#and stop speaking on things you know nothing about

[suksatoru]

Sukuna is sure there's something wrong with you for loving him.

He's not lovable. He didn't even know how soft love could be until you came around. Sukuna is a brutally honest man, but he can't stop muttering the lie "I don't love you" against your lips even as he kisses you

He lies a lot to you, he realizes. He lies when he tells you that you mean nothing to him, he lies when his fingers dig into your skin as he reminds you you're replaceable. He lies when he says you're stupid—you have a brilliant and creative mind he adores

He thinks you'll slowly fade away like all the things in his life eventually do. He thought his love for you would slowly flitter and diminish with time and he'd stop thinking about you constantly

Unfortunately, Sukuna wasn't familiar with love. He didn't know how unpredictable it could be at times, or how it worked. It brought out parts of him he didn't even know existed.

"I was offered a job in another kingdom."

He looks down at you. You're laying on his chest right now. A single, delicate finger moving across the dark ink swirling on his skin as your face is pressed lovingly against his scarred body.

His large palm drags itself over the nape of your neck and towards the back of your head. He gently fists your hair and tilts your head upwards so you can see his scowl

"You're not going anywhere."

You smile. It makes his chest feel tight and his heart rate pick up as you slowly lift your head off of his chest, criss crossing your legs as you sit up on the bed beside him

"Who are you to tell me what to do?"

If anyone else had even dared to think the words, let alone speak them, Sukuna would've sliced their body into more pieces than they could ever count. But you're a fearless thing. While people tie toe around him, you dance around the King of Curses like you couldn't care less.

He smiles. The gesture feels odd but his lips naturally curl upwards at your remark. One of his hands lazily caress your thigh as he gently nudges the fabric of your night gown out of the way

"Who are you to try and leave? You belong here. With me." Sukuna says lowly, his voice dropping an octave as he looks at you through half lidded eyes. You can see the amusement in his eyes as his fingers wrap around your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze before you sigh

"But what if I wanted to leave? You said it yourself, I am not a priority of yours here." You press, leaning closer with a small pout on your lips as he scoffs

"I don't care." He mutters, not meeting your eyes as he looks up at the domed ceilings above him. Sukuna's room was never a place he used to enjoy being in. To him, the golden furniture and high, carved walls never made him feel anything at all

Now, in the mornings, he'd wake up to you peacefully sleeping beside him. Curled into his side, your presence had become an unshakable thing in his room. Slowly, it became a bundle of passion and love for him to exist freely in.

"Just say you're in love with me." You tease, your soft laughter slowly pulling his gaze away from the ceiling as he watched you crawl back onto his chest, pressing feather soft kisses onto his jaw

He lets out a breath through his nose, mentally preparing himself for the words that were about to leave his mouth as he puts his hands on your waist to steady himself.

"I...I do." he mumbles, more to himself as your raise your brows in surprise

"You what?"

He grits his teeth, wondering why you're making this so difficult for him. Sukuna glares at you silently, hoping you'll be able to push past his arrogant words and see the underlying message

"You know what. So shut up and go back to doing that stupid thing you were doing." He concludes, referring to when you were tracing his tattoos. You laugh louder as your eyes crinkle in amusement

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. can you try that again, your highness?" You smirk, pressing your palm flat against his pec as he scowls

Don't give in to the brat. Don't give in to the brat. Don't give in to the brat. Don't—

"I love you."

The words come out strained, almost a whisper as he stares up at the ceiling. His grip on you is tight and he absolutely refused to look down into your eyes. He knows your lips are probably parted in shock. Your silence is long as he awaits a response, suddenly questioning if he'd said the right thing—

Both of your hands grab hold of his cheeks, slowly turning his face towards yours as one of his arms instinctively reaches out to pull you closer

Your voice is soft, but the warmth and relief that spreads through his chest is a welcomed sensation

"I love you too."

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Five

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

warnings: 18+, suggestive stuff, mad max, references to abuse (nothing explicit)

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

Mad Max. A name that hadn't been used in a good long while. Last season he hadn't needed to be Mad Max, not when he was the only one winning. 

It was a fitting nickname, sometimes. That was what Charles realised as he sat beside him. On top of the bed covers, his ass positively sore. It wasn't Max he'd just had sex with. No, it was Mad Max. 

He'd slept with Mad Max before, just a few times. But those times hadn't been because Max was mad. It was after he had moved himself and his cats to Monaco, when the full moon was near and he needed to stuff his cock in something. That something, more often than not, was Charles. 

His neck ached as he reached up, touching the bitemarks Max had left behind. "Sorry," Max muttered as he grabbed a cold can of drink from the mini fridge. "At least they've stopped bleeding." 

Charles released a dry laugh from his lips. "Who knew one practice would have you so riled up," he said and laid back. He stared at the ceiling, a smile crossing his face. 

He knew exactly why that practice had Mad Max showing his face. Every time he set the fastest lap, the fastest lap was taken from him. FP1 wasn't supposed to be for going fast, but Max couldn't stop himself from racing her. And she couldn't help but race him back. Even with Max in a superior car, she raced him. 

In FP2, it was the same story. 

"She's incredible," Charles said, still holding the can against his neck. He wouldn't drink whatever was inside, just use it to sooth the wounds that Max created. Wounds Max wanted him to wear with pride, wounds he couldn't bring himself to wear. 

"Incredible?" Max scoffed. He shook his head, his hair falling in front of his eyes. "Not the words I'd use. 

Charles sat up and let the can fall into his lap. "What words then, Max? How would you describe Birdy?" 

Max didn't mean to recoil. "You've given her a name? Fuck, Charles, you really are planning on keeping this one, aren't you?" 

"Answer the question, Max." 

He let a scowl overtake his features. "You wanna know? Fine, Charles. I'll fucking tell you!" He kicked his suitcase, flipping it over and emptying it of his clothes. "She's dangerous and viscous and she's gonna be the reason you don't get into the car!"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" 

Suddenly Charles was on his feet, too. It was going to go one of two ways, always did with Mad Max. Either Charles was going to be back on the bed, letting Max take out his aggression, or he was going to let out of there, let Max stew in his anger. 

If it wasn't about Birdy, that sweet sweet girl, Charles would have been on his hands and knees, face pushed into the pillow. 

But it was about Birdy. 

Grabbing his things from the floor, Charles marched out of the hotel room. Max didn't know what he was saying, especially not about his Birdy. His Birdy, because nobody knew what they were saying, not when it came to her. 

Even as he walked down the hall, barely dressed, the bite marks in his shoulder throbbing, he could hear Max. No doubt destroying the room, tearing it up. Mad Max. It was no full moon; it was pure anger. His usual outlet, winning races and being the fastest person alive, wasn't hitting it anymore. Because he wasn't the fastest person alive, and he fucking hated it. 

Charles couldn't help but sigh as he walked into his room. This wasn't his Max, the one he had molded. Max, who was usually the kindest man in the room. That kindness born from a childhood full of abuse. 

Just like Birdy, Charles thought. Max and Birdy, matching sides of two coins. And Charles was the other side of both those coins. She could be just as sweet as Max, he knew. She just needed a chance. 

Charles wasn't speaking to him. Max watched him, watched from the Red Bull garage as Charles walked past him. Normally he was the last person there, first to leave. But he had gotten there early, just for a chance to speak to Charles. 

But Charles wouldn't speak to him. 

Eventually, Max gave up waiting for Charles to catch his eye, to come and speak to them. All he wanted was to make up for his mistakes, all he wanted was that chance. A chance Charles wasn't giving him. 

He strode across the Red Bull garage, making his way to the Ferrari garage. "Charles," he called, and the Il Predestinato looked at him. He stepped closer and not close enough all that once. Close enough to keep it casual, too far away to show how he really felt. 

"Charles, I want to apologise for last night," he said, trying to keep himself quiet, keep the words just between them. 

Charles hadn't yet looked at him. He didn't turned towards Max when he spoke, didn't pay him any attention. Max's jaw twitched, but he didn't let it show on his face. "I was out of line, I know, and-" 

"It's not me you need to apologise to." 

Max stilled. Not me you need to apologise to. "Charlie, you can't be serious," Max whispered as he reached out to grab his arm. But Charles stepped out of reach. He looked past Max, looked across the garage. 

Max looked too. 

Birdy. That was the name Charles had given you. Beast was the name given to you by the rest of the motorsport world, the name Max knew you by. And you were a beast,  vicious beast who had gone to attack Charles. You were dangerous, and you had made that perfectly clear. 

Max steadied himself. He sucked in a breath and strode across the garage. 

It was hard to see the sweetness that Charles saw in you, not with the muzzle covering your mouth and the shock collar around your neck. You hadn't noticed him yet, head bowed as your muzzle was taken off and your balaclava was given to you.

When your handler told you to put it on, you did so. Your helmet came next, acting as a replacement for the muzzle. You fastened it under your chin, head tipping back slightly. 

And then you locked eyes with him. 

Max Verstappen. Current World Champion, lead in this year's championship. He stood before you, looking awkward and uncomfortable all at once. You couldn't help but match his pose, looking just as awkward and uncomfortable. Your helmet managed to hide your expression, though. 

"Hello," Max said, trying to get a look at your reaction. It was near impossible to get a read on you though, not with the helmet on. He looked back at Charles, watching the both of you. 

He cleared his throat, attention back on you. You hadn't looked away from him. "Look," he began, his hands dropping. "I'm sorry for..." But what was he sorry for? For thinking that you were dangerous? That was the truth, wasn't it? You were dangerous. 

"Okay, here's the thing. Charles is mad at me, so can we just pretend that we've had this big talk and I apologised for stuff?" 

The way he looked at you, expecting something. You blinked at him. If he wanted to apologise, he could go ahead and do so. But this wasn't much of an apology. 

"Come on, Beast-"

"Birdy." 

It had surprised even you. The word left your lips so suddenly, your brows furrowing beneath your helmet. You didn't want to be a beast, not anymore. 

Max stared at you, his blue eyes blown wide. "W-what?" He looked around, looking to see if anybody else had heard it. But everyone around the two of you was much too preoccupied with whatever they were doing. "Say it again, go on," he tried, but your lips were sealed. 

Speaking out of turn. 

Speaking out of turn.

Bad little wolves get punished of speaking out of turn. 

You stumbled back, trying to get away from him. "Wait," he called, but you were gone, disappearing further into the garage. 

Max desperately looked around for someone else that had heard you. But nobody else had. Birdy. The name Charles had given you. The fear had been so evident in your eyes the moment the name left your lips, he couldn't help the sadness that shot through him.

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[flw3rrr]

I love the idea of sevika with a retired brothel worker. Like they fell in love and sevika got her a job at the last drop or smth.

I also love the idea of mama sevika. I would love to give her a child 😭 so maybe domestic fluff around sevika her wife and their child. Lil' Families are my favorite thing

The bright side of things

Parings: Sevika x Retiredbrothelworker!reader

Warnings: Nothing major, Fluff, just full on FLUFF, No mentions of Y/n, and no description of reader. Sevika trying to seem tough around the kid, but fails. (100% let me know if anything is missed!)

Word count: 1.4k

Not proofread! sorry for any typos. I wrote this at like 2 am....oops

A/n: Thank you so much for this request. I loved this idea so much when I first read it, so I had to do this one immediately! 

(I have so many more amazing requests in my inbox, and I'll get to them soon! Thanks so much again for sending this, and I hope you enjoy it)

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

Ever since you retired from working at the brothel, life seemed more simple and comfortable. Sevika, who you met a few months ago before your retirement, had grown onto you. The way she carried herself whenever she would stride around the building made you burn inside a little.

It all got better when you were told you were booked for an hour. Dreading what kind of person you'd have to entertain or boost their ego to make them feel something, but with a big surprise when your face met with Sevika's, she was leaning back, legs spread open as a cigar sat on her lips. That's how everything started for the both of you.

Sevika offered you a job at the last drop when you first told her of your retirement; it got tiring and exhausting physically and mentally. Your heart melted at her offer and took it immediately. It's something you never in your life thought you would work at, but what can you expect? It's a way better job than working at a brothel, body sore and no break.

You always remember to thank her whenever possible; Sevika isn't the type to show affection in public, so you'd always kiss her on the cheek and lips as a way of thanking her. Sharing each sweet moment with one another in your new shared apartment. The undercity wasn't some fairytale place to grow up, but with her presence, it made you forget everything.

Sevika likes that you took her offer on working at the last drop. She now gets to keep an eye on you, especially when she plays poker, and in the quick moment whenever you'd hand her a drink, your eye's lock on hers every time you hand her the glass, a soft and sweet look. Of course her gaze locks in yours in return, but never softens; she can't let half of the undercity that she's practically on her knees for you.

And this is where the both of you are now, still together and head over heels for one another. The two of you sat on the couch that sat in the small living room; you held a sketchbook, drawing random doodles, never being the professional type, though. Sevika just watches you making a game of her own on trying to guess what you're making or stares very confusingly at it. Everything was quiet and calm until a thump was heard from one of the bedroom doors.

The sound of feet padding against the wooden floor became louder until a small girl appeared with a huge smile on her face. Immediately she decided to join the both of you on the couch, but rather than sit, she began to jump and speak very fast.

"Can I please, please, pleaseee come to work with you, Momma? I want to make drinks with you." Speaking so fast, neither you nor Sevika could comprehend a single word. Glancing at Sevika for a quick moment and back to the child before stopping her from jumping on the couch to avoid any possible injuries.

"Selani, remember what we both said about jumping on the couch? You could get hurt easily." Her smile dropped as she looked at Sevika, who spoke about 'the couch wasn't cheap.' Selani gave a nod in return before sitting herself down onto the couch. Both you and Sevika took Selani in after you both found her alone with nobody near; it broke your heart badly, and with not much nagging, you both quickly became her adoptive parents.

You could tell Sevika cared for her just as much as you did, catching moments between the both of them, Selani play fighting with Sevika, who obviously would go easy on the kid knowing her strength would accidentally crush or break a bone. Or whenever Sevika's arm needed to be repaired or a quick fix, Selani was standing right by her, being the best helper.

Slowly shaking your head, sitting down by Sevika once more, both of you would take Selani with you to the last drop, as you had nobody to watch over her. Thank goodness for Jinx sometimes, but you never wanted to pressure her watching over some kid, but she always proves you wrong when Selani is gone, in seconds walking away with Jinx to do whatever.

Sevika did whatever Silco wanted her to do, whether it be cleaning up one of his messes with people or looking scary behind him. But she is graced with time to herself, which is usually at the table playing poker. You'd always say her playing poker was a show just for you because you got to watch her from afar enjoying the smirk her face always held as the other players held a look of defeat.

"You lucked out, kid; none of us are going today." Sevika spoke up, breaking you out of your train of thought. Selani frowned at the news of not going out. She always wanted to be out exploring or at the last drop, whether it be with Jinx or sneaking away and somehow finding Silco and bothering him; he seemed to not mind, you hoped.

"What? Why not?!" Crossing her little arms in frustration, both of her eyebrows slanted. That is the start of a tantrum you've grown to learn from the years you took her in--not fun at all, you remembered. It took both of you time to learn how to be parents to a child, having no prior experience, though Sevika had a tiny bit from when Jinx was younger.

Sevika let out a huge sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose before looking back up at Selani. "Because we both got the day off, and you usually take those for granted, trust me, kid." Selani's gaze just stared at the both of you; confusion covered her face. The both of you never had a day off, so why now all of a sudden? Adjusting your body to sit more straight, you faced her directly, a soft smile placed on your face knowing it's good to talk to her straightforwardly with a few restrictions but to help her feel more validated and that she had your attention.

"It's a good thing not to worry, Selani; it just means me and Sevika have the whole day with you to play or cook, even just relax if you wanted." As soon as those words left your mouth, her face lit up as if she saw a whole pile of candy with a sign that said free. "Really!" A toothy grin appeared with one missing front tooth. Giving her a nod, she immediately shot up, running over to the both of you.

Once she was in front of you both, you could tell many ideas of games were filling her little mind. Taking both of your hands, making you stand. "Do you guys have any game ideas?" Selani asked, pride filled within you, teaching her to always ask her friends if they had any ideas before doing all of hers to ensure a fair game. Within a second, Sevika tapped her shoulder before dragging you away, running. "Your it!" is what you had managed to comprehend.

"That's cheating!" Selani yelled, her laugh heard behind you as you both ran. Now ending up in your shared room with Sevika, you purposely slowed down, letting Selani catch up and tap you. Quietly, you both teamed up to get Sevika and corner her. She went in the other room first, then you followed behind.

Immediately, Selani ran at Sevika, jumping on her; following Selani's actions, avoiding hitting them both, the three of you land onto the bed. Laughter could be heard throughout the whole apartment. And if it was heard by anyone, they would only think how happy you all are. This was your safe spot, where happiness is the love of your life and beloved child. 

Sevika carefully flipped Selani over the bed, and a game of play fighting began. You watched to make sure they both didn't get hurt, and to your surprise, Selani pulled the kick method. "You called what I did cheating. What you're doing is cheating!" She joked, a smile plastered on her face as she managed to get ahold of Selani.

In a moment, Selani whispered something to Sevika, and a grin grew as they both slowly turned to look at you. "Uh oh, what's going on?" With a blink of an eye, they both grabbed you, landing back onto the bed, Selani tickled you on your stomach.

Even if your laughs filled the room, your thoughts only held on how much you adored this moment and would cherish it forever.

Life for you got automatically better and brighter once they both entered your life, and you'd never trade it away.

