#I hope you like it. I should have waited to feel better to write this. But I wanted to post on his bday.

[norrisleclercf1]

For requests just some fluff/comfort for Charles :(((( even better if it’s dad Charles I just want some comfort fr

A/N: Ugh haven't had the itch to write in a hot minute but right now school is doing well soooo in a good mood to write

He just wanted to go home, he wanted to be home instead of standing in this media pen pretending everything was fine, he had hope the car was going to do well, he didn't, and that he was happy for Lewis doing well, nope he wanted it to be him.

"Oh, congratulations on your baby, you and Max are now matching in the newborn and new dad department huh?" The reporter asks, the mention of his baby has everything melting away, the anger, resentment, the despair and utter darkness. He could see their little hand wrapped his one finger, matching eyes with his, but your hair, and little matching nose.

Charles lights up, everyone notices the shift in the Ferrari drive as he beams, "Yes, well Max already has his stepdaughter that he thinks of as his own, so he's not technically a new dad, but yeah we've both been keeping the paddock updated with all the new baby photos and constantly showing them off. "So, did you have a boy or a girl?" They ask, his smile wavering a little.

Your one request so far was not to share much, all you shared was a little photo of the baby holding one of Charles's rings with him wearing it. Announcing the baby was here and you two were doing well that was it, you wanted to recover, feeling like yourself before giving the world into thoughts and insights of your family.

"Ahhh, well that's private for now, all I can say is they're doing well, perfectly happy and healthy and just can't get enough of the contact naps and taking pictures of them." He says smiling, seeing the disappointment in the reporter not catching him off guard. "Anyways, I should be heading home, now, thank you," Charles says into the mic and steps away, not caring he's ending his media duties early.

He wanted to get home to you and the baby.

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

The last thing you remember was cheering for Charles and laying on your side, placing the bassinet next to the couch, lowered so you could see over it as you watched the race, but soon it went dark as you fell asleep. Before long you're woken to soft jingle of keys on the glass coffee table and soft french being spoken.

"Oh, hello my gorgeous little girl, have you been good for your Mama?" He whispers not wanting to wake you, not even the slightest bit upset at you for sleeping during the race. Whenever he was home, he took the nightly feeds and diaper changes trying to help you wherever he could. "Aria, my sweet baby girl, Papa missed you greatly," He hums as she coos still so small and fragile he was scared he'd hurt her.

"Your home," Charles looks up from the bassinet and smiles softly, "I couldn't wait any longer, never been happier to come home after a race," You smile at those words and reach your hand out, letting the cold metal of his rings sting against your warm skin. "Was she much trouble? I was worried with me being gone..." "Charles you faked an illness so you could stay home an extra day," You sigh and he hangs his head, looking down at your sleeping daughter, "It was worth it," his smile so bright.

"How'd the race go?" Asking carefully, yes he seemed happy, but you knew he hadn't stop smiling since the birth of little Aria. "Don't worry about it," Moving around the bassinet he moves you a little and lays down behind you before pulling you right back into him. "I'm sorry," You whisper, knowing he'd talk to you about it when the time was right, "Don't be sorry, you gave me something better than a trophy," He hums.

"Charles, don't be cheesy," You groan making him chuckle as he moves draping his arm over you and laying his hand into the bassinet on Aria's stomach, "Sorry, it was right there," Lips gently kissing the back of your neck, "Shameless you are," "If I was truly shameless I'd be flashing her picture all over saying our daughter is gorgeous and prettiest in the entire world," You shake your head smiling, "Alright, alright, just take a nap with us okay," You whisper.

"Day I say no to that, let Max or Lando hit me with their cars," "Promise," you say

[towasdandelion]

,,, hello im here again with another idea JSJSJJDJSJJD it came to me in a Dream you could say. ill take u up on the inbox cookie offer AJSHSJHSJ

SO I WAS THINKIN . after a really fun first date with the ghouls, mc texts them about how much fun she had and how she can't wait to go out with the ghoul again even though she was SUPER NERVOUS about going out with him at first :(( nd it's super cute and pining all over the place

as for who to write this with you can pick whoever T0T i really just want u to have fun with the ideas i throw at u all the time nd i hope you aren't stressed out <3

take care of yourself amidst the sea of suggestions im sure you have acquired ^^; have a good day YOURE THE BEST as always C:

nd like seriously 1000% serious if you have any fic suggestions please lmk i NEED to write something in return for you YOUVE WRITTEN SO MUCH FOR ME I NEED TO RETURN THE FAVOR SOMEHOW

OKAY THANK YOU YOU ARE THE BACKBONE OF THIS FANDOM!!!!!

Aaa that's a super cute idea! And definitely something I'd like to write for every ghoul hehe. Your suggestions never disappoint (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡ Also! unless you ask for someone else specifically I'm always going to include Ritsu in your requests!! That's like non-debatable! And don't mind me feeling invited to your inbox! I'm definitely going to appear there soon (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

When you text the ghouls after your first date

[Haku, Ritsu, Tohma, Sho, Rui]

Haku is relieved when he receives the message from you. He was hoping he didn't come across as too pushy during your first date. Well... Zenji did give him a whole talk about how he should and shouldn't behave after all so maybe that helped in the end. His confidence skyrockets when you let him know you want to see him again. Though he did have to fight the urge to add "my bedroom, that is" after his last message. I guess some 'habits' die hard.

If Ritsu appeared calm and collected, that's because he had a whole preparation routine as well as calculations on how much of a success the date will be. Everything was meticulously prepared, so he's feeling accomplished after seeing the message from you. Your satisfaction is all that mattered to him after all. If you notice him tripping over his words in the texts, just go along with it! That's just his stress catching up to him. He's still just a ghoul after all.

Tohma is very perceptive so he did notice you appeared to be a bit stressed. And he regrets not asking you about the reason. He was hoping it wasn't because you didn't feel comfortable around him. That's why he smiles when he sees your message. Seems like his worries were unnecessary after all. You letting him know that you want to see him again is a clear signal - things are going the right way. He might go just a liiiittle bit overboard and prepare very fancy dates after the first one. So be prepared to be amazed.

Sho was feeling a bit nervous during the date but he made sure to keep it under control. All because of some stupid things Leo just had to say... That guy really knows how to plant the seed of uncertainty. The thoughts finally disperse after your text, and he can let out a breath of relief. He's happy to know you really enjoyed yourself. Even more when you ask to see him again. Now he's going to think about where to take you next. But he's definitely not telling Leo about that.

Rui is feeling very optimistic after the date. Well he's just doing his best to drown out his worries to be honest but it still counts alright? There's no way you didn't enjoy a date with him, right? His ego gets a nice boost when he gets your text. Time to get cocky! He just gets super excited but I can't blame him. He's finally dating the girl he chased so long after! And he's going to make sure each date is better than the previous one. You're not going to feel bored with this guy.

[spidersoulss]

"Backseat of Baby"

Pairings: Sam Winchester x F!Reader

Inspired by the song “Obsessed” by Jutes

Summary: Sam takes you out for a night drive after Dean let him take the impala, making him swear to take care of baby and “don't do anything freaky in the back please”. Sam rolled his eyes and swore with his fingers crossed behind his back. 

Warnings: Smut 😔 in the back of the car, Sam is obsessed (lol) 

Word count: 1566

Author's note: guys I don't even know what i'm doing, I feel so cringe writing smut please give me some grace 😭🙏 every time i write a smut scene i'm just going “omg ew, omg wait cringe WHAT AM I DOING”..anyway, I hope y'all enjoy. 

_____________________________________________________

The wind nips at your skin as Sam speeds down the empty midnight road, blasting the mixtape you made him for his birthday. You laugh and shout as you lean halfway out the window, never feeling more alive. Sam returns your excitement, and looks at you with the biggest grin.

He is truly your biggest fan, he has been since day one. “Baby be careful, I do not want you falling out of this car” he says with amusement. You giggle as you pull yourself back into the car, he shakes his head and huffs a laugh. Your hair is wild but Sam thinks you look pretty like that. 

“This is so sick” your eyes gleam at Sam and he winks at you, placing his hand on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. You don't miss the shiver that runs down your spine, or the way the adam's apple in Sam's throat bobs as he tries so hard to focus on the road. 

Thank god no one else is driving right now, he would have for sure crashed; How could he not when he has his pretty girl sitting passenger seat in the impala. “Sam you better keep your eyes on the damn road” you jest and he snickers, “how about you drive so i can look at you properly” he suggests, an underlying hint of seriousness. You blush and nudge his arm, his hand drags farther up your leg; Jesus christ help you and take the motherfucking wheel. “I'm sure you'd like that, crazy” you smirk, he glances at you and squeezes your thigh; something in his eyes shift. Your stomach flips.

“What can I say, I am utterly and overly obsessed with you, my pretty girl” he slows the car and pulls over. Your heart rate quickens as Sam turns to face you, “hey hey hey, you swore to dean to not do any freaky shit in baby” you point an accusatory finger at him and he chuckles, leaning closer. “Deans not here right now though, is he?” Sam asks rhetorically, you shake your head. 

His voice drops “That's what I thought” he cups your jaw as he pulls you into a heated kiss, you sigh into his lips. The hand that was on your thigh moves to grope your ass, pulling you further against him. “Sammy” you breathe as you pull away for air, he hums in response and starts kissing down your jaw and to your neck. His lips leave small marks in their wake. Soft moans escape your mouth which only eggs him on further. 

“You make such pretty sounds baby” he groans as he continues his ministrations on your soft skin. The way he makes you feel should be a crime. Before you can say anything, he grabs your body and pulls you over the center console and onto his lap. Sam's hand moves to the back of your head, bringing you in to kiss you sloppily.  “Dean is gonna fuckin kill you” you mutter and he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, “I dont care about dean right now” he says lowly.

Sam's hands roam over your body, under your shirt to feel your skin shiver under his touch. You pull your shirt off over your head, throwing it to the passenger side. “Beautiful” he breathes, his hands ghosting over your breasts. You moan again and lean into his touch, he smirks at this before kissing you heatedly. 

You fumble with his shirt, getting frustrated when it doesn't come off in one go. Sam chuckles and throws his shirt off in a swift singular motion. You love the way he looks shirtless, under the low light of the moon and the car lights. “Wait, hold on” he breathes, you furrow your brows, thinking something is wrong. “What? Are you okay?” you ask and he nods quickly, “I am so okay, I just want more room to do things to you” he smirks and glances to the backseat. You drop your head to his chest and laugh.

You peck Sam's cheek before climbing into the back seat, you shimmy out of your shorts as you wait for Sam to follow suit. He lays you across the leather and gives sloppy kisses all the way down to your naval. 

Sam looks up at you through hooded lids, his eyes glazed over with lust. You blush and run your fingers through his hair; his shampoo routine really pays off, because it's so soft all the time. Screw Sam Winchester and his perfectness…literally. 

He hooks a finger under the crotch of your panties and pulls them to the side, admiring at how you're already glistening for him. He groans at the sight of you, running a finger through your folds. You whimper and let your head fall against the car door. Sam grins and pushes his middle finger inside slowly, your hand grips his hair, earning you a moan from him. 

“Fuck, sam” you breath, your hips move against his hand. he touches you in a way that makes you think hes mapping your body out to memorize. He likes dragging this out, wanting to see every little reaction you give him. “So perfect,” he mumbles.

His mouth is on you and he's added a second finger, curling them inside and hitting that sweet spot. He has stupid accuracy when it comes to finding your most pleasurable spots. Your mouth falls into a soft ‘O’ shape and a string of moans and curses fall from it.

 “You taste so sweet, so good my perfect girl, I love making you feel good”. Sam groans against you, sending vibrations through your core. It only pushes you further to the edge. He notices this and sucks harder, “come on pretty, I wanna feel you on my fingers” you cry out his name as your release hits you. “That's it, just like that, good girl” he praises. Pressing gentle kisses to your sensitive bud as you come down from your high. 

Sam stalks his way up your body, his face glistening with your release. “You're perfect” you tell him and he kisses you slowly, letting you get a taste of yourself. He moans into the kiss and his hands stroke your hair softly. “I should be saying that to you, my gorgeous perfect girl” he kisses the tip of your nose

You shove his pants down and he takes care of the rest with a huffed laugh. He pulls his boxers off, his cock springing free, the tip already leaking. Your breath hitches in your throat, you never get over how big he is. I mean yeah he's an objectively large guy, but it's still jarring. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” he whispers, pumping himself a few times before he slides himself along your folds. You sigh and wrap your legs around his hips, draping your arms around his neck. “I'm always ready for you, Sammy,” you smile softly. He kisses you deeply and sheathes himself inside you. 

You groan and arch your back against him, “oh fuck” you curse. He bottoms out immediately, resting his head in the crook of your neck, sucking gently. You inhale sharply, reveling in the way he feels. “Please move” you whimper, Sam kisses the place he nipped at and begins to move his hips.

His pace is slow and steady at first, but he picks up quickly. The car rocking on beat with his thrusts. It's like Sam was made for you, you take him so well and so perfectly. He mutters praises to you, his hands committing your body to memory. The windows fog up as your breathing becomes more heavy and ragged. 

“So perfect, so so perfect, you take me so well, i love you so much” he moans, his hair falling in front of his face. “I love you t-too, oh god im close!” you shout. Sam brings a hand down to rub small circles over your bundle of nerves. 

“Come on, cum for me, you're squeezing me so good, feels so good” he groans, his head falls against your chest and he leaves little love bites. You’re sent over the edge and hit your second high. (a second orgasm has hit the tower (i'm so sorry)). 

“That's right, let go for me, my pretty baby you look so pretty when you cum around my cock”. Sam's orgasm does not take long to arrive after yours, he buries himself to the hilt and spills inside you. Thank fuck youre on the pill, and sam, like the loving obsessed perfect man he is, got a vasectomy just for you. 

You sigh heavily and he collapses onto you. Kissing your sweaty skin. “I love you so fucking much” he breathes, tracing circles on your skin. “I love you too” you kiss the top of his head. 

The two of you stay like that for a while, enjoying each others company. Sam spends this time just looking at you with his puppy eyes. 

______________________________________________________________

“Sam what the fuck did i tell you!” Dean shouts angrily as he gets into the car. “What are you talking about?” Sam feigns innocence. Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes, giving his brother a disgusted look, “it smells like sex in here, I told you to keep baby clean!” he yells. 

Sam just laughs and Dean continues to drive, complaining the whole way. 

[sxftkxssxs]

Hey, I am not sure whether it fits the dark themes, but can you please write about suicidal M/C with main 6? They're living for years with it, so it's not immediate, but they haven't stopped considering either. Any level of seriousness is fine, if you decide to take the promt. I just really like your writing and this prompt would've resonated deeply with me

I'm super glad you like my writing! I hope if any of you are having these thoughts you have someone to reach out to. I hope I did everyone justice, I feel a little out of practice!

Main 6 with a Suicidal MC

Asra

He's observant, and he's definitely not dim. They'll likely understand some of the behaviors you're showing. They went through it during the plague after all. He might not understand the extent that your thoughts go to, as he coped differently, but they’ll always listen.

