianyun was on the bigger side, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to take you all the way to the edge, gently massaging your hips as she slowly thrusted forward. She grumbled deeply about something like how she wanted you to bear her children, wanted to see your belly all pregnant with her hatchlings, it was just too much for you to bear and you found yourself gripping the older woman with need.

Upon feeling your hands holding onto her so desperately, it was like a switch had been flipped in your wife. She immediately pushed you down into a mating press and began thrusting at an even faster pace, dragging the rigid veins of her cocks in and out of your hole(s), and making you melt in her arms from the overwhelming bliss.

With one last growl, Xianyun slammed her hips further into you and pushed your knees up to meet with your stomach, filling your cunt with hot loads of her cum and making you bear the mark of Xianyun’s sigil. It burned in a way that felt pleasurable at your climax and the moment Xianyun spotted it, a smug smirk appeared on her face before stroking the lines of the mark with her claws. “Looks like this mortal body has accepted me as a suitable mate. I hope I have met your standards, my wife…”

KOKOMI

Chained to a rock near the beach of the seas, you were left to be the bride of the divine sea serpent; Kokomi. Though she was a very gentle and understanding dragon to the people of Watatsumi Island, she was capable of forging wars with other dragons from different regions, making the oceans shake from how brutal her battles were. You were very much scared for your life to even meet such a strong beast, and as you were left chained to the rock, waiting for your future wife, you felt your heart rate spike when you saw the waves part ways for the legendary sea serpent to take what was hers.

Shimmering pearlescent scales with fins that waded through the water, Kokomi emerged in her sea serpent form at first, coursing to a stop when the water grew too shallow. She transformed into her human form to walk the rest of the way, her clothes nearly translucent, glittering under the sun’s rays as she slowly waded towards you with a gentle look in her eyes. “Oh, you must be my bride,” she whispers softly, a curious yet amused tone taking on her voice. “What a very cute human…you’re even smaller than I imagined.”

Even when she was a dragon, her voice was soft and gentle. She patted your head gently before tilting your head up to meet her gaze, dragons were always bigger than humans after all, even in their human forms. “No need to be so scared, it’s time to go home, my bride. I hope you have a strong grip.” She quickly slashes the shackles off of you and eases you onto her back, beginning to waft back out to the waves and transform into her sea serpent form while you clung to her neck for dear life. Kokomi was a very fast swimmer after all.

After the quick introduction to your future dragon wife, you found yourself living amongst Kokomi within a huge, hidden grotto that resided behind a waterfall. Life with Kokomi was…quite intriguing to say the least. Due to being a sea serpent and living near the water, it took some time for you to adjust from living on land, to living somewhere that was almost fully surrounded with water! Your diet mostly consisted of fish and other various seafoods that Kokomi managed to hunt, though if you were unable to eat any of them, it surprised you to say the least to see that Kokomi would go out of her way to buy human foods from a nearby market, in order to satisfy your needs. If you needed anything, literally anything at all, you didn’t even need to leave the safety of her lair, as Kokomi would do it for you. Even though she was considered a “higher deity” in Teyvat.

Life was peaceful with Kokomi as your wife. She made sure to spoil you with everything you could ever ask for, and soon you found yourself falling in love with the gentle sea serpent. As the months slowly passed by and your love only blossomed even further, you began to notice signs of Kokomi getting more antsy as the seasons changed. She’s told you about this before, about how dragons (specially sea serpents) enter a rut-like process once every few months, but you didn’t expect it so soon. Nevertheless, you were fully prepared to help your wife ease up all tensions and stress, and the two of you set out to prepare for your “love making” in a special place…

Clothes stripped off before you could reach the sacred grounds, Kokomi took you to a hidden lagoon where sea serpents often took their mates to claim them for the first time. Seeing that it was not occupied at the moment, Kokomi helped ease you into the warm waters of the lagoon, guiding you to the middle before pressing her agile, lithe body against yours, causing her two cocks to rub up against your thighs.

She cooed softly at you before planting kisses along your neck, admiring the way your soft, human skin felt underneath her own. Kokomi was entranced, massaging your thighs to get them to open up, before whispering in a hushed tone into your ear. “This might hurt, but I promise I’ll go slow…” giving you one last kiss before sliding herself inside of you…

By no means was Kokomi huge, but two cocks was two cocks and you felt yourself being stuffed to the brim. As she slowly sheathed herself inside of you all the way down to her base, Kokomi let out an exasperated gasp before gripping your hips tighter from behind. She was blushing madly from how good you felt, all tight and warm wrapped around her, and she was beginning to get delirious from just how good your holes were, gripping her so needily.

Her thrusts were shallow, yet addictive. Pounding into you quietly as the water sloshed around you with her soft movements. This “dangerous” sea serpent that people had told you stories about was currently whimpering into your ears out of pure ecstasy. Trembling while she fucked you from behind, as trails of precum leaked from both her cockheads to further stimulate your senses. Thanks to being a sea serpent, her body was naturally very slippery and wet, so fucking you deeper and faster was no hard order for Kokomi to do.

So many dirty, wet squelches filled the air alongside your moans of blissful pleasure. Kokomi was getting close, whining behind you before finally ejaculating her seed into your womb. At the sudden sensation of the sea serpent’s cum filling your crevices, the mark of Kokomi bore itself onto your stomach, causing your wife to smile with pride at how you easily accepted her as her “mate.” “Well would you look at that, it seems like it only took the first try for your body to recognize me as a suitable companion,” Kokomi chuckled. “Well, who says we should just stop here, my love? Raise your legs a bit higher, I want to breed you some more…”

Unlike the other dragons, Ei was a dragon that was given sacrifices every twelve years, not in exchange for good fortune or success, but so that she wouldn’t get angry and destroy the villages with her rage. The people in your region were deathly afraid of Ei for the sole reason that she could wipe out their entire population, so when she asked for a bride this year instead of the usual treasures they offered her, they basically sent you on a deathbed to meet your inevitable fate.

Knowing that you were sent to a brutal tyrant of a dragon to be her “bride,” you had accepted your death a long time ago. Waiting idly in front of the dragon’s lair, you braced yourself for a whole world of pain when you saw your “wife” begin to approach you. With tears streaming down your face from how terrified you were of dying, you nearly screamed when Ei suddenly lifted up your veil, eyes paralyzed with fear as you met the cold, dark eyes of your wife. When she raised her hand to get closer to your face, you expected a hard slap. However, what came in contact with your cheek was a soft, gentle touch that felt juxtaposing to how large and battle-stricken her hands were.

Rough calluses was the first thing you felt against your cheek, and then the feeling of Ei’s large fingers wiping away your tear-ridden face. It was the complete opposite of what you had expected the dragon woman to do to you, but you were too afraid to comment on anything when she took you inside her lair to get you away from the cold.

Life with a tyrannical dragon wife was very…unique, to say the least. She was not as sweet, or gentle as any of the other dragon women, but she showed how much she cared for you with acts of service rather than physical affection. Though quiet when expressing her love for you, Ei would always feed you the best and biggest portions of her hunt whenever you two sat down and ate together. Ei would make the thunderstorms quiet down when she saw that they were bothering you in your sleep, and she would even cease the storms entirely if that was what you wished.