[oatmealaddiction]

FINALLY a post on tumblr that doesn't just shit on parents. I wanted to add that just like children get scared and embarrassed when they're disciplined, parents also feel that way when they're in public around people who are seemingly judging them and their family—especially for more marginalized families who face greater threat of separation. I guarantee most of the advice they get from strangers when their child is melting down in public is to "get them under control." Like we've all seen a video of some dick on a plane yelling at a parent with a crying baby, or complaining that they have to sit next to someone with a toddler. Oftentimes because of that interactions in public are can escalate in ways they wouldn't at home. Tiktok and Youtube are also just chalk full of terrible and judgemental parenting advice right now about how children should ideally be little drill sergeants who clean up everything, never get loud, and only ever speak respectfully, and if your children don't act like that, you must be a monster. The best thing you can do for a parent having a difficult time in public, is speak kindly and let them know there's nothing wrong at all if they need a breather—and that you can support them if they need that. ALSO this is especially especially double especially true for parents with a crying baby in the five month range. Five months is usually marked by a developmental change where babies will marathon cry for hours and hours. Most parents don't realize it's a normal developmental marker and assume it's something they can stop or control—and infants at five months during this crying period are at increased risk for Shaken Baby Syndrome—usually caused by a parent stress response. Definitely offer help and support to these parents, like holding a baby while they shop or offering to watch them if they need a minute to go outside to escape the noise. Also let them know that prolonged crying is normal, and that it's okay if they ever need to just put a baby in their crib for a little bit and go somewhere quiet. Easing a parent's stress and offering support goes a long way towards not only helping them, but also helping their children.

My knowledge about child development versus the social pressure to not interfere with other people’s parenting fight daily

[lovegalor333]

can you do a short little smut when paige is overstimulating the reader??? i would love that and also i love your writings

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

i can do it better

summary: paige finds your vibrator and asks you to show her how you use it

content warnings: nsfw smut overstimulation sex toy fingering munch p squirting

“Care to explain this?” You hear your girlfriends voice call out to you from your bedroom. You’re in the bathroom getting ready for bed, you were exhausted after a long day of classes and wanted nothing more than to close your eyes and fall into a deep sleep. “Explain what, baby?” You call back with a roll of your eyes, Paige couldn’t see you thankfully, you’re sure she’d have a few choice words for your brattiness but you were tired and didn’t want the hassle of whatever Paige was talking about.

“This.” Paiges voice is closer now and you flick your eyes up to the mirror in front of you, to see your girlfriend leaning against the bathroom door frame, a cheeky smirk on her face and to your dismay the small purple, bullet shaped vibrator that lived in your nightstand, in her hand.

Your cheeks flushed a deep claret as you spun around, reaching out the snatch the toy off Paige but she has great reflexes and she’s a lot taller than you, “Uh uh.” She shakes her head, holding the vibrator up and and out of your reach. “Were you snooping in my drawers?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “No, I was looking for melatonin. Now tell me why you have this? This can’t do what I do.” Paige says and she presses the small button and the bullet begins to vibrate in her hand and you feel your temperature begin to rise.

Sex wasn’t a taboo subject for you and Paige but you’d never spoke about masturbation and the fact she had your toy in her hand made you feel slightly dizzy. Truth be told, since you’ve been together you’ve hardly used that thing but sometimes Paige plays away and this summer she was hardly in Connecticut and a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.

“Can you turn that off?” You ask seriously, now frowning at Paige, embarrassment more than anything creeping in. “Tell me why and how you use it?”

“Paige-”

“Just tell me.” And she places the vibrating toy against your left nipple, the thin material of her t-shirt you wear to sleep not doing much to buffer the sensation. “When you’re away…and I…” You struggle to speak between Paiges intense eye contact, your nipple being attacked and the awkwardness of the subject you don’t know what to say. “Don’t be embarrassed baby.” Paiges voice is soft and sensitive, a stark contrast to the look on her face. “When you’re away and I’m horny, I use it sometimes.” “How do you use it?” “For Gods sake Paige, how do you think?” You’re losing patience now and suddenly you’re no longer tired. Paige is being a tease and it’s pissing you off.

“I don’t know. Maybe you’d like to show me.” Paige taunts with a raise of her brows and before you can detest, you’re over her shoulder, hand on your ass.

Paige throws you down onto your bed and hands you the vibrator, “Show me how you make yourself cum.” The husk of her voice and the stance she was in, looking down at you on your back made you ache.

You pressed the vibrator to your clit, over your lace thong, the initial sensation making your thighs shudder. Paiges gaze doesn’t falter for a second, you can practically feel her eyes burning into you, “What do you think about when you’re doing this?”

“You. Your fingers- shit- how they feel inside me.” The wet patch inbetween your legs is growing with each buzz of the toy and you need more. You pull the lace material to the side but before you can reposition the bullet, Paige is on the bed, her hand on top of yours, stopping you from pleasuring yourself. “I thought you wanted me to show you.”

“I did but it’s pissing me off. I’m gonna show you just why you don’t need this thing.” She rasps, taking the vibrator from your hand but she doesn’t turn it off. Instead she uses one hand to hold your panties to the side before dragging the toy through your damp folds. You buck your hips up, desperate for more. More of Paige. Fuck the vibrator.

Paige continues to tease and taunt your dripping cunt, pressing the vibrator to your clit before dragging it down to your hole, “Paige, please. Stop teasing.” You groan but with the way she’s looking at you, eyes hooded and determined, you know for a fact she’s not going to listen to a word you say.

“Just be a good girl for me, yeah?”

You whimper as Paige turns up the intensity and you jolt in shock, “You can be a good girl, right?” Paige asks as she circles your clit causing arousal to drip out of you. “Y-yes.” You choke out and Paige spreads your legs, a knee on each of your thighs, holding them in place.

“Fuck, you look so good spread out for me like this baby.” Paige grunts and she lets a blob of spit out of mouth and it lands on your cunt, you whine at the feeling. “Ne-need more, P.”

Paige misinterprets your pleads for her…or chooses to ignore then and further increases the intensity of the vibrator, pressing it hard and firm on your swollen clit. The band in your stomach tightens and your legs begin to shake beneath your girlfriends knees, “Fuck Paige, I’m about to- ugh shit- I’m about to cum.” You moan, eyes rolling back in your head as the band threatens to snap but the soft buzzing and intense vibrations come to a halt, “I’m not watching you cum with something that isn’t me.” Paige says matter of factly and your words are lodged in your throat as she pushes two fingers inside of you with ease, “Oh fuck!” You gasp as she hammers in and out of you, her long fingers knocking into the gummy spot with each inward movement.

Without warning, Paige adds another finger into the mix and you bite down on your lip as she stretches you out, “Shit Paige, don’t stop.” You beg, reaching down to grab onto her wrist to ensure she doesn’t rob you of another orgasm. But Paige simply bats your hand away, linking it with her free one.

You feel yourself contracting around Paiges fingers and know you’re close so you move your hips in circular motions, guiding her hand to hit all your favourite places. Paige brings her thumb to your clit, starting off in gentle swipes before she’s full on pressing and pinching your sensitive spot.

“Shit Paige, right there!” You cry out as the feeling overwhelms you and your body writhes and jerks beneath her and you come undone all over her fingers. Your heart rate is rapid as Paige pulls her fingers out of you and you whimper as she slides them across your folds and over your clit, spreading your slick as she goes, “I love how messy you are.” She purrs, taking her fingers into her mouth and sucking on them, moaning at the taste of you on her tongue.

You watch in awe as her tongue flicks and swirls around her sticky fingers, “You’re so hot.” You breathe out and Paige just smirks before she leans down, mouth inches away from your soaked cunt and she blows out two sharp breaths making you shiver.

Still sensitive from your orgasm, your moan is throaty and rough as Paige buries her face into your cunt. She’s devouring you like a woman starved and you’re her favourite meal. With every flick of her tongue, your back arches of the bed, just pushing her face further into you. Her nose nudges your clit as she slips her tongue inside, “Fuck Paige! Pleasepleaseplease!” You babble, not sure what your begging for, your head spins at every sensation and when her teeth graze your clit and fingers slip back inside, you damn near lose it.

Her movements are insatiable and unrelenting and you squeeze her hand in yours as it all begins to feel too much. “I- I can’t Paige.” You choke out as tears begin to fill in your water line. “You can.” She mumbles against you and the vibrations from her voice sent jolts of ecstasy through your body.

This feeling was different from any you’ve felt before, Paiges fingers driving into you at a pace so fast, all you could hear was the sordid sounds of your wetness. Her tongue and lips working overtime as they sucked and swirled at your clit. The ache between your legs was crushing and your head tipped back, jaw going slack as a sudden surge soared through you, from your core to your feet, toes curling and you felt an unfamiliar gush as everything went black.

Just as quick as your eyes closed, they opened again and Paige was pressing kisses to your inner thigh. She looked up at you, chin dripping and realisation hits you, “Did I squirt?” You ask, voice hoarse and breathless. “Damn right ma. This girl loves me.” She smirks sending a light smack to your pussy and your legs clamp shut, “That’s enough. You just destroyed her.” You chuckle and Paige leans over you, pressing her lips to yours and you get a taste of yourself. “That was so fucking sexy.” She whispers into your ear before trailing wet kiss down your neck.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: yall!! i know the request said ‘short little smut’ but i got carried away 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 this was rushed and barely edited and im writing this with a glass of wine so apologies in advance for any mistakes, i know i could have done better 💋👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anyway! love yall, send gays vibes to me tonight, im on a mission x

tag list: @paigeluvvr

[valentine-cafe]

(jingyi 1311, male reader)

being a friend who hangs out with him while he works, stopping by to drop off some homemade lunches and chat as an excuse to see him. (maybe often enough that you get teased by his coworkers)

unbeknownst to him, you.....really, really think it's hot how sweaty and grimey he gets as he works. the smell of motor oil and grease only worsens it. it's hard to hide your fluster when he's right there, when you're fantasizing about all the things you'd do, or want him to do to you. you so badly want to lick the beads of sweat running down his neck, intoxicated by all of the scents on him... alas, you've got to keep your poker face and act like normal, but perhaps your gaze wasn't as subtle as you wished.

who knows if he'd even want to mess you up as badly as you want him to.

˖⁺. ﹙ top naga mechanic x bttm male reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . close eye !! 🍒 :  mechanic ˖ naga ˖ villain character﹙ verse 1311 jìngyí. ﹚

you can't help but be turned on by your mechanic naga friend. . . you just have to watch him work.

jìngyí is the furthest thing form unaware at all your little visits, the lunches, the talks. the way that your eyes always seem to trail along his neck after he’s pushed himself from the undercarriage. or his hands while he’s working on one of his newest inventions.

how you accidentally bump into him on your way in. just so that you can feel the touch of his arm against you. feel the strange mix of heat and cold that radiates off of him.

he is a patient man. a snake that quite enjoys to lure his prey to him. bit by bit. size them up. note if they can take him.

oh and you were just so willing. he wonders how many times he has kept you up at night. or had you scampering home to needily jerk off the second your front door is shut.

every time he catches your stare all he can imagine is how you would whine beneath his strong hands. he debated on what he should do to you first. jerk you off? finger your poor little hole? maybe make you grind on him since you’re such a needy slut.

and it’s not like he makes it any easier for you. he always makes sure to throw off his top overalls at some point when you are there. intentionally leans over to grasp at his tools. speak into your ear in a murmured apology. or an answer to whatever question you asked today.

it isn’t until one day he catches the little tent you so desperately tried to hide away. yet still had the nerve to trot on in and talk to him.

what else can he do but make you bounce on his dick? you wanna act like a whore so let him treat you like one.

he’ll type away at his holographic screen with new schematics for his inventions. shooting you a small glare when you stutter your hips. only for him to clap your thigh, squeeze it and bring you down into a hard slam. his balls slapping against your ass.

“don’t stop now.”

if you’re lucky he might stroke at your dick. trace a free finger along your tip before flicking it. then going back to his work like nothing happened. “always looking like you wanna gag on my dick. so ride it. come on.”

when you’re whining and begging for him to do it is when he’ll get annoyed. slam you over the hood of one of the cars he has been working on and start rough-fucking you into the metal. until you’re gasping, crying his name - clinging onto whatever you possibly can.

“j-jìngyí -! h-hngh fuck please -”

all you’ll get is a greased hand around your throat. yanking you up to a pair of cold lips as his hips slam forward and start fucking that one, blinding spot rapidly.

“please? just giving you what you wanted. come on baby,” a deep hiss eases from his body. as he crushed you against the hood and pounds your poor ass to putty. till you’re spilling over and limping the next few days back to him and his workshop. ready to mess it up further.

[peachiejeongin]

Jealousy | Lee Know

Synopsis: You and Lee Know have been best friends for as long as time can tell; however, a third party has ignited an unfamiliar negativity in him, and he is finally ready to handle it himself.

Pairing: jealous! dom!LK x fem!reader (Reader has breasts and a vagina, and uses she/her pronouns !)

Genre: Smut, a bit of Angst, Fluff towards the ending

Warnings: Sexually Explicit Content (18+), marking, breast-play (sort of), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (please use protection my loves!), pet names (sweetheart, good girl, baby, etc.), Minho is extremely jealous and possessive, Minho quite literally answers the phone during sex [As always, please inform me if I missed anything!]

Word Count: 9k

Notice: Hello, my darlings! I have missed you all dearly! I recently acquired a bit of inspiration to get back into writing, so enjoy a Lee Know smut drabble I wrote a while back :)

Smut under the cut!

"Hey, I feel like we're getting off topic again," Minho bluntly states, cutting you off in the middle of your chatter. You glanced at him, your mouth slightly agape from the abrupt interruption. "You do remember that hanging out today was your idea, right?"

Of course, you remembered it was your idea; after all, you had made the plans last minute, just that morning. You invited Minho over for a movie and a catch-up night, since you hadn't seen him in a few days. You expected a normal evening with him; however, hanging out felt strange. In fact, it had felt unusual ever since a certain third party had entered the picture.

You had recently started talking to another guy and had unintentionally began spending more time with him than with Lee Know. As of late, though, this new guy seemed to be distancing himself from you; he would often go days, or even up to a week, without speaking to you. Then, he would reappear in your life as if nothing had happened, claiming to have been, "busy."

Your best friend saw right through the guy's facade; he knew the guy was only seeking attention from you, and he was not tolerating it. Despite Minho's clear disapproval, it seemed as if the guy consumed much of your conversations lately; in fact, Minho interjected as you were once again delving into another tangent about the guy's behavior. It had become a predictable cycle: the guy would reappear after ghosting, make plans, and vanish again. Frankly, Lee Know was growing tired of it.

"Yeah, I know hanging out was my idea. Why wouldn't I remember that?" you questioned, a confused expression present amongst your features.

Minho scoffed. "Because it's not feeling like it," he said. You raised one eyebrow, urging him to explain further. "I understand you want advice and my personal input on what's going on with this potential guy, and I can help you out with whatever as your friend..." He paused briefly, letting out a deep sigh as he continued, "I'm trying really hard not to be a jerk about this, but I really thought today wasn't going to revolve around this again."

"Min, I get where you're coming from, but I feel like you're making it seem like I've been talking about this guy non-stop, which I haven't." Upon your response, Minho could not stop himself from narrowing his eyes and chuckling coldly.

"Literally, since I brought you that water, you have not stopped talking about him."

"Yes, I have! I've talked about so many other things, and-"

"When?" he promptly cuts you off again, his voice raising slightly. "I mean, seriously? When I first came over, you were all like, 'Hey, I need your opinion. Can you look at this for a sec?'" Lee Know mirrored your prior actions by shoving his phone in your face.

What had you shoved in Lee Know's face exactly? A message from the guy stating, "Sorry, I've been busy." The date on the message read 8:41P.M., not even thirty minutes ago. The last message you had sent, on the contrary, read Monday, November 18th.

Over a week ago.

You wanted Minho's honest opinion; after all, he was your only friend that would give you the truth instead of what you wanted to hear. Thus, the truth he gave: "How many times do I have to tell you this guy is not worth it?"

And so, you find yourself connecting the dots on previous events.

"I may have asked for your opinion, but I didn't shove my phone in your face," you argue, pushing his phone away by instinct. You were becoming increasingly annoyed at his behavior.

"Yeah, you did," he retaliated, retracting his phone. "You shoved your phone in my face just like that." You opened your mouth to counter; however, no sound came out. All thoughts on how to go against him had completely dissipated from your mind. You closed your agape jaw in defeat and stared grimly at the floor. Lee Know rolled his eyes harshly.

"I told you last time, and I'll tell you again, it means he's not worth your time. This guy is clearly only trying to hit you up when it's convenient for him, and you know that, too."

Minho's grievances mirrored but also contrasted your own. Of course, he was agitated with your behavior, but the hinderance came from a divergent perspective; he knew you were smarter than this, you had to be. There was absolutely no way you could not see the clear convenience you were to this guy. Minho could not tell if you were intently playing dumb in order to lessen the blame or if you were simply blind sighted by this guy.

Either way, he was fed up.

You could not wrap your head around the guy's actions, however. Just the other night, the two of you had went on a date that went pleasantly well. How was he able to change up so quickly?

You made mention of your thoughts aloud: "But...the last date we went on..."

"What about it?" Minho sat up and threw his hands sharply to his sides in a vexed manner. He leaned back on his palms, his eyebrows furrowed as he awaited your response.

"It just...It went really well is all..." You shrugged and folded your arms over your torso. You tapped your foot against the hardwood floor as you apprehensively glanced up at Minho. He had taken off his glasses and was rubbing his temples.

He put his glasses back on, took a deep inhale, and cupped his hands in your direction.

"So what if the date went really well, Y/N? That doesn't excuse what he's been doing. He's basically ghosted you for an entire week, and it's been, what? Three times now?" Minho's acute words stung. You knew he was right, but it was still taking you time you wrap your head around one aspect:

Why?