If you explain how you're feeling to them, him and Faust have full attention on you. Faust will curl around you like she often does for Asra, curling her tail around your wrist. It’s subtle, but it’s her way of offering comfort as you talk. If you take a moment to breathe you’ll feel her tail squeeze a little, as well as small whispers of her voice.

If they find out through other means, they hesitate to bring it up. Especially if it was through something in your experiences before the plague. He’ll eventually ask, very gently and carefully.

He’s honestly devastated that you thought this way. He brought you back, but did you not want to be here? He knows his affection and care can’t fix everything, but he’s oddly compliant with more of your ideas than before and occasionally just takes in the sight of you longer than usual. It’s obvious he’s affected by the revelation.

He does insist on possibly seeing someone better equipped to handle mental health, for the both of you perhaps. If you agree to try, but want to go alone, he’ll come with you and wait outside. If you’d like to go together, they’ll readily accept.

Overall, Asra loves you and wants to see you enjoy life to its fullest, and hopefully these thoughts will continue being far away.

Julian

He’s familiar with the feeling. Though he wasn’t going to take his own, he was very willing to give his up when he believed he was guilty. He knows it can be different for each person, so he won’t ever try to compare your experience to anyone else’s.

He does panic, no matter how he finds out. He’s pacing and muttering to himself, Mazelinka and Malak have to get him to calm down when they find him. He tries to keep it to himself, but they can see right through him. She doesn’t try to pry, and only offers broad advice that somehow meets his situation to a T.

He’ll come to you, asking very seriously about it. Julian will listen to you in full. Only when you’ve finished telling him what you’ve needed to say will he actually act. If you thought he was a tier 1 clinger before, get ready. He holds you so tight that night you would think you’re with a bear.

Malak perches on your shoulder, making tiny sounds and puffing out his feathers. If you have hair, you’ll feel him pick at stray strands with his beak. He’s confidently expressing that you should turn to him for help if you need it!

Julian will not try to cover up his worry for you, he loves you and after so long he’s finally not afraid to show that. He’ll drill that into your head in so many ways going forward.

Mazelinka, Portia, and the rest of their family back home are always open to you. They all greatly encourage you to come to each of them if you need someone besides their chaotic little Ilya!

Nadia

Nadia is overcome with worry. She’s very caught off guard in this situation.

If she found something that brought this to her attention, she’ll take some time to contemplate in her tower, wondering how she should approach you about the subject. She’ll come back rather quickly for the situation, with a certain type of confidence in her step.

She’ll ask you to explain why it is you’re feeling this way, if there might be a way to make these thoughts leave you alone. If there is, she’ll pour all her effort into making it happen. If not, you at least know you have her in your corner.

If you bring it up to her first, then she’ll take a moment to think. The silence is very heavy, but she doesn’t mean any harm with it. She’s gently holding onto your hand and rubbing her thumb over your skin while she thinks.

When she comes to a conclusion, she’ll refocus on you. Nadia strives to be there for you. She expresses that you have the entire palace at your whim. Whatever you need, she will try and get it for you. She knows palace live can be stressful, and maybe make these feelings worse when you fail at something. If you need time away then she’ll be happy to arrange that for you.

Chandra perches on your shoulders, chirping at you with a glint in her eye. You have a feeling she’s expressing her own version of being there for you.

Muriel

Poor Muriel is shocked. You always seemed so put together, much happier than he was.

He’s felt similarly, back when he was forced to fight in the colosseum. He’d felt guilty, and he still struggled with depression up until you came bursting through his hut. You’d started a chain of events that helped him (begrudgingly) get better.

No matter if you tell him upfront or he finds something that reveals your feelings, Muriel stays pretty quiet about it. He’s just observing, looking for details he never saw before.

eventually he tells you that you aren’t alone. If there is anyone you want on your side it most definitely is the 6’10 giant of a teddy bear that is Muriel. (And Inanna, who is now pulling you into little cuddle piles by the fire at every opportunity) They both try to notice when days are a little tougher, and be there for you.

He’ll definitely seek out Asra, to get better help than he might be able to provide. It’s your choice on if you want him with you or not while you talk to someone better equipped.

Portia

Her reaction depends very heavily on if she finds out through something she finds or you tell her.

If she finds something that exposes her to how you feel, she does feel very very worried, and upset. She places a lot of weight on being honest with her when you’re struggling. She refuses to just turn a blind eye now, and brings it up to you. She’ll give you her full attention, and bring up suggestions on what she might be able to do to help!

if you tell her up front instead, she’ll be very proud of you for telling her. She’ll listen to what you have to say, and definitely suggests going to someone who knows how to handle this better than she does. She’d love to be there for you when you go to see them, but if you wanted her to wait outside or even at home she’d be more than willing to stay home. (She definitely prepares home to be super cozy when you get back though!)

She’ll always be supportive of you, and if you’re having a rough day she has no problem having you stay home (although she rarely can, being the countess’s personal servant, but the days that Nadia catches wind of the situation, Portia gets home suspiciously early..) or she’ll often check in to see how you’re doing!

Pepi is amazing on the days you stay home, often pawing at your arm to get you to keep petting her. You both often end up in a cuddle pile by the time Portia gets home.

Lucio

Lucio goes uncharacteristically silent. It takes him a few moments to really process what he’s learned.

Whether you’ve told him yourself or he found something that rang warning bells in his head, he takes time to think how he wants to respond. He knows he’s reckless, he’s been cruel, and although he’s grown considerably since then, he still feels he shouldn’t reply too hastily. Though even when he does, he’s rambling and talking about how he’s not sure he’s doing this right.

While he’s considering what he should say, both Mercedes and Melchior sit with you. They’re looking up at you with their beady little eyes, giving you little kisses. Mercedes watches Lucio with a very strong glare, almost intimidating him into thinking through his words.

Lucio tries to convey that he’s there for you. You two are partners! He’s not good at noticing small details, especially with behavior, since he focuses more on other things. If you’re having a rough day, tell him! He’ll plan something or you can stay home with your little dog family for the night.

Mercedes and Melchior voice their approval, alerting anything within the area of your presence. (Whoops, but at least you know your dogs would never leave you behind!)

[intheorangebedroom]

UMMM YES I'M INTERESTED IN HOW THEY'RE DOING???

Oops sorry for yelling

My love, you can and should yell at me for taking so long to answer you 🫣 I don’t know how you bear with me. But I’m not complaining that you do 🧡

The question was, how are PTMY’s Frankie and Gabrielle doing. First, can you believe it’s been 10 years, sort of, since PTMY takes place in 2015? And today is Frankie’s 50th birthday 🥳🥳🥳 So not a bad day to answer you, after all!

I’m afraid the following will only reveal the extent and depth of my delulu where these two are concerned.

A lot happened in those ten years, and also not much. Time passed and they all went about their lives.

Yovanna went back to school to finish what she had started back home before moving to the US with Santi, and became a legal adviser. On the day she graduated, Santi proposed. Classic Pope. Their wedding was a lovely day, just like them, casual and warm and love everywhere. A couple of years later, they had a son, Joachin. Sweet and sensible, the spitting image of his father. The kid is obsessed with music. He'll be a great musician one day, you can mark my word.

Will, too, got married. Remember Clare, his neighbor? Now this was what you might call a big wedding, and also the first time Gabrielle saw Benny after the “late night” incident. Awkward. Maybe even more so because Benny brought two plus ones? Anyway, he didn’t leave the party with any of them, because he ran into Clare’s cousin, Nicola, and the two have been “casually dating” ever since (they’re stupid in love). Nicola even managed to have Benny quit the fighting (to everyone’s relief). He trains kids, now. Often, Frankie will pick up a six-pack and stop by the gym where he works and they'll hang out past closing time, just like they used to, you know, before.

Will and Clare had twin daughters, Ella and Carmel. Ben and Gabrielle are Ella’s godparents. Being an atheist, Gabrielle tried to protest, but Will assured her it was mostly a way of making her an official family member (there was a lot of crying, it was a joyful snotty mess). Those kids are... well, I hate to say spoiled when talking about kids because I don't believe you can love a kid too much. But those two peanuts are SPOILED ROTTEN. Good for them.

As for Izzy, she’s still single. It’s fine. She doesn’t travel as much as she used to. It's fine, too. She’s still a freelancer, but she’s made enough money that she can be picky with what job she takes on. Five years ago, she bought an apartment in Buenos Aires and she spends the (New York) winter months over there. Frankie had gotten used to having his sister nearby, and he misses her a lot. And yet, she still hasn’t managed to convince him to come down and visit. But Gabrielle is working on it.

Rosie went back to med school and successfully graduated. Now she works (her ass off, she doesn’t know how to do it any different) for a non-profit that provides medical and legal assistance to undocumented women. She finally hired someone to come once a week to clean and tidy up the house. Oh, and she’s currently having a torrid affair with the very hot (younger) guy who cleaned her gutters last fall, no pun intended, don’t tell anyone.

I’m very happy to report that Dolores is doing a-okay. She still runs her vintage store in St Mark's, which is a little miracle, given how the rent has increased, and she’s dating a very handsome and wealthy gentlemen. The poor man is completely wrapped around her little finger. She sure knows what she’s doing. She’ll be alright. I love her.

Sadly, though, Suzanne lost her partner to breast cancer. She stepped down from the book store, and Gabrielle now pretty much runs it on her own. She made a few changes through the years, and the book store is now specialized in children’s literature and graphic novels. She developed regular events (like drag queens reading kids' books centered on difference every second Saturday of the month) and the store acquired a great reputation. She’s been able to hire another employee, and she no longer works on Saturdays (a French girl's ultimate goal, not working on weekends).

She still meets with Rosie every Tuesday evening, rain or shine.

Frankie found a good position as a flight instructor, something much closer to their home, so he doesn’t have to spend half his day in his truck on a never-ending commute. He’s got a good schedule, a good insurance, and most importantly, his coworkers' respect.

They are disgustingly happy, with their soft love and their rough sex and their many minute rituals. Gabrielle makes coffee in the morning, while Frankie packs her lunch. Every night before bed, he braids her hair. On Saturdays, they watch SNL. Sunday mornings are for pancakes, Sunday nights are for movies. Every summer, they travel to Europe for a week, and once a month, they drive to upstate New York, where they spend the weekend in a little cabin they bought there with Izzy.

And they have a secret. They eloped. It started as a joke, but Frankie kept talking about it, preferably in moments when he knew she couldn’t counter, like during sex. The idea kept growing inside his head, another way to protect her, another way to keep her safe. She tried resisting, she put up a good fight, but in the end, she relented. Not like she can refuse him anything...

They didn’t tell anyone. Just ran off and did it. Afterward, Frankie told his sister and Gabrielle told Rosie (both were pissed but not surprised). No one else knows about it. Will suspects something, of course, but he’s letting them have this one. For now.

They don’t have rings. Gabrielle still goes by Tourneur. But she wears a little gold locket with a lock of Frankie’s curls clasped inside it. The chain is sealed around her neck.

Sometimes, when they’re alone at home, he stops whatever it is he's doing and comes to stand in front of her. Draws her flush into the solid wall of his chest. His arms wrapped around her, he lowers his lips to the shell of her ear, and in his low husk, he says, my wife. She rolls her eyes, pulls a face, but it makes everything inside her buzz and sparkle. The way he beams with pride. The way his voice rumbles. She burrows into him, her face in that place between his jaw and collarbone where fear and pain can't find her, where she's home, safely tucked away from the rest of the world behind the orange curtains.

Those years of domestic bliss still haven’t outnumbered the harrowing ones they spent apart, searching for each other, caught up in their loss and trapped in their loneliness. Those years are lost forever. They never talked about it, but the day the balance will tip will be a special kind of victory for Mr and Mrs Morales.

🧡

[zestyzigzagoon]

I won't write this because I'm still in a rut and I have other things to catch up on, but fun AU idea: famous person x normal person AU, except the normal person lives under a rock and has no fucking clue who the famous one is

[starlightswordfight]

UHH REMINDER ALSO SINCE I HAVE BEEN SHARING A LOT MORE NEGATIVE THINGS LATELY that amid literally everything that's been going on, there are still things that you can do to retain control in your life in at least some areas!! not everyone can actively protest right now, not everyone has the means and that is OKAY! do what you can when you can!!

this post is a wall of text of me rambling about things you can do Right Now in your community or to keep yourself happy and motivated and going. it's a long one so it's going under read more. I also talk a lot more in the tags

i also use terms like Current Events a lot so I also apologize for the vagueness in some places!! I do not know if this will get flagged if I get more specific and my account has tried to go down twice now

#1: BONDING WITH YOUR COMMUNITY (WITH PERSONAL SAFETY IN MIND)

getting involved in your local community is a big big big thing I've seen talked about lately and I agree with that entirely!! the #1 best thing I feel like anyone can do right now is either volunteering at local support groups or getting involved in local activism

if you have a local community you can connect with for whatever reason then that's absolutely a good idea for both practical and emotional reasons. it can be for anything really, actually. reach out to friends, reach out to family, keep talking to people if you have the energy! it really does make a difference!

^ related to the above, if you can involve yourself in volunteer work, or mutual aid, or just helping others out in some other way, then absolutely do that! you can start with asking around, or searching up aid or other groups that may need extra help in your area, and go from there!!

I see a lot of people have been saying for months to organize and then absolutely no one ever explains how to organize, and if you don't plan on starting something up Yourself that is how you get involved. you find like minded people and you lend your hands. I just looked up "volunteers needed/mutual aid [insert town here]" and went off of that

and there are a lot of different places people might need assistance for. one example being food banks, pantries, are basically always accepting new donations -- if you have produce, not all of them will accept it due to safety regulations, but a local community garden might! libraries also will exchange more than books, and protecting libraries by showing involvement and interest in them is important now more than ever

local businesses, emergency aid if you have the certification, environmental work and disaster cleanup, assisted living areas, shelters, a lot of other specific areas I can't name right now. if you are physically able to seek out support and give back in turn (and if you aren't able to do one or both of these that's also okay!!) i highly highly recommend it. mutual aid especially goes both ways. do not be afraid to reach out for help, that is what they're there for

speaking of libraries!

#2: KEEP INFORMED

this can refer to a lot of different things, but on a federal and local level it is never ever ever a bad thing to keep up to date with what's going on. anyone trying to do bad things on a government level is relying on you not noticing or staying uninformed in the invent that you do notice. keep track of what's going on in your area and plan accordingly!!

keeping up with the news (and fact checking, always, because journalism isn't always ethically practiced), finding where your local city hall or equivalent is and staying up to date on local legislation, has always been important for safety and especially is right now. know how to determine a reliable source from an unreliable one, and know how to pick apart the difference between fact and misconstrued ideas spoken as fact. I'll probably make a post on that too at some point and link it here when I'm done

it is overwhelming to hear just how much is getting worse so quickly, but it's crucial that you don't allow yourself to become unaware, because that makes you easier to lie to. you do not have to work yourself to burnout or to a breakdown, please take breaks whenever you need to and put your own health first!!

but don't do yourself the disservice of not knowing what's happening around you. I want everyone to be as safe as they can, and to be safe you have to be informed

#3: FIND SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO (AND ALSO KEEP CONTROL OF YOUR LIFE EVEN IF IT'S IN SMALL WAYS)

staying up to date on current events has been overwhelming for me, but it also has helped me to maintain a sense of control in my life. and there are a lot of other ways to do that, too, and also give you sources of happiness and things to still look forward to! I'm listing what works for me but I'm sure there's infinitely more ways to pull that off

taking up or getting back into hobbies or interests is a very effective way to keep joy in your life, and this goes double if you're sort of stuck in your house like I am most days. you should get to do things that make you happy!! you deserve to still have things to look forward to!!!