Not only that, but your dragon wife was fiercely protective over you. The other dragon women would be territorial, sure. But Ei was on a whole different level. Anything that threatened you, her bride, would be faced with the full wrath of one angry, tyrannical dragon wife, and the thing (or person) that threatened you in the first place, would be blasted to smithereens by her thunderous breath alone. Though she was very violent and quite scary at times whenever you witnessed her destruction, you knew she cared deeply about you and that’s really all that mattered.

Alas, as the seasons changed, not even the stoic and tyrannical dragon was immune to the mating cycle that all dragons went through in a year. She tried to keep it to herself so you didn’t have to find out, but it was near impossible as Ei would constantly have a massive boner under her clothes, every time she woke up with you right next to her. Unable to take it anymore, she quietly requested for you to “mate” with her, in order to satisfy her instincts, and you being the sweet little wife that you were, agreed since you didn't want her to suffer on her own through such an intensive rut.

Ei was big. Like, very big when she first disrobed herself in front of you. Her tall stature was very lean, athletic, strong, and that corresponded with her dick size as well. Lean, tall, and strong. You found yourself salivating a bit when you saw just the sheer size of her, a bit intimidated, but very turned on to have her all to yourself.

Your wife wanted to be gentle. She saw humans as the most fragile thing in the world, so when she lifted you up into her arms, your naked body pressing against hers, she blushed for the very first time, realizing just how big she was in comparison to you. At the recognized size difference, her two hemipenes twitched to life, erect and swollen to stuff themselves in your cunt, while poor Ei was left gaping at how turned on she was. With her strength alone, she slowly slid you down to fuck you in middair. Your legs dangled helplessly over her thighs as you whined from the burning stretch, a small bulge forming under the skin of your tummy from how engorged Ei was when fucking inside of you.

Eyes landing on the small belly bulge, you felt Ei growl with predatory instinct, keeping you held tightly against her while she pounded into your holes. Each thrust left you bouncing helplessly in the air, clinging to Ei’s broad shoulders while her cocks dragged their ribbed lengths in and out of you like a toy. The feeling of it was just too much, leading you to orgasm multiple times in just under an hour, and the wetter you got, the easier it was for Ei to go faster, harder, deeper. It was all too much for your small human cunt to handle, and the deeper she went, the more you clenched down.

It took a while, but when Ei finally reached her first climax, boy was it a big one. Your entire lower body shivered as she spurted ropes of hot cum deep into your womb, your legs trembling as she burned her way into your body with her seed, and making a large womb tattoo engrave itself on your skin. As the mark appeared, Ei showed signs of pride and ownership, growling under her breath before biting your neck lovingly to seal the deal. “Mine…” was all she said in that dark, husky tone of hers, as she continued to pound her way into you for another round of mating.

#ningguang smut #ningguang x reader #yanfei smut #yanfei x reader #ganyu smut #ganyu x reader #xianyun smut #xianyun x reader #kokomi smut #kokomi x reader #ei smut #ei x reader #raiden ei smut #raiden ei x reader #dragon au #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin women smut #genshin women x reader

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kemuele · 10 months

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L ─ Lingerie. Do they enjoy wearing it and/or seeing their partner in lingerie? What kind of lingerie do they find the sexiest? Any other clothing they love seeing their partner in ( like grey sweater pants, wearing nothing but an apron, really short shorts, etc… )? Do they often wear what their partner likes, just to please them?

Sinday Alphabet- [Accepting]

Kemuel hasn't worn nor really used lingerie in his normal verse. However, I do think he'd enjoy seeing or wearing it, with garters and stockings to be his preferences. Maybe it'd be the texture of the fabric or the sheer-ness of it, but how it'd hug the form would undoubtedly capture his attention. If not a partner, he'd certainly be the one to don the lingerie. Provided, it'd mean requesting his tailor to assemble it and hopefully have no awkward interactions.

Of all the verse (so far) where he's had lingerie involved, his apocalyptic verse made plenty use of the kink. He managed to nab himself a decent set and often dressed up for his partner at the time. Effeminate, perhaps, but he enjoyed it! As far as partner's clothes goes, if he has any as tall as him, he'd certainly try to wear or use their close to give it love and likewise please them. Exceptions are made if they don't "fit his style" but they are generally few and far in between.

#voice from above | ooc #across the veil | ask #my joke to you... | meme answered #nsft #unsft #unknown entity | anon #thank you for the ask!

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loveinhawkins · 1 month

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When Steve gets to his last year at Hawkins High, it feels like some kind of veil has been lifted right in front him. Or maybe it’s more that the veil’s actually been slowly lifting for years, and he’s noticing it all the more because it’s no longer there.

Either way, when he receives his yearbook, it doesn’t seem like the huge deal that his younger self would’ve made it out to be; he flicks through the pictures half-heartedly, doesn’t even care when the candid ones taken at sporting events catch him in unflattering poses, lip jutting out in concentration.

If he tried to voice his disinterest, Henderson would probably spout off some precocious shit about societal expectations, and Steve would pretend to nod sagely before stealing whatever dorky hat he happened to be wearing—it’s not like he could let the little shit suspect that he occasionally had a point, Steve would never hear the end of it.

The yearbook signings are predictably inescapable: people passing their books back and forth in class or in the cafeteria—and that one’s a risky move, with the threat of drinks spilling on the pages, whether accidental or malicious.

Steve thinks the fever’s dwindled out until he spends a free period in the school library. The seniors typically all bunch together in one of the far corners, the spots with the comfiest seats—loners included, like the perks of age for once outweigh the usual ridicule.

But that silent truce is not exactly being upheld, Steve notes—Eddie Munson is sitting alone at a nearby table.

It becomes painfully obvious when the signing starts up again. There’s a cluster of girls on the yearbook committee who initiate it, and soon every senior in reach is either passing over their own book or signing one.

Almost every senior.

It’s not like Eddie’s the only person ever to be held back. He’s not even the only one to be held back for next year, either: John Nelson off the swim team is in the same position, and he’s still been asked to sign.

But Steve knows that’s not what the source of exclusion is, not really.

He’s gotten good at spotting silent cruelty—good at avoiding it too, before his popularity gave him a temporary shield.

It’s all just bullshit, he thinks. It’s been a recurring thought lately.

He brings out his own yearbook because he knows it’s expected. When it’s finally passed back round to him, he ends up right near the seat opposite Eddie’s, just by chance.

But actually sitting there is his own choice.

He can tell that Eddie has spotted him even though he’s not looked up from whatever homework he’s doing; there’s a silent tension in the way he’s holding his pen.

Steve mulls it over before he asks the question. It could blow up in his face, but what did that matter, really? In the grand scheme of things, it would hardly count as a major embarrassment; it’s not like it’d be any more mortifying than telling his dad that he didn’t get into any colleges whatsoever.

So he pushes his yearbook across the table, because what the hell.

“Wanna sign?”

Eddie glances up. There’s a guarded look in his eyes, and Steve can almost hear him mentally replaying the question.

“Pardon?” Eddie says with pointed emphasis, like he’s daring Steve, let it drop and we’ll say no more about it, Harrington.

Steve doesn’t take it back. He shrugs and flicks open the yearbook, finds a blank spot and taps it once with his finger, a silent offer.

Eddie stares like Steve’s a riddle, like he’s wondering just who the show’s for—but the other students have turned away, have gone back to their seats, yearbooks temporarily forgotten.

Eddie’s hold on his pen relaxes, ever so slightly.