"I get that things aren't official yet," he continued, snapping you out of your thoughts, "but you have to see that this guy is-"

"I just don't understand why, Min," you interrupted him this time. "What even is going to happen after this?" He narrowed his eyes and inhaled sharply.

"Look, i really don't want to be your counselor again," Lee Know shook his head while chuckling out of aggravation. "But, obviously, he's gonna try to make up every excuse and try to act sweet when he finally responds."

"What if he really has been busy, though?" you desperately reply, attempting to convince yourself more than anything. Minho did not shoot a glance at you this time, the annoyance clear on his sunk in expression.

"Look," he stated directly in attempts to get you to listen. "It might be more acceptable if you two were going into this potential relationship expecting it to be a casual kind of thing, y'know, with no strings attached. But, that's not what you've been telling me, and he knows exactly what this is supposed to be. He's the one that's not respecting your time, or my time for that matter because I constantly have to listen to what a piece this guy sounds like."

"He...He hasn't been acting like there's no strings attached! Just the other day, he-" You huffed in efforts to tell Minho about how the guy denied another girl's number at the arcade on the last date, even going so far as to call you "his girl." Once again, however, Minho interjected.

"You are really starting to annoy me." his words cut; they were honest, yet brutal. "There is no way you are this stupid, y/n. Come on: not responding for weeks at a time? Love bombing when he does respond? That's acting like no strings attached." You considered Lee Know's words for a brief moment. Upon this, you finally had a realization:

"Maybe...Maybe he's not worth it anymore."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Minho responded with a chuckle mixed of disbelief and humor. "Get rid of him; you would be doing us both a favor that way."

You nodded in sorrow, staring down at your phone. Despite the comment you had made, part of you was still hoping you would look at your lock screen and there would be a text message from him.

"So, you're not going to talk to him anymore. Deal?" Minho ponders, snapping you out of your train of thought.

"No. No, I'm not going to talk to him anymore." You set your phone down on your lap, your foot still tapping nervously.

"So, we're done with this?" he follows up with a second question.

"I don't know, Min," you admit, causing Minho to intake a rough breath. "I mean, I still can't comprehend it. He's so sweet and caring, and he's really good in-"

"No, I don't wanna hear about it, y/n!" Minho finally snaps, managing to keep his voice stern but calm.

"What? Why? I thought you were supposed to be here for me?" you ask, once again hurt by his words.

"I am here for you, but I don't like hearing about these guys you're seeing," Minho growled, his voice tinged with frustration. "I just really do not need to know about all of that, okay? Just put it down, and let's not talk about this anymore."

"Okay, okay. Fine. What do you wanna talk about?" You finally look up at Minho, your eyes sunk in and arms crossed with defeat.

"Well, I was thinking," he began, his voice a lot more gentle, "that we could talk about, and this is just a wild idea, but something related to us instead?" He accentuated his words with a few lighthearted chuckles.

"Hm, yeah. Did you have something specific in mind?" you inquired, your demeanor beginning to soften but your eyes still narrowed in slight frustration.

"I did have something. I actually already had this in mind before you got me offtopic earlier," he teased briefly, "but I was thinking since we both have some time off next week, we should go out and eat somewhere!" Minho's eyes seemed to beaming as bright as his smile; he took pride in the fact that he was able to deter your attention back to him, back to where it was supposed to be, he thought. He missed you dreadfully, and the suggestion of going out to dinner had been plaguing his mind since he walked through your front door.

"Oh yeah?" you asked rhetorically. "What place did you have in mind?" You returned his grin with a soft, half smile of your own. You could not deny you had missed spending time with him has well; however, the thoughts of your admirer still clouded your better judgement. Unintentionally, you began to stare off into space as Lee Know began his reply.

"There's been this one new place that I've been wanting to try. I think it would be nice," Lee Know explained as he began to describe the new traditional restaurant that had just opened up not even a couple of blocks away from your apartment. Lee Know ended his description with a cheeky, "Plus, I feel like you kind of owe me one anyways." This statement snapped you out of your endless distraction. You turned your head in his direction quickly, your eyebrows furrowed and a slight frown present on your face, replacing the half-smile that was just present.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you interrogated, your tone coming off more accusatory than attended. Minho raised a teasing eyebrow to accompany his ever-present smile, which now had morphed into more of a smirk; he was slightly taken aback by your sudden yet slight outburst.

"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean," he responded unequivocally, nodding his head with each accentuation of the sentence. "I'm just saying that you've been so busy with your new guy that we haven't had a chance to hang out lately. Remember last week? When you flaked on me...twice?" Minho's smile had slightly faded, his demeanor becoming solumn in contrast to the previous cheeky behavior.

You did remember essentially leaving Minho in the dust last week, although you did not want to. You and Minho had planned a night together, similar to the one you were having at this moment; however, on the night of the planned venture, the new guy had messaged you out of the blue and asked if you wanted to grab dinner with him that night. All reason had fled from your mind at that moment as you texted back, 'Yes!' without thinking twice about your plans for the night. It was not until Minho had began to blow up your cellphone with messages such as, 'Where are you?' 'y/n, i'm at your apartment,' and 'hello? what the hell?!' when you remembered. You quickly replied, explaining what had happened and that you would be home soon in a desperate attempt to please both parties, yet your response was met with, 'Don't bother. I'm going home.'

With this failed endeavor, you and Minho had attempted to reschedule your arrangements for the next night; thankfully, Minho had the whole week off from schedules, and it was your fall break from classes. You had made a slight adjustment to visit the cinema rather than a move night at your apartment. Yet, this attempt succeeded just as much as the first did, and it went about the same way; it was as if the guy had some sort of radar detecting the days you and Minho had planned to hang out so he could steal you away.

As you dreadfully remembered the events of the prior week, you scoffed and refused to give up your stern standpoint on the matter.

"You sound jealous, y'know that?" was the response your anger-stricken brain formulated. You had stated it without thinking, honestly, and you instantly regretted it once Minho leaned back on the couch, his arms crossing and his mouth slightly agape in pure vexation.

"I sound what?" he inquired stiffly, his dark brown eyes staring daggers into your gaze. "Jealous?" he repeated the word as if he could not believe the statement, which to some degree he could not. He followed up the repitition with a couple of brutal snickers as he shook his head in disbelief. His stare had now found its way boring holes into the wall beside him. "Very funny. I'm not jealous," he claimed as if he was trying to convince himself of the matter rather than you. He shifted his gaze towards the floor as he continued, "I just think you should follow through when we make plans."

"You know we can always reschedule," you responded somberly as you glanced out of the window to your right in order to avoid eye contact with Minho.

"Yeah, you can reschedule, but you ended up cancelling that too," Minho fixed his eyes upon you, specifically how you were still refusing to look at him. You knew the truth to his words, which only made the guilt to felt ten times worse; still, you refused to let your guard down, responding to his truth with a skeptical head shake. You rolled your eyes as you did so, and you shifted your gaze to side eye the male.

"Do you not hear yourself? You are jealous, otherwise you wouldn't be speaking like this, or bringing up last week!" There was no denying your rage at this moment; you were tired of Minho bringing up your faults, especially when it was in relation to this guy. Minho's tongue prodded at his cheek and his vacant expression darkened. There was a brief silence as Minho contemplated what to say in order to get his point across and not sound like a total jerk.

"Okay," he started, "now, you're just imagining things. I'm not jealous." You chuckled slightly, turning your gaze back to focus on the rain pittering against the windows outside.

"Sure," you replied quite coldly with a strained, sarcastic smirk plastered upon your face. Minho frustratedly breathed in and took a slight glance towards the ceiling.

"Fine," he threw his hands up slightly, "y'know what? Forget it. Let's just drop this." He attempted to change the topic of conversation, both because he was tired of talking about his feelings, but also because there was a minuscule aspect of him that knew you were correct. "But, if you happen have time to allocate next week, is that a yes or a no on the restaurant thing?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in perplexity. Minho was JUST on your case, and now he is bringing the subject of the restaurant.

He is so jealous, you thought.

That was not what came out of your mouth, however. Instead, you sighed as a way to release the lingering tidbits of bottled-up anger you felt and responded with a simple question: "What did you say the name of the place was again?" Minho paused for a moment in an attempt to remember the answer to your question.

"Uh, I don't remember the exact name, but it opened up right next to the theatre," Minho did his best to recollect the traditional restaurant, but could only remember its location.

"Is it that one new silverish building with all of the fairy lights hanged near the entrance?" you inquired genuinely, your body beginning to relax from the intensity of aforementioned events. Minho nodded slightly, finally feeling a sense of relief that you were endulging in a conversation unrelated to the guy.

"Yeah, yeah, that building. The name was, uh," Minho attempted to recall the name of the restaurant once again, and partially succeeded, "Great...something." You laughed at his inable memory, causing him to eye you up and down in a playful manner. "Listen, I had the name in my head for the entire day!"

"Likely story! Where'd it go then?" you asked him cheekily, leaning in a bit closer to him on the couch as if to accentuate your question. Lee Know moved away from you in sarcastic disgust as he returned your giggles.

"I don't know! For some reason, it's just on the tip of my tongue right now," Minho returned to his normal sitting position as he racked his brain for the name of the restaurant.

"Is it...is it 'Great Bake?'" you asked as you recalled seeing a grey building that matched the description of the restaurant. Minho looked at you, confusion etched all over his face.

"No, that's a cookie shop!" Minho chortled at your futile attempt at recollecting. "Plus, that place has been there for years now. But I mean, we can go there if you want." You tilted your head at the suggestion before slowly shaking it.

"No thanks. I'd rather go for a meal than for cookies. They make my stomach ache," you rubbed your stomach as you stated the last part in order to adorn your words with comicality.

"Are you sure?" Minho asked you genuinely. "Because I don't mind going for desert after. Or we could go for Boba afterwards if you prefer."

"Nah," you politely declined his offers. "I think the meal will be enough for me."

"You sure?" Minho inquired once more. "It can be my treat!"

"You don't have a reason to treat me," you retaliated in a half-serious half-silly demeanor. Lee Know shook his head in response.

"There doesn't have to be a reason."

"You're just never this considerate is all." Another reply you would slightly regret the moment is escaped your lips. Minho threw his head back, his ego slightly hurt at your statement.

"I am always considerate, hello?" he countered sounding a tad vexated. "What kind of image do you have of me?"

"Well, if you're always considerate, is dinner going to be on you too?" you inquired, crossing your arms brazenly as you awaited an answer.

"You..." Minho's voice quieted as he let out a string of adorning giggles. "No, relax. I am only covering the dessert portion." You scoffed, this one coming out in an exuberant manner in contrast to the previous ones out of annoyance.

"So, I'll pay for dinner in order to make it up to you, I guess, and you'll pay for dessert?" You had decided to concede to Minho's proposition about the cookies and boba. He beamed brightly at your own proposal.

"Okay, let's do that then!" his words were laced with a joyous hint, which made your heart smile. You had a newfound exhileration for the endeavor; as such, you asked Minho if he was excited in order to ensure that the feeling was reciprocated.

"I am, yeah! I am excited for the food!" Minho poked fun towards you, causing you to lightly smack the back of his head. "I'm just kidding, y/n. Of course I am excited for the food, but also because you and I, y'know...I said it earlier, but it really has been a while since we've been able to catch up. Like, not just surface level stuff in our lives, and I've really missed-"

Minho's endearing ramble was interrupted by a buzz of your cellphone; the guy's name appeared on your phone screen in the form of an iMessage. A second buzz quickly followed, and you almost lept at the coffee table in attempts to retrieve your phone. You came to a stop just as your hand grasped the device, and you slowly looked up from the table, making dejected eye contact with Minho. The grin on his face swifty disappeared, and he sighed as he looked down at the ground one more.

"I'm sorry, Min. Do you...mind if I answer this real quick?" You figured it was at least alright to ask, but you took note of how upset he appeared as the inquiry left your mouth.

"Uh, yeah, go ahead. Can't really ignore that, right?" Minho never looked up from the ground as he spoke, and the last fragment of his sentence came out in a snarky bearing.

"I mean I can if, if you want me to," you stuttered, and Minho just shook his head in disapproval.

"I know if you try not to check your phone, you're just going to get distracted from the conversation," Minho paused, taking into consideration how you were hyper-focused on your phone, your fingers were already moving at the speed of light to type out a reply to the guy. "And it looks like you're already doing that anyways." You glanced up from your phone, your face contorted into a confused expression with your eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed together.

"Why are you making that face at me?" Minho catechized your expression as if it was the most unnecessary item in the world. "It's him again, I know it is. I told you not to bother with him anymore, so why are you even thinking about responding?" You were silent, a culpable feeling engulfing your body.

"He. He apologized, and he said-"

"It doesn't matter what he's saying!" Minho snapped outrageously, instantly standing and unintentionally towering over you. "Are you serious right now? We just talked about this!" His fists were clenched by his side, and his eyes were narrowed in exasperation. Before he could let his emotions take over, he took a couple of steps away from you and removed his glasses one more, rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes to seemingly rid them of the stress he was feeling. "Y'know, this is really starting to piss me off."

"Why? Why does it matter so much to you?" you queried, careful not to let the lump building up in your throat waiver your voice. Minho looked at you as if you had lost your sanity.

"Because I thought we were done with this, y/n."

"It's none of your business, Minho!" You had stood up now as well in order to mirror the actions of your friend. He took a step closer to you, his expression vexing further if that was fathomable.

"No, it wasn't my business initially, but you kind of went and made it my business with how often you rubbed this in my face. What, you expect me not to care about what happens to you?" You jeered at Minho's question, slapping a hand against your thigh in frustration.

"Can you just admit you don't like the fact I'm hanging out with a guy who isn't you? That's what the whole problem is here! Like I said: you're jealous, Minho." You crossed your arms as you stared up at the taller boy, who rolled his eyes in the middle of your reply.

"Here you go again with the jealousy thing," Minho huffed. "Look, I'm really annoyed already, so can you stop messing around, please?"

"I'm not messing around," you defended your stance. "You're only worried about me because another guy is in the picture."

"I am worried about you as a friend, y/n, and I'm saying from a platonic standpoint that he is not worth it," Minho retaliated, the annoyance becoming more prominent in his voice with every word he spoke.

"Meaning what exactly?" you prodded further. At this point, Minho was not sure if you were simply asking questions because of sheer confusion or to get on his nerves. It was a mix of both in reality; you could not deny the immense joy you felt from pushing Minho to his limits, yet you also could not fathom why he was so passionate about his stance on this guy.

"Meaning that I don't want you to see him anymore." Minho thought the response sounded better in his head. You widened your eyes once you heard it.

"Okay, so you're jealous and possessive." You moved your finger as you spoke as if you were making some sort of air-bullet list. Minho's mouth gaped slightly open and he sneered.

"Now I sound possessive? I'm really not, but sure, if you'd like to add that into your mix of ideas about me, too." Minho attempted to walk away from the conversation, but you grabbed his shirt sleeve to make him stay put.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" you asked for the nth time that night. Minho looked down at your hand's grasp on his shirt sleeve, then back up at you before scoffing once again, a smug smirk playing at his lips.

"You have not seen me being possessive at all, sweetheart," he remarked with a boldness present in his voice. "I don't want to get into this right now."

"And why is that?" The pure curiosity within you had vanished; now, the questions were purely to push Minho's buttons. You had already gotten him so far towards the edge, so what harm would an additional shove do?

"Because if I were being possessive, I would say, 'You're not going out with him again. I'm not letting him have you.' That is what I would want to say," Minho's sultry gaze bore into your own, and you felt your knees tremble slightly and your heart quicken its pace. You did not understand why you had began to feel this way, but it was exciting.

And you wanted more.

"Are you still insisting on this as a friend, Min?" As you uttered those words, you made an essentially bold move; you moved your hand from his shirt sleeve to his palm, nearly intertwining his hand with yours. The mere movement made Minho's breath hitch.

"Well, I, uh," Minho took a deep breath before continuing. "How much are you going to push me? If you asked me like that then you already have an idea, don't you?" He instinctly moved his thumb over your knuckles as he began his honest vouch. "You're right. I have been feeling jealous for a while now. I don't know when it started, but I am. Having to think about you and this guy going out has obviously only made it worse." Your gaze softened as you squeezed his hand.

"Why didn't you tell me, Min?"

"Because I didn't think I would care this much, so how was I supposed to tell you?" Minho genuinely asked this question, but you did not respond.

"So, is that all?" Minho scoffed at your returned question.

"Excuse me? Of course it's not," he stated like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Do you really want to know what else I've been keeping to myself?" Before you realized what you were doing, your body took control over your mind, allowing your head to nod in agreement rapidly, earning a, "Are you sure about that?" from Minho.

"Are they," you began, feeling a slight tremble in your voice so you paused for a moment. "Are they about me?"

"Mhm. They're related to you. The things that I've wanted to do, thought about doing. It's more than I'm willing to say on its own," he responded casually, the chillness yet unintentionally seductive manner causing you to instinctively cross your legs and slightly rub them together.

"Don't say it then," you replied near instantly, an anxious hitch present in your voice. "Show me." Minho quirked an eyebrow, repeating your words to make sure he understood you correctly. He sighed deeply, almost longingly.

"If you insist, then fine. C'mere," he planted a firm hand on your upper back and pulled you impossibly close towards him. Before you could question his actions, his lips were on yours, kissing you like he had no time left in the world. You were shocked at first, but you quickly melted into the kiss, a few whimpers escaping from your mouth as the two of you embraced. After about thirty seconds, Minho pulled away, smiling at how swollen your lips appeared after such a short period of time.