I've also been personally using my interests to try to learn how to do more practical things that might help me and the people I live with; I'm a gardener so I've been working on trying to grow food, starting with sweet peppers. don't know if I'll end up needing that one day (or if my neighbors might, but as the economy completely fucks itself it could get very useful very fast), but having the knowledge and the means helps me feel more in control of what happens in my personal life, and it really has made me feel better and have a source of hope

I really hope that everyone who sees this is doing as well as they're able right now. saying all of this because I don't want to contribute to any ideas of complete hopelessness, if that makes sense. there are things worth getting up in the morning for and every one of you matters and you deserve to be happy. and I love you /p

even if you aren't utilizing your hobbies in that way (again, PERFECTLY fine, do what you need to forever), something like that might be useful for you, too! you can learn new skills or read up on all those things you already wanted to look into but kept putting off, you can carve out a little space in your world for Joy and for Whimsy if you don't have one already! it's good for you!! it's incredible in fact!!

[figureitoutinthemorning]

He has decided to join me for Floor Time.

[hana-bobo-finch]

jørgan clan my beloved. you guys are so messed up

[ilovolderman]

Operation Mugshot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Sam tries to set a trap to catch your secret relationship with Bucky.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, drones and oranges

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

Sam Wilson had a plan.

He’d spent the better part of two weeks compiling evidence, cross-referencing time logs, analyzing coffee consumption patterns, and creating a red-string bulletin board that would’ve made any conspiracy theorist proud.

Today, all that paranoia was finally going to pay off.

He sipped his decaf—yes, decaf, because he needed to stay sharp—and watched the living room like a hawk disguised as a houseplant. Or maybe the other way around.

The trap was simple.

Step 1: Hide in the pantry with snacks, a thermal imaging tablet, and a drone disguised as a spice rack. Step 2: Wait. Step 3: Catch you two being adorably romantic in high-definition.

Easy.

Sam sipped his decaf, checked his drone feed, and muttered into his earpiece—connected to absolutely no one. “Wilson to base. Operation Mugshot is live. Targets are expected in T-minus one minute.”

Five minutes in, Sam was regretting the plan.

Ten minutes in, he was beginning to lose feeling in one leg.

Fifteen minutes in, the door creaked open.

He tensed. It was happening. Showtime.

But it wasn’t Bucky.

It wasn’t even you.

It was a Roomba. Rolling casually into the kitchen, bumping into a cabinet, and then zooming away like it had places to be.

Sam exhaled, annoyed. “False alarm.”

Twenty minutes in, the door opened again. Finally.

A creak. Footsteps.

Bingo.

You shuffled in wrapped in a burrito blanket, yawning with your whole body. Your socks were mismatched. You still had a pillow crease on your face. You looked, in Sam’s words, “suspiciously domestic.”

A beat later, Bucky wandered in.

Barefoot. Wearing a t-shirt that just so happened to look a lot like one you “lost” last week. He blinked at the pantry.

Bucky tilted his head ever so slightly toward the pantry. The door was open a fraction too wide. There was a faint hum—Sam’s drone, probably watching like a nosy Roomba.

He mouthed, Trap.

You mouthed back, I know.

So, naturally, you played it cool.

“Morning,” you said casually, reaching for a mug. “Nice weather for emotional espionage.”

“Sure is,” Bucky replied, pouring himself coffee like a man who hadn’t just spotted a super-spy hiding behind the cereal boxes.

You both stood in suspicious silence for a moment.

Then Bucky dropped the act, leaned over, and whispered, “We should absolutely mess with him.”

You grinned. “What do you have in mind?”

Cut to ten minutes later: you and Bucky sat on opposite ends of the couch, the most awkward six feet of exaggerated distance between you. No eye contact. Arms folded. The tension so forced it might as well have been acting school improv.

Sam, crouched in the pantry, stared at the screen. His drone hovered silently, recording the scene.

“Huh,” he mumbled. “No touching. No shared glances. No whispering. That’s… not what I expected.”

The footage was useless. You both looked like coworkers waiting for a Zoom call to start.

Then—movement.

Sam tensed.

You got up. Walked toward Bucky. Bucky looked up.

Sam’s heart nearly exploded with victory.

You said, “Do you have… the thing?”

“The thing?” Bucky echoed.

“The thing for… that work thing?”

“Ah,” Bucky said, “the… report?”

“Yes,” you said stiffly. “That report.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open. They were talking code. He scrambled to write it down. THE REPORT = PROBABLY CODE FOR SECRET RELATIONSHIP.

Sam was vibrating.

“They’re debriefing,” he whispered. “This is it. This is the heart of the operation.”

Then he shifted too hard and knocked over a box of granola bars.

The pantry door creaked.

The drone wobbled and dropped like a bug with stage fright.

You stood calmly and opened the door.

There was Sam Wilson. Looking like a kid caught stealing cookies—except the cookies were a pile of tech gadgets, caffeine charts, and about four different colored highlighters.

You blinked. “You okay in there?”

He looked down at his tablet. “I was… conducting surveillance.”

“For breakfast?”

“DON’T PLAY DUMB,” Sam snapped, pointing dramatically.

Bucky offered a hand to help him up. “Are you good, man?”

Sam slapped it away. “I’m fine. I’m always fine. I just got ambushed by—by deception and romantic subterfuge.” He gestured wildly.

“Coincidence,” Bucky said, way too smoothly.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You will slip up one day. You think I didn’t notice how you both hum ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ while making toast?”

“That was once,” you said defensively.

“ON THREE DIFFERENT OCCASIONS.”

“Okay, twice.”

“Also,” Sam added, “you share coffee stirrers.”

Bucky blinked. “We don’t even use stirrers.”

“You do!” Sam yelled, unhinged. “YOU DO. I HAVE SCREENSHOTS.”

There was a beat of silence.

You turned to Bucky. “We should be concerned, right?”

Bucky nodded solemnly. “Very.”

Sam’s drone bumped into the wall and fell with a soft whirr.

“…Friday,” Sam said, defeated, “run the footage back. Look for emotional cues.”

Then Friday chimed in: “Sir, your footage today is 97% couch silence and 3% you chewing a granola bar while whispering ‘enhance’ at a static screen.”

Sam’s eye twitched.

“I’ve failed,” he said.

You walked over and gently patted his shoulder. “You tried.”

“I hate both of you.”

“You love us,” Bucky said, smiling softly.

Sam pointed at him. “I will find the truth. Someday. I’ll be ready.”

“Sure you will,” you said sweetly.

Sam stormed out. Then stormed back in. Grabbed his granola bar. Then stormed out again.  He grumbled under his breath “This isn’t over. I’ll crack the case eventually.”

FRIDAY chimed softly from above. “Sir, your blood pressure is once again elevated.”

Sam glared at the ceiling. “FRIDAY, remind me to install lie detectors in every room.”

“Noted.”

Once Sam had disappeared, you leaned into Bucky’s side, chuckling softly.

“That was beautiful,” you said, still snickering. “I almost feel bad for him.”

Bucky grinned, kissing the top of your head. “Nah. He’s probably already planning his next move. But at least we know one thing for sure.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

He kissed your forehead again, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re definitely not getting caught.”

And as long as Sam kept chasing wild theories, you knew the two of you had the perfect cover.

For now.

From the hallway, Sam peeked back in, only to see you both on opposite ends of the couch again, scrolling your phones.

He narrowed his eyes.

“…One day,” he muttered. “One. Day.”

Later that morning you sat on the blanket Bucky laid out—curled up in one of his hoodies that was at least two sizes too big, sleeves draping over your hands like paws, the collar loose enough that it slipped off your shoulder every time you shifted.

The rooftop garden was quiet except for the lazy hum of bees somewhere off near the lavender.

Above, cottony clouds drifted across a soft blue sky like they were in no rush to be anywhere else.

Bucky sat beside you, legs stretched out, peeling an orange with the slow, careful ease of someone with nowhere else to be. He offered you the first slice with a crooked little smile—the kind he only ever gave you. The kind that made your heart skip like a stone across still water.

You took the orange slice, your fingers brushing his. His fingers lingered.

Another slice. For you.

One for him.

One he tucked into the front pocket of your hoodie with exaggerated seriousness, like it was official mission protocol.

“For later,” he said, his voice low, amused.

You chuckled, letting your head fall lightly against his shoulder. His hoodie smelled like him—cedar, warmth, a little like whatever laundry detergent he pretended not to care about but always remembered to buy.

He leaned into your weight, resting his cheek against your hair, and for a few minutes, the two of you simply were—content, warm, quiet.

“This is nice,” you murmured.

Bucky hummed. “Even if Sam installs spy pigeons next?”

“He already tried. They were drones.”

He tilted his head just enough to give you a look. “You’re kidding.”

“Swear. I caught one trying to blend in with the doves last week.”

“…Did it coo?”

“Worse. It beeped.”

You both burst out laughing, your voice muffled against his arm. Bucky’s chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, and you could feel it under your cheek like a heartbeat made of joy.

“You know he’s never going to stop,” you said, lifting your gaze slightly to meet his eyes.

“I hope he never does,” Bucky said, soft and sure. “Gives us an excuse to keep playing these little games.”

You smiled, fingertips absently tugging at the cuff of his sleeve.

“I like our games.”

“I like you.”

He said it like a secret. Like something holy. Like the sun had come out just to eavesdrop on the moment.

Then he tilted his head and kissed you, slow and soft, a kiss that tasted like orange and quiet and safety. The kind of kiss that wasn’t asking for anything, just giving everything.

You smiled against his lips. He kissed that smile, too.

Then, a soft whirrrr in the distance.

You both looked up.

A drone hovered nearby, clearly struggling against the wind.

Bucky leaned close, whispered in your ear, “Five bucks says he crashes it into the tomatoes again.”

You grinned. “You’re on.”

Moments later, the drone dipped, wobbled—

Thunk.

Right into the tomato trellis.

Bucky held out his hand. “Pay up.”

You laughed and kissed his lips.

 “Acceptable payment,” he said solemnly.

Meanwhile in somewhere in the compound Sam was scribbling in his notebook again.

CASE #111: They ARE Dating.

Surveillance Compromised Drone Casualties: 1 (Tomato-related incident) Emotional Evidence: Off the charts Investigator Notes: “They’re definitely dating. I feel it in my spleen. But also… maybe they deserve to be happy. Maybe… I’m the problem.” Status: Unofficially Admitted, Still Officially Denied

And then, in desperate, scrawled print:

“WHY IS IT SO HARD TO CATCH PEOPLE BEING IN LOVE?!”

Underlined three times.

“They’re too innocent. It’s a setup. It’s reverse psychology. They want me to think they’re not dating so I give up—BUT I WON’T.” he muttered

Then, he paused.

Stared into the middle distance.

“…Wait. What if I’m the one being surveilled?”

Friday, ever patient, replied from the speakers: “Sir, please go outside.”

next part

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd@poodleofstardust @poodleofstardust @homeless-clown @kitasownworld @loversrocktvgirl2 @herejustforbuckybarnes @stormy-stardust @fallen-w1ngs @winchestert101 @f4d3d-st4rs @ultravioletter @xamapolax @theendofthematerialgworl @doilooklikeagiveafrack @fablehaven-rulez @theproblemisthatimnotfictional @winter107soldier

[whosashan]

Hello! I love your writing! I was wondering.. would it be possible to request a sequel to Bitter for all the guys? The angst really got me good, but an end Where they see the Reader move on, whether it be with another LI or another person. Those sorts of fics soothe the angst for me even if they don’t end up together again.

Sour

Pt.1

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x non-mc!reader

SYNOPSIS: A year has slipped through your fingers like sand, carrying away the sharp edges of bitterness— or so you thought. Yet, the past has a cruel way of resurfacing, and when you stand before your former lover once more, the question lingers: has time truly softened the wound, or does resentment still simmer beneath your skin?

A/N: A lot of you guys asked for a sequel, and I must say - I'm so greatful for all of your support. It feels unreal, knowing that so many people enjoy my writing and get engaged in it. I tried to include every suggestion you gave me in some way. It ended up quite long, because I wanted to make sure they suffer. I really hope it's up to your liking, enjoy!

Xavier

A year had passed—one carved from sorrow, stitched with bitterness. Betrayal, mistrust, insecurities—every fracture in your heart laid bare, every ugly truth dragged into the light.

And yet, in some quiet, inexplicable way, you were grateful.

Grateful for the clarity, for the stripping away of illusions, for the lesson that love—no matter how fervent—could not thrive on longing alone. You had spent so much time searching for a deeper meaning, convincing yourself there had to be one. But sometimes, the truth was simple. Painfully, mercilessly simple.

He hadn’t chosen you.

There had been texts, calls, attempts at conversation. Words typed and deleted, ringing phones you never answered. You knew his tactics too well—the pleading eyes, the soft-spoken apologies, the way he’d paint his regret with honeyed words. But you had learned. This time, you refused to fall.

And so, the city became a vast and empty place, void of Xavier’s shadow. No accidental encounters, no glimpses of golden hair in a crowded street. It was as if the universe had granted you mercy, shielding you from the ghost of what could have been.

And with time, bitter turned to sour. Sour softened into something gentler, something warm. Until one day, you woke up and found yourself unburdened.

You were thriving.

A promotion at work. New friends. Doors opening where once there had only been walls. It was almost absurd, how small your world had been, how much of yourself you had given away for the sake of love that was never truly yours.

Because in the end, one heartbreak wasn’t the end of the world.

And when you finally let yourself step forward, the idea of meeting someone new no longer felt like a betrayal of your past self. It was slow at first—hesitant, uncertain—but why should someone else pay the price for wounds they never inflicted?

You were seeing someone. The phrase alone felt foreign on your tongue, strange in your mind. But it was real. It was different. No silent doubts, no waiting for the inevitable unraveling. Just laughter. Just affection. Just love, in the simplest, most effortless form.

You were distracted by happiness.

And maybe that was why fate decided to test you.

The bell above the café door chimed, a familiar sound that had never meant anything—until now. Until the moment you met a gaze you once knew better than your own.

Blue. Icy, calculating, flickering with disbelief.

Xavier.

He looked different. Sharper somehow, but worn. Dark circles framed those piercing eyes, his golden hair a little unkempt, a crease forming between his brows. There was no laughter in his expression, no easy charm. Just silence—thick, heavy, laced with something you couldn’t name.

Like he was seeing a ghost.

Like, after all this time, he still wasn’t sure if you were real.

He stood from his table, slow and careful, as if you might vanish if he moved too quickly. You straightened your posture, steeling yourself.

"Y/N..."

Your name left his lips like a prayer. Soft. Tentative. As if he didn’t deserve to say it.

And maybe he didn’t.

Still, you had promised yourself you’d be better than bitterness. That you wouldn’t let the past sink its claws into you.