“You sure, Harrington?” he says. There’s still a wary edge to his voice, but there’s an undercurrent of something else, too, like he’s secretly amused despite himself. “Haven’t you heard what folks say? I could curse you.”

Steve scoffs. “That all you’ve got? I’ve dealt with way worse, man,” he says mildly.

A corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a surprised smile. Then it’s gone almost like it had never been in the first place, his gaze turning thoughtful rather than defensive.

And obviously this isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo at the whole senior year thing. Steve wonders if there’s a veil that’s been lifted for him too, wonders if he can see straight through it right now.

The bell rings.

Eddie stands up, gathering his stuff.

Steve thinks that’s the end of it: something that’s neither a success or a failure.

But then, lightning fast, Eddie darts across the table and scribbles something on the open page. Slams the yearbook shut and pushes it back over, and it feels like a challenge, like some of his caginess is back—like he’s just daring Steve to reveal that it had been a joke all along—

“Bet you’re counting down the days till you can hold your own copy, huh?” Steve says dryly, as he stuffs the book into his bag.

It’s a risk; he knows Eddie could easily take it as pure ridicule, could misinterpret it as Steve throwing the failed school years back in his face.

Eddie just shakes his head, but he could be laughing—the moment’s gone too quickly for Steve to know for sure.

“Nah, Harrington,” Eddie says easily, thrown over his shoulder as he leaves, “those things aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.”

Steve doesn’t check the yearbook until he’s home. He eventually finds Eddie’s signature, simple black ink right in the upper corner of one page.

Good luck, Steve. —Eddie

Some of the letters are bunched a little too close together, drifting upwards on the blank page, as if they usually need lined paper to guide them—left-handed, Steve thinks vaguely.

Within a sea of scrawled nicknames and loudly enthusiastic messages, Steve finds that he kind of likes how mundane Eddie’s truly is. Likes the sign off with minimal fuss. Just “Eddie.” Likes how he was just “Steve”, too.

And yeah, if anyone needed to be told good luck, Steve thinks, with the kind of amusement that only comes from distance—pictures his past self, freaking out about monsters come to life.

He slots the yearbook into his bookcase. By summer he might forget about it altogether, left to gather dust as he works for 3 bucks an hour, but for now he marks its significance: something real, hidden alongside the bullshit.

#back with the unexpected kindness in high school agenda #pre steddie #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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moonlightviigil · 10 months

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who, besides alune, is the closest to aphelios? why? /softie.

Such an emo answer bear with me

No one. He has believed that ever since him and Alune were born with this grandiose destiny, knowing the Solari want them dead no matter what, he has grown accustomed to not relying on anyone else.

Of course it is a natural human instinct to want to be accepted by your society, but also going off of the fact that (from what we know) the Lunari are fairly secluded from the rest of the world, Aphelios feels shut out from everyone. Of course he craves interaction, friendship, any relationship outside of his religious sect, but he still keeps everyone at an arms reach just for their safety. The guilt would eat him alive if said friend/partner were to be attacked/killed just because the Solari found out about them. Knowing it would be a weakness, what else would he have to lose?

Does that mean he is never going to be close to anyone besides Alune? No. It just means it's going to take him a long time to understand that it's okay to develop attachments, it's okay to know that they could be used against him, it's okay to know that they could leave him one day. What will matter is the memories he holds about them. How good it felt to be wanted by another being, whether it be in a friendly way or a romantic way. The need for a deep connection is something he yearns for, but is deeply afraid of the "what ifs," the uncertainty when it comes to relations outside of Alune and the other Lunari.

#🌙shines brightest in darkness • asks #🌙across the celestial veil • hc.#legit giving me FEELS

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harmonysanreads · 1 month

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sunday with a singer! darling, one who had escaped from him almost seven years ago, and disappeared off the face of the galaxy. imagine his reaction when he gets word of a famous belobogian band on the radio soon after it’s connections to the IPC were restored, comprised of a woman named serval landau, and a *very* familiar young woman, with an even more familiar voice.

- (…could i be ✨ anon?)

Curtain Call

yandere!sunday x reader

cw(s) : yandere, written before 2.2

wc : 2.6k

You have the power of democracy by your side ✨ anon and I have no choice but to adhere to public demand :] Even though you mentioned a female!reader, the direction of the narrative didn't necessitate that specification, so the reader is gender-neutral! But they have been called ‘babygirl’ once.

“How can the bird that is born for joy

Sit in a cage and sing?”

— William Blake

You've avoided all shades of white and blue since the dawn of this day.

Serval regarded your pertinacity with a voiceless breadth of intrigue, before yielding with little to no resistance. A smidgen of guilt had briefly permeated your consciousness upon the vague shadow of a pout on her face, you recalled her enthusiasm passed through plans of matching outfits on your debutante from days now labeled as the near past. She picked herself up quickly though, her free-spirited ideals would not be compromised by some mere color choice.

It was difficult to not admire her. Lamentably, it is much easier to cradle the preachings of an unrestrained life than to actually act upon them — and by doing so, shouldering the frigid reality that came with such a life. As a child of frozen terrains although, frigidity must be Serval's playground, you eventually conclude. That is hardly the case for you, but you'd rather swallow whole chunks of ice than pin the blame on yourself alone for that apparent incapability.

You aren't at fault for your paranoia in embracing freedom, but you are resolved enough to try breaking away from its clutches. But just as tattoos sink deep beneath skin, that anxiety stubbornly clings to your psyche and the memories of the past nurture and allow it to fester. Which is why, you must avoid any shades of white and blue, at least until the dawn of tomorrow graces Belobog. Be it a superstition with no rational ground or scientific explanation, you decide to believe firmly in your gut.

The walls of the makeshift back-room muffle the chorus of the crowd outside, but it is enough to comfort you that your long held wish did come true. The single light bulb hanging beyond the door of the room serves as the sole source of luminescence, although it is barely helpful, the light bounces off from your back and reflects a scarcely tangible silhouette in the mirror of the dressing table. Glitters of dust floating around are illuminated by that light, abandoned furniture peek beneath their veils from your peripheral — they exclaim what this room's previous purpose had been.

Neither the modest setting nor the small trinkets spread across the dressing table come close to what you had a taste of ; glimmering surfaces, brands of beauty products worth a man's life savings and silks of no contender would mock this shack, if they could. But your heart soaks in solace whenever that irritatingly bright light flickers and mellowed cheers of the crowd permeate the room's thin walls, not because you lack taste in life, but because you recognize the futility of vanity.

“You did amazing there, babygirl!”

Your vision stutters at the impact of firm touch, you feel arms rest atop your decolletage, a shadow cloaks your reflection in the mirror. The cool touch of metal upon your left shoulder and a distinct streak of blue masquerading among blond locks of hair draw out a breath of relief from your lungs. But a faint twist engulfs your gut the very next second, you recall asking for a moment of quietude vividly.

“I don't think my performance was as great as you say, Serval. And whatever I achieved, it wouldn't have been possible without you guys.” your fingers twiddle with your sleeves, your eyes find interest in an abandoned nail polish.

You peek up in time to meet the rockstar's stare through the mirror, with some wrestling with the light, her disapproval shines through to your eyes.

“Nonsense, you were the star of today's show. Give yourself some credit, would ya?” your cheek soaks in the pinch before your brain can decode her words, you muffle a whine in protest.

“Okay, okay! I'm sorry.” your hand quickly soothes over the tempered skin when her fingers retreat, that's the extent of ‘retaliation’ you offer Serval, having accustomed yourself to her spontaneity in the interim of your stay under her care.