"I like you," he stumbled over his words as he spoke. "More than I was ever planning to or ever supposed to." He accompanied his confession with a gentle caress of your cheek, a lazy grin accompanying his features. "Seeing you talk about that guy just made me realize how much it bothered me, and," he took a short stop, the light in his eyes morphing into an expression of lust, "if I could have my way with you...if I could do anything that I wanted, then I would keep you all to myself." The hand he had placed on your cheek shifted downward until it found purchase on your waist. Minho's words and subsequent actions had you feeling hot. Everywhere.

"Minho, I never expected you to be this way," you chuckled both out of astonishment and nervousness towards Lee Know's possessiveness.

"Yeah, I don't think you've ever seen how greedy of a person I can be," he responded with an anxious chortle of his own. "I tried to maintain being friends, and obviously I couldn't act like that, could I?" You shook your head, agreeing with his statement.

"Well, maybe I like the way you're acting right now," your hands placing themselves against his chest. You stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "Maybe I want to see that side of you." The reaction Minho felt from your words went straight down.

"Why?" he whispered in return, his own voice sounding like a whine rather than an octave.

"Because...there is a slight chance I feel the same way you do, and I am curious as to how far this side of you extends." Your hands had began to slide up and down Minho's chest, allowing him to release a soft groan.

"Alright then," he replied as both hands now softly grasped your waist. "If you were mine, then I would definitely be a lot closer than this." Once Minho stated this, he gently maneuvered the both of you back over the couch, softly laying you down and hovering over top of you. The heat within your body was growing, and your heart was pumping with adrenaline at the sight of your best friend on top of you.

You could not believe that this was reality.

"Probably this close would be more accurate," he added on with a cheeky smirk, although his heavy breaths contrasted the slyness of his attitude. He had one hand on your lower back and the other softly brushing over your left cheek. "I wouldn't be able to help myself from here though," he leaned down to the crook of your neck, just to where his lips were ghosting the lobe of your ear. "I would make sure everyone knows you're mine," he alluringly whispered as he moved your hair away from the skin of your neck. "Especially here to start," he murmured before diving down to kiss the exposed area. "The things you do to me," he muttered as he kissed, licked, and sucked love marks into your neck. You did your best to keep quiet; however, no matter your best efforts, a string of hearty whines fell from your lips with every sensual movement Lee Know performed.

It felt like Heaven on Earth.

Minho was setting a rhythm to his actions when he was crudely interrupted by yet another buzz from your cellphone. You instinctually moved to grab it, only to be met with Lee Know sighing in annoyance. He swiftly grasped your arm and pinned it down to your side.

"Stop," he commanded in a frustrated yet enduring tone. "Don't answer it. Look at me." He took his free hand and tilted your chin upwards, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He delved down once more, this time finding your lips rather than your neck. This time, he slipped his tongue past your lips and yours impulsively fought back for dominance, allowing you both to explore one another's mouths. One of your hands found residence in his soft brown locks of hair, tugging on them lightly and eliciting a few moans from his ends.

Yet, all good things must come to an end, it seems.

Another buzz came from your phone, causing both you and Minho to let out groans of irritation.

"Give me that," Minho demanded, outstretching his arm for you to hand your phone to him. You automatically did as he asked and placed your phone in his grasp, to which he put it on the head of the couch behind him, making it to where you could not reach it.

"You're done with him."

With that, Minho went back to kissing you as if his life depended on it, taking note of the equal fervor your kisses contained. Hands were roaming everywhere, lips were encapsulated with one another's, blood flow was pumping to the maximum. It felt perfect. Minho pulled away to catch a breath of air, slightly chuckling against your lips at your flushed state. You had not even been making out for five minutes, and you already appeared disheveled with your bangs sticking to your forehead and your eyes blown with a glint of need.

"You really wanted this, too, didn't you?" Minho quieried, concentrating on keeping his gaze focused on yours. You let out a quiet 'mhm' in response, causing Minho's brazen smirk to reappear. "Were you trying to get a reaction out of me? Just so I would take it this far?" Minho moved your sweaty strands of hair out of your face as he anticipated a response.

"I wasn't trying to at first, I promise," you riposted sounding entirely breathless, partially because you were. "But it just got so fun seeing you all worked up over me." This caused the both of you to giggle; although, the humor was swiftly overtaken by hunger as Minho scanned your body up and down.

"How about I get back to making sure everyone knows you aren't available, hm?" He did not alott time for a response before beginning to kiss your neck once again. "Fuck, you have such a pretty neck," he groaned as he began to resume his prior actions of sucking, biting, and kissing every exposed spot he could access. He continued his endeavors for a long time, only pausing when your moans became as high pitched as a shriek. He pulled away briefly, analyzing the spots in which he had just finished orally assaulting.

"What? Are you sensitive here?" he inquired, gently rubbing his thumb over the spot for emphasis.

"Y-yes, Min, oh my God," you moaned out, desperate to have him reattach his lips to your skin. As if he could read your mind, he did just what you desired, focusing intently on your sensitive spots and relishing in the strangled moans you released as he did so.

You had almost completely lost yourself in the moment until yet another buzz came from your cellphone. Minho released an agitated noise before pulling away from the love-mark he had just embellished upon your neck.

"What the fuck does this guy want?" He read over the text message you were sent, scoffing in response. "A little too late to be texting this now," he remarked and set your phone back on the upper couch cushion.

"What did he say, Min?" Minho leaned back down seemingly even closer than he was before and pressed a short kiss to your temple.

"Don't worry about it, Sweetheart," Minho answered. "You're not seeing him again, and even if he does run into you, I think he'll get the message when he sees these marks all over your neck." Minho accompanied his words by glancing down at your neck; where there was once a smooth skin tone now housed marks of red, purple, and pink, almost resembling some form of a darkened sunset.

"They're so pretty," he whispered as he ran his fingers gently over the blemished marks. "I like seeing proof of my work on you. I want to mark you all over your body," he confessed, instead opting to mark your lips with a kiss in that moment.

"Lift up your arms for me," Minho babbled against your lips. "These clothes are getting in the way." You did just as you were commanded and raised your arms above your head. Minho made quick work of the baby blue crop top you had chosen to wear that day, pulling it over your head and leaving you topless with the exception of your bra.

"C'mon, get it all off for me," he directed you in regards to your bra. You reached your hands behind your back, attempting to undo the impossible clasp of the material. Minho offered to aid your struggle; his larger hands quickly replaced yours, and he was able to undo your bra in one swift motion. He instantaneously groaned at the sight of you, topless, and made specifically for him. He had imagined this scenario over the span of countless, lonely nights; his imagination had underestimated the mere sight of you because here you lay, even more perfect than he could have ever pictured.

"Can I touch you, baby?" he asked you, his words sounding desperate and sensual.

"Please do," you squeaked out, grabbing one of his hands and guiding them to your left breast. Minho took control from there, fondling the one breast as his mouth went to appease the other. The pleasure that erupted in your body was indescribable by words, only becoming conveyed by the loud moans that bounced off of the living room walls; every flick of Minho's tongue over your right nipple, every brush of his thumb over the left, and every sensation you felt on your chest made you rub your thighs together, begging for some sort of sweet relief. Minho picked up on your needy movements; therefore, he released your breasts from his suction and gently placed your hands on them instead.

"Keep playing with your tits for me," he instructed, "while I help you out down here, yeah?" You nodded desperately, feeling slightly embarassed from what he was asking you to do, but you obliged nevertheless, attempting to mirror his movements from before.

Minho, on the other hand, was slowly making his way down to your waistline, kissing every surface of your body he could while doing so. He made it to the band of your light grey sweatpants, and he hooked his thumb under the hem of both them and your underwear, managing to pull both articles down simultaneously and discarding them somewhere on the living room floor.

"Fuck," was all he could manage to spew out as he took you in. Your physical beauty, your scent, the slick already coating you, every aspect of your core was absolutely intriguing to him; it only made his ferality grow.

"I want to taste you," he confessed, not daring to make any movements upon you until he had your full consent. "Can I?"

"Please!" you nearly screamed, praying desparately for him to have his way with you. With your approval, Minho wasted no time in pleasing you. He started with slow kitty licks to your clitoris, eventually switching to alternations between licking and sucking on the sensitive bud, allowing his tongue to drag itself a bit lower down your folds each time. You let out an agonizing sigh of relief, which made its way past your lips in the form of a moan.

"Oh my God, Minho," you whimpered. "Just like that, please!" You continued to beg and plead and whimper and whine the whole way through Minho's work upon you.

"Fuck, y/n, you taste so good," he vibrated against your core, causing shock waves to coarse throughout your lower half. As your moans began to pick up in pace and pitch, as did Minho's movements in speed. He sucked, licked, and hummed against you at a moderate rhythm, giving rise to your back arching and your hips bucking. You felt a knot began to tighten in your stomach just as Minho pulled away, removing his cool, metal rings from his right hand. He tenderly took hold of your dominant hand and placed it where his mouth just was.

"I want you to play with your clit while I finger you," he told you bluntly, causing your cheeks to flush slightly. He took notice of your unease and so added on, "Can you do that for me?" as a way to both ask for your consent and make sure you were in a stable mindset to do so.

"Yes," you hoarsely stammered, "I can." To prove it, you leisurely began to rub your clit in small circles, moaning at the return of pleasureful contact. Minho smirked at your actions.

"Good girl," he praised as he slowly inserted his middle finger inside of you, pumping the singular digit slowly in and out of your vagina, curling it in order to brush against that sweet spot inside of you. Your maneuvers on yourself began to falter slightly as he inserted his ring finger as well, quickening his pace as he did so. You made an attempt to stifle your wanton, continuous moans; after all, you hated being too loud, always fearing someone would walk in and catch you in the act. Yet, Minho was not standing for this.

"No no," he stated while making eye contact with you, "let me hear you, baby. Be loud for me. Moan for me" Just like that, any hesitation within your body vanished, and you let every noise held within your vocal chords escape. Moans, groans, whimpers, whines, and everything in between filled the thin walls of your apartment.

"Attagirl." Minho took your noises as encouragement and began pumping his fingers in and out of you faster, still managing to curl them at the opportune moments. You began to rub your clit in tempo-esque sync with Minho's fingers, both motions feeling inhumanely swift at this point.

"Min, I'm getting c-close," you mumbled out, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten further and your brain only focusing on your release.

"Yeah, baby?" he cooed as his fingers rapidly brushed against your G-Spot. "Cum for me then, baby. I want you to cum all over my fingers. Can you do that for me?" He never broke eye contact with you as he asked this, not once.

"I, I can try," you replied, attempting to laugh the nervousness off, but it instead came out gargled.

"Hm, good girls do what they're told. You wanna be a good girl for me, right?" Minho inquired, moving his fingers back down to a moderate pace.

"Yes, yes, yes, I do!" you stumbled over your repetition. "'M your good girl." Minho chuckled at your adorable, mind-numb antics.

"Then cum all over for me," he repeated, working his fingers back up to the swift pace they had stalled from. "You can do it, I know you can, baby." The combined pleasure of Minho's fingers gracing your G-Spot and your fingers massaging your clit all became too overwhelming at once. You felt yourself coming undone, and as such, your hips began to stutter and your thighs began to shake as you came down from your high. Your hands flew to grasp at the slick leather of the couch as Minho's fingers helped you ride out your high.

"Good girl," Minho eulogized as he removed both digits from your entrance and inserted them into his mouth, licking them clean of your arousal. He climbed back over top of you and planted a kiss of adoration on your forehead.

"You did so well for me, pretty girl," he ran a hand through your hair as he smiled earnestly at you. Your brain was too numb to respond with verbage, so you instead sat up and kissed Minho with more passion than you previously had. "That's my girl," he mumbled against your lips. You mustered up enough strength to push Minho on his back, his hands instantly crawling up to squeeze the plush of your ass.

"Your turn," you tiredly stated, causing a chuckle to escape Lee Know's mouth. He encapsulated you in yet another kiss as your hands traveled down to his black, ripped jeans. You quickly found the zipper, unzipping his pants while simultaneously, yet unintentionally, palming his erection and eliciting a needy groan from him. With a bit of help from him, you shimmied his jeans and his boxers down, allowing his cock to spring free from its prior restraint. You took his shirt off of him just as fast, leaving both of you bare in front of one another.

"C'mere," he commanded, moving you forward on his lap to the point in which you were straddling him as he was sitting up. "Spread those legs for me." You shifted your position to where you were doing just that, giving him enough room to push up into you comfortably. "There you go," he praised before softly gripping your chin and pulling you into a brief yet fiery kiss.

"Look at me," Minho adjured you. "I don't want to miss a second of this pretty face." The compliment caused you to go red once more, making Minho in turn giggle. "Are you ready?" he asked before going forward.

"Yes, I have been, please, Min," you were not even sure what you were begging for, but Minho found it adorable nevertheless.

"Please what, baby?"

"Please fuck me."

Minho could not help but smirk at your bold comment as if to say, 'As you wish.' He adjusted his dick to align with your entrance and slowly but surely, inch by inch pushed himself inside of you. The stretch you felt from the endeavor was painful, yet delicious, and both you and Minho groaned from the feeling of one another's arousal. Minho was still for a minute, allowing for you to adjust to his length. Without warning, you began to slowly bounce on his length, taking Lee Know completely by surprise. Moans quickly refilled the apartment air, this time coming from both parties.

"Thereee you go," Minho groaned out as you continued your movements, his hands bracing themselves on your hips both to steady you and to keep himself in tact. "Move those hips for me baby."

A plethora of praises began to feel the air as you sped up your movements on Minho's cock, consisting of, 'That's it, baby,' 'Keep doing that,' and the ever so common, 'Yes, yes, yes!' along with multiple swears that adorned the vicinity. All reasonable judgment had left the area, with both you and Minho becoming concerned with each other's pleasure ass moans and movements began to become more frequent.

This statement only proved its factuality as Minho heard a buzzing sound coming from behind him. Your movements began to slow down as you heard it too; of course, it was your phone that was responsible. Minho grabbed your phone and scoffed, a sly, 'fuck,' falling from his lips as he read the caller ID.

"Look who it is again," he laughed sarcastically, showing you the phone screen as you continued your dulled thrusts. "And he's calling this time." Minho pondered for a moment before an idea came into his head. Amidst the noises of skin slapping, he asked you, "Should I answer it?" Your face instantly contorted into an expression of worry and anxiety.

"No, no, Min. D-don't answer it," you stammered out in a mix of breathlessness and fret.

"Are you sure? I think he's g-getting kind of worried," Minho retorted, the cockiness evident in his tone. Despite your wishes, he picked up the call.

"Hello?" Almost instantaneously, you clenched around Minho, both out of worry and exhileration. It was an anxiety-stricken situation, that was for certain; however, something about the confidence Minho exerted in that moment turned you on, so much so to the point where you accidentally let out a high pitched moan.

"Shh," Minho held a hand over your mouth, holding the phone away from you both. "You don't want him to hear you moaning like this, do you?" You shook your head no as Minho smirked and brought your phone back to his ear. "Sorry, what was that? Yeah, she's busy with me right now, but if you want me to leave a message for you, I can. You sure? Alright, no problem. Take care, man." Minho finally hung up the phone. "I think he got the message."

Although you could not hear the other end of the conversation, you were almost positive the guy could ear the lewd noises coming from your side of the receiver. It should have embarrassed you to no end, but it only made your eroticism grow. As such, you bounced harder and faster on Minho's cock, causing him to throw his head back in pleasure and release a string of swears.

"Fuck, baby. You were squeezing me so tightly while I was on the phone," he remarked about the gesture you had hoped he had not tooken notice of. "Were you that nervous or was it that," he stopped his interrogation to caputre you in yet again another passionate kiss, "you liked it? Hm?"

You could not bring yourself to answer him verbally, instead allowing moan upon moan to be uttered. Minho did not mind, however, instead allowing the both of you to become lost within your pleasure. With the pace you had set for the occasion, it was not long until you found yourself nearing a second orgasm, and from the way Minho's hips had began to stutter against your own and his whines becoming more high pitched, you figured it was the same case for him. He proved you correct moments later.

"Close, 'M close," he repeated several times over. "Keep going. Just like that for me, yeah?" His hands grasped your hips, aiding you in swiftening your movements on his cock, bouncing faster than you had ever been able to manage before. "Where baby? Where do you want me to cum?"

"Inside," you replied without hesitation. Your answer surprised Minho initially, but it quickly morphed into excitement. Minho felt his orgasm creeping up on him, so he buried his head into the crook of your neck, thrusting his hips into your own as he quickly tried to bring himself to release.

You, on the other hand, felt yourself already coming undone once more, and Minho's additional thrusts were the straws that broke the camel's back. You saw stars as your second orgasm hit, feeling more intense than the first by a longshot. The sight itself alone was enough to arouse Minho to completion, and he let himself go, realising thick white ropes of cum inside of you and groaning immensely while doing so.

As both of you came down from your respective highs, you laid your head on Minho's chest, your breathing heavy and your blood pumping. Minho held you close to him, not wanting to let you go in that moment.

"Damn," he finally broke the silence with a chuckle. He lifted your head up towards him, muttering a, 'c'mere' as he brought you in for a kiss, this one much less intense than the ones prior.

"You did so well, baby," he rubbed your arms as he spoke. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," was all you could mumble against him. You somehow felt weak yet on Cloud 9 at the same time. It was a weird feeling, but exhilerating none the less. You attempted to lift yourself off of Minho, but the boy's strong arms kept you held down.

"Let's just stay like this for a little while, yeah?" You nodded, bringing yourself to lie down on top of Minho. "Are you alright, Princess?"

"Mhm," you sleepily mumbled. "You?"

"Well, I didn't expect to be doing this tonight, but yes. I am great." Minho looked up at the sight of you: your hair stuck to your forehead once more, beads of sweat cascaded like waterfalls down your body, and you were ninety-nine percent sure your makeup was running. Yet, Minho thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he vocalized it.