So you smiled. Small, polite, but distant. "Xavier. Long time no see."

Something flickered in his expression, fleeting but unmistakable. Hurt.

"Yeah," he echoed, glancing down for a moment, hands curling into fists before he exhaled, gathering himself. "Long time no see."

A pause. A heavy, unspoken weight settling between you.

And then—"Would you sit with me?" His voice was quieter now, more hesitant. "Just for a little while? I won’t... I won’t nag you, I swear." A ghost of a smile barely touched his lips.

For a moment, you considered.

Curiosity stirred—how had he been? How had life treated him? And yet, you knew better. You had spent too long craving answers that would never change the past. The Xavier who stood before you was not yours to worry about. Not anymore.

So you inhaled slowly, steadying your heart, and said simply, "I don’t think there’s anything left to talk about."

Blunt. Honest. Kind, but final.

And for once, you didn’t feel guilty for choosing yourself.

The bell rang again, the door swinging open, and warmth enveloped you as familiar arms wrapped around your waist, a kiss pressed to your cheek.

"Love," a voice murmured, teasing and light. "You always make me chase after you." They laughed, and you did too, the sound effortless.

Your partner turned, glancing at Xavier with mild curiosity. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Nothing at all," you assured, slipping your fingers into theirs, warmth meeting warmth. "Let’s go."

And as you walked away, hand in hand with the person who had mended what Xavier broke, you didn’t look back.

But he did.

Xavier stood frozen, watching as you disappeared into the city, just as he had let you slip through his fingers once before.

And this time, there was no note left behind. No final words.

Only silence.

And the weight of a mistake he could never undo.

...

But it seemed fate was not yet finished with him. Seeing you again was a wound torn open, an ache that refused to fade. Xavier realized, with the kind of clarity that arrives too late, that he couldn’t let you go.

Not without trying.

And it didn’t matter that you belonged to someone else now—desperation made a man reckless. He would settle for anything. A glance, a word, a sigh in his direction. Proof that he had not become a ghost in your memory.

So he searched. Called. Texted. Every message fell into silence, his words lost to the void. He wandered through the places you once loved, only to find them hollow, emptied of your presence. It was as if you had evaporated, leaving no trace behind.

But then—when he finally found you, sitting on a weathered park bench beneath the fading gold of an autumn sky—his breath hitched. You looked different. Not just in the way time shapes a person, but in the way peace does. It softened you, made you untouchable.

He hesitated. He didn’t want to startle you, didn’t want to seem like a desperate man chasing shadows. But wasn’t that exactly what he was? Obsessed, haunted, unraveling beneath the weight of his own mistakes.

And then you looked at him.

His heart stuttered. Your eyes—once a universe he had called home—held no welcome for him now. There was recognition, yes. But it was distant, indifferent. A ghost of a smile graced your lips, polite but hollow, and something inside him withered.

"I need to talk to you," he rasped, his voice raw from all the words he had never said.

You tilted your head, considering him in that quiet, unreadable way. Then, with a small sigh, you gestured to the empty space beside you. An invitation—not of warmth, but of duty. Perhaps you felt he deserved the clarity he had never given you.

He sat, feeling like a man standing at the edge of a cliff.

"I have no right to ask for forgiveness," he confessed, staring down at his hands as if the answers were etched into his skin. "I know that. But I feel... lost. Lost without you guiding me."

There was silence, heavy as the twilight creeping in around you. And then—

"What’s done is done." Your voice was steady, like the final toll of a bell. "You’re right—some things can’t be forgiven. And actions have consequences. I’ve moved on, Xavier. And you should, too. That’s the only clarity I can give you."

Your words struck like a blade, precise and inescapable. He had braced himself for anger, for screams, for the fury he knew he deserved. But instead, you looked at him with nothing but pity.

And that—God, that was worse.

"Y/N, please," he choked out, his resolve crumbling. "Just give me a chance. I’ll do anything. Anything."

He fell to his knees before you, the weight of his regret pressing him into the earth. Once, he had stood tall beside you. Now, he knelt at your feet, pleading for the remnants of something he had destroyed with his own hands.

You blinked, surprise flickering across your face before you exhaled softly. "I’m happily taken…" The words were gentle, but firm. And then, the final blow—"Engaged, actually."

You lifted your hand, and in the dimming light, the diamond on your finger gleamed like the last star in a dying sky.

Xavier’s breath left him in a ragged gasp. No. No, this couldn’t be real.

"Please—" He reached for you, his hands trembling, his world tilting beneath him. "I can’t do this without you."

You smiled then, and for the first time that evening, it was real. Soft, kind, but completely out of reach.

"I’m afraid that’s none of my business anymore."

You rose to your feet, turning away from him, your figure bathed in the golden light of a world that no longer had room for him. He watched, helpless, as you walked away—each step sealing his fate, each breath pulling you further from his grasp.

And when you disappeared beyond the trees, he realized the cruelest truth of all.

Some mistakes don’t come with second chances.

Zayne

A year.

A year since you had stood in the ruins of what you once called love, waiting for something—anything—to make sense. Since the walls of your world had collapsed beneath the weight of neglect, since the name Dr. Zayne had burned like acid on your tongue.

And yet, look at you now.

Thriving.

You had carved out a life that was entirely your own, no longer bending yourself into smaller, more convenient shapes to fit into someone else’s world. Your career—once just a dream, a hesitant whisper in the back of your mind—had become your reality, a space where your talents were not only recognized but celebrated. Your relationships flourished, no longer strained by the quiet loneliness of waiting for a man who always seemed just out of reach.

The girl who once sat by the phone, heart aching for a call that never came, was gone.

And yet, the ghosts of Zayne still lingered.

The recipe he once taught you? You still loved it, the taste laced with a bittersweet nostalgia. The song he always played while driving? Occasionally, you let it slip through your speakers, if only to remind yourself how far you had come. The pain of his absence had dulled into something quieter—no longer a gaping wound, but a faded scar.

You had learned to appreciate what his neglect had taught you.

Because he had shown you exactly what love wasn’t.

And now, you knew better.

...

It was supposed to be an ordinary evening.

Your partner—warm, steady, everything you had once begged for—had suffered a minor accident. Nothing dire, but enough to warrant a hospital visit, just to be sure. And so you stood there, waiting near the reception desk, arms crossed over your chest, glancing at the fluorescent glow of the overhead lights. The air smelled of antiseptic and sterile linens, the faint beeping of monitors a rhythmic pulse in the background.

And then—

You felt it before you saw it.

A gaze. Heavy. Familiar.

You turned.

And there he was.

Dr. Zayne.

For a moment, the world seemed to shrink, narrowing down to the space between you and him. He looked... different. Or maybe it was you who had changed. His sharp, professional composure remained, but there was something wearier about him now. The pristine white coat did little to hide the exhaustion beneath his eyes, the slight furrow of his brows, the way he adjusted his glasses in that meticulous way of his.

And yet, despite it all—he was still devastatingly familiar.

"Y/N?"

Your name fell from his lips like a habit he had forgotten he missed.

There was something almost startled in his expression, as if he hadn’t expected to see you here, hadn’t expected you at all.

"Did something happen? Are you hurt?" He was already stepping forward, concern etched into every line of his face.

There was a time when that look would have unraveled you. When your heart would have stuttered at the mere thought of being the center of his attention.

Now, it felt… strange.

Performative.

Not because you thought he was faking it—Zayne never faked anything—but because it no longer mattered.

You blinked, taken aback for a brief moment before schooling your features into something unreadable.

"I'm alright."

A pause.

Why did he sound as if he had just seen you yesterday? As if a year of silence had not stretched between you like an ocean?

Why was he looking at you like that?

And why—why did it still taste bitter?

His gaze flickered over you, searching for something, before he spoke again, his voice softer this time. "Then why are you here?"

You raised an eyebrow.

"Actually, it’s none of my business," he amended quickly, clearing his throat, adjusting his glasses again—nervous. Zayne never used to be nervous around you.

"But since you’re here," he continued, voice carefully composed, "perhaps we could talk? If you wouldn’t mind, of course."

There was something almost hesitant in his tone. Like he was reaching for something he wasn’t sure he had the right to ask for.

And before you could decide how to respond—

A warmth wrapped around you.

"Sorry I kept you waiting, baby."

A familiar voice. Soft lips pressed against your temple. A presence that felt like home.

Your partner.

Zayne went still.

You didn’t even need to look at him to know. You could feel it—the way the air between you turned sour, thick with something unspoken, something unacknowledged.

You turned to face your lover, melting into the easy affection they offered, their touch grounding you in a way Zayne’s never had.

"Is that your friend?" your partner asked curiously, glancing at Zayne with polite indifference.

You tilted your head, considering the question.

Friend?

No, that wasn’t quite right.

You let out a soft giggle, shrugging as you intertwined your fingers with theirs. "I guess?"

And then—without another glance, without another word—you turned, walking away.

Zayne remained where he stood, unmoving, silent.

He didn’t call after you. Didn’t reach out.

Because he knew.

He knew that if he had any place in your life, it would have been beside you, not behind you—watching as you disappeared into a world that no longer included him.

And now, the only thing he had left—

Was the taste of regret, bitter and lingering on his tongue.

...

Bitterness clung to Zayne like the aftertaste of a drink too strong, too sharp. And so, he sought sweetness in the only way he knew how—in thoughts of you.

Your touch, the gentle weight of your hand on his wrist. Your voice, quiet yet commanding, soft yet certain. Your presence, steady as the tide, once an anchor, now a ghost.

He had spent too long convincing himself he could let you go. That logic could silence longing, that reason could tame regret. But then he saw you again.

And the moment he did, he knew.

You belonged by his side.

So, it began. A pattern. A ritual. Lingering in the places you once adored, slipping into the coffee shop you used to frequent, hoping—praying—that fate would grant him another moment.

And fate, cruel and kind in equal measure, did.

You were alone, sipping your drink, fingers lazily scrolling through your phone. Every now and then, the corners of your lips twitched into a smile—small, fleeting, devastating. Zayne felt something in his chest splinter.

He wanted to be the reason for that smile again.

With a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding, he stepped forward, lowering himself into the seat across from you.

"Y/N."

Your name left his lips like a confession, quiet, careful.

You lifted your gaze, expression unreadable, an eyebrow arching slightly at his sudden presence. But no shock. No warmth.

That alone made doubt creep in. But it was too late to turn back now.

"...That’s unexpected," you said, returning your attention to your phone. "I thought you didn’t like this café."

His lips curved, but there was no humor in it. "I don’t," he admitted, adjusting his glasses with practiced ease. "But I find myself drawn to places that remind me of you. Old habits die hard, it seems."

A pause. Then—

"Nice."

Nothing more. Not a smile, not a flicker of interest. Just a word, impersonal and distant, slipping from your lips with all the weight of an afterthought.

It caught him off guard. He hadn’t expected warmth, but this? This felt like standing outside in the cold, staring at a window where a fire once burned.

Still, he pressed forward.

"So," he began, voice smooth yet hesitant. "Have you been well?"

"Cut the small talk."

Your voice was calm, but your patience was thin, and when your eyes met his again, he saw it—exhaustion. The kind that settles after a storm, after too many words left unspoken for too long.

"What do you want, Zayne?"

He exhaled slowly, as if composing himself. "I see time has made you even more direct," he mused, before his gaze darkened, sharpened. "Very well. I won’t insult you with pleasantries. I came because I needed to speak with you—about us."

A flicker of something crossed your face, too fast for him to name. And then—

"There is no ‘us,’ Zayne."

Your words were soft, but they struck harder than a shout.

"We didn’t work out," you continued, your voice steady, final. "It happens. Move on."

His fingers curled against the table, the faintest twitch of his jaw betraying the emotion he so carefully masked.

"You make it sound so simple," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "As if what we were—what we could have been—was nothing more than an inconsequential mistake."

"Not a mistake," you corrected. "A lesson."

He laughed then, low and humorless. "I see. And what exactly did I teach you?"

"That love is not enough."

It was cruel in its honesty. Devastating in its simplicity.

He looked away for a moment, staring at the swirl of steam rising from your drink, as if it held the answers he sought. Then, quieter this time, he said, "And yet, I find myself incapable of learning that lesson."

You didn’t respond. You only stood, preparing to leave.

That was when he reached for you.

Fingers wrapping around your wrist—gentle, hesitant, desperate. And in that moment, neither of you spoke.

Because you both felt it.

The ghost of what once was. The warmth of a memory neither had fully let go of.

His grip loosened, but he did not let go.

"Tell me," he said, voice softer now, raw in a way he had never allowed himself to be. "Is this truly the end?"

Your gaze met his, unwavering.

And then you nodded.

A single motion. Firm. Certain. Unshakable.

He let you go.

And though every part of him rebelled against it, though his heart ached with the knowledge that he would wake tomorrow with the same longing, the same regret, he told himself it was enough.

Because if you were happy—if someone else had succeeded where he had failed—then who was he to ask for more?

At least, that’s what he tried to believe.

Rafayel

A year had passed.

The seasons had shifted, weaving through time like a quiet symphony, their passage marked by sun-warmed afternoons and frost-kissed mornings. Life had carried on, carrying you with it.

And somehow, somewhere between then and now, you had left him behind.

Not in a single, heart-wrenching moment, not in some grand, dramatic farewell. No, you had left him slowly—like the tide pulling back from the shore, retreating inch by inch, until one day you realized there was nothing left to reach for.

And you were okay with that.

More than okay.

You had built something new from the pieces of yourself he had never cherished. A life that felt like yours, untouched by the weight of waiting, unburdened by the ache of almost-love.

And you had found someone. Someone who didn’t make you wonder if you were asking for too much. Someone who reached for you first, without hesitation.

You never thought about him anymore.

Not really.

But fate had a cruel sense of humor.

Because today, just as laughter spilled from your lips like honey, warm and golden, just as your partner squeezed your hand in theirs, grounding, steady—

You saw him.

Rafayel.

Standing at the entrance of the café, half-cast in shadow, his sharp gaze locked onto you like a man seeing a mirage in the desert.

Your breath did not hitch.

Your pulse did not quicken.

If there was an ache left inside you, it was nothing more than an old scar—a faint reminder of pain you had long since learned to live without.

But he—

He looked frozen.

Like he had walked into a moment he wasn’t supposed to witness.

Like the sight of you—laughing, radiant, untouched by him—was something he had never considered possible.

You met his gaze, tilting your head slightly.

Oh.

He hadn’t changed much. Still dressed in purple tones, still holding himself with that same quiet confidence, still looking at you like he was searching for something.

But he had changed.

His face was unreadable, but his eyes—once filled with amusement, teasing, always dancing just out of reach—were darker now. Heavier.

You knew that weight.

Regret.

Good.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick with things left unsaid, ghosts of words that once sat on the tip of your tongue, always swallowed before they could escape.

And then, finally, he spoke.

“Y/N.”

Your name on his lips used to feel like the start of something. A promise. A quiet, unspoken longing.

Now, it was just a name.

You blinked at him, offering a small, polite smile—the kind you gave to distant acquaintances, to strangers who mistook familiarity for significance.

“Oh,” you said, as if realizing he was there for the first time. “Rafayel.”