“I saw you look... pretty unnerved after the performance, so I came to check.” you scratch your cheek, eyes darting upwards to find her face shielded by your hair. You cannot pinpoint why, but for a second it seemed like she struggled to find footing with her phrasing of words. You've never heard her falter, at least in speech, but the waves of conversation swallow that momentary observation just as quickly.

Instead of being candid, you take a different turn, “You know, I wasn't lying about being grateful to you all. To perform on a stage without any rules was a long held dream of mine,” you feel gooseflesh bloom across your arms as tip-toeing touch descends to your sides, something within tempts you to curl in on yourself but you force your breath to finish. “If it hadn't been for your help, I would never succeed in fulfilling it.”

Serval hums in understanding, the timbres of it traverses from your skull and extends to your nerves. Her arms rest snuggly around your waist and you swallow dryly. Serval always wrapped her arms around your shoulders whenever she felt the need to and the fact that it made your head nearly spiral with questions didn't require to be stated. Only now do you reckon the slumbering atmosphere, without the jeer and cheer of the audience, you felt Belobog's cold biting into the tips of your fingers. You told everyone to not disturb you — your mind echoes without clarification.

“Is it because of that husband of yours?”

Your shoulders tense and for a litany of reasons, most obscure enough to be dismissed as misnomers produced by your instincts, none but one potent enough to be addressed. “Well yes… I told you about a man, but I don't remember specifying that it was a ‘husband’ responsible for my situation.”

Your words materialize as half confused and half laden with caution, you'd told Serval a few things about your predicament — nothing groundbreakingly detailed, just enough to earn a portion of her empathy. It kills you to follow tactics that enticed you to your doom, but what is life, if not a series of trial and error? It's best to apply the teachings of a manipulator than to continue being manipulated for eternity. But of course, you'll admit, such carefully taken steps still don't lessen the likelihood of meeting a dead-end to zero. How unfortunate.

It's Serval's turn to tense, but it's so quick you're left questioning whether it really happened. “Ah, but there was a ring on your right ring finger when you first came here! And the ‘man’ in your stories didn't seem to be different persons. So, I took a guess…”

An awkward chuckle leaves the rockstar's lips and you blink. She's right, you were still wearing your wedding ring when you came here ; an amateur mistake, you should've left it at some abstruse corner of the Dewlight Pavilion. You glance up at your reflections on the mirror, Serval was now mimicking your previous antics, a painted nail against her cheek albeit, the opposing light veiled her expression from recognition. One of her arms was still around your waist, loosely this time.

“I didn't say anything offending, did I?” the mechanic mutters tentatively. You take a deep breath and exhale, vacillating between the multitude of scenarios conjured by your lingering paranoia. But if it's Serval, you give it more thought, there was no tangible reason as to why she of all people would bring this up with malicious intent — or at least, none that you could come up with. She was likely merely concerned for your well-being, a big sister's instincts perhaps.

“Not at all,” the three words are uttered with more difficulty than needed but the effort is proved worth it when she relaxes and returns to embrace you with gusto.

This time you can feel her touch vividly across the bare skin of your midriff, a reminder of your present dress up automatically causes blood to rush to your face. The matching crop-top with Serval was hardly the most revealing thing someone had worn in this universe, but it was the boldest you'd been with your attire. You think you saw her gaze tilting at the sight but the only way to affirm it would make things further awkward. As you melt upon recalling that you'd sung your lungs out with this on in front of a crowd, the rockstar chimes in again.

“Ah right, I almost forgot why I actually came here. I have a gift for you!” you blink out of your stupor to hear shuffles, a bottle of hairspray is knocked to the ground due to her movements. The object clamors down and rolls a few feet away but Serval pays it no attention, you quirk a brow at her sudden briskness. “Close your eyes.” she lulls sweetly, you obey despite your state of disorientation.

You feel the faint brushes of her fingers first, then a noticeable weight around your neck, fastened a little too tightly. After she beckons you to open your eyes, you scrutinize the object through your reflection on the mirror and recognize it to be… a choker. It's heavier than what you recall chokers to be, its body is painted in baby blue and when you turn your head the light bounces off its surface to reveal golden outlinings. Three small wings curl around the white tassel hanging from the middle, you find the wings to be unnervingly soft when your fingers brush across them.

The choker looked expensive, despite its somewhat gaudy appearance and it didn't seem like something aligning with Serval's tastes. But most importantly, there's blue and white in it — the two colors you'd been stubbornly avoiding. Your mind spirals, you clearly remember telling Serval that you didn't want to see those two colors today — or, did you? Perhaps it was your mind weaving its own narratives in the flurry of adrenaline? A chill rears its grotesque head, a panic you can't quite push down despite your mind adapting to give her the benefit of the doubt, your breaths lapse unevenly.

“For being such a darling member of Mechanical Fever, a token of our friendship. I didn't know how else to thank you, so I got this instead.” Serval's voice yanks you from the edge of a panic attack, you force yourself to breathe deeply. You turn around when you notice the absence of her shadow, finding her retreating into the shadow of the half ajar door.

You remain seated on the juncture between light and shadow, returning to face the mirror after the rockstar settles on a stool. “I should be the one saying that and… you didn't have to give me this, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.” your thumb and index fingers twiddle with the pure white tassel.

Her words seem to make you forget about your earlier paranoia, nostalgia cascades down your soul as you recall the fond memories inherent to Belobog. Destiny's game is truly difficult to comprehend, to think you'd find an actual home so far from your supposed one.

You add without waiting for her reply, “When I first came here, I was so scared and paranoid. I couldn't sleep the first night and I wanted nothing more than to flee the next morning. I really mean it when I say I couldn't make it without your and the others' help.”

Your palm cradles the beat of your existence, the thin fabric of the crop top does little to muffle your heart's clamorous prance.

“Thank you, thank you so much for everything.” your pour as much gratitude from the river coursing through the recesses of your soul in those words. Your chest constricts as you sigh, you remember all the faces that are now known as familiar and random instances buried deep in your memories. Perhaps it's the naturally cold weather of this planet that plays a part, but you furrow your brows as inexplicable sorrow engulfs your heart.

“I, too, hope that you've had a wonderful experience on this planet.”

A much younger you used to judge the victims of stories for choosing to freeze than to flee in the face of candid danger, vowing to not follow in their footsteps should you meet such a predicament one day. Your heart would shatter to incorrigible bits if it hadn't been so viciously twisted, you realize how futile promises are at the thin line separating life and death.

Your body flinches from its hunched position to meet watchful golden eyes, shielded by the door's shadow. You blink a multitude of times, as if that'd make his poised presence disappear, as if that'd affirm that you were simply in the grips of anxiety and Serval would return to reprimand you back to reality.

The warmth drains from your body when he's still there, sitting in front of you with a mocking serenity — you've never hated the vice grip he maintains on his composure more than this moment. Why, how, when and what conjoins his name to frame a myriad of questions, each being answered by none other than you the very next second. Your ears twitch when you catch voices at the end of the hallway, the actual Serval and others must be retreating. You might be a deer inches away from the tiger's jaw, but you'll not go down without a fight, at least.

“If you're planning to scream, I'd advise against that.” Sunday calmly states, your breath catches in your throat. “The choker on your neck has a shock mechanism and it can be activated in various ways. Namely, any time you raise your voice above the coded decibels and the voltage will increase the louder you scream.”