"I look like the personified spawn of Satan right now, Minho." Minho could not help but burst into a fit of laughter at your words.

"You're always beautiful to me," he retorted. You smiled down at him, feeling yourself doze off in his arms, but not before he muttered one more thing:

"So, no more of him then, right?"

[kamisatomay018]

I’ll Always Stand Up For You

Sylus x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of childhood trauma, alcohol addiction, angst with lots of comfort, fluff!

Here is the Sylus version, enjoy!

Your life before you met Sylus was nothing but painful. Being the eldest daughter of two parents who failed at their jobs, you had to shoulder the responsibility of raising your two siblings. Your childhood memories were filled with covering your young siblings’ ears while your parents yelled and fought with one another after drinking too much. Glass breaking, cursing and screaming were all that would be heard all night long. You were only 6 years old when all this began, and it traumatised you for life. But that would only be the beginning of your suffering.

Your parents hated you for no reason. Perhaps they saw you as a burden, perhaps they were just vile people at heart. Your family was broke thanks to your parents, and you can no longer remember just how many days you spent skipping meals so that your family would have food in their stomachs. And yet, neither of them were ever grateful. You barely managed to get education thanks to your brilliance in studies which thankfully landed you scholarships. However you didn’t even get the chance to go to college, because your parents were so deep in debt that you needed to take up the burden and start providing for them.

Since the day you turned 16, you started doing odd jobs, exhausting yourself everyday so that your family wouldn’t go hungry. A waitress, a bartender, a babysitter; you name it, and you did all the jobs that you could get without needing a college degree.

And still, your family remained ungrateful.

They called you all the time, asking for money as if you weren’t out there working endlessly to pay their bills. You barely had two pairs of clothes, your once soft hands had gone rough from the labour you endured daily. Trying to put food on the table, pay off debts and endure your family’s emotional torture was too much to bear for you. You were deep in depression, hanging by a thread until you knew you’d break.

But everything changed the moment you turned 24. The day, you met Sylus.

Was it a coincidence, or was it luck? You could not tell. You worked at a restaurant he owned as a receptionist, when one fine day he walked in, and his ruby eyes landed on you. Never had he seen a beauty like you, never had he felt so drawn to a woman before. You were the most simple girl he had ever seen, and yet, he couldn’t get his eyes off of you.

From there began your fated encounter with the leader of Onychinus himself. It took him a very long time to gain your trust. But sylus was a man of patience. Truthfully speaking, he could’ve just used his aether core to know everything about you. But something in him told him to stop. The sadness and exhaustion in your eyes had made his heart churn, and that was the day he vowed to himself that you would never work yourself to death the way you had been doing since you were just a teenager.

Falling in love with Sylus was your saving grace. He was the air you needed to breathe, the pillar you needed to lean against and the embrace that always caught you before you fell. He brought colour into your life, he gave you a taste of things that you could never even dream of in your wildest dreams.

He had unlimited wealth, and his way of showing love for you was by spoiling you rotten. But to you, money had a whole different value, it was something that you could never waste. It took you months of convincing and reassurance from Sylus that he was more than happy to spoil you, and that you deserved it. And it took you months to confide in him of the truth about your life.

The day he learnt of just how much you had been suffering at the hands of your failed parents and ungrateful siblings, he truly wanted nothing more than to throw them out of your life. But he knew that even after everything you had to suffer by their hands, you still cared for them, even if he could never understand why. How could you ever be so selfless? That; sylus soon understood, was one of the main reasons why he fell in love with you.

It was the way you cared, the way you didn’t care about his own past, about his misdeeds. You just saw sylus, and you loved him unconditionally. Your love was enduring and passionate, it was never ending. You kept Sylus a secret from your family, not wanting them to exploit him for his money. Sylus had long since offered to just shut your family up with some money so they’d leave you alone, but you firmly stopped him from doing that. It was his hard earned money, and with how greedy your family was; they’d never stop asking him for money at your expense.

So Sylus respected your wishes, only after you complied with some of his conditions. Soon after he began dating you, he realised that you had a sharp and brilliant mind and he got you a better, well paying job in Onychinus itself, and he made sure that you never spent your hard earned money on yourself. Why? Because that was his job now. He spoiled you absolutely rotten, treating you like a princess. Soon, you got used to it, but even then you managed to surprise him by giving him small yet meaningful gifts from your salary. And that man cherished every single thing you gave him.

A crow keychain? It was now attached to his bike keys. A new blazer? He wore it to every important meeting. A new pendant? He swore to get buried in it but never take it off.

His love was pure, and so the day he knelt down on one knee to ask for your hand in marriage under the snowfall, you had no hesitation in saying yes and pulling him into a passionate kiss.

You were so grateful for Sylus that you could never explain in words. He gave you everything that you had desperately needed in life- love, security, kindness and respect. He made sure to never raise his voice when you were around because he knew it triggered you due to your childhood, he took care of you when no one else had, he spoilt you with endless luxury, but most of all, he made you truly feel important.

Along with your engagement however, came one burden- breaking the news to your family. You had sat down with Sylus, telling him nervously that you didn’t want to hide such an important news from them, and that if, and only if, he wanted to, you wished to introduce him to your family. You hadn’t seen them in years now and they never even showed any interest in wanting to see you. Their calls were always only for money, so Sylus couldn’t fathom why you were still attached to them.

But as understanding and patient as he was, he agreed to your request with a loving kiss on your forehead. After all, there was no way he was letting you go there all alone.

You both dressed up simply but elegantly, Sylus deciding to use one of his simplest cars- an Audi- to drive you to the apartment your family lived in, an apartment that you had rented for them.

To say that your family was shocked was an understatement. They were baffled the moment they saw you and Sylus, a man with an intimidating aura that screamed power and luxury. He held your hand in his, after he had promised you that he would be as civil as possible with them upon your request. But he had made one thing very clear- he would not tolerate any nonsense that came at the price of your respect.

The atmosphere was unbelievably tense as you broke the news of your engagement to Sylus. Your parents were infuriated that they had no idea that you were dating. But not for the reason any ordinary person would think. They didn’t care who you were with, they cared about the fact that they could see just how rich Sylus was, and that they could’ve had so much money by now. Of course, they didn’t say it out loud, but Sylus knew. One look at their greedy faces and he knew that he hated them even more now.

Soon your two younger brothers, whom you had been protecting all their lives, appeared, shocked to see you with a man as perfect as Sylus. They snickered to each other, looking at you condescendingly. “Wow, sis. Never thought that you would end up with such a good man.” Their comment made your parents laugh too, and your heart ache.

But Sylus? He was not amused. Not at all. His ruby eyes became darker as he glared at the two sorry excuse of brothers, his fist clenching. You noticed immediately, placing your hand over his before he could say anything. He was forced to keep quiet after he saw the subtle shake of your head and your pleading eyes. He wanted to get you out of here and just shower you with affection. You were an angel, and you didn’t deserve any of this.

“So son, when is the wedding? We expect it’ll be quite lavish, yes?” He heard your mother say, making him feel absolutely disgusted, even though his expression remained stoic. Him and be her son? Absolutely not. “Soon.” was all he replied with, although he was tempted to tell them that he didn’t want to invite them at all.

“A man of a few words, aren’t you? Ha! Thats what makes a good man.” He heard your father say to him. Sylus raised his eyebrow at that. What irony, he thought, for this man and his sons were the exact opposite of that. “Indeed.”

Meanwhile you remained silent, knowing it was taking everything in sylus to keep his promise of being civil to your parents. You were so grateful to him, as he continued holding your hand. That however, caught your mother’s attention as she saw the shining diamond ring on your finger, a big solitaire adorned with rubies, a symbol of your love with Sylus.

“You greedy girl, is that how I raised you!? How could you ask for such an expensive ring from your fiance?” She snapped at you, her voice loud which made you flinch. Sylus felt it immediately, as he pulled you closer, looking at your mother darkly. Seeing Sylus’ intimidating glare her sharp gaze faltered a little, but she continued to look at you in a disgusting manner.

Your father also looked at the ring now, and he scoffed. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Hoarding all your finance’s money for yourself while your poor family lives in such bad conditions? I didn’t raise you to be a gold digger!” Your younger brothers sneered at you, shaking their heads. You felt your breathing get heavier, remembering just how damaging it used to feel being around your family.

But then, all your thoughts were silenced by the familiar warm embrace that once again caught you right before you felt yourself fall. Sylus.

He stood up abruptly while hiding you in his arms, his evol emanating from him as it surrounded you both with its dark glow. Your family looked up, afraid of the man as he glared down at them with such anger in his eyes.

“Say that again. I dare you. Call my love a gold digger again, and I will make you beg me to kill you.”

Your family was speechless, stuttering and trying to find words. But Sylus didn’t give them a single chance. “You all are so fucking lucky to have this angel in your lives, yet all you have done is make her life hell, make her cry, make her ache. She has spent the better part of her life putting food in your worthless bodies and you have the audacity to call her a gold digger?”

“And you two.” He spoke, seething in anger as he turned to your brothers. “You are disgraces at the name of brothers, failures as men. You forgot so easily just who had been protecting you and feeding you since the day your worthless selves were born? Sitting here with no jobs, no ambitions laughing at a woman who pays for your food, for your clothes and for the roof above your goddamn heads, tsk, feel some fucking shame.”

You didn’t stop Sylus, rather, you felt yourself fall so in love with him again. For the first time, someone had stood up for you. For the first time you were the one hidden in someone’s arms, away from the pain. For the first time, you were taken care of in the face of danger.

“From this day forth, you all will get no money from her. My fiance will no longer send your worthless selves any money. Try to harm her, and I will make you regret every breath you take. Be glad that I am sparing your lives, because it is her love that has made me merciful. This will be the last time you see us. Once you learn just how difficult it is to earn money without a roof above your heads, you will understand how much she has suffered. Truly, I have not seen people as useless as all four of you.” Sylus spat harshly, giving one final glare to your family as he gently picked you up in his arms, hiding you away from them as he walked out, still seething in anger.

Once he reached his car, he let his evol open the door as he sat down, settling you down on his lap. “Sweetie, are you alright?” You heard his deep comforting voice, coaxing you to look at him. And you did just that, letting him see your teary eyes. Sylus swore that there was nothing that hurt him more than seeing your beautiful eyes full of tears. He’d rather take a hundred bullets, get stabbed all over than see you sad. He kissed your tears away, holding you close. “Sweetie, I’m so-“

You didn’t even let him finish, pulling him close by the collar of his shirt as you kissed him oh so lovingly. Sylus was taken aback, but he melted into the kiss immediately. His arms enveloped you once more with such protectiveness that it made your heart skip a beat. God, you didn’t deserve him.

“I love you…I love you so much Sylus..” you spoke breathlessly against his lips, parting just enough to look into those beautiful red eyes of his. He smiled at your words, as if those were the most beautiful words he would ever hear. And that was definitely true. “I love you more than anything, sweetheart.”

“Thank you for saying all that to my family..”

“You’re not upset?” He asked, caressing your cheeks gently. You shook your head immediately. “Why would I ever be upset at you standing up for me..? That’s the first time I felt someone protect me like that..”

His eyes softened, as he kissed your forehead. His gaze was full of love, as he spoke gently “Sweetie, I will always stand up for you. I will always protect you. You can lean on me, yeah? You’re never alone when I’m here.”

You smiles even wider at his words, nodding in response as you took a moment to hug him tightly. “You were always right, I should’ve cut them off long back..I just…I don’t know why I couldn’t do it..”

“It’s because you have a heart of gold, sweetheart. You are pure and loving, even to those who do not deserve it. But don’t love someone at the expense of the love you should give to yourself. You’re worth more than all of that, okay? You deserve only the best.” God, how was it that Sylus always knew the right thing to say?

“You’re right, Sy..thank you for always being there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you..” you spoke, your eyes genuine and loving.

He smiled at you, kissing your lips softly as you felt him whisper a lingering promise “You do not need to know sweetie, because I will always be there with you. Forever.”

[logoleptic-since-06]

Every Corner of This House is Haunted

Pairing: Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader Content: Fem!Reader, Marriage in Crisis, Angst, Reader and Nanami are in their 30s, Not Proofread

Chapter I ■ Chapter II

“I want a divorce.”

The silence after you utter those words pierces through your mind, making you second guess your comment. You don’t want to repeat them, afraid the next time you say the words, you won’t even mean it. Kento simply continues driving, pretending like you never spoke. Anxiety blooms in your chest, so tightening you almost feel as though you can’t breathe.

Once you reach your apartment building and get on the elevator, you give into your nerves.

“Kento,” you call.

He looks up from his phone. “Hm?”

You push back the tears that are so desperate to come out of your eyes. “You heard me.” Your voice is barely a whisper. The elevator rings and he steps out into your penthouse. 

“Kento!” you finally shout.

He turns around with a stern expression masking his face. “What?”

“Please.”

“You’re being ridiculous. There’s no need for you to say something like that.”

Letting out an exasperated scoff, you hear your voice break as you speak. “You cannot possibly be saying that, Kento, when you damn fucking well know we haven’t even talked in ages.”

“Yes, we have,” he claims calmly.

“No, Kento, we haven’t. And see this is the issue– you don’t even realise we may be drifting apart.”

“We aren’t drifting apart.”

“Stop invalidating me like that!” you snap. “You think you’re so mature and you know every fucking thing when in reality you’ve grown emotionally unavailable. You only talk about work, we never go out on dates, and when was the last time you kissed me Kento?”

His demeanour shifts slightly, which makes you wonder if he realises his faults.

“We are both busy, my love.”

“Too busy to even see each other?”

He sighs. “You’re right. I have been neglecting you.” He comes forwards and touches your arms. “How about you give me a chance? Let me take you out on a date tomorrow.”

You look into his eyes, the same ones you fell in love with so many years ago, the ones that feel like an ocean you can happily drown in. He pulls you into a hug and you melt, his arms both your greatest kryptonite and strongest warrior. How could you ever leave him?

“I’m sorry, my love,” he says, his voice as soft as ever. “I’ll make it right, I promise. Be ready at 7pm tomorrow, okay?”

–

The next day rolls in in a matter of moments. As Kento sits behind his desk at his office with his thoughts laminated with guilt, his mind replays the moments you said you wanted a divorce. He had felt his life flash before his eyes, like someone ripped his heart apart from his ribcage. Had he been so blinded by ambition and competence that he forgot to consider the feelings of the reason he breathes?

“Sir?” the voice of his assistant breaks him away from his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“The clients are here, the meeting can start now.”

–

Hours pass in the meeting, but eventually, the deal is finalized. Kento returns to his cabin and relaxes into his chair, satisfied with himself. Stretching out his arms, he finally peeks into his phone that seems to be flooded with notifications from you. Why would you send him so many–

Oh.

Fuck.

He checks the time. It’s 9:42 PM. The meeting had taken longer than it should have. But worst of all, he had forgotten about the plans with you. With shaking hands, he sprints out of his office, maniacally driving to your place.

He stumbles out of the elevator. “Y/N,” he calls out. “I’m so sorry for being late, my love, I was occupied with very important clients.” He goes up to your bedroom and opens the door, expecting to find you there.

“Y/N?” he calls out again when he doesn’t. His heart almost leaps out of his chest as he hysterically moves around the house, shouting out your name and calling your phone. All to only be responded with nothing. 

You were gone.

A/N: Sorry, I was feeling a little silly. 🤭

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Hi I didn't know who else to ask but I like your blog alot and was wondering If you could do Slashers with a lover who in their sleep subconsciously pats their back repeatedly like a baby while hugging them with brahms, Thomas hewitt, and the sinclair brothers included please🩷

a/n: thank you so much and thank you for the request <3 i'm sorry that it took so long, i've just had A LOT going on over the last year and have had barely any time for writing. and since i've been gone for so long, i will admit i'm a bit out of practice so i apologise in advance if this isn't to the standard you were hoping for

mentioned: brahms heelshire, thomas hewitt, bo sinclair, vincent sinclair, lester sinclair

brahms heelshire

brahms has always liked to cuddle with you at night. in fact, before you both started routinely sleeping together, he would sneak into your room at night and simply hold onto you for comfort

he knows that you're not against cuddling, so when he wakes up with your arms locked around him, he isn't surprised

but he is slightly surprised to find that you're patting him on the back as though he were a baby

in all the time that you've been sleeping together, not once have you ever done such a thing

it's a nice surprise, because brahms loves nothing more than physical comfort. your palm lightly tapping against his back calms him, eventually lulling him back to sleep

thomas hewitt

thomas has always enjoyed any form of physical contact with you. since he rarely speaks, physical contact is the only form of affection he can rely on

when he wakes up with your limbs tangled around his body, the first thing he notices is your hand gently patting his back. he can tell that you're asleep from your usual deep breathing so he doesn't have to check whether you're awake

althought this is a new thing that he knows you definitely haven't done before, he doesn't think much of it

instead, he welcomes it and simply allows himself to fall back to sleep, your hand patting his back bringing him nothing but comfort

bo sinclair

when you and bo first started out, he wouldn't so much as let you sleep in the same room as him, so when he feels your hand gently patting his back one night, it's safe to say he's in a state of both annoyance and shock

he knows you know not to be too intimate with him when you're in bed together, so why the hell are you currently patting his back like he's a damn baby?

your face is buried in his chest so he can't tell if you're awake or not so he decides to carefully untangle your limbs from him to get a better look. and to his surprise, you're asleep

he isn't sure what to do, because although he's uncomfortable with it, he also finds it to be oddly comforting. and you're not exactly conscious so it isn't like there's any reason for him to feel awkward, you don't know what you're doing, you don't even know that he knows

in the end, after A LOT of unnecessary deliberation, bo finally decides to just allow you to keep patting his back with your arms locked around his body

he enjoys it, although there is no way he will ever tell you that

vincent sinclair

when vincent wakes up to you patting his back one night, he's confused. especially because a lot of the time, the closest the two of you get when sleeping is when he holds you from behind

so when he wakes up with your face crushed against his chest and your limbs wrapped around his body, his immediate response is to feel a little uncomfortable

he isn't sure if you know that you're currently patting him on the back like he's a baby but he doesn't want to check either in case you're asleep

so he just lays there for a long moment, painfully aware of your hand against his back

he isn't sure whether he likes it, he also doesn't want to stop you

in the end, he decides to just ignore it and go back to sleep

he'll decide if he liked it in the morning

lester sinclair

when lester wakes up to find you're gently patting him on the back, he doesn't even have to think about it before deciding that he loves it and would love for you to do it more often

lester had never really experienced much physical affection before you, so he could care less that your body is currently wrapped around his, with your palm gently beating against his back. he'll take whatever he can get

he loves you and he loves being as close to you as possible so he lets you keep patting his back and eventually drifts back to sleep, content with the fact that you're both so close, in every sense of the word

[Main Masterlist]

[shadowbriar]

Matt Murdock — Without Me

Pairing : Matt Murdock x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 3.9k Warning : Angst as requested but with fluff ending. Insecurity. Miscommunication/Misunderstanding. Synopsis : She knew, even without bringing the topic to light, that marriage was never an option with him. Notes : this fic was a request. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

It was never easy.