The casualness in your voice was deliberate.

His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture did—just the slightest shift, just enough for you to know he felt it.

“It’s been a while,” he said.

It had.

A lifetime had passed in that year.

“Yes, it has.”

You didn’t ask him how he was. Didn’t give him the opening he was waiting for.

The silence stretched between you, long enough to feel like a choice.

The café smelled of coffee and cinnamon, of sugar melting into warm pastries, but the only thing you could taste was clarity—light, crisp, sweet.

Then—

“Who’s this?”

Your partner’s voice, gentle yet firm, cut through the stillness.

You turned to them, your gaze softening the moment it met theirs.

And that—that was what made Rafayel’s breath hitch.

The way you looked at them.

The way you had never looked at him.

“They’re an old friend,” you said simply.

Not a lover.

Not someone who had once left you waiting in the dark, sifting through the scraps of his affection, trying to find something whole.

Just someone you used to know.

And you knew he heard the finality in your voice.

For a second, just a fleeting second, something flickered in his expression.

Loss.

Too little, too late.

You turned back to your partner, your fingers still laced with theirs.

The conversation resumed. Effortless. Unbroken.

And Rafayel—who had once believed you would always be there, lingering like an unfinished story—stood there, realizing he had become nothing more than a footnote in yours.

You didn’t look back.

And the only taste he was left with—

Was bitter.

...

Regret clung to Rafayel like salt on skin—persistent, inescapable, a reminder of tides that had long since receded.

And he remembered—oh, how he remembered.

The scent of your skin, like the last breath of summer before the waves stole the warmth away. The way your hair moved with the wind, as if it carried secrets only the ocean knew. The way your voice curled around his name, a siren’s call that had once lured him home.

How you understood him without words, how you indulged his recklessness, how—for once—someone had seen him for more than his name, his face, his fortune.

He still knew your favorite color, the way your smile tilted just slightly to the left, how every imperfection only made you more devastatingly perfect in his eyes.

And he couldn’t forget.

He tried, but he was a drowning man, reaching for driftwood, for anything that could bring him back to shore. So, he watched from a distance, fingers hovering over your name on his screen, refreshing, searching. Checking where you were, who you were with, what you were doing.

Love makes fools of men. But obsession—obsession turns them into ghosts.

And when he had mapped the rhythm of your days, he found himself drifting into them. Hovering at the edges of your world, waiting for the perfect moment to pull you back into his gravity.

When it finally happened, he caught you off guard.

You were walking, earphones in, humming a tune under your breath, lost in a world where he no longer belonged.

His hand found your shoulder.

Startled, you swung your bag on instinct, and it hit him square in the arm. He winced, clutching it dramatically.

“Ow, cutie! First, you break my heart, and now you try to break my arm?” His grin was lopsided, but his eyes betrayed him—searching, desperate.

You barely spared him a glance before rolling your eyes, turning away.

“No—wait.” His fingers caught your wrist, hesitant but firm.

You turned back, leveling him with a stare. "What? Want to get hit again?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it faltered under the weight of your indifference. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple.

"I would much rather prefer just to talk to you." His voice softened, no longer laced with teasing, but something closer to pleading.

Then, quieter—more deliberate—

“Y/N, take me back.”

You blinked. For a moment, silence stretched between you, the space between each breath vast as the horizon.

Then, you took a step back. And he felt the distance like an undertow, dragging him deeper.

“Absolutely not.”

There was no anger in your voice, no bitterness. Just finality, as gentle as a wave washing over forgotten footprints in the sand.

His throat bobbed. “…No?”

"You heard me."

His fingers twitched at his sides. “Cutie, please reconsider—”

“Oh god, don’t call me that.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing.

He hesitated, but then his gaze turned serious, the teasing stripped away. “I know I made mistakes—”

“You broke us, Rafayel.”

His breath caught. The truth of it cut through him like cold water, merciless and clear.

“Y/N.” His voice was lower now, quiet in a way that made the world around you feel too loud. “I know I ruined things, but you can’t tell me we weren’t great. You can’t tell me what we had wasn’t—”

“It was.” You interrupted, your expression unreadable. “Until it wasn’t.”

Something inside him cracked.

"I've moved on," you said simply, shifting your bag over your shoulder. And then, with a ghost of a smirk—mocking, cruel in its lightness—

"You should too, fishie."

It should have made him laugh. It should have made him tease you back, call you something equally ridiculous.

Instead, it felt like the tide pulling him under.

He said nothing, only watching you, searching your face for something—anything—that might mean he still had a chance.

And then you turned.

He caught your wrist again, more desperately this time. “Tell me,” he murmured, voice unsteady. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it? Do you want to see me on my knees?”

You looked at him then, really looked at him.

"I just want to see you out of my sight."

The words landed like crashing waves against stone.

His grip loosened, and you slipped away like water through his fingers.

"Have a great life, Rafayel."

And you walked away.

He should have followed. Should have thrown pride to the wind, should have fallen at your feet and begged like a desperate sailor praying to the sea.

But something in your voice—calm, unwavering—told him the storm had passed. And all that was left was the wreckage.

So he stood still.

And for the first time, he let you drift beyond his reach.

For now.

Sylus

A year had passed since you walked away from Sylus, but time had done nothing to erase the ache in your chest, nor the memory of how effortlessly you had disappeared from his life. You had left as silently as a forgotten dream, taking your heart with you, and leaving him behind to rot in the wreckage of his own actions. The decision had seemed like a balm in the moment, a clean cut. But as the days turned into months, the absence had become a ghost. It hovered in the corners of your mind, a constant reminder of the man you thought you knew, the man who had ruined you. And yet, despite it all, you had learned to live again.

You had rebuilt yourself, piece by broken piece. You embraced the ordinary—the quiet routine of your life, the peace that had once seemed so elusive when he was around. Your life was no longer tangled in the complexity of him. You began to explore things you never had the courage to before, tasting freedom in ways that filled you with pride. The world, without Sylus, was kinder—gentler. You smiled more, laughed more, and found comfort in the simplest of things: a cup of coffee on a rainy day, the soft rustle of leaves underfoot in autumn, the glow of a sunset you hadn’t shared with anyone. You had learned to live for yourself.

And yet, somewhere in the back of your mind, a part of you still wondered what he was doing.

The knock at your door shattered the quiet peace you had so carefully built.

You hadn’t expected visitors—especially not him.

Standing there, on the other side of the threshold, was the man who had once been your whole world, the man who had broken it. Sylus.

His appearance was jarring. His usual immaculate self was ruffled, as though the weight of the world had been wearing on him in ways he never allowed anyone to see. His sharp features were drawn, eyes darker than you remembered. There was something unfamiliar in the way he held himself—no longer the man who walked into a room like he owned it, but someone who had been worn down by the passage of time, by regret. And yet, his eyes, the same eyes that had once mesmerized you, still held that magnetic pull. Only this time, they were haunted.

“Sylus,” you breathed, the name slipping out of you before you could stop it.

There was a moment of tense silence, where neither of you moved. And then, his lips parted—just slightly—and a flicker of something like amusement touched his face.

“Missed me, kitten?” His voice was smooth, but there was an unfamiliar hesitation there, something raw in the way he spoke to you.

You couldn’t tell if he was still playing games, or if this was something else entirely. You studied him for a long moment, trying to read him, trying to figure out why, after everything, he still seemed so... familiar.

But you no longer cared.

The words came out before you even thought them. “What are you doing here?” Your voice was soft, there was no venom, no fury. Only confusion. And a quiet indifference that was worse than anything you could’ve said.

His gaze faltered for a second, but he quickly regained his composure, though his smirk was tighter than usual. “I thought you’d be more excited to see me.”

His words were like a knife to the gut, but you felt nothing—not anymore. It was like you had been hollowed out over time, and there was nothing left inside you to give.

You tilted your head slightly, eyes cool. “Ah, where are my manners?” You couldn’t help the sarcasm that slipped out, though it wasn’t playful—more a shield against the weight of his presence. “Oh, how I missed my favorite liar! The one who broke my heart and threw me away like a piece of trash.” You rolled your eyes, a bitter laugh escaping your lips.

The words should have stung, but somehow, you found relief in saying them out loud. For so long, you had kept the hurt buried beneath layers of careful silence, and now, here it was—raw, unapologetic.

Sylus’s face flickered, a faint shadow of hurt passing through his gaze before he regained his composure. “The kitten has grown some claws, I see.” His voice was flat, but there was a trace of something in it, something he was trying to mask.

He took a step closer, as if expecting you to let him in, but you quickly moved to block the door.

“Don’t,” you said simply.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised at your sudden resolve, but you didn’t care.

“You’re not welcome here,” you said, your tone final.

Sylus’s eyes softened for a split second, and in that brief moment, you saw the desperation that clawed at him. The weight of his regret that he never allowed to surface. “You’re hurting me, sweetie,” he said, though it was far from playful. It sounded like a plea.

Your heart didn’t twitch. It didn’t soften. It just felt... heavy.

“Good,” you muttered, looking him up and down, and for the first time, you saw him clearly—not the man you had once adored, but a man who had lost everything and had nothing left to offer.

Just then, a voice came from inside your home.

“Darling, what’s taking you so long?”

You didn’t need to look back to feel your partner’s arms slide around your waist from behind, their presence warm and secure, a reminder of the love you had found after him.

“Hmm, who’s this?” Your partner asked lazily, looking past you to the man who once consumed your every thought.

Sylus’s gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing as he sized up the newcomer, but you weren’t going to offer him any answers. Not anymore.

“He got the wrong address,” you replied evenly, your voice indifferent as you turned back to face Sylus, daring him to challenge your words.

And just like that, the man who once held your heart in his hands realized the weight of his own failure. The realization hit him like a tidal wave.

Sylus opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. His chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths, as if he were choking on his own grief.

You met his gaze, and for the first time, you felt no anger—only a quiet, final resolve. “I think it's time for you to leave, sir.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. His heart, once so certain and confident, now shattered under the weight of your indifference.

“Have a good night.” you whispered, the finality of the words slipping from your lips. And with that, you closed the door on him—on the man you once thought you could never escape.

Sylus stood there, staring at the wood that now separated you from him, as though hoping it would open again. But it wouldn’t.

He swallowed, hard. The man who had always prided himself on his control was now nothing more than a broken shell of his former self.

And it was all his doing.

For the first time in his life, Sylus had lost. And he had no one to blame but himself.

...

Sylus was not the kind of man who accepted defeat.

Not when you were so close, so painfully out of reach, like a forbidden fruit dangling just beyond his grasp.

He couldn't—no, he wouldn't—let you go so easily.

His mind clung to thoughts of you, obsessions blooming in every corner of his brain: your laughter, like the chiming of delicate bells, your playful words that always teased, always challenged him, your defiance that had once felt like the spark that kept him alive. You had been his equal, his match—two stars circling in an orbit of shared chaos and fire.

But now? Now you were slipping from him, dissolving into someone else’s arms, and that realization felt like a knife being twisted into his chest. He couldn't bear it. He could never bear it.

Bitterness seeped into his soul, a slow, insidious poison that clouded his thoughts. The feeling of helplessness was foreign to him, suffocating him in ways he had never known before. He had always been the one in control—always the one who commanded the world. And now you were gone, out of his reach, and it tore at him like a storm.

The thought of another touching you, breathing in your scent, seeing the soft glow of tenderness in your eyes—Sylus couldn't abide it. No. Not when he had once owned that gaze, that touch, that part of you that was his.

He needed one more chance.

Maybe it was for the peace of his mind, maybe it was his selfish longing, his desire to reclaim what he believed was his. Or maybe it was because he couldn't let go of the idea that you were a treasure meant for his eyes alone—his to hold, his to keep, like a rare, delicate jewel locked away.

And so, like the predator he was, Sylus followed you, carefully, subtly. With Mephisto keeping watch over you, it was easy to know where you'd be, when you'd be there.

Each time, he approached, his presence lingering just at the edges of your world—watching, waiting. But you rejected him. Rejected him with biting sarcasm, with icy silence that seemed to pierce his skin like a thousand knives.

It drove him mad.

The chase was maddening. The only thing that consumed him was the desire to have you in his arms once more, to feel the heat of your skin, the sweetness of your breath, the intimacy that he had once thought was infinite.

And then one evening, when he could no longer take the ache, he made his move.

You were walking home from work, the weight of the day pressing down on your shoulders. The quiet satisfaction of surviving the day was tempered by the exhaustion that clung to you. But as you turned the corner, a hand suddenly grasped your wrist, yanking you into a shadowed alley. Your heart pounded in your chest, a burst of adrenaline flooding your veins. You opened your mouth to scream, but before the sound could escape, a hand pressed over your lips.

"Relax. It's just me."

His voice—his damn voice—sounded like a lure, familiar and dangerous. Your body froze, not out of fear, but out of recognition. You knew it was Sylus, and despite everything, despite the years of hurt and betrayal, a twisted part of you felt… safe.

When he felt you relax, he let go. You spun around to face him, heart still hammering, but now tempered with anger.

"You’re crazy," you spat, your voice sharp and unforgiving. "What do you think you’re doing?"

His gaze, that unnerving mix of calm and intensity, bore into you. His expression was disturbingly relaxed, too casual for someone who had just dragged you into an alley against your will.

"Getting your attention," he said, his tone smooth, almost mocking. "Seems like it worked."

The words hit you like a slap. Your fists clenched, your anger bubbling over.

"You can’t just pull people into a dark alley, Sylus! You’re actually insane!" You jabbed your finger at his chest, each word punctuating the fury that burned through you.

Sylus didn’t flinch, though you could see the storm brewing behind his eyes.

"...I apologize," he said softly, his voice taking on a tenderness that was so unlike him. He reached out to touch your cheek, but his hand stopped halfway, as if he was still unsure whether he had the right.

The vulnerability in that simple motion—something so un-Sylus, so raw—stirred something inside you. Something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

You sighed heavily, the weight of everything pressing down on you. "What do you want?" Your voice was laced with frustration, your patience wearing thin.

"I thought that would be obvious by now," he said, a faint smirk curling at his lips, the teasing edge still present despite the darkness in his eyes. "Guess you’re not as sharp as I thought, kitten."

The bastard. Even now, he played with you like a cat with its prey.

"I swear, I’m going to file for a restraining order against you," you muttered, your voice tinged with disbelief.

"You can try," Sylus responded smoothly, his words dripping with a dangerous calm. "But you know well enough that such things won’t stop me."

You clenched your fists, your resolve hardening. The walls you had so carefully built around your heart in the past year came crashing down in a flood of anger and pain. You had moved on, healed—didn’t he see that?

"I want you to come back to me," he said, his voice now serious, his gaze earnest, though still haunted by the traces of his past mistakes.

But you wouldn’t crack. Not now.

"Never in this lifetime," you said, the finality of your words a heavy hammer to his chest.

Sylus’s lips twisted into a small, bitter smile. "Then, in another?" His words were light, but they carried a weight that you both felt. It was his way of hiding the hurt, the pain that had followed him like a shadow.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you let the silence hang between you, thick and suffocating.

"I’ll pray that I never have to meet you again," you said softly, the words filled with a quiet kind of sorrow. "Not in this life, and not in the ones after."