Your hand flies upwards towards the cursed choker and you wrestle a breath in disbelief, you were made a fool of and quite exquisitely. You realize you should've listened to your gut instincts when you still had the choice. Sunday raises a gloved palm when you restlessly tug at the thing, “Don’t bother, it can only be taken off with a password.”

A password only he knows, you conclude. It was not news to you that his sanity is loose from the hinges of his soul, but never would you have expected him to go this far. You glare at your husband, though it looks more like a gazelle's helpless stare as it struggles in the jaws of a predator. The voices from the hallway disappear entirely, you'd told them not to look for you so they'll not return, you feel your eyes moisten as you realize you're stuck alone with Sunday.

“Why—” you choke.

“I understand that you must have a lot of questions,” his words are half resignation and half cheap empathy. “But it is not your turn to speak, for there are more pressing matters at hand.”

Sunday stands up, brows scrunching at the dust floating around the room. “The matter of your possible unfaithfulness is one thing,” his hand grips the handle of the door and you flinch. “But performing in front of so many people without any consideration of how far it'll spread, or choice of attire,” your body erupts in shudders upon feeling his pointed stare, the expanse of your exposure finally registering.

“Truly unbefitting of my spouse.”

But it's not his judging gaze that has your nerves frayed, it's the hints of genuine disappointment that borders on anger leaking through his words that makes you feel parched, makes you want the earth split in half and take you from this situation. Your experience with Sunday has taught you that he has the patience of a saint, but none of those memories reassure you that it's boundless. You realize that you've never actually seen his face contorted in ire, no matter how defiant you'd been. Aeons, you wish it stayed that way forever.

As the shadow of the closing door engulfs your form and leaves the rest to interpretation, the last thing you see are his darkened golden eyes — you're certain that, that was the instance the last spirited part of you died.

rest in peace i guess

#requests: batch two #answered #yandere #yandere sunday #yandere sunday x reader #sunday #sunday x reader #sunday x you #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

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pucksandpower · 3 months

Text

It Started With an Appendix

Carlos Sainz x nurse!Reader

Summary: in which an inflamed appendix turns out to be the ultimate matchmaker

Warnings: medical ethics are basically thrown out the window

“Y/N, the patient in room 312 is awake,” a voice calls from the hall outside the nurses’ station.

You make your way down the bright, sterile corridor toward the private room, the scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Taking a breath, you rap your knuckles lightly on the door before entering.

Carlos Sainz Jr. is propped up in the hospital bed, blinking slowly as the anesthesia wears off. His tousled hair and grogginess make him look adorably vulnerable.

“Hola, señorita,” he slurs with a lopsided grin as you approach. “Are you an angel? You must have fallen from heaven.”

You can’t help but giggle at his cheesy line, shaking your head in amusement. “No, Mr. Sainz, I’m your nurse. You just had your appendix removed.”

“Call me Carlos,” he insists, his Spanish accent thick and velvety. “And you’re definitely an angel to me.”

Suppressing another laugh, you check his vitals and make a note on his chart. “How are you feeling, Carlos? Any pain or nausea?”

“I feel ... floaty,” he murmurs, blinking slowly as he looks you up and down. “But you’re making me feel much better already.”

You bite your lip to contain your smile. This man is incorrigible, even fresh out of surgery. “That’s the pain medication talking, I’m afraid.”

“No, no ...” Carlos protests weakly. “You’re just ... muy bonita. So beautiful.”

His boldness makes warmth bloom in your cheeks. You clear your throat. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? The anesthesia can make people loopy for a while.”

“Don’t go,” he pouts, trying and failing to grab your hand from the bed. “Stay and keep me company, hermosa.”

You gently lay his hand back at his side. “I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything, okay?”

Carlos levels you with a look that could melt glaciers. “At least tell me your name, ángel?”

Holding his smoldering gaze, you reply softly, “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he echoes, savoring each syllable. “What a beautiful name. Maybe I’ll dream of you, Y/N ...”

With a flustered smile, you turn and exit the room, his flirtatious words still ringing in your ears. This man is going to be the death of you.

Over the next few hours, you check on Carlos periodically, each time greeted by a fresh cheesy line or thinly-veiled compliment. He’s relentless, but also strangely endearing in his drug-addled state.

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”

“Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got fine written all over you.”

“I must be in a museum, because you truly are a work of art.”

You roll your eyes at each one, but can’t deny the little thrill it sends through you. Despite his grogginess, Carlos’ charisma still shines through effortlessly.

By the time your shift ends, you’re almost disappointed you won’t get to hear any more of his terrible pickup lines. You linger a moment in his doorway after bringing him his evening dose of medication.

“Feeling any better?” You ask kindly.

Carlos gives you a crooked smile. “I feel a lot better when you’re around, querida.”

You shake your head in playful exasperation. “Get some rest. I’m off for the night.”

His expression turns almost ... wistful? “Will I see you again?”

Something warm blooms in your chest at his hopeful tone. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” you assure him. “Same time.”

The bright grin that stretches across his face is worth a million cheesy lines. “Buenas noches, mi ángel.”

You don’t bother holding back your smile this time. “Good night, Carlos.”

As you make your way home, his handsome face and melted chocolate voice keep popping into your mind unbidden.

You try to push thoughts of Carlos from your mind as you cook yourself dinner and get ready for bed. He’s just a patient — a ridiculously charming one, yes, but a patient all the same.

Still, as you drift off to sleep, his teasing grin and warm brown eyes seem seared into the back of your mind ...

The next morning, you arrive at the hospital with a new spring in your step. You can’t help but look forward to seeing Carlos again, newly appendix-less or no.

When you enter his room with his breakfast tray, the sleepy Spaniard perks up instantly at the sight of you. “Y/N! Buenos dias, hermosa!”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Good morning, Carlos. How are you feeling today?”

“Much better now that mi ángel has arrived,” he declares boldly.

As you check his vitals, he continues to bat those ridiculously long eyelashes at you. “You must be a hell of a thief, because you stole my heart from across the hospital room.”

You snort at the line, rolling your eyes in amusement. “You do realize those cheesy pick-up lines aren’t going to work on me, right?”

“Not cheesy ... poetic,” Carlos argues with an impish grin. “Poetry for a woman of your beauty.”

You raise an eyebrow in mock skepticism. “Is that so?”

“Of course,” he nods matter-of-factly. “Here, let me demonstrate ...”

Carlos clears his throat dramatically. “Your eyes shame the brilliance of the desert sun, while your lips put roses to shame with their beauty. A sculptor could study your face for a lifetime and never capture its perfection in marble.”

Despite yourself, you can feel heat rising to your cheeks at his earnest compliments. “I ... you can’t just-”

But he’s not done. “While bandits would slay and sack entire cities for even a glimpse of your splendor. Why, the gods themselves weep at being outdone by such a radiant vision of loveliness!”

By now, your face is burning scarlet as he gazes up at you, eyes sparkling impishly. “Th-that’s enough, Carlos,” you manage, turning away and busying yourself straightening his blankets to hide your flustered expression.

You can hear the grin in his voice. “Too much for you, hermosa? I haven’t even gotten to the part about your luscious ti-”

“Carlos!” You squeak, spinning back around with wide eyes.

His mischievous laughter fills the room, head thrown back in pure delight at your scandalized reaction. The melodic sound is utterly infectious — soon you find yourself giggling helplessly along despite your embarrassment.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” You admonish once you’ve caught your breath, trying and failing to look stern.