No matter how many years they've spent together, the countless dates they went to, and the umpteen charming moments they've shared, dating Matt Murdock was never easy still.

Lord knows just how hard she tries to turn it off. To stop her mind from wandering to the dark places and to not think of the worst possible scenarios whenever the slightest inconvenience happens. She's tried her best, truly she has, to be a little more nonchalant whenever it comes to him, but it proved to be an impossible task to do. Perhaps when you care about someone a little too much than needed, the chance of keeping one's self collected inevitably becomes impossible.

Foggy and Marci’s wedding invitation laid proud on the coffee table, silently mocking her name whenever she was the only one left in the apartment. She knew, even without bringing the topic to light, that marriage was never an option with him. There’s just too many things in his hands, too many problems laid on his shoulders for him to ever weigh the possibility of matrimony.

She understood, a little too well, the reason for his silence. And though she once dreamed of having a family of her own, having mini versions of her and him running around the apartment and knocking over the cup of tea that would stain their rugged carpet, she’s learned to bury such thoughts in the deepest pit of her heart. She reckons, sacrificing something that she’s never had before would be less painful than losing the one she already has.

Five years of being loved by Matt Murdock would certainly make you a little too attached to the man.

But even with his gentle touch, the sweet nothings he whispered in her ears and the embrace he would always blanket her nights with, fear was never kept too far away. As much as she loves and understands him, as much as he worships and adores her, Matt was never an easy riddle to solve. His mind works with such complexity she’d never truly decipher. Oftentimes his actions speak much louder than his words and the past few days have only served as the new demons she has to battle with at night.

There’s always been more paperwork, more cases that needed his urgent attention before he could excuse himself out of the office, and even when his job was done, his other calls would already become too urgent for him to ignore. One too many rain checks done for their dates, that she couldn’t even bother asking if they could find a replacement date. Matt’s a busy man, his growing reputation and the demand Daredevil would have to serve at night were something she’s accepted, what she’s yet to understand, however, is his lack of communication. There were less words, less explanations and reassurance for her to hold on to. The blackhole that she’s currently drowning in was quiet and deadly. Something that he would not notice with the lack of presence.

Now she sits alone in their apartment, eyes vacant and barely blinking while her brain haywired. Perhaps this sudden change of action was caused by her wrongdoings. She tries to trace down every possible mistake she might have made, every misspoken word and unintentional actions, in an attempt to find a way to fix it. To apologise for whatever fault she’s committed before the sin stained a little too deep to ever be fixed.

If this was anyone else, she would’ve been upfront and ask if there’s anything wrong, confront the issue head-on without a care in the world, but this is Matt. He pushes people as easily as he draws them. One wrong movement and she fears all hell would break loose for them.

“Baby?” she heard Matt call, turning her head to see him entering from the staircase “What are you still doing up? It’s late.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she answers, walking to him and taking his helmet away “Was it an easy patrol?”

“Quite, yeah. Not too bad but not too boring either,” he says with a grin “I’ve missed you.”

She sighs, letting his hands rest on her waist while hers encircle his neck, “Yeah, well, you’ve been busy.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says regretfully “Say, why don’t we go to that restaurant you’ve been wanting to try? The Italian one? How about this Friday, will you be free then?”

“I don’t know, will you? You’re the one who’s been so occupied lately.”

“I’ll be free on Friday, I promise,” he says excitedly, stealing a peck on her lips “So what do you say? Friday after work?”

Another tired sigh escapes her. Moments like this melts her worry away. Staring into his beautiful face, seeing that charming smile tugged on the corner of his lips, while his body was pressed against her. But as much as she treasures this, as much as she appreciates the comfort he could always bring her, she knew that the dark cloud would return the moment he’s out of her sight.

Gently, she leans in and kisses him. Matt’s grip on her shirt tightens, smiling between the kiss in satisfaction. Perhaps he misses her just as much as she missed him.

“Friday, it is.”

—-

She peeled herself off of the blanket with a huge sigh. The other side of the bed was cold, signifying that he’s been out for quite some time but she couldn’t find it in herself to frown. They do have a date afterwards. Perhaps Matt just wanted to make sure that he’s done all his work on time before they could escape their hectic lives for an hour or two.

It was still early for her to get ready for work, but coming early and finishing her tasks as soon as possible so she could have more time to doll herself up before the date sounds like a better plan to do. She sits up from the bed, hand carelessly reaching for the hair tie on the bedside table before knocking Matt’s phone in the process.

She picks up the item, thinking that it was one of the rare occurrences for him to forget his belongings. Reckon she really needs to get ready now so she could drop by his office and give him his phone, but her frown grows when someone calls.

“Hello?” she says as she picks it up.

“Oh, shit,” the other end of the line says before hanging up.

It was a woman. A voice that she was unfamiliar with. The twist in her gut grew, spreading through her veins like venom. She’s never one to pry on Matt’s phone, always confident in his loyalty, but given his absence and the strange call, her fingers couldn’t stop themselves from punching the passcode.

There was no text history with the caller, but there were several call logs, dating far into the past few weeks when he started to be ‘busy’. She wanted to call back the woman, ask her who she is and why she has been on frequent calls with her boyfriend, but she was too scared to face the possible truth. Too afraid to welcome the pour of the icy reality— that he’s found someone else.

“Oh, you’re up!” Matt says, cheeks flushed with slight panting “I forgot my phone.”

“Yeah, I know,” she answers, her voice caught in her throat. Still trying to process the event that’s just happened and how to act in front of him “I— Someone— Gwyneth called.”

“Oh,” his tongue darts to lick his lips, visibly looking nervous now “What did she say?”

“Nothing, she— She hung up.”

“Your heart is beating fast,” Matt notes “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just— Did you run back here?”

“I did, yeah. I was already at the office when I realised I'd forgotten my phone. I need it for the case I’m currently working on,” he answers, walking to her with careful steps “Can I have it, please?”

She swallows the lump in her throat, handing him the item in silence.

“Thank you,” Matt says, placing a kiss on the crown of her head “Listen, I have to run back, I’m having a meeting with a client in five minutes. I’ll see you later for our date, okay?”

She was still silent, breath hitched and sweats forming in the back of her neck.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, okay,” she finally answers, looking up to meet his eyes “I’ll see you later.”

Matt hesitated. He looks as if he was debating to ask something, looking conflicted over whatever it is that might be troubling his mind but the words died in his tongue. Perhaps unsure if he would want to pour petrol over the turmoil that’s evidently building between them. His finger taps on the phone in his palm as he says instead, “I love you.”

She forces a smile, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see it but it was the only attempt she could pull to suppress the tears that were slowly watering her eyes, “I know.”

“You’re not gonna say it back?”

“You know I love you,” She says, kissing the back of his hand that was holding the phone “Go, you’re going to be late for the meeting.”

Matt smiles, stealing a kiss from her lips before heading back out.

—-

Her breathing was rigid. The movement of her chest forced as if trying her best to compose herself. Her lips were pressed in a tight smile, chewing her meal silently as she tried to focus on the words Matt was saying.

She tries, God knows she tries, to forget about this morning’s incident. Perhaps Gwyneth was the client he was supposed to meet. It surely isn't strange for him to have frequent calls with her if that was the case, but why does it feel wrong? Why does it feel like there’s something bigger that she wasn’t aware of? Why does it feel as if there was something Matt wasn’t telling?

“Love,” Matt calls, taking her hand slowly in his “Are you alright? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lies through her teeth.

“Are you sure? Your heart has been beating like crazy all night.”

“Yeah, well, maybe stop listening to my heartbeat for once, Matt.”

The smile on his face waters, surprised to hear her bitter spat.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound as cruel,” she sighs, taking her hand away from him to rub her temples “I just have a lot of things in mind.”

Matt sighs, nodding in understanding, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes, she wanted to say, let’s talk about the affair you’re having behind me.

But is she ready? Is she ready to be stripped off of the fantasy that she’s tried so hard to build with him? Is she ready to bid goodbye to all the dreams and hopes she’s made with him? Is she ready to accept the fact that there would be no Matt in her future?

It was pathetic, sure, to hold on to the last strings of hope when the most possible outcome is laid bare in front of her. To be stubborn for once against the demons that are torturing her mind. But Matt is the only good thing in her life she’d never be ready to lose. He is the one thing she would rather risk her life for than to ever be separated from. Even if she has to turn a blind eye and pretend as if the romance they’re living in was pure and innocent.

“No, it’s fine,” she says, letting out a sigh to collect her composure “How’s your meeting? Did it go well?”

“Splendid. Listen, I have something to talk to you about,” he says, deflecting the topic. Matt takes a nervous gulp. His hands are now under the table, invisible to her eyes “I– Uh, I don’t know where to start.”

A sharp gasp escaped her lips as the tears threatened to form on her eyes. This must be it. The nervousness that has been bleeding out of him, the continuous rambling he does the whole night to mask his uneasiness, the way he keeps on rubbing his palm on his trousers. This must be it. This must be their end.

“You know how we’ve been together for quite some time now,” Matt starts, his hands still hidden under the table “I know five years with me must not have been the easiest for you. I know just how difficult it could be, living with me and accepting the life that I’m living in. I know that we didn’t always have sunshine and rainbows. Most of the time we have storms and thunders, really, yet we’re still here. You’re still here,” He says gently, his left hand reaching for hers “I know that you deserve better, that you can find someone better—”

She abruptly stood on her feet, letting his hand go in the process that he retreats it fast and hides it under the table once again. Her breathing was heavy, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Matt asks with a worried tone, still sitting on his seat.

“I have to get out of here.”

“W-What?”

She spared him no other word, grabbing her purse and bolting herself out of the restaurant.

Her heart was hammering inside her chest. By the time she hailed for a taxi, her cheeks were already wet with tears. The night she’s been looking forward to, the one date she hoped would flush all of her worries down the drain, turns out to be her worst nightmare. Never would she ever expect Matt to be this cruel. To lead her on, promising a lovely date when they haven’t seen each other for so long, only to break up with her before the clock strikes at nine. With an illicit affair she wasn’t aware of until the very morning, should one add.

“Wait, wait,” Matt says, stopping the taxi door before it closes “Where are you going? What happened?”

“Just leave me alone, Matt, please,” she begs through her tears.

“Baby, why are you crying?”

“Leave me alone, Matt. I don’t want to see you tonight.”

“I— What did I do?”

“Just— Please, don’t make it any harder than it already is.”

Matt was appalled, confused as to what might trigger this response, but he could feel just how upset she was. Her body was shaking, fingers trembling as they frantically wiped the tears that kept on flowing. Never had he ever seen her this distraught and Matt was scared that he would do more harm than good to try and talk with her about it, so he surrenders, “Okay, we’ll go home, okay? Let me just pay for dinner first.”

“No, I’m not going home. I told you, I don’t want to see you, okay!” She says, this time with a raise of voice as her anger slowly seeps in “I just want you to leave me alone, is that really too much to ask for?”

Hurt was evident on his face now, but she was too caught up with her own emotions to notice it.

“Please, Matt,” She begs, her voice hoarse in plea “Please let me go.”

Matt nods, ceasing his last attempt to hold her as he closes the taxi door. He listens as the driver steps on the gas, driving her away to wherever it is she might go. Though the car drives further from him, the sound of her sobs only grows louder in his ear. He wasn’t sure what he did, what he said that might have prompted this response, but whatever it is, he knew that he’s royally ruined what could’ve been the best night of their lives.

—-

It has been a week since she fled Hell’s Kitchen. She knew that there’s no corner in the city that he wouldn’t scour to find her, so she had to go a little farther to find shelter. She needed time and space to think, to take in the cruel reality that has finally caught up with her, before she could take baby steps towards acceptance. 

On the second day, she no longer breaks in tears whenever she looks into her phone and see the many messages Matt has left. By the fourth day, she could partly accept the fact that their ship had sunk. That trying to mend what’s been broken would only restrain him from his freedom, from loving the one person he might actually meant to be with. She loves him, too much for words to ever truly express it, but if being with another woman brings him better happiness, then she would sacrifice herself and blow the candle out. She would let him go.

The suffocation she feels in her lungs the moment she steps in the apartment was unbearable but she dragged her feet still. She whispers her silent goodbye, fingers tracing the walls of the apartment that she would soon leave. Her eyes study the surroundings, memorising each detail of Matt’s loft that she loved so much before she’s no longer welcomed.

She wonders if whoever would live with him next would keep the flower vase by the window. She wonders if they would change the lights in the living room. She wonders if they would paint the walls and fix the squeaky bathroom door. She wonders just how much of her remnants would be left untouched.

“You’re home,” Matt greets, breathless as if he just jolted out of bed.

It’s clear to see that he was in a wreck. The stubbles on his face were unkempt, new bruises littering his body. Matt looks defeated. Like he’s been dragged through a losing war and shattered beyond saving.

“I’m just here to take my things,” she says with a shaky voice, trying her best to keep herself calm and collected “I won’t take long. I’ll take whatever I couldn’t pack today on the weekends.”

“Where are you going?” He frowns, tilting his head a little in confusion “Why are you leaving?”

“Well, I’ve held you back long enough, haven’t I? It’s about time I let you go,” she says with a heartbroken sniffle, forcing a self-pitying smile “I won’t keep you from anyone, anymore. You’re free.”

Matt takes a few steps closer, his brows knitted as he finds himself further lost in the conversation, “Hold me back— Free— What are you talking about?”

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? The other night? You wanted to break up with me,” she explains, swallowing the hard pill “I understand. I’ve accepted it, too. We don’t have to go through that conversation again.”

“Break up— What?”

“Matt, don’t play dumb with me,” she says with her patience wearing thin “I know everything. I know why you’ve been so busy lately. I know about your affair with Gwyneth, I know it all.”

“Affair? Gwyneth?” Matt questions, running a hand through his hair as he tries to place the puzzle pieces together “What are you talking about?”

“Look, you can really stop being a douche and just get off with it, alright? Do you really expect me to spell it to you? You cheated on me with Gwyneth. There, I said it.”

“I— What makes you think that I cheated on you with her?”

“Well, you’ve been gone. You have lots of call logs with her and they all aligned to the days when you started being distant. And that day when she called, she hung up because she heard my voice, didn’t she? She was scared that I’d find out about you two, well, guess what, I did.”

Matt’s lips were parted. The crease on his forehead was still deep as he tried to let her words sink in. He visibly looks baffled to the point that she starts to wonder if she’s making the right sense, but she wouldn’t let that puppy eye and innocent look on his face water her walls down. She’s given more than enough understanding for him to ever play her this way.

“Well? What do you have to say about yourself?” she asks, folding her hands in front of her chest “No arguments to defend yourself, Mr. Attorney?”

The corners of his lips tugged upward as he let out a satisfied sigh. Colours returned to his face the moment his brain caught up with her words. Like a lighting bulb glowing after it's been switched on. Without a word, Matt walks back to the bedroom. He returned not even a minute later with a small box in his hand.

“I have not been cheating on you,” he begins, taking one of her hands gently “I would never, ever, betray us like that. I love you too much to ever think about anyone else.”

“But Gwyneth—,”

“Gwyneth is a jeweller that has been helping me find the right ring for someone,” Matt cuts in, opening the box for her to see “I didn’t know what kind of ring you’d like, what design or what gem you’d like on it, so I looked for some personal jeweller to help me out.”

She was left speechless, looking down to the ring with utter embarrassment.

“When you picked up her call, she was trying to tell me that the ring was ready, but she didn’t expect you to answer. She was caught off guard, scared that she might spoil your surprise.”

Her head hangs low. Just how ridiculously stupid could she be. She was ashamed of thinking the worst, labelling names on Matt that should never have even crossed her mind. How is she supposed to apologise now after ruining their moment? After tainting their relationship red? Would she even have the chance to mend what she’s broken when she’s betrayed the trust between them?

“Hey,” Matt calls, holding her chin up gently “I've never cheated on you. There was never anyone else and there will never be. There’s only you, just you, and no one else.”

“I’m sorry,” she cries “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just a misunderstanding,” he says with a chuckle, pulling her for a hug and rubbing her back “It’s okay, Baby. It’s my fault for being too occupied too, I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t get to apologise, okay? It’s only going to make me feel worse,” she sobs in his embrace “I should’ve known better. I should’ve trusted you or at the very least asked about Gwyneth, before jumping into conclusions.”