And with that, you turned, walking away from him, leaving him shattered in the cold, empty alley.

Sylus watched you go, his chest tight with regret. His heart—something he had long kept locked away, something he had never truly allowed himself to feel—was breaking in ways he had never imagined. The storm inside him raged, but he couldn’t stop it.

You were gone, and this time, he knew—he knew—there would be no coming back.

Caleb

It’s been a year since you last saw Caleb.

Well, not really. Sometimes you caught glimpses of him in the crowd—just a silhouette, a shape that might be his. Your heart would catch in your throat, and for a fleeting moment, you’d swear it was him. But the figure would turn, and it would be a stranger. Your imagination had been cruel to you, conjuring up ghosts from your memories and stitching together faces from your longing. Perhaps it was just your mind showing you what you wished to see, like a cruel twist of fate reminding you of what had slipped through your fingers.

A year filled with growth. You learned to be soft with yourself, to breathe through the pain instead of suffocating in it. You allowed yourself to be bitter—let the sadness claw through your chest and the anger burn through your veins. You let yourself crumble, and when the dust settled, you gathered the fragments and made something beautiful from them. A mosaic of healing. You thanked the universe for the lesson, no matter how brutal it had been. Whether it was God, fate, or simply the chaos of life, you accepted it. You learned that you were the only constant in your own story—the one thing that would always remain when everyone else faded to whispers.

In those months, you blossomed. You breathed in the world with new lungs, filling your soul with every small moment that once went unnoticed. The way sunlight painted golden patterns on cracked sidewalks, the way the ocean waves whispered secrets to the shore, the taste of ripe fruit on a sweltering day. You poured your energy into your work, rebuilt neglected friendships, and found comfort in the warmth of those who remained. You taught yourself that it wasn’t your fault—none of it had been—and that loving him too much was never a mistake. Only, you needed to love yourself first.

And when you finally felt steady enough to open your heart again, love found you. They were calm where Caleb had been chaos, steady where Caleb had been a storm. A lighthouse guiding you back to yourself, reminding you that love wasn’t meant to break you. Their hands held you like you were fragile, but their love made you feel strong. You didn’t compare them—Caleb was a different life, a different story. But maybe that’s what you needed. You were happy, genuinely happy, for the first time in what felt like ages.

The train station buzzes around you like a hive of restless energy, travelers weaving past each other with hurried steps and heavy bags. Your lover has gone to grab snacks for the journey, leaving you alone on the worn wooden bench. The air smells of old books and fresh coffee, tinged with the metallic scent of steel tracks. You lean back, glancing at the faded timetable, feeling content in the hum of life moving around you.

And then, like a phantom stepping through the fog of memory, you see him. Caleb. The world seems to stop spinning, frozen in that singular moment. He’s standing on the opposite platform, hands shoved into his coat pockets, head bowed as if weighed down by the past. A bitter wind pulls at his hair, and for a second, he lifts his gaze. Your breath catches as his eyes meet yours, recognition dawning like sunlight cutting through rain. He hesitates, lips parting, and you see the flicker of regret, raw and unguarded.

The hurt surges up unexpectedly, but it’s quieter than it used to be, muted by time and acceptance. You don’t flinch when he takes a hesitant step forward, his mouth opening as if to call out to you. A thousand words hang between you—apologies, confessions, explanations—but none seem to find their way into the open. You see the yearning in his eyes, the way he’s looking at you as if trying to remember every detail he once took for granted.

Your lover appears at your side, offering a small smile as they hand you a paper bag filled with snacks. Their presence grounds you, pulls you back to reality from the haze of memory. Caleb sees them too, and the pain that flashes across his face is like a knife carving regret into his bones. You watch as he realizes what he’s lost—how you’ve moved on, how you’ve found happiness that doesn’t depend on him.

He lingers there, stranded on the other side of the tracks, unable to cross over to where you stand. You almost pity him—the way his shoulders sag, the way his jaw clenches to swallow whatever plea was forming. But the ache that once ruled you has softened, transformed into something quieter. You’re not angry anymore. You’re not shattered. You’ve built something new from the ruins he left behind.

Caleb lowers his gaze, as if surrendering to the weight of his own choices. And as the train pulls into the station, you take your lover’s hand, intertwining your fingers like roots that hold you steady. You feel Caleb’s stare on your back as you step onto the train, but you don’t look back. There’s nothing left to see—just the remnants of a past that no longer defines you.

As the train moves away, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. It’s not triumph, not victory—it’s closure, as quiet and gentle as a sunset slipping beneath the horizon. You made it out the other side. And that, more than anything, is the proof that you are whole again.

...

But the peace you felt wasn’t the same for Caleb. Seeing you again after what felt like a lifetime was like being thrown into the depths of the ocean—lungs burning, heart pounding, utterly helpless. He hadn’t known he was drowning until he saw you sitting there, your feet dangling off the edge of the bench, lips parted in a soft “o” of surprise. You looked at him with that same curiosity, that gentle tilt of your head, and it struck him just how far away you felt—like a dream that had slipped through his fingers.

It wasn’t his place to feel this way. Not anymore. But he couldn’t help the ache that gnawed at his ribs, nor the desperate urge to reach out and pull you into his arms, to whisper apologies into your skin until his words sunk into your bones. Yet even from a distance, he could see how your shoulders were relaxed, your gaze steady and unburdened, and it only made the chasm between you widen.

When another person’s hands found your own, threading fingers together with the ease of familiarity, his heart cracked open—raw and aching. It wasn’t his business. He shouldn’t care. But he did. Too much. More than he thought he still could.

He wanted to run after you, to say something—anything. But what would he even say? That he missed you so much it hurt? That he had spent a year convincing himself he’d made the right choice, only to realize how profoundly wrong he’d been? It all felt pointless now, tangled in regret and longing.

Endless scenarios crashed through his mind like waves against rock, and somewhere in that turmoil, he decided he needed to speak to you—one last time. He needed your attention on him, just once more.

He waited for you outside your workplace, nerves coiling tighter with every second that passed. He wondered if you’d be angry—if you’d tell him to leave and never come back. But when you appeared, you only offered a small, polite smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You looked at him with the calm detachment of someone who had long since made peace with the past.

“Hey...” he murmured, forcing a boyish grin that looked so out of place on his troubled face. He rubbed the back of his neck, as if trying to wring out the nerves clinging to him.

You smiled again—gentle, unbothered, and heartbreakingly kind. “Hi.” Your voice was soft, like a memory he couldn’t quite grasp, and it was that tenderness—free from bitterness—that made his chest ache. He had prepared himself for anger, for hurt laced in your words. Instead, you were kind. You always had been, like a flower that bent but never broke, even under the harshest of storms.

“I was wondering if we could talk,” he said finally, hesitating as if the words themselves might shatter.

You didn’t move, just nodded your head. “Talk, then.” Your tone was steady, as if he was just another passerby in your life, not the storm that once tore it apart.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke, words stumbling over one another. “I guess... I didn’t realize how much I missed you—until I saw you at the station. I just—” He took a shaky breath. “I wanted to know if you’d ever consider forgiving me. For how foolish I was. For being so... selfish.” His eyes, those familiar, pleading puppy eyes, bore into yours, searching for a sliver of the past warmth.

You glanced at him, and he saw the flicker of something unreadable in your gaze before you answered. “Forgiveness is too much to ask for,” you replied softly, but your voice held a quiet strength that hadn’t been there before. “But I’ve learned to accept what happened. You should too, Caleb.”

His hands clenched at his sides, fighting the urge to reach out. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept it.”

You gave a sad, wistful smile, the kind that hurt more than any cruel words could have. “That’s on you,” you whispered, eyes glistening with a tenderness that had nothing to do with him anymore. “I’m happy now. I’ve built something beautiful out of the pieces you left behind. And I won’t let you take that from me.”

He lowered his head, unable to meet your gaze. “I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered.

Your smile faded, replaced by a quiet, unyielding resolve. “Intentions don’t erase consequences. Live a life without further regrets, Caleb.”

You didn’t wait for a response. You turned and walked away, each step decisive and unwavering, leaving him rooted to the spot—drowning in the knowledge that you were truly, undeniably gone.

And Caleb just stood there, feeling the hollow ache where your love used to be, realizing far too late that he had destroyed the only good thing he’d ever known.

@rubyrubyruuu / @browneyedgirl22 / @valentine-n-ragnarok / @whimsiecat / @esylwen / @crimsonmarabou / @we-rice-boi / @mitchelbr1 / @animegamerfox / @chgumji / @jeondyy / @rafayelridesfisheatsfish

[hyperexplosion]

.

[tbaluver]

Hewoo! I'm so so soo weak for your family fluff headcanons aaa can I request a scenario of the little kiddies of LADS men sneaking off with reader's phone and made a video call to their papas because they've been away from home and/or simply making a silly video call to brighten up their papas day? 🥺🫶🏻

˗ˏˋ Incoming Baby Call!˗- The Love And DeepSpace Men

featuring ( in order ): xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb genre: fluff fluff summary: your child(ren) sneak off with your phone to call them a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ WAHHH THANK YOU MWAH i love writing them as dads like i fear i want no husband as long as its them .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. this one is not beta read so i apologize for any mistakes! i have so much wip of them as papas that i hope to post soon <3 anyways i hope i did this request with justice ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ i hope you enjoy reading! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier was exhausted and hungry, his mission dragging on longer than he’d hoped. He couldn’t wait to get back home, pick up some dinner for his family, and finally relax. He couldn’t wait to wrap up this mission and be back home with you both.

Just as he refocused on tracking the wanderer, a soft ringtone caught his attention. Without a second to spare, he answered once he saw your name flash through his screen. But instead of you, his little boy appeared instead holding his plushie-shaped cookie.

“Hi, little buddy.” Xavier smiles softly. His son, as usual, flashes a cute peace sign in front of the camera. It was a little habit he did whenever there was a camera around and it’s a habit that you both hope he’d never outgrow.

“Papa,” his son whispers, holding up the tiny plushie to the screen as if he were offering it to him.

“Are you offering me a bite?” Xavier asked, playing along as his son nodded eagerly. “Thank you. It tastes great,” He adds, pretending to chew thoughtfully and giving a mock critic nod. “I think we should get more of these.”

It warmed Xavier’s heart to see his son share food even through the screen. Perhaps it’s something he’d watched you both share meals often and picked up on it. “Don’t forget to share with mommy too, okay?” His son nods enthusiastically, his chubby cheeks puffing out. “By the way, where is mommy?”

His son placed a finger to his lips to quietly shush him as he tilted the phone to the side, revealing you peacefully napping close to him, a plushie tucked under your arm. Xavier chuckles softly, not wanting to disturb you.

“Alright, let’s keep it quiet so we don’t wake mommy up okay?” He whispers, “If you take a nap now, I’ll be home before you know it.”

His son nods sleepily as he snuggles up closer to you. Even in such a small and simple moment, Xavier couldn't help but feel grateful. It reminded him just how lucky he was to come home to a family with so much love.

Zayne:

It was another busy night at the hospital. Multiple reports to go through before checking up on several other patients who are waking from surgery in a few hours. Another stressful night, but he’ll manage like he always does. Just as he was about to settle down in his seat, he checked his phone.

11 missed calls

Concern floods his body as he immediately calls you, only to find your baby daughter on the other end. “Papa!” She coos, her sweet little smile makes him feel slightly relieved. 

“Hi my love, where is Mommy?”

“in the bafroom,” She replies casually, his heart easing. That would be correct, her snowman pajamas tell him that you both should be getting ready for bed right about now. “Papa! I miss you..Are you going home now?” She pouts into the screen and Zayne only chuckles into the camera, adjusting his glasses. 

“Not yet my love.” He says softly, her pout deepening further. “I’m sorry but it seems that I’ll be here for a while.” His heart twinges at his own words. As much as he hates to disappoint his daughter, he knows this is a part of his job, something she’ll understand better as she grows older.

“But whyyy? Can’t you work here instead? You look tired papa.” She whines with pleading eyes, hoping this time she can make her father come home early again. 

He chuckles, he must’ve heard you both talking about his reports in the morning and mistaken it for something like homework. “Not tonight my love. Unfortunately, some patients need me right now”

She pouts, her head turning away, and he can’t help but feel worried. Did he upset her? He would hope not, he would want her to sleep well tonight. Maybe he should come home early or he can make it up by getting secret sweet treats together again.

“Papa, how about I read you a book then?” She asks, breaking his thoughts. She held up a book that she’s been practicing with. Maybe she noticed the bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep and is trying to cheer him up in her own little way.

“Of course,” A smile tugs on his lips as he adjusts the phone so he can hear her better. She opens the book, sounding out each word with Zayne occasionally helping her with the tricky ones. His heart swells as he watches her, she’s already growing up so fast.

She stops reading when he hears your voice in the background, asking her what she’s doing. “I’m talking to papa, mommy! I’m reading to him right now” You chuckle, thinking she was talking to a picture of him on your phone again but don’t realize she’d manage to call him this time.

“Sorry, Zayne! We can call you another time!” You quickly grab the phone to see your handsome husband’s face on the screen. You know at this hour isn’t his break but before you can say anything more, Zayne gently cuts you off.

“No, it’s fine. Stay, please. Let her keep going. I haven’t taken my break yet anyway.” His voice softens with a chuckle when he hears her cheer in the background. You smile, adjusting the phone and settling her on your lap. Together, you both help her continue reading her story before you say your goodnight’s.

Rafayel:

Boredom isn’t even the word to cover it. Rafayel felt tired, drained, from the endless back and forth conversations with multiple collectors, sucking away all the energy from him. The more he conversed with them, the heavier his eyelids became. He wanted to yawn, to make it clear how uninterested he was in their never-ending rambling. However, if he did, Thomas would surely give him an earful later or worse another due date for another art project.

He glanced around the room, jealousy gnawing at him as he watched a group of an artist's family admiring art together. He wished you and the kids were here with him. He would’ve had you here if he hadn’t procrastinated to accept the invite, the room’s capacity was already maxed out and the lists of invites were soon closed.

As the collector rambled on, Rafayel could feel his eyes slowly drooping, surely soon enough the glass in his hands would drop. Luckily, just when he thought he might lose the last bit of focus, his phone ringing caught his and the collector’s attention.

“Excuse me, it’s my wife.” The collector nodded, walking away, giving Rafayel the perfect opportunity to slip into a private bathroom.

As soon as he answered the phone, his heart lifted. On the screen were his little bundles of joy. “My little glubs!” A wide grin spread across his face, his eyes lighting up as the kids' tiny smiles beamed back at him. “What are you guys doing? Where’s Mama?" He asks, tilting his head, hoping to catch a glimpse of you through the screen.

“She’s cleaning!” One of the kids chirped, earning a playful shushing from her siblings. Rafayel chuckled, they had definitely taken your phone again.

“Papa, can you come home now? We’re bored and we miss you!” Their pleas echoed from each other, hoping he could understand that they really missed him. His heart ached, he could practically feel their tiny arms reaching out to him through the phone.

“Just a couple more hours and I’ll be home, I promise. Then we can play all night long, yeah?” He raised a brow, tilting his head.

“No Daddy! We made something for you!” One of them piped up, excitement bubbling in his voice.