He winks unapologetically. “I’m just being honest, ángel.”

You shake your head in feigned exasperation, trying to ignore the little thrill his flirtations still send through you. “I should get going before you corrupt me further.”

As you turn to leave, Carlos calls after you. “Until later, mi amor! Don’t forget my poetry books for next time!”

His infectious laughter follows you into the hallway, that bright sound certain to play on a loop in your mind all day ...

Over the next few days, Carlos’ recovery progresses smoothly — maybe a little too smoothly, you think with a private smirk. His cheesy compliments and relentless flirting show no signs of letting up, much to your mingled embarrassment and secret delight.

“For you, hermosa, I would wrestle bulls and paint sunsets!”

“Mother Nature herself must be jealous of your radiant beauty.”

“Careful, or you’ll put the Arabian sun to shame with your smile!”

You somehow manage to roll your eyes and blush simultaneously each time he unleashes a new line. Part of you wishes he would just give it a rest already. But an even bigger part never wants this game you two have going to end.

On your third day caring for Carlos post-op, you arrive to find a small bouquet of red roses sitting on his bedside table. “These are for you, querida!” He announces happily when you enter.

You blink in surprise, taking in the brilliant flowers. “Carlos, you didn’t have to-”

“Of course I did,” he cuts you off dismissively. “An ángel as dazzling as you deserves all the flowers in the world.”

A pleased smile tugs at your lips despite yourself as you inhale their sweet fragrance. “They’re lovely, Carlos ... thank you.”

“Anything for you, mi amor,” he grins impishly. “Though it pains me to give a rose to one who outshines it so effortlessly.”

You shake your head, fighting a blush yet again. “Are you always this much of a shameless flirt?”

His eyes dance with impish delight. “Only to beautiful nurses who make my heart race faster than any lap around the fastest street circuit on the calendar.” Carlos pauses, expression turning serious. “Truthfully Y/N ... I know I’m a patient, but I feel a connection with you. Something deeper than just pretty words.”

You regard him carefully, caught off guard by his sudden earnestness. Part of you wants to laugh it off, dismiss his words like all the cheesy lines before. But something in his warm and open gaze gives you pause.

“I ... feel it too,” you admit quietly after a moment. “I don’t know why, it’s just ... a spark. Like we’ve known each other for years.”

Carlos’s face breaks into a brilliant smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Exactly, ángel! A connection of the soul — that is what it feels like to me.”

He holds out a hand in invitation, eyes soft yet intense. “Come over here? Let me get a closer look at mi amor’s beautiful face.”

You move toward the bed instinctively, taking his hand as he guides you to sit at the edge. His touch sends little electric tingles coursing through you that raise goosebumps along your arms. Even when you’re seated, Carlos has to look up slightly from where he’s reclining on a pile of pillows to meet your eyes, his thumb caressing your knuckles tenderly.

“So lovely,” he murmurs huskily, eyes tracing your features reverently. “A woman more beautiful than Aphrodite herself. And just as captivating ...”

Slowly, carefully, he lifts your joined hands to brush his lips along your knuckles in a feather-light kiss. The simple, intimate gesture steals the breath from your lungs.

“Carlos ...” you start breathlessly, hardly daring to move lest you break the hypnotic spell between you two.

He gives you that crooked, heart-melting grin. “Let me take you to dinner when I’m out of here, mi ángel? So I can woo you properly like you deserve.”

Despite the warm tingles his attention still sends through you, you nibble your lip uncertainly. “I ... I don’t think that would be appropriate. You’re my patient-”

“Just dinner,” he interjects smoothly. “As a thank you for taking such wonderful care of me. I insist on repaying you somehow.”

You search his face, wanting so badly to throw caution to the wind and say yes. He could charm the feathers off a bird, this man.

“Just dinner,” he reiterates in a low, sincere tone. “And if nothing else ... maybe we both make a new friend, yes?”

A slow smile spreads across your face, anticipation blooming in your chest. “Alright then. Just dinner.”

The boyish grin he gives you makes your breath catch. “Excellent! I’ll wine and dine you like a true gentleman, you’ll see.”

You roll your eyes, even as a giggle escapes you. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Carlos lifts it once more to brush his lips across your knuckles, holding your gaze intently.

“I cannot wait, mi amor.”

***

The luxurious restaurant that Carlos chose for your dinner date is dimly lit by ornate lanterns and alive with the sounds of traditional music. You can’t help but let your eyes linger on him as you’re shown to your private table tucked away in a secluded corner.

Even in a simple shirt and slacks, Carlos looks effortlessly dashing. His warm eyes crinkle at the corners when he catches you staring, rewarding you with that heart-melting smile.

“See something you like, querida?” He teases once you’re seated across from him.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks at being so brazenly caught out. Recovering quickly, you arch an eyebrow cooly. “You just look different out of that hospital gown, that’s all.”

Carlos throws back his head with a rich laugh. “Ah, so you prefer me in my natural state then? Bueno, no complaints here!”

You shake your head in amusement, trying not to smile too widely. “Is that ego really as big as they say?”

“What ego?” He asks innocently, shrugging broad shoulders. “This is merely healthy self-confidence, mi ángel.”

The banter comes so effortlessly between you two, like going back-and-forth with an old friend rather than a man you just met days ago. Carlos reaches across the table to take your hand, calloused fingers stroking your knuckles gently.

“Truthfully? I’m just thrilled you agreed to have dinner with me tonight,” he admits in a low tone. “I wasn’t sure if all my flirting was too much.”

You chuckle softly, gazing at him through the glow of the lantern between you. “It was definitely ... persistent. But also strangely charming, if I’m being honest.”

A pleased grin stretches across Carlos’ face, lighting up his handsome features. His thumb caresses your knuckles tenderly as he holds your eyes.

“I meant what I said, Y/N ... I felt an unexplainable connection with you from the moment I woke up in that hospital bed.” His expression turns almost wondering. “Despite my joking and terrible pick-up lines, there was something deeper drawing me to you. Like my soul recognized yours, si?”

You nod slowly, inexplicably understanding exactly what he means. That spark, that feeling of having known him for years — it’s indescribable and yet so real at the same time.

“I felt it too,” you murmur. “A pull, like I was meant to meet you.” You give a soft, self-conscious laugh. “It sounds silly saying it out loud.”

But Carlos shakes his head adamantly. “Not silly at all, cariño. Spiritual, cosmic, whatever you want to call it — I felt it too, and I don’t question these things anymore.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Do you know what the nomadic Bedouin peoples of Arabia call that? Finding your namiah.”

You can’t help the way your heart flutters at the unfamiliar word and the enchanted look on his face. “What does it mean?” You breathe.

“It translates roughly to your twin soul,’" Carlos explains in a hushed tone. “Two souls destined to connect in this life. Bound together across lifetimes, finally reunited.”

He gives your hand a meaningful squeeze, utterly transfixed. “The Bedouins believe when you encounter your namiah, it’s sacred — a reunion that must be honored and embraced, regardless of what life may throw your way. Because you’ve been given a second chance with your twin soul.”

His words seem to reverberate somewhere deep within you, ringing with an ancient truth you can’t fully grasp but feel with your entire being. Impulsively, you lift Carlos’s hand to your cheek, holding it there as you bathe in his wonder-filled gaze.