“Well, honestly, if you asked me about her, I wouldn’t have known what to say either. I’m not the best of a liar in front of you,” he answers, letting out a sigh “That morning I knew your heart was beating erratically but I was too scared to ask because I didn’t want you to ask about her. I didn’t have the answers to give without spoiling the surprise.”

She let go of the hug, wiping her tears while his hands still rested on her waist, “I’m sorry I ruined the surprise.”

“It doesn’t really matter. What matters is your answer,” Matt says with a nervous smile, letting go of his hold and kneeling in front of her now “I’m just gonna keep it short before either of us falls into another misunderstanding,” he says before the two of them break into a short laughter “Will you marry me?”

Her grin spreads, nodding as she kneels to his level, “Yes, yes, of course.”

Matt beams as he slips the ring on her finger. A satisfied exhale came out of him. Like he's just successfully removed mountains from his own shoulders. He pulls her for a kiss, hands cupping on cheeks gently, “I love you.”

“I love you, Matt Murdock,” she answers, her hand combing the strands of his hair with her fingers “You’re really a wreck without me, huh?”

He lets out a sigh, stealing another kiss through their laughter, “You have no idea.”

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 5 part 2

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4])

I was so looking forward to brighten this particular scene, it's the darkest yet and it's such a beautiful one it's a pity to miss even one detail

oh no lilia stop being so cute????

have you ever seen jen with a bigger smile? and she's quiet as usual, it's almost like more than the ride she's enjoying how much fun her friends are having. especially lilia, those two have been forming a bond that is equal parts bickering and a growing respect

I'm just glad alice had this moment of pure unadulterated joy before it came all crashing down

agatha is very, very quiet. despite never letting herself feel anything freely, she takes a moment to close her eyes and enjoy the beauty of it all

she looks back at rio, so sensual and confident

how can kathryn hahn convey so much with so little time? her breath catches at her sight. and then worry and fear take hold and she gives the tiniest shake of her head, as if she's forbidding herself to entertain any kind of thought about rio. she looks away. the blood moon behind her spells disaster

meanwhile billy is that kid who has the time of his life hanging out with the teachers during a field trip

I want to personally thank aubrey plaza for every acting choice she made as rio, but ESPECIALLY for this witchy laugh

(I just brightened the salem seven witch vomiting bees and it's actually pretty impressive! but I don't want to trigger any insect haters around here) (I love insects though so please talk to me about spiders if you want)

they couldn't get a good look at the cabin before rushing in and I couldn't either until now, do we know if it's something from Agatha's past? did she use to live there?

I'm salty that alice had to die in these stupid clothes

So. I think this trial is the most fucked up and humiliating yet. Billy knew nothing about jen except superficial facts, so he put her in a scenario that matched her work aesthetic, more of a personal insult than a wake up call (compare it with the broom lilia just made for her: roots and flowers, something that speaks about jen's work, beliefs and traditions.)

Alice's trial was entirely based on lorna, we know billy is a big fan so he ran with that concept creating something that really shook alice, and not in a good way. she was forced to sit in her dead mom's house and wear her clothes for god's sake. she took it as the Road wanting to teach her a lesson, when it was just a teenager with the grace and subtlety of a newborn puppy.

Now, agatha. billy doesn't know a thing about her because she's private to the point of paranoia. he has gathered that there's something in her past about a dead child and that's probably what makes her grumpy, so he... tried to make her talk to nicky. with a fuking oujia board. Despite having had his share of shock and trauma billy inevitably has a kid's point of view re: death, and even more so because he's functionally immortal. death is something that happens to other people, or far far away in the future. he thinks he's giving agatha much needed therapy, when he actually put a grown woman in child's clothes and made her relive her traumas for everyone to see.

btw I'm not in any way saying that the trials are bad writing. they are brilliant writing. they're just tragic and fucked up behind the funny exterior, just like agatha herself. sorry for the rant.

I mean I wouldn't be opposed to that. we could put billy back in a closet for a little while and get down and dirty with it. and ooh there's a little leaf on rio's shirt, I hadn't noticed it!

jen's retainer always SENDS me

agatha's face when she realizes it's her trial

agatha is irrevocably, eternally linked with death in all its forms

looks like rio is playing along and setting the scene, but she's also doing something more subtle that only agatha understands: she's provoking her, and it's becoming more personal and hurtful. she's testing and punishing more than she used to. she is growing angrier.

agatha wants to tell rio to fuck off but knows she deserves it. agatha is NOT happy to be in this trial for reasons that go beyond what everyone present (except rio) assumes, but she'll bite the inside of her cheeks until they bleed before she shows any of it

the way he says it with a straight face too (again, NO PUN INTENDED. forgive me joe, I would never)

oh great alice has only thirty minutes to live

everyone looks worried and on their guard, rio has her whole knife out, playing along. agatha is STILL trying to look cool and casual, it's painful to watch. girl is panicking, hard

meanwhile billy is always bringing a whole different energy, he's playing and having fun! think back to the second episode when they met lilia and then jen and alice for the first time. billy had no clue about the tension, the fear and hate between them and agatha. right now he's still more excited than scared. he's about to have a rude awakening.

do not taunt the spirits, AGATHA.

lmaooo. this motherfucker.

another moment when billy sounds chillingly cruel. being jigsaw without realizing it

I'm not pointing it out every time but whenever agatha does this with her arms she's really, really really nervous

what does agatha do when she's scared or overwhelmed? she puts on a show. like clockwork. and rio has already guessed what's about to happen

I really want to continue this so there will be more later today, stay tuned!

go to episode 5 part 3

[sagesturns]

Maybe In Another Life

Summary: One night, you call Chris, drunk and missing him. The two of you talk, and he softly admits that sometimes love just fades, no matter how hard you try to hold on. In a quiet, painful moment, he says goodbye, leaving you with nothing but the echo of what once was.

contains: angst, weed, alcohol

One night, while you were both watching the stars, Chris noticed a moth circling a light. He said, “You’re like a moth. You’re drawn to the things you love, even if it means flying through darkness. But you always find your way back.”

The thing about you and Chris was that it always felt perfect. You were a team. A unit. Everything about the way you two fit together felt so natural, so easy. You'd talk for hours, finish each other's sentences, share stupid jokes that no one else understood. When he kissed you, it was like time stopped.

When he held you, everything felt right in the world. You were convinced it would never end.In the beginning, you never questioned it. It was just you and him, navigating the world together. This was destined to be eternal. You once had that kind of love; the kind that everyone trumpets about yet hardly understands until they live it. And at some point when you think about the future, there is no denying that he was included in it.

But somewhere along the way, you started noticing the little cracks. The things that used to matter to him—to both of you—no longer seemed to spark joy. The way he looked at you started to change. But that warmth of his touch would now be replaced by distance. And no matter how hard the effort was to bridge that distance, it only seemed to get wide…

It wasn't just like that; rather, it was a long, slow, painful awareness. He’d become distant. There were late nights, missed texts, and a growing silence between you two. But you refused to believe it. You fought it. You told yourself it was just a phase. You tried harder to make it work, to keep things the same, but he kept pulling away. The breakup came unexpectedly.

One night, when you were sitting together, trying to make sense of everything, he said the words you dreaded to hear.

“I think we should break up.”The words became the ceiling of the room, and it looked like the room started to spin You could not catch your breath. You could not move. You wanted to do something, anything—say something, do something—to make it stop. But in the end, only the silence remained. He left and you had only the whispers of the love you had thought to be never fading in return.

It was a few months later, but a dull ache remained. And it was tonight, sitting in your room by yourself, that the heaviness of it all felt more unbearable than it ever had. You’d been out with friends earlier, did what you could to distract yourself, and now you were alone. With the fog that accompanies both drunkenness and a high, you retrieved your phone seeking a escape of relief.

You scrolled mindlessly through your contacts. And your finger hovered over his name—Chris—and for a second, you paused. He hadn’t been in your life for a long time, but the idea of him acted like a magnet, a force you felt powerless against. You didn’t even think about it, just tapped his name and called. The phone rang and rang and rang until finally it was his voice on the other end, familiar and distant.

“Hello?”For a second, you didn’t know what to say. You hadn’t expected him to answer. But there he was, sounding so… normal. So far away.

“Heyyy, Chris,” you said, your voice slurring slightly. “It’s me…” He didn’t speak right away. You could practically hear the confusion in his silence. “Uh, hey. What’s going on?”

You let out a shaky laugh, trying to make it sound like everything was fine. “I’m… drunk and high,” you slurred, a small chuckle escaping your lips. “Just… missed you, you know?” “Oh… uh, okay,” Chris said, his voice quiet, trying to make sense of the situation. But there was a certain softness in his tone now. “Yeah, I figured you were… a little out of it.”

You closed your eyes, letting your head rest against the wall. You fell silent, and there was an expectant pause, which you broke with a quieter voice: “I miss you,” you said, the words spilling out ungracefully. “I miss us… I miss how we were. Why did it have to happen, Chris?”

On the other end, there was this long silence and one could almost hear him fitting together the pieces. "I don't know," he said softly. “It’s been a minute now… a year, at least.” His voice was even, but there was an inescapable sadness. A year. A whole year. It was as if it had happened the day before. How do so many years pass and you remain, its lingering echo? The memory of you two. “I just…” The weight of it all seemed to hit you all at once. “I thought that was forever, you know? We had everything. I thought we had it all.” Your voice had a small crack as you talked. "I can't figure out where I messed up." "I don't think it's about pinpointing a mistake," Chris said speaking but with confidence. "Sometimes things just… lose their spark. You can't cling to something that's no longer there even if you try your hardest. I… I believe that's what happened" You took a deep unsteady breath. "I still can't wrap my head around it" I thought we were happy. Was it just me? Did I mess up?"

“No,” he answered quickly. “It wasn’t you. But sometimes… sometimes things change. People change. And it’s not anyone’s fault.” His voice dropped slightly. “It just is.” You swallowed hard, the tears threatening to spill again. It hurt more than you thought it would. “I hate it. I hate that we’re like this. I hate that I lost you.” Chris didn’t say anything for a moment, and you could feel the space between you growing, more distant with every passing second. And then, quietly, almost like an afterthought, he said, “It’s just the high talking, you know? It’s the drunk talking.” “I know,” you whispered, wiping at your eyes. But the sadness was still there. The hole inside you was still there.

There was another long pause before Chris sighed softly, a deep, almost mournful sound. “Maybe in another life, huh?” You froze at his words. The weight of them felt like a stone sinking to the bottom of your chest. “Maybe in another life?” you repeated, your voice trembling. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Maybe.”

The tears finally fell, but you tried to keep them in check, your breath hitching. "Why not this one?" you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Chris’s response was soft, final. “Bye, Moth.”

The call ended , and in an instant, the chat came to a close. You remained seated clutching your phone, your eyes fixed on the display as if you thought he might ring again. But the call never came. Of course, he wouldn’t. And of course he calls me my nickname… because that’s all I am now. Just a memory.

word count: 1.3k

tags: @sweetshuga @m00nl1ghts1vt

a/n: so basicallyyyy this something that happened with me..not the exact situation but smth like thatt so i decided to make it a short lil something! i wrote this half asleep, pls bare w me. anyways love you all soso much.

@sagesturns

[janiehellion]

New Blood In An Old Place

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: The quietest souls have the loudest hearts, and you just found yourself staring at the sky—wondering if Daryl Dixon might be the one to make the stars in the night feel a little closer and less out of reach.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SELECTIVE MUTISM / FLUFF / MILD ANGST / SLOW BURN / CANON DIVERGENCE

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.515

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: LATE S9 & EARLY S10

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You’d always been the quiet type, even before the world fell apart. Silence wasn’t something that scared you; it was where you felt most at home. And it made survival easier too. The less noise you made, the harder it was for anyone—dead or alive—to find you.

But the sudden loss of your voice wasn’t something that had happened overnight, and it wasn’t a head injury either. No, it came quietly, over time, like a shadow that only grew darker.

You’d always had a voice—loud and clear. You’d argued with friends, laughed at the dumbest jokes, and sang along to songs so loud just to annoy people in a karaoke bar alongside your friends.

You had a life.

But then, just a few weeks before the world ended, you started to notice it. At first, you brushed it off—just a little hoarseness, maybe a harmless cold. Then, when you tried to speak like you used to, nothing came out. Not even a whisper.

The feeling was like swallowing a stone, with you choking on the problem to get the words out. The doctors couldn’t explain it at first. They said it could be stress-related, maybe an anxiety disorder and coming from trauma. They called it selective mutism in adulthood, but that didn’t help you feel any better about the situation.

You could still speak, technically, since your vocal cords weren’t damaged. But when you tried to speak, it felt like something in your brain held your voice hostage. It would just come out weak.

In moments when you were alone, you could speak freely, but it wasn’t as perfect as you wanted it to be. Your voice trembled like it wasn’t used to its own sound. Still… it was there. But around other people? You just couldn’t use it anymore.

And the silence became more than just silence—it became a prison between you and the world.

In the final days before the world ended, you stopped trying completely. The fear of trying to speak only to fail took its toll. So, you leaned into it. It was easier. You could still communicate, just not with words. You had learned sign language before, but now it was something that felt more like a lifeline than a language at times.

Even after the world fell apart, after the deaths and all the losses during all those years, you still clung to being quiet. It was safer that way. It just kept the world's horrors far enough from you.

But sometimes, late at night, when you found yourself alone with your thoughts, your voice would slip through, quiet and unsure, with nobody else but the stars in the sky around to listen.

When you crossed paths with Magna’s group, you’d been alone for so long that trying to talk again seemed almost foreign. But Connie understood that without you ever having to say a thing. She figured you out right away and never tried to get you to talk; she never pushed you toward expectations.

When you met, she just looked at you and raised her hands to start signing. She’d seen right through you, understanding that your silence wasn’t a weakness. For you, it became like a secret language, something shared between survivors who didn’t need words to know how to hold each other up.

In a way, it felt good—like being given permission to go back to silence, but without the loneliness that had followed you for so long. The group simply took you in and accepted you without any restraint.

Magna was a bit hesitant about you, but you caught the looks she’d exchanged with Connie when it came to you. Kelly, on the other hand, was curious from the start, even though she held back her questions. Luke was kinder than he had any right to be, filling in all the gaps that words used to with music. And Yumiko—well, she kept her distance at first but always nodded in respect whenever you shared a knowing glance.

For once, you didn’t feel like a liability just because you weren’t talking about every thought that crossed your mind. You found friends within them. Maybe it was Connie’s warm smiles or Kelly’s easy acceptance. Or maybe it was the way they didn’t stare too long when you used your hands instead of your voice—how they gave you room to be silent without feeling the need to fill it.

There was a safety in it—an invisibility that let you see things without being seen yourself. The new world was loud enough; you didn’t need to add to the noise. Besides, words were like a last resort. Hand signs and body language could fill in the rest.

And so the days in the new world passed by. The old one had ended, and with it, so many things you had once known. But your silence remained, and you thought it would always be that way.

Until one night changed everything.

The first time you saw Hilltop, it felt like a miracle—a place that actually looked like it could hold the world at bay. People worked the fields, tended to livestock, and repaired anything that needed to be repaired. It was almost overwhelming—the noise and the life.

Your eyes wandered, taking in everything. Connie nudged you once, signing quickly, "Are you okay?"

"Just watching," you signed back and nodded, quick enough to not draw attention. She gave you a thumbs-up and returned to whatever was happening around you.

That’s when you noticed him.

You held your ground under his stare, tilting your head slightly as if to say, "What are you looking at?"

He didn’t answer, of course, just turned back to the person he’d been talking to. His crossbow was slung over one shoulder, the weapon looking as much a part of him as his worn leather vest. He seemed like the kind of man who belonged in this world—strong, observant, and… silent.

Connie followed your eyes and smirked. She signed quickly. "That’s Daryl Dixon. Quiet, almost like you. You’ll like him."

You rolled your eyes, but a part of you wondered if she was right.

To say Daryl was wary would be an understatement. You’d watched him from a distance at first, both of you not interested in any kind of interaction at all.

But over time, it changed. Maybe it was because he saw the way you signed with Connie, or maybe he just figured he’d get more out of you by observing.

At first, it was small things. Daryl would catch you signing something to Connie—a quick exchange about the day, a comment on the weather—and his brow would furrow like he was trying to decipher a code. He didn’t do anything, not right away, but you noticed how his eyes looked at your hands more often.

He was practicing off to the side when he thought no one was looking, his fingers stiff and awkward as he tried to do a hand sign he’d seen. Once, you caught him fumbling through what looked like 'hello' and 'thank you' with some kind of concentration that might’ve been funny if it weren’t so earnest.

Sometimes, you’d sign something small—'Good morning.' or 'How are you?'—just to break the silence, and he’d respond in kind, while you’d answer with a nod or a slight smile, just enough to let him know he didn’t have to worry.

But he stuck with learning it, stubbornly repeating each sign until he got it right.

And when he finally worked up the nerve to really use it? Well, it didn’t go as smoothly as he had planned.

He approached you one afternoon, just as you were sitting down with Connie once more. He looked between the two of you, then at his hands with a bit of panic. Slowly and unsure, he signed, "Ya… okay?"

Connie held back a grin as she nudged you. You smiled, nodding at him before replying, "Yes. And you?"

The look on his face changed—relief, but still with a bit of embarrassment. "Good," he signed, then quickly ducked his head and whispered to himself, "'M still learnin’ for ya…"

But Connie wasn’t going to let him go just like that. She leaned over, her hands moving fast. "Not bad. But maybe do it even slower the next time?"

Daryl just scoffed in response, but he kept at it. His signs grew smoother over time, less clumsy, and much more confident. He’d even started picking up on the little things—how you’d tap your fingers when you were nervous or how Connie’s signs slowed when she was tired.