“Yeah! We made our own art...ex..exa? examission?” The word came out cute, and Rafayel’s sure he meant to say was exhibition. Rafayel didn’t know yet but they had planned to surprise him with their own little art show that you were secretly setting up in the living room. You figured it would be a good idea to cheer him up after a long day without his family. However, you didn’t know the kids would take your phone while they ran off to go ‘play’.

“Papa, you have to come soon or else we’ll close!” His youngest insisted. Raf smiled, realizing this was one of their clever little ways of getting him to hurry home before they had to go to bed.

He paused for a moment, tapping his finger on his chin. His kids waited in anticipation, a playful grin spreading across his face as an idea sparked in his head. “Got it!” He said, snapping his fingers. “I’m coming home now!” The sounds of cheerful giggles erupted on the other side of the line.

Rafayel quickly exits out of the bathroom, Thomas follows behind closely while he asks where does he thinks he's going. Rafayel mentioned briefly that he had another art exhibition that was way more important than this one, making it enough to leave Thomas confused and stop in his tracks.

Sylus:

There’s nothing more infuriating when the tradesmen don’t want to cooperate even if they’re tied up. They whine and complain but the moment they realize no one’s listening, they cry out for help. But before their pleas can even form properly, Sylus silences them with a single look, fear flickering across their faces.

“One moment,” He says, raising an index finger to quiet them. Everyone's attention shifts to his ringtone, a melody of a childish tune unexpectedly playing from the speakers. The tradesmen freeze, exchanging confused glances at each other.

“Bossman said one moment!”

“Yeah, one moment!” Luke and Kieran chimed in, nodding as they let Sylus step away

Sylus taps the green button, his brow furrowing as he sees your name and contact photo flash on the screen. A wave of concern washes over him, did something happen while he was away? But that worry disappears when he sees his daughter's bright, familiar face light up on his screen.

“Daddy!! Hi daddy hiii!!” She chirps, waving excitedly at him.

“Hello, my little dove. What’s going on? Are you and Mommy alright?” He feels the tension in his shoulders ease when she nods rapidly, her little pigtails that you tied bouncing up and down. His heart melted at the sight of her, she looked almost identical to him, with white hair and red eyes yet her personality reminded him so much of yours.

“She’s in the kitchen,” She whispers as if she was sharing a secret. He assumes that she’s taken your phone in secret again. It should be fine, he has taught her to use the phone for emergencies. This wouldn’t count as much as one but he needed to take a step away before he caused one. “Papa, are you okay?” Sylus pauses, taken aback by just how perceptive she is. Perhaps it’s the vein on his forehead that’s threatening to pop. She’s sharp just like her mother.

He exhales deeply. “It’s just a rough night sweetie.”

Her brows furrowed with concern and her pout deepened, pitying her father. How she wished to hug him through the screen. “Papa, how about I sing you a song!” She offers, earning another soft chuckle from Sylus. He always sings her to sleep or cheers her up with a song so it’s no wonder she picked up the habit from him.

“Go ahead, my dove.”

Her vocals were very much like her father’s. When she spots his grin, her confidence grows, making her sing even louder.

“Make it stop!” One of the tradesmen suddenly screams, his voice cracking in desperation. “I’ll give you whatever you want- just please make it stop!” He cries, making Sylus’s ears twitch, the vein in his forehead threatening to make a reappearance.

“Papa, what was that?” She asks, tilting her head innocently.

“I think it was your audience dear. They seemed to enjoy your performance.” Her face immediately lights up, letting out a gleeful cheer.

“Can you give me a moment sweetie? I’ll be right back,” He quickly mutes the call and shuts off the camera. Quickly he extracts the necessary information before the men are lifted from the ground, their feet dangling helplessly in the air as red tendrils swirl around them. Despite their begs and cries, they vanished into thin air, leaving the room finally quiet.

With the problem dealt with, Sylus flips his phone back on. He hears your daughter’s cheerful greeting from the other end of the call, her innocent enthusiasm makes his smile return.

“Looks like you brought some good luck little dove. It seems we’re heading home early tonight.”

Caleb:

It had been a long, grueling shift in the skies. Nothing but endless stretches of blue with a few clouds to break the dullness. The minutes dragged by, each one feeling longer than the last. Caleb sat in his cockpit, his elbow propped on the console and his chin resting on his hand as he gazed at his screen. He could handle a shift here and there but ever since your family has grown, miles away from everything he cared about, it weighed on him.

That’s when a familiar, cheerful ringtone broke through the silence.

Caleb immediately perks up, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he sees your name and a photo of you flash on the screen. However it wasn’t you on the other end, it was someone much smaller and cuter and very much identical to him.

“Dad, dad!” The little boy grins ear to ear. Caleb couldn’t help but grin back, the weariness from his shift fading away.

“Hey there, squirt! What’s up?” Nothing seems to be wrong as he reads from his son’s facial expression. “Where’s mom? Everything alright there?” But of course, he just had to make sure. He would not hesitate to fly this ship back around.

“Yeah! She’s in the kitchen cleaning up. I ate all my vegetables just like you said!” His son beamed, making Caleb chuckle, shaking his head fondly.

“Good job! Don’t forget to thank your mom too, alright?” Your son nods enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling but Caleb couldn’t figure out why he could be so hyper until he held up a thick book about the Jurassic era.

“Dad, I finished this whole book!” He said, flipping through the pages to show his dad the pictures. “Did you know black beetles are one of the only creatures that survived the Jurassic era? We should go find some!” His tiny finger lands on a picture of a massive beetle, his eyes wide with awe.

Caleb chuckled, his heart melting at how much his son was almost like him. “That’s awesome buddy. You know, I think-”

Before Caleb could say anything more, a soldier by his door interrupts him. “Colonel, sir-!” Caleb’s fingers twitched, slamming the door shut before he finished his sentence. 

He returned his attention to his son, letting him continue his chatter about dinosaurs, and beetles while Caleb would chime in, sharing a little fact or story like how he used to tell you when you were walking on your way to school or just to help you fall asleep at nights.

Time seemed to slip away as Caleb listened to his son’s excited ramblings, the hours of his shift seemed to go faster than he realized. Even though he still had a while to go, hearing the voice of his family was enough to keep him going.

ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! Love And DeepSpace Masterlist, Pg. 2

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 · 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦

contents: smut. minors dni 18+. reader wears a nightgown to subtly get the message across. attempt at seduction. lots of teasing and kissing. first time with him. size difference. fingering. borderline overstimulation. no protection. mostly sweet lovemaking but implications of leading to rougher sex. sylus has a huge dick (he is standing at 6’2 after all). 2.9k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ based off of this arranged marriage sylus x wife!reader post but can be read as a standalone. smut writing is never one of my strengths but I had fun with this one!! and I can only hope it’s an enjoyable read to those who were anticipating a sequel 🤍꒱

“Doing a little late night reading?” Sylus glances at your form through his peripheral as you enter his bedroom with a light skip in your steps. He’s perched at the end of his bed with a high profile report in hand, and with a tilt of your head and prying eyes you hover over the document between his fingers as you stand before him. You skim through a few lines before he tosses it aside, murmuring that it’s nothing of importance when something more interesting happens to catch his attention and you feel the heat of his gaze doing you a once-over.

Your cheeks warm and you feel a tad shyness wash over you when he quietly appraises your body clad in a gorgeous silk slip with lace embellishments. He hums in appreciation, a slow smirk curling on his lips before he reaches out to grasp your waist and pull you forward onto his lap. He secures one arm around you to keep you in place and his thumb sweeps over the delicate sleepwear and the bare skin of your thigh in a soft, languid motion. “You’ll catch a cold in just your nightgown, kitten. Or did you wear it for me?”

“Maybe I just wanted to change into something a little more comfortable.” You respond with a coy smile and playful shrug of your shoulder which causes the thin strap to fall from just a whisper of movement. He enjoys your little display and act of innocence if this is your way of telling him that you want to deepen the relationship through shared intimacy like normal marital couples do during this time of night. And truthfully, he’s been waiting far too long for this moment to come but he didn’t expect you to offer yourself on a silver platter. What a sweet and precious wife you are.

“I’m sure you could find something more suitable than a flimsy nightgown.” His knuckles brush up along your arm and hooks the fallen strap around his finger to slide it back into its proper place. “But then, perhaps you wanted to tease me, too?”

You click your tongue in disappointment. No matter what you do he was always two steps ahead of you—it’s thoughtful yet infuriating especially when you want him to act more surprised. “Nothing ever gets passed by you, it seems.”

His large hand slips under the lace trimmings of your nightgown and moves closest to your backside for a firm squeeze. “You should know by now how badly I want you, sweetheart. And with you sitting in my lap, looking breathtaking like that. I’m tempted to just rip this little thing off of you.”

You purse your lips into a small pout that’s adorable to him and grunt in disapproval. “What if this night dress is one of my favorites? Don’t I get a say in what you can and can’t tear?”

He arches a brow as though to challenge you by putting the theory into practice. You keep forgetting that he could read you like an open book, and he loves nothing more than proving you wrong at every chance. “Are you saying you wouldn’t enjoy it if I did? I’ll buy you new ones. Better ones.”

You mull over at the thought. “Sounds troublesome. I’ll have to keep making these frequent shopping trips.”

“I just mean the nightgown is in the way of me seeing all of you. You’re more than welcome to wear it any other time, but right now… I want it off.”

“Well, it’s only fair you make the next move.” He groans lowly when you shift your weight in his lap and rest your head against him. You drag your manicured finger down his chest and gently flick at the silver chain looped between his collar. “I did come all this way just for you.”

He understood your meaning and leans down close enough so his warm breath fans over your lips when he tilts your chin to look at him. “If you want me to take off my clothes, you’ll have to undress me yourself.” The soft spoken words in his deep voice send a tingle to the back of your brain, and the lingering kiss he places on the corner of your mouth adds a fluttering sensation in your stomach.

“Still making me work for it? And here I thought I would be cherished and wouldn’t even need to lift a finger.” You bring yourself upright and shove him down onto the bed to climb over him and straddle him. He gives you a knowing smirk at the sound of your cute gasp when you feel just how hard he is for you against your clothed cunt. You make quick work of undoing the underlay of buttons tucked beneath the thick fabric of his tailored dress shirt and remove it entirely to reveal every bit of lean muscle. His build akin to that of a spectacularly sculpted marble statue down to the details of his veins on his strong arms.

“Making you work for it is half the fun, kitten. But just remember who will be putting in the most work tonight.” His hand wanders up your thigh again and moves along the curve of your waist, the expensive silk bunches under his touch and he gropes the fullness of your breast. You feel the strap loosen around your shoulder once more. “Are you liking what you’re seeing? You’re allowed to mark what’s yours, you know. But I’d like to be able to mark you as mine too, wife.” His hungry eyes slowly roam over your matching panties and midriff before he returns your gaze.

Your smaller hand covers his knuckles meanwhile his thumb brushes across your nipple and he revels in the feeling of the bud hardening over the material. “You’re just always so straightforward, aren’t you?” You sensually wrap your finger around the other strap that’s perfectly intact and at your cue Sylus glides his hand down to the small of your back and watches as the dress cascades down to your midsection.

“And you’re so beautiful.” You’re a heavenly sight to behold with the way his amorous stare commits your very existence to his memory, particularly the swell of your lovely breasts that’s heavy with lust and begging for more of his attention. He gently reaches for your wrist and his fingers smooth under your palm to bring your hand up to his face. His thumb runs over the wedding band that binds you to him laying a light kiss against your knuckles, then places your hand over his shoulder waiting for your next move.

You don’t waste another second closing the distance between you two and crash your lips against his for a needy and desperate kiss. Your fingers tangle into his silver locks and your heat grinds against him hoping for some semblance of relief from the ache that’s building inside you. You feel him envelop your breasts fully with each caress and tender squeeze and a little bit of nipple play.

Sylus tastes faintly of sweet, tannic notes from the lingering aftertaste of red wine as your tongue meets his through parted lips. His arms and hands alternate between hugging your body and grip tightening on your hips, bucking himself up into your heat. You feel yourself needing more, wanting more and being closer to him so you hurriedly unbuckle his belt and suddenly the sound of fabric tearing reaches your ears.

You muffle in surprise against his lips and push him back just enough to see him wearing a smug expression. “I should’ve known you’d go against my wishes.” You scoff in disbelief and yet there’s a grin playing across your features that betrays your earlier words. You hate to admit he was right from the start—that you’d find the ripping more attractive instead of being carefully unwrapped like you both have all the patience in the world.

Sylus discards the now ruined piece of clothing aside. He lifts you with ease and your back embraces the cool sheets when he drops you down on the mattress and returns to his full height. “I was never one to follow rules. Besides, you look perfect like this.” You support yourself up on your elbows to follow his movements, and any smart comeback you have dies in your throat when he picks up where you left off by unfastening his belt and stripping out of his trousers. His boxer briefs follow suit and he thinks it’s adorable how you look mesmerized from this performance alone.

Your eyes settle on his huge cock. Almost gawking at it and you unconsciously clench your thighs together. It’s perfectly proportioned to the rest of him—long and notably thicker with an upward center curve and a few prominent veins here and there. He flushes a pretty shade of red that’s gradient from the head down and his pubes are neatly trimmed.

“You don’t have to look so scared, kitten.” He rasps an amused chuckle, and he feels you tense slightly when his hand scales up along your knee to your inner thigh and he dips his fingers between your legs. “I’ll take my time with you so you can handle me.”

Your breath hitches when he feels how drenched you are through your panties. He offers a gratified hum, his handsome face and broad shoulders become your main focus as he closes in on you. “Spread your legs wider.” He murmurs into your ear, and as soon as you give him more access he delves into your mouth for a bruising kiss and chases you down onto the bed. His ministrations on your clit feel absolutely sinful yet so wonderful and your arm wrap around his back meanwhile your hand explores the muscled panels of his upper body and the areas that are within your reach.

A string of saliva connects you both then disappears as your lips come apart. But he doesn’t stray far when the exquisite look on your face is a breath away and he pulls your panties aside to collect your arousal with two digits sliding through your puffy folds. Your lustful sounds escape in a warm exhale as soon as he slowly inserts his thick fingers into your tight pussy, and you’re quite the vision arching your back so tastefully.

“Mmh, that f-feels so good, Sylus.” Your eyes glaze over when he steadily pumps in and out of you, curling so deliciously at your sweet spot and he marvels at the way your cunt is greedily sucking in his fingers. There’s nothing else like him, the way he stretches you and reaches the deeper parts and hits the bits you can’t yourself. He adores the breathless sighs and mewls of his name when he pushes you to the edge even more while kissing you senselessly.

“You sound beautiful. I love the way my name tastes on your lips.” You can feel him smirk against you, but you’re too immersed in your pleasure to respond in words that aren’t broken syllables. He trails open-mouth kisses down to your jawline and along the column of your neck, grazing his teeth and softly sucking on your skin until hues of velvet purple form. Your head burrows into the soft cushion of the mattress, hips squirming as your hand clutches onto his forearm from tension coiling inside you.