For a long, charged moment, the whole world narrows to just the two of you sharing this cosmic revelation. Then the spell breaks as you let out a breathless laugh, eyes shining with amazed delight.

“You believe in destined soulmates? I never would have guessed,” you tease gently.

He chuckles warmly in return, leaning back but keeping your hand pressed tenderly against his cheek. “The universe works in mysterious ways, querida. I’ve learned not to question things my heart recognizes as true.”

A comfortable silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken understanding and newfound intimacy. He grazes his thumb along your cheekbone reverently.

“That’s why I couldn’t stop myself from flirting with you, you know,” Carlos muses in that rumbly tone. “You captivated me from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I knew I had to at least try winning your heart, mi ángel.”

You shake your head in fond exasperation, fighting a smile. “Carlos Sainz, actually a hopeless romantic? Who would have thought ...”

His playful grin is back in full force. “Only for you, hermosa.” Then his eyes take on a hint of hesitant hopefulness. “Speaking of ... there’s actually another reason I wanted to take you to dinner.”

You regard him curiously as the waiter arrives to fill your glasses with water. “Oh? Do tell.”

Carlos takes a fortifying sip before fixing you with those warm, earnest eyes again. “I would be honored if you came to Australia with me in a few weeks. As my guest for the race in Melbourne.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, mouth falling open slightly. “The ... the Grand Prix? In Australia?”

He nods eagerly. “It’s at the end of the month. I will arrange for your travel, put you up in the plushest hotel, everything. My treat.”

Carlos leans in closer, an impish gleam dancing in his eyes. “It would give me the perfect chance to keep wooing you properly, mi amor.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, barely able to wrap your mind around the unexpected invitation. “Carlos, I ... I can’t just fly across the world like that! I have work, responsibilities-”

“Ah, but you’d only need to take a week or so off,” he counters smoothly. “I’ll handle all the details. You just need to relax and be my honored guest for the weekend.”

He gives you that smoldering look that makes your heart skip a beat. “Let me spoil you, mi ángel. Just say the word and it��s yours.”

Part of you is tempted — so, so tempted by the enthralling prospect. A luxurious vacation with this enchanting man who is already well on his way to sweeping you off your feet? It sounds utterly magical.

But the practical part of you holds you back, brow furrowing with uncertainty. “I don’t know ... even taking time off for a trip like that would be difficult.”

Carlos regards you intently for a moment, reading your hesitation. Then he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, voice turning softer yet insistent.

“Y/N, when was the last time you took a real vacation? Away from the hospital, away from responsibility for a little while ... to just breathe and enjoy life?”

You open your mouth automatically, then pause. Truthfully, you can’t even remember. Life has become an endless cycle of work and sleep with little room for anything else.

“Exactly,” Carlos nods knowingly at your silence. “Everyone needs to get away sometimes, querida. To recharge their soul before the daily grind drains them completely. Even an ángel like you.”

He fixes you with those molten brown eyes again. “Let me give that to you, mi amor. A week to relax, to be spoiled and carefree in one of the most beautiful corners of your world.” One side of his mouth quirks up teasingly. “And with a ruggedly handsome Formula 1 driver to keep you company, of course ...”

You chuckle in spite of yourself, warmth blooming in your chest. He has a point — when was the last time you allowed yourself to have fun and truly unwind? You certainly can’t remember. And if there’s anyone who seems like the ideal travel companion ...

Carlos notices your resolve softening and presses his advantage. “I promise you, it will be an experience you’ll never forget. Put yourself in my hands for just one week — let me take care of everything so you don’t have to lift a finger. What do you say, hermosa?”

His gaze is so open and full of restrained yearning that your breath hitches. You search those bewitching eyes for one more long moment, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of a decision.

Then, with a breathless laugh, you give in to impulse.

“Okay! You win. I’m yours for a week in Australia. Show me what you have in store.”

The smile that slowly spreads across his face is brighter and more radiant than the high desert sun. Carlos lifts your hand to his lips to brush a lingering kiss across your knuckles, sending delicious sparks dancing along your skin.

“Your wish is my command, mi ángel,” he murmurs fervently against your fingers, holding your breathless gaze. “I’ll make sure it’s a trip you’ll never forget.”

***

The bright Australian sun feels glorious on your skin as you relax on the private rooftop terrace of Ferrari’s plush motorhome. Leaning back on the cushioned lounger, you close your eyes and inhale the first deep breath you’ve taken in ... well, you can’t remember how long.

For just this fleeting moment, all the stresses of everyday life as a hardworking nurse seem to melt away into the balmy afternoon air. You’re worlds away from the frenetic hospital routine, from the bright fluorescent lights and permeating smell of antiseptic. Here, surrounded by towering palms swaying lazily in the breeze, you can almost imagine you’re at a lavish resort rather than the Albert Park paddock.

Almost.

A fond smile tugs at your lips as the roar of engines echoes across the circuit. That unmistakable sound is your reminder of just how enchantingly surreal this entire experience has been.

When Carlos first invited you to be his guest at the race, you expected some form of VIP experience to watch the Formula 1 action up close. But you never could have imagined the level of extravagance and pampering he had planned.

From the moment you landed, you’ve been put up at a five-star hotel in the lap of luxury — a stunning penthouse suite, complete with a butler at your beck and call plus a private concierge team to arrange anything you may need. Not that you’ve had time to need anything, with Carlos’s personal assistant, Elena, catering to your every whim.

You had tried to object at first, insisting this level of opulence wasn’t necessary. But Carlos merely placed a finger over your lips with a mischievous grin.

“Ah ah ah, mi ángel — you agreed to let me spoil you for a week, remember?” He chided playfully. “No objections!”

Before you could protest further, he pulled you into his arms, warm and solid and smelling faintly of bergamot. “Just relax and enjoy la buena vida for once. That’s my only condition.”

Looking into those warm brown eyes, you found yourself getting deliciously lost as his breath fanned across your lips. What choice did you have but to nod breathlessly and let yourself be whisked away into his lavish wonderland?

And it has been nothing short of wondrous so far. After being settled into your palatial suite with its giant marble bathroom and wall-to-wall windows, Elena escorted you into the exclusive world of Formula 1.

The Grand Prix itself is certainly glamorous — the electric atmosphere, roar of the cars driving at breath-taking speeds, and prestigious crowds dripping in finery and jewels. But it’s the behind-the-scenes action in the paddock that truly left you dazzled.

Elena led you through a dizzying labyrinth of state-of-the-art motorhomes and garage bays with cutting-edge equipment full of personnel bustling about in a flurry of coordinated movements. She introduced you to a mind-boggling array of mechanics, aerodynamicists, race strategists, hospitality workers, and more.

The entire operation felt like the world’s most organized theatrical production playing out before your very eyes. And at the center of it all? A beacon in red drawing all eyes to where he’s leaning against a metal wall towards the side of the garage? None other than Carlos himself.

Seeing him in this element, commanding the hushed and reverent attention of dozens of crew members with an intense yet unhurried confidence ... there was something almost unbearably sexy about it. His typical warmth and charm were overshadowed by a blazing intensity and poise more potent than any poem he could compose under the haze of painkillers.

Between briefings and warm ups, you managed to steal a few stolen moments with Carlos. Whether brushing a clandestine kiss to the back of your hand or pulling you aside for a heated embrace out of view, he always reaffirmed this sublime fantasy was for you … and you alone.

“Having fun so far, mi ángel?” He would murmur, lips brushing your ear as his hands skimmed teasingly down your sides.

You shivered at the gravelly timbre of his voice, rendered speechless by the fire flickering in his eyes. How could anyone put the depths of your experience into words?

So you simply answered by pulling him into a searing kiss, fingers tangling in those sinfully tousled locks. By the time you parted, Carlos’ pupils were blown wide, chest rising and falling heavily against yours.

“Save some of that fire for after the race, cariño,” he’d say thickly with a wolfish grin. “You may just be the greatest distraction I’ve ever had to overcome.”

With one last smoldering look, he rejoined his crew, leaving you flustered yet utterly euphoric. Yes, Carlos Sainz had managed to spirit you away into an all-encompassing dream — one you never wanted to wake up from.

The sound of a nearby door opening brings you back to the present with a contented sigh. You let your eyes drift open again, blinking against the brilliant sunlight as a familiar figure emerges onto the terrace.

“There’s my hermosa,” Carlos greets you warmly, slipping off his cap to run a hand through his ridiculously perfect hair. The simple gesture makes your breath catch as always.

You feel a smile stretch across your face as he approaches. “Hi there, stranger. Taking a break?”

“Something like that,” he chuckles, dropping into the lounger beside you with a groan. “Just a quick respite from the crowd.”

Carlos turns toward you with poorly concealed mischief dancing in his eyes. “Though ... I may have also needed an excuse to see this beautiful sight again.”

You roll your eyes in exaggerated exasperation to hide your giddiness at his flattery. He’s been adorably smooth this entire trip. “Save your lines, Casanova. You already got me here, remember?”

“Ah, but a man can never compliment his lady enough,” Carlos objects smoothly, grasping your hand in his calloused one to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Starting with how radiant you look basking in the Australian sun, mi ángel. A lesser man would get jealous.”

You shake your head, even as tingles race across your skin from his gesture. “Is flattery how you butter up any pretty girl who catches your eye?”

“Just the especially gorgeous ones,” he winks unapologetically. “But there’s only one who’s made me want to be a hopeless romantic.”

With dizzying ease, he leverages himself across the narrow space between you, caging you in on all sides with his toned arms. Your breath catches at his sudden proximity, pulse quickening from the heated look in his eyes.

“Perhaps I should stop with pretty words ...” Carlos rumbles in that velvety accent, closing the remaining distance until you can feel the heat radiating from his body. “And use actions instead.”

His mouth captures yours in a slow, smoldering kiss that has you melting bonelessly against the plush cushions. Large hands splay across the dip of your waist, firm yet intoxicatingly gentle. You melt into the unhurried caress of his lips, addicted to the way he sets your entire body deliciously alight.

When you finally part, you’re flushed and breathless, gazing up dazedly at his twinkling eyes. “You’re ... terribly persuasive, Mr. Sainz,” you manage.

He rewards you with a wolfish grin and another toe-curling kiss. “Only for you, mi amor,” he growls against your lips, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest. “Only for you ...”

A tiny gasp of surprise parts your lips as Carlos suddenly freezes, mouth going taut. You tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze questioningly.

“What’s wrong?”

He drops his darkened eyes down toward his palm sheepishly. It’s then you notice the tiny trickle of red seeping from a paper cut across his skin.

“Oh no, it seems our ... passion got a bit too rough,” Carlos grins cheekily. “Gave myself a battle wound.”

Rolling your eyes, you gingerly take his hand to inspect the miniscule wound. Just a thin cut that was reopened, likely from reviewing telemetry packets between briefings.

“It’s nothing serious,” you chide. “Though I suppose I could play nurse for you one more time.”

He gives you a devilish look from under his inky lashes. “Please do, mi ángel. I’ll need your ... very special care.”

You level an unimpressed glare at him, slipping off the lounger toward the rooftop bathroom to grab the first aid kit inside. By the time you return, Carlos has the audacity to be sitting patiently with his lightly bleeding palm extended in offering. Like a king awaiting tribute from his loyal subjects.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” you scoff, cracking open the kit and perching on the edge of his lounger. With the utmost care and tenderness, you gently apply antibacterial ointment and wrap the cut with an oversized adhesive bandage.

“There, all better, your Highness,” you announce with a solemn nod.

But rather than releasing your hand, Carlos envelops it fully in both of his. His warm eyes search yours impishly.

“Actually, hermosa ... there is one last thing that could help it heal even faster.”

You quirk a skeptical brow at him, already thoroughly endeared by whatever outrageous thing is about to come out of his mouth. “Oh? And what’s that?”

The corner of his lips twitches up in that rakish half-smirk you adore. “A magical, healing ... kiss.”

Of course. Of bloody course.

“You can’t be serious,” you laugh, trying in vain to tug your hand back. Carlos simply holds it fast, fervently earnest despite the devilish twinkle dancing in his eyes.

“Completely serious, mi amor! The power of a beautiful woman’s kiss has incredible healing properties.” He pulls your hand close. “Especially from an ángel like you ...”

Warmth blooms across your cheeks at his antics, head shaking in amusement. Even after weeks of witnessing Carlos’ particular brand of cheeky charisma up close, he can still catch you off-guard and leave you deliciously flustered.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” The reprimand lacks any bite as you can’t help but grin back at him, captivated as always.

His answering look is all playful innocence — one you know better than to trust for a single second. “Does that mean you won’t bless me with your magic?”

Brown eyes beg at you over your trapped knuckles, full lower lip jutting out in a pout far too enticing to resist. With a shaky laugh, you finally acquiesce and bend forward to press a slow, petal-soft kiss over the bandage.

A grin stretches across Carlos’ face once you pull back. “My hero!” He exclaims, catching your hand in both of his to nuzzle the inside of your wrist adoringly. “See, querida? Already I can feel the enchanted restorative properties working wonders.”

“You’re utterly shameless!” You let out another breathless laugh.

“Only because you make me crazy, mi ángel,” Carlos retorts with an exaggerated groan, tugging you closer until you half-cover his toned body.

You go easily, resting comfortably against the solid wall of his chest. Strong arms wrap around your waist, securing you in place as Carlos pillows his cheek atop your head with a contented sigh.

“You render me nonsensical and utterly bewitched. I’m powerless against your effortless magic.”

The words rumble through you in that low timbre you’ve become addicted to, spreading warmth from the crown of your head to the very tips of your toes. With a quiet hum of contentment, you tuck yourself tighter into his side and watch the swaying of the palms framed against the brilliant blue sky.

In this moment, the entire world seems to shrink away into insignificance — nothing but you and Carlos tangled in this serene haven apart from all space and time. Nothing but the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek, the cocooning circle of arms that sets you ablaze and soothes you in equal measure.

Just as you feel yourself being lulled into a state of blissful relaxation, Carlos presses a lingering kiss to your hair. His chest vibrates with quiet yet fervent words.

“Thank you, amor ... for giving me a chance to make you mine.”

Pure affection blooms golden in your chest at the reverent sincerity of his tone. You tilt your head up to find his warm brown eyes already trained on you. Filled with adoration yet still flickering with that insuppressible spark of mischief and zest you adore so much.

With an impulsive hand curling around the nape of his neck, you pull his mouth down toward yours. As you part, twin smiles linger on your swollen lips.

“And thank you,” you smile wryly. “For having an appendix that decided to take matters into its own hands so we could meet.”

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