“M’gonna come soon, Sy—!” Your pretty moans and pants grow heavier each second, and he loves feeling your body quiver when you’re pressed under him. He’s still knuckles deep inside you with every intention of bringing you up to heaven and back down to him. After all, he doesn’t believe in doing things halfway but can’t pass an opportunity to tease his darling wife.

“You’re getting so close already? I barely got started with you, sweetie.” He chuckles lowly yet his cock twitches as precum oozes and leaks down from the slit of his tip. “Don’t hold it in now. Let go and come for me.”

He’s met with your gorgeous o-face when the euphoric bliss courses through your entire body as your walls tighten around his fingers. Your moans turn into squeals and you try to shove his hand away to soften your orgasm but he doesn’t budge from being much stronger than you. The feeling is more than you can handle when your thighs clamp together to stop his movements. But you don’t want the addictive sensation to leave just yet when he borderline overstimulates you, turning you into a trembling and writhing mess.

You barely have a moment to catch your breath when a chortle escapes you from watching him bring his fingers coated in your cum to his mouth for a curious taste. “Mm. Sweet, just as I thought. You did great, kitten.” He leans down to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead, and the first wave of your drawn-out release slowly ebbs away. “Don’t you think you deserve one more?” Sylus pulls your soaked panties down your legs and casts them aside, leaving you completely bare under his gaze.

“I should hope so. Been wanting for you to stuff me with your fat cock tonight.” You’re still a little breathless when your finger glides down his toned chest in a sensual and playful manner. He makes a content hum at the sound of that with an upward quirk of his lips.

“What a bold and resilient wife I have on my hands. As long as I have you, I’ll never be bored again.” He gladly hoists your leg to wrap around his waist and spits down, giving himself a few strokes making it slick before aligning himself to your dripping cunt. His precum mixes with the remnants of your previous climax with the heavy drag of his tip from your opening up along your clit. He revels in the way your body responds with a little spasm. “I won’t have you going back on your words now.”

The flutter of your lashes steers away from his deep and enigmatic eyes, a nervous gnaw of your lower lips as you anticipate the painful stretch from taking him. “Go slow, okay? Because you know…” He knew you were implying about his sheer size, and you feel him grab hold of your hand and press your interlaced hand against the bed beside your head.

He captures your swollen lips that feel entirely too sweet and intimate, replacing your worries with a gentle tangle of his encompassing love and adoration that seeps into your soul. “I wouldn’t dream about hurting you. That’s a promise. But you have to let me in first.” Your breath hitches when his aching tip probes your entrance, yet the tension doesn’t leave your body until he tells you to focus on him with the exchange of kisses laced with a growing insistence. “You’ll let me know if it hurts, kitten? I want to make you feel good.”

With that said, your sharp nails dig into his shoulder blade and draw red lines at the burning stretch that feels too much yet so good at the same time. Your soft sighs and whimpers fill the hazy room and he’s fucking you slowly with just the tip to help ease the initial discomfort. He searches your face every now and again making sure you’re okay before he continues, letting out a guttural moan when he slips in a little more with each thrust until he carves his way into you completely.

“You’re in too deep—hah. Feel so full and good.” You shudder when he stills his movements, throbbing cock nestled inside you to the hilt and kissing your cervix. There’s a carnal desire brewing in his stomach seeing you pinned under his weight keeping him nice and warm. He wouldn’t mind spending the entire night with you, any plans and commitments he had prior be damned the moment you swayed in through the double doors. “Want you to m-move, please.”

The sound of your polite begging makes him twitch involuntarily, and he could only imagine what desperate pleas you have in store for him tonight and he’s looking forward to it. When your pretty lips implore him to fuck you faster and harder he won’t be able to hold back. After all, he has always been ready and waiting to give himself to you that aligns with your willingness to accept him. There is no love purer than his, this craving he has reserved only for you. “You know you only have to ask, and I’ll give you everything you want. Just be careful what you wish for, sweetie.”

Sylus chuckles at your cute whine shortly after—such a needy little thing you are. He falls into a sweet and slow rhythm that makes you feel each thrust, the head of his dick down to its shape and following the shaft that caresses the underside of your pleasure endings so incredibly good. Your legs wrap around his back and you pull him in deeper because close just isn’t close enough for you. You need to feel the heat of his body sear against your skin as you hold him, and in turn you feel him squeeze your interlaced hand. “Tonight, you’re all mine. Forget anyone else in the world but me.”

[landoughnut]

Kiss Me - OP81

masterlist - request - patreon

pairing: oscar piastri x popstar!fem!reader (fc - tate mcrae)

summary: oscar fancied the worlds current favorite popstar, but he won't give up until she notices him

w/c & a/n: smau | I have the SAT tmr but here I am writing fics instead 🫶🏻 yolo

oscarpiastri FIRST 😫 WOW

username damn he's here before me and I was here in like 2 seconds

username I respect the grind oscar 🙏

username I wonder if she'll ever notice him

oscarpiastri I'd like to believe she will 😔

username omg hi king never give up 🗣️

oscarpiastri I wish I was there 😿 I also wish I was that mic

username AYOO real

oscarpiastri erm actually you're not supposed to agree 👍

username I'm waiting for this grid to finally find her account

username lando !!!

username GORGEOUSSSS ♥︎ by author

username omg I was there best concert EVERRR ♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri #jealous

username it's alright race boy you were there in spirit 🙂

username oscarpiastri aren't you like a millionaire? why don't you just buy tickets

oscarpiastri username unfortunately I can't with traveling for racing, maybe I can sneak away though 😈

mclaren oscarpiastri no 🎀

mclaren playing your songs in our garage repeatedly 🧡 ♥︎ by author

username OOO SHE KNOWS MCLAREN EXISTS????

username username I think she's said in an interview she used to watch f1 sometimes !!

username OSCAR YOU HAVE A CHANCE ‼️

oscarpiastri chat I'm cooking up a plan 🫡

lando can I help?

oscarpiastri ehh no you suck at plans

lando meanie ☹️

username LMAOOOOO LLL

oscarpiastri is that 8 on your shirt for op81 👀😉

username you should send her some merch

oscarpiastri you've sparked an idea mate thanks 😼

username ur welcome

lando oscarpiastri help why are you spamming this poor girls comments on every post 😹

username lando be quiet let oscar be delusional

oscarpiastri OH MY 😮‍💨

username I almost thought that I was first

oscarpiastri never.

username mommy 🤤

oscarpiastri ew who even are you

username you tell em osc 📣

oscarpiastri #needthat

lando such a desperate boy tsk tsk

username desperate or determined?

maxverstappen1 desperate.

oscarpiastri HEY 😾

oscarpiastri the most beautiful girl ever

username aw a cute comment for once

lando keep it up osc compliments will surely work 💪

username date me pls 🧎‍♂️

oscarpiastri how about no 💕

oscarpiastri you guys laugh at me now but one day she'll write a song about me trust

lando have you hit your head during a race mate?

oscarpiastri australia is even better 😏 ♥︎ by author

username OH MY GOSH THIS IS NOT A DRILL

username NO WAY SHE ACTAULLY LIKED AN OSCAR COMMENT

lando LFGGGGGGGGG

lando guys do I call for an ambulance.. oscar let out this gasp that sounded like he was being strangled and then passed out

yourusername lando please do :) hope he's okay

lando yourusername well when he IS okay he'll pass out seeing your reply

username THIS IS CRAZYYYYY

username WHATTTTT

username NO WAY OMG

username AUSTRALIA??? AFTER OSCARS COMMENT ON HER LAST POST ⁉️

lando oscarpiastri TEXT ME NOW.

username guys do we think they met?

username 100%

username maybe mclaren invited her to the melbourne gp??

mclaren 👀 ♥︎ by author

username mclaren WHAT DO YOU KNOW

username mclaren LET ME INNNNNN

oscarpiastri nice picture 👍 ♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri nice location too 😁 ♥︎ by author

username OSCARIZZ

maxverstappen1 I know things

lando maxverstappen1 HOW HAS HE TOLD YOU BEFORE ME WTH

maxverstappen1 lando I'm just better 🤷🏼‍♂️

username remember when oscar first admitted that she's his celeb crush like four years ago

username ahhh look how far we've come 🙏

lando oscarpiastri I feel like a proud mum

oscarpiastri do you mean dad?

lando no :')

username 🔥🥵🔥

oscarpiastri 🧯🔫🧯

username is that a threat

oscarpiastri 🙃

oscarpiastri IS IT HOT IN HERE 😍

oscarpiastri PHEW WEE 😻

lando simp

maxverstappen1 simp

charles_leclerc simp

carlossainz55 simp

lewishamilton simp

pierregasly simp

yourusername simp

oscarpiastri go get a life losers 🙄

oscarpiastri yourusername except you of course 😊 ♥︎ by author

username I FEEL LEFT OUT SMHHH

oscarpiastri SMASHHHHH ♥︎ by author

yourusername time and place?

username WOAHHH HELLO?? SHES FLIRTING BACK NOW????

lando we did it brothers 🫡

oscarpiastri WE??

username DOES THIS MEAN THERE IS SOMETHING⁉️

charles_leclerc 🏃‍♀️

username charles_leclerc TELL ME NOW HO

charles_leclerc username not with that attitude 😒

username charles_leclerc NO WAY WAIT I'M SORRY COME BACK

oscarpiastri I'm putting this picture above my bed 😎🤤

lando oscarpiastri stop using that drooling emoji you look like a weirdo

oscarpiastri BARK BARK BARK 🐶

username he's lost it

username nurse it's this one over here

username she can run me over and I'll apologize

oscarpiastri I don't think you'll be able to apologize after I run you over with my race car🫢

username oscarpiastri oh.....

mclaren oscarpiastri oh thats not...

username WHAT WHAT WHAT

lando LFGGGGGGGGGGGG

mclaren on repeat 🧡 ♥︎ by author

username WHY ARE THEY SO CHILL ABOUT THIS⁉️

username HARD LAUNCH????!!!!!

username THEY ARE SOOOOOO DATING

username ORANGE SUIT AND CAR FOR MCLAREN AYEEE

lando it's papaya actually ☝️🤓

maxverstappen1 hehe 😸

charles_leclerc I still don't know how oscar managed to pull this off

charles_leclerc oscarpiastri proud of you son

lando charles_leclerc if hes your son and I'm his mom, are we married? 🥺

maxverstappen1 lando no

username LESTAPPEN NEVER DIES ✊

pierregasly AYEEE oscar finally got the girl 🥳 I was sick of hearing him dying to be noticed

username does this mean I have a chance with lando

lando username depends, do you have kinder chocolate?

username lando yes...

lando username then yes, u have a chance😁

username IM SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT THIS

username IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM UGH

username REMEMBER OSCAR SAID IN HER COMMENTS ONCE THAT SHE'D WRITE A SONG ABOUT HIM ONE DAY

username LMAOOO AND WE ALL POINTED AND LAUGHED

username I guess he proved us wrong 🧑‍🦯‍➡️

oscarpiastri 🧡 ♥︎ by author

yourusername 🧡

[aedearly]

✎ㅤ. . .ㅤ𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺.

₊˚⊹ ㅤa collection of loose quotes taken from various characters from hades (supergiant games). these quotes are from the first game of the series. writing/roleplaying prompts. from fluff to angst! feel free to edit as you see fit, especially since some are gendered.

❝ i’m leaving. try and stop me. ❞ ❝ that could have gone better. ❞ ❝ why can’t you just stay? ❞ ❝ i wish you could come with me. ❞ ❝ you’re coming with me. ❞ ❝ i have to take you back. ❞ ❝ but for you, i will be making an exception. ❞ ❝ whew… they’re gone. ❞ ❝ now, come on, we got places to be! ❞ ❝ may the fates favour your journey. ❞ ❝ oh you know, i’d rather have my eyes put out, but thanks for offering! ❞ ❝ if only… ❞ ❝ you should be ashamed of yourself, and learn your place. ❞ ❝ ahh, so you are taking pity on me, then? ❞ ❝ i’m sorry that it has to be this way. ❞ ❝ you’re late. ❞ ❝ will i see you soon? ❞ ❝ did you miss me? ❞ ❝ i’m home. ❞ ❝ we’re heading home. ❞ ❝ you… came back? ❞ ❝ i hope i didn’t keep you waiting very long, did i? ❞ ❝ is something wrong? ❞ ❝ i can’t believe this. ❞ ❝ i’m in your debt. ❞ ❝ there’s going to be payback, you know. ❞ ❝ … damn you. ❞ ❝ this is for you. ❞ ❝ do you remember me? my name is—ah, nevermind. ❞ ❝ i’m not who you think i am. ❞ ❝ keep following that heart of yours. ❞ ❝ to hell with this place! ❞ ❝ fear is for the weak. ❞ ❝ oh, look at you, you poor, poor thing, you’re hurt! ❞ ❝ you’re such a sweetheart. ❞ ❝ you brought this on yourself. ❞ ❝ no need to thank me, mate. ❞ ❝ please, i don’t want to do this… ❞ ❝ you don’t have to do this… ❞ ❝ only the best for you. ❞ ❝ i hope you’re right. ❞ ❝ gods grant me strength… ❞ ❝ that is the worst idea i think i’ve ever heard. ❞ ❝ do you understand how little sense that makes? ❞ ❝ look what i found! ❞ ❝ something’s changed about the beating of your heart. ❞ ❝ no wonder they don’t like you. ❞ ❝ wish i could be there to see your face. ❞ ❝ i’ll earn your favour yet. ❞ ❝ how bad could it be? ❞ ❝ hello there, handsome. ❞ ❝ … this is the cheesiest thing i’ve heard from you. ❞ ❝ what has gotten into you? ❞ ❝ blood and darkness! ❞ ❝ lucky for you, i’ve no pride like many others here. ❞ ❝ it’s over. i’m sorry. ❞ ❝ go. away. i won’t repeat myself. ❞ ❝ i knew your heart was true. ❞ ❝ let’s kiss and make up! ❞ ❝ mischief, me? oh please! ❞ ❝ i don’t know how you can stand this kind of thing… ❞ ❝ you tried. that’s what matters. ❞ ❝ a man after my own heart… ❞ ❝ why won’t you give up? ❞ ❝ ever so stubborn, aren’t you? ❞ ❝ life and death, one and the same. ❞ ❝ you’re running from yourself. again. ❞ ❝ what do you want from me? leave me alone. we’ve nothing to discuss anymore. ❞ ❝ i cannot bring myself to stay upset with you forever. ❞ ❝ the truth is i’m a lover, not a fighter. ❞ ❝ i have to see her! ❞ ❝ so how goes wilful disobedience of late? ❞ ❝ you think all these gifts will make things go back to the way they were? ❞ ❝ we’re older now—i’d hope we’re wiser, too. ❞ ❝ i have to go. ❞ ❝ we were having such a good time! ❞ ❝ time is up. ❞ ❝ you’re so reckless. ❞ ❝ thank you for always keeping me on my toes. ❞ ❝ your luck’s run out. ❞ ❝ i don’t know why i bother with you, honestly. ❞ ❝ may i call you my friend? ❞ ❝ i’d like to make a toast, to you! ❞ ❝ no need for special thanks. ❞ ❝ i’ve some memories i’m not quite ready to give up on yet. ❞ ❝ i’ll break your heart. ❞