It wasn’t perfect, but something. And you couldn’t help but notice how often his eyes found yours during those quiet moments, like he was searching for something in the silence you shared.

And that’s how things were—a wordless connection that nobody questioned.

As the months passed by, helping with farming became your hobby. There was something relaxing about it—the rows of crops and the people working. You weren’t much of a farmer yourself, not yet, but sitting next to the fields, watching, or lending a hand when someone needed it, gave you something you hadn’t felt in years.

Sometimes, you just needed to be near it—something that grew, something that reminded you of life’s persistence, even in the darkest of times. The fields, the plants, the insects, and the small living things—they gave you a sense of belonging you couldn’t quite explain.

And Daryl? He started showing up more regularly, his eyes staying less on the dirt and more on you. He’d make little comments about the crops to himself or sign quick questions to you about what you were doing.

You found yourself signing more as well, explaining things through gestures and expressions, and he watched you like he was trying to remember every movement of your hands and fingers. Occasionally, he’d try to sign back something new he learned.

"Yer patient," he signed, seemingly out of nowhere. "With me."

You glanced at him in return, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Teachin’ me," he clarified, quickly scratching the back of his neck. "Most woulda given up by now."

You shrugged with a small smile in response. "You’re trying," you answered. "But you understand me just fine. And effort matters, too… even with your heavy accent."

He didn’t respond right away; he just ducked his head away and went back to work, but you saw the tiniest bit of a smirk before he did.

With him, the quiet moments started to feel… different.

By the end of the latest day, after almost everyone else in Hilltop was already asleep, you were still there, with Daryl, but now too lost in the way the stars twinkled in the night sky.

He had an uncomfortable look about him—the one that said, 'I’m not good at this, but I’m here.'

Daryl hesitated, sitting a few feet away, not sure whether to just hang back or leave. His eyes looked between you and the sky, clearly uncomfortable but trying not to show it.

"Ya… uh, ya do this a lot?" He asked after tapping your shoulder to get your attention.

You gestured back, "Sometimes. Have you never noticed before? I mean, it's… It's peaceful, don't you think?"

"Yeah. Peaceful," he signed back, his fingers shaking a little. "I get it. Don’ get a lotta quiet no more." He sat down closer to you without asking, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body beside you, but not too close.

The first two hours passed by, and when the stars began to shine brighter through the cloudy sky, you caught him looking upward.

You nudged him gently, signing. "Pretty, huh?"

He only shrugged. "Ain’t seen ‘em like this in a while. Too much runnin’ 'round, I guess."

You smiled, and the time stretched on, but it wasn’t awkward—it was relaxing. Soon the wind picked up, the breeze feeling colder, and you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you.

But Daryl noticed immediately. He moved behind you, pulling off his vest with a gruff. "Here. Take it."

You blinked at him, shaking your head and gesturing back quickly. "No. You’ll get cold."

He snorted, putting the vest on your lap stubbornly. "Don’ matter. Ain’t much colder’n usual for me."

You hesitated before reluctantly taking the vest and slipping it on. It was warm and quite soft, with the smell of leather and something distinctly Daryl Dixon clinging to it.

"Big on me," you signed, smiling at him before watching the clouds in the sky pass by.

He smirked to himself, looking away as if he didn't want you to know what he was thinking. "Looks better on ya anyway…"

The stars above seemed brighter somehow, and without thinking, you leaned closer to him, your shoulder touching his.

He froze for a second before relaxing, his eyes looking toward you in confusion. "Ya alright?"

"Feeling cozy already," you nodded, lifting your fingers to answer. "You know… it’s strange how big the world feels."

"Yeah," he mumbled to himself, looking upward before signing back to you. "Big 'nough to make ya feel like nothin’, huh?"

"No, not nothing," you signed, shaking your head. "Small? Yeah, maybe. But not nothing."

He grunted and smirked, though his expression stayed guarded as he signed further. "Suppose so. Don’ mean it’s a bad thing, bein’ small. Keeps ya humble. Like—hell, I ain’t out here thinkin’ I’m bigger’n the stars or nothin’. That’d jus' be so damn stupid."

You bit back a grin, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. If anything, it felt right—sitting close to him and just signing along. But when another shiver went through you, it startled him out of whatever thought had his attention.

He reached out awkwardly, his hand stopping near your shoulder before pulling back to sign, since he wasn't aware of the fact you could actually listen to him, after all. "Ya still cold?"

You nodded. "A little. But I have this." You tugged at his vest, smirking a bit.

The next few minutes passed slowly, his hand touching your arm every now and then before retreating like he didn’t trust himself and thinking he might do something wrong.

You weren’t sure what made you do it, but something in his touch—or lack of it—had you leaning into him. But when you moved to sit sideways on his lap out of nowhere, his whole body stiffened like he’d just stepped into a trap, even though he didn’t push you away.

"Sharing warmth," you signed with an innocent tilt of your head, but you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Daryl flinched beneath you, his hands moving around like he couldn’t decide where they were supposed to go, but one finally moved near your hips.

You smiled at his reaction. "It’s okay if you don’t know what to do. I don’t, either. Believe me."

That seemed to take some of the nervousness away from him. "Ain’t that the truth? World’s gone to shit, and here we are, tryin’ to figure out how to… y’know." He gestured vaguely in front of your face.

"Be human?" You signed back, your hands moving slowly and thoughtfully.

"Yeah," he responded. "S’pose we’re doin’ fine, though. Least, I think we are."

You tilted your head to the side to look at him in the faint moonlight. He looked… softer like this. As if he was opening up in a way you never saw, and it made your heart race.

His hands brushed along your shoulder in a quick, almost hesitant motion before he brought them up again. "Ya good now? Feelin' better n' warmer?"

"Yes, I feel good," you signed, your hands moving slowly as if the moment might be destroyed if you rushed. "You make me feel… safe."

Daryl's Adam's apple bobbed hard as he swallowed, and for a moment, you thought he might push you away for sure. Instead, he just pulled you a little closer, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder.

"Safe’s good," he mumbled to himself. "Safe’s good. 'N stars ain’t got nothin’ on feelin' safe."

"But I still think it's strange how small we are," you signed further, your fingers lingering in the air like a painter in front of their work. "How small one can feel in this world."

"Y’ain’t small," he answered with his hands in front of your face again. "Ain’t like we’re jus', dunno… some kinda insect out here. Maybe this world’s gone to hell, but yer… bigger’n that, I guess."

You smiled, your fingers moving quickly. "And you’re not exactly a philosopher, Daryl Dixon."

He snorted at that, shaking his head. "Yeah, well… don’ needa be. 'S jus' the truth."

You shivered again, the cold breeze leaving goosebumps on your skin, and his eyes narrowed as he noticed.

"And ya still freezin'," he signed, almost accusingly, as if you hadn’t already borrowed his vest. You tilted your head, your face making it clear that the wind wasn't the only thing making you tremble.

Daryl shifted a bit, pulling his vest more tightly around your shoulders. His hands grabbed the edges of it, tugging it so it covered your chest better. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but instead, he exhaled sharply through his nose before he looked down, one of his hands twitching before moving to touch your knee.

"Damn wind," Daryl mumbled. "Can’t believe ya let it get ya like this..."

The way he said it wasn’t angry. It sounded more frustrated, like he blamed himself more than anything else as his thumb brushed over your knee, his fingers digging into your pants just enough to make your pulse quicken.

"Shit," he growled quietly, his other hand soon moving to grab your hips as if he were trying to ground himself before he leaned his head in closer. His nose touched your temple and went lower, brushing along your jawline. But Daryl didn't stop there; his lips pressed gently against your pulse point, staying there as if he wanted to remember the feel of your skin against himself all of a sudden.

"Smellin' so good… like somethin’ I don’ deserve," he whispered to himself as his hand tightened on your hips."Too close… Too close…" he growled, but his grip didn’t loosen.

Instead, he pulled you in, but only just enough, like he didn’t trust himself to go any further. "Can’t… Can’t be that close. Shouldn' be."

The muscles in his arm were twitching as if he were afraid you might slip away—afraid that if he let go, you'd disappear. He was trying to memorize it—to memorize you—trying to hold on without breaking anything inside himself.

"Why ya makin' me… feel like that?"

And then—without any warning—his tongue was dragging itself across your throat. It was slow as if he couldn’t get enough, and the feeling was almost overwhelming, like he was marking you with every slide of his tongue, each lick a little longer than the last.

His hand slid further up your back, his fingers digging into his vest around your body as if trying to pull you even closer, but his mouth never left your neck. He growled, and when he got to the curve of your jaw, he couldn’t resist—his teeth scraped against your skin, just enough to make you shiver.

"Fuckin’ hell," he growled again, but his lips never stopped moving over your skin. It was as if he needed to feel you against him, closer than close, just to make sure you were really there.

"Goddamn…" Daryl's voice cracked slightly, and you swore you felt his whole body trembling even more as he pressed closer, burying his face in the crook of your now slightly wet neck.

You wanted to sign something to him, anything, but the way his lips then moved along the curve of your neck instead of his tongue stole the thoughts right out of your mind. His nose nudged closer, and you could swear you felt him inhale deeply, his stubble brushing softly against your skin.

It was tender like a breeze but rough as a storm—the kind of closeness that set your nerves on fire and each cell ablaze.

Daryl leaned back slightly, letting you sit more fully in his lap, and the quiet groan that came out of his mouth when you adjusted your weight made your heart race and sent it into overdrive. His forehead came to rest against your cheek for a moment, his breathing uneven as if he was about to melt, his eyes half-lidded as they took you in.

His hands felt as if they were everywhere—on your back, your hips, your face—but you couldn’t focus on anything except the way he was looking at you like he was starving.

Before you could even react, Daryl's teeth sank into your shoulder, hard enough to make you wince at the soft pain, but not enough to hurt you. His mouth followed the mark he made, soothing it with his tongue before, gentle and wordlessly, his lips found your cheek.

It was slow at first, almost shy when he nudged you with his nose several times, pressing quick kisses to your cheek. But when you didn't pull away, he deepened it, his lips kissing your face with some kind of desperation that’s been building for far too long.

His fingers tangled in your hair, keeping you close to him, while his other hand still held on to your knees, holding you close enough to feel every shudder of his breath before burying his face against you again.

"Need ya…" He growled quiet and roughly against your throat, his voice hoarse, like he was trying to communicate through his actions rather than words, as if he couldn’t control himself anymore.

You leaned into him, your fingers grabbing and holding onto his shirt as he kissed his way back up to the corner of your mouth.

"Don’ lemme stop… 'cause I ain’t sure I can," he whispered, his voice soft and his eyes closed like he was trying to shut out the world and focus on the feeling of you being so close.

You could feel the way he was fighting himself, like there was a battle going on somewhere deep inside of him. It was like he was waiting for some sort of permission—while waiting to see if you’d still push him away.

You reached up, your fingers gently touching his chin, then moving down to his neck, feeling the shiver of his body beneath your touch. You didn’t rush, didn’t try to close the distance too fast. You just let the silence take a hold of time, letting him process, letting him come to terms with whatever was going on in his head.

When you finally moved, it wasn’t forceful or harsh. You tilted your head slightly, your lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. He froze—completely still, like the whole world had stopped.

It wasn’t the shock kind of freeze. It wasn’t fear, or panic. It was the kind that came when someone was trying to hold on to something which could break at any time, unsure if they should let go of the fragile moment. And Daryl was still fighting, still unsure. But when you didn’t pull back, when you stayed close, he let himself relax.

The kiss was slow, hesitant at first. His lips barely pressed against yours, as if testing. But then, when you didn’t pull away, he kissed you a little deeper, a little more sure. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rushed. It was gentle—sweet, like he was giving you all the time in the world to back away if you wanted to.

But you didn’t.

When you pulled back, his eyes looked into yours—wide, almost like he couldn’t believe it had happened. "Uh… I, uh…" He stammered, while caught somewhere between disbelief and relief.

Neither of you signed a word, and for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe, just maybe, the world wasn’t such a lonely and dark place after all.

Daryl soon broke the silence, speaking more to himself than to you as he looked up at the sky. "New blood in an old place…"

You stopped breathing for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as you listened to him. It wasn’t a question, just a statement—a realization like the stars had aligned at that very moment.

New blood in an old place.

It could have meant many things, but as you let it sink in, you realized it’s his way of talking about you—about the way you’ve come into this world, this place. You were different from the ones who’ve weathered here, those who’ve learned how to survive in the rain.

Maybe you were a spark—untouched by the bitterness of a storm cloud that never really went away until now. At least… for him. It was like Daryl was seeing you in a different light that shined brighter like the stars in the night.

You leaned in slightly, a little nervous, but you finally spoke—really spoke. "Maybe it's not about being new. Maybe it's just about finding somewhere that feels… like it could be home."

Daryl’s eyes went wide. He stared at you as if he hadn’t fully processed the fact that you’d spoken—that you had actually spoken.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his lips parted in shock. "Did ya jus'—" He stammered, his voice cracking slightly. "Yer… talkin’?"

You could feel the way his hands trembled, his eyes staring at you like he was afraid to blink.

"Say my name," he demanded, cupping your face and looking into your eyes. "Say… my name."

You hesitated, your stopping for a second before the word came out nervously. "Daryl..."

"Say it again," he whispered, his voice trembling with something you couldn’t quite understand. "Jus'... say it again."

You swallowed hard, the sound of your own voice feeling not so foreign anymore with his name on your lips. "Daryl."

He didn’t say anything further. He just held you, now both his arms wrapped around you like he needed to keep you there to believe it was real.

And then, in that same instant, he leaned forward, one hand grabbing your chin, but this time with a bit more force. His lips found yours again, rougher this time, but still full of that same sweetness, like he was trying to devour you. His tongue slipped into your mouth—not slowly, not careful, just all-consuming.

It was a warning, as if he was reminding you—he wasn’t letting you go—he was marking you, claiming you. It was a kiss that spoke for him without saying any words at all, a kiss that told you that you weren’t just new blood anymore—you were a part of this place, and of him.

The world still seemed dark around you, but with him at your side and bright stars up in the sky, it didn’t seem quite as impossible to face those shadows anymore.

You were new blood—but you were home.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: An attempt at writing fluff, I guess. And honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about it. If some parts and scenes feel a little repetitive, that’s me trying to slowly build intimacy because I didn’t want to rush anything.

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema @ch3r0k33-r0s3

[coco-loco-nut]

High Flyer - Part 3

pairing: charles x reader

summary: life never goes as planned, as evidenced by a phone call mid race

a/n: thank you so much for the request 🫶 its given me an idea for a fourth part too

masterlist requests open

——————————

There is nothing more that a driver looks forward to more than breaks, and you were practically counting down the days until the summer shutdown.

Not that you don’t like racing, you love racing, but you miss your bed and home in Vence, just outside of Nice. You and Charles chose the property due to its proximity to Monaco and the space to grow your family in the future. The garage space also helps with your car collection.

You started searching the property soon after your elopement, and you closed on it quickly. It even was the site where your official wedding ceremony was held, a relatively small and intimate gathering of close family and friends. The backyard made for the perfect backdrop, and it was nice to have a dinner with everyone to celebrate.

“Is that Charles? Can I say hi?” Arthur pops his head into your drivers room as you are on the phone.

“Of course, don’t take too long,” you pass off your phone, watching your brother-in-law’s face light up. Arthur hands back the phone after a couple minutes so you can finish your conversation.

“I don’t have too long left,” Charles sighs, not wanting the call to end.

“I know, deployment and F1 don’t really mesh well. Are you flying soon?” you ask, the hole in your heart growing as the end of the call gets closer.

“It will be over before we know it. I have a flight scheduled soon, training for a mission. What are you doing for break?” Charles asks, trying to get a little more conversation in and a feeble attempt to distract you from his job.

“I’ll travel with Arthur for a week, he is keeping the location a surprise, then I’m hosting the boys for a few days,” you didn’t really plan much.

“That sounds nice. My call time is almost up, I love you,” Charles says sadly.

“We will talk soon, I love you more,” the connection ends and you frown at your phone, already missing him.

“Even if he isn’t here, you have the next best thing right here,” Arthur grins and you can’t fight your smile. The two of you have grown close, you would disown your grid kids for him if necessary.

“Espressos?” you ask, needing a boost of energy.

“This isn’t Haas,” Arthur teases Ollie, who is patiently waiting for a Macchiato.

“Can’t a boy visit his grid mom?” Ollie smiles as you hug him.

“Of course, but no stealing strategies,” you say, happily taking your espresso from the barista.

The three of you chat until Ollie gets called back to Haas. As the self-proclaimed empty nester in the paddock, you enjoy when your boys stop in.

The race weekend drags on, and on, and on, until you finally get to the race. Each lap is one lap closer to your break.

A reporter noticed your eagerness for break before the race and asked you about it.

“Well, I’m no spring chicken anymore. My body and mind is looking forward to a few weeks off to relax and rejuvenate. I’m not as young as my kids are, they could probably race for a few more weeks back-to-back before needing the summer break,” you joke. Seven seasons in is a long time for motorsport, the average career in F1 is around 8 years - not that you plan on retiring any time soon. Ferrari will probably have to drag you out of Maranello when you are old and grey. Legit grey though, not Oscar and Jack joking that you have a grey hair and making you freak out.

Your manager, Nicholas, watches from the garage, standing with Arthur as they watch you closely. On lap 32 your phone begins buzzing with a call, and without really looking at the number he answers is.

“Nicholas Todd speaking for Mrs. Leclerc, how can I help you,” he answers almost robotically.

“This is an urgent message for Mrs. Leclerc regarding her husband, can she be on the phone?” A voice replies, sounding overly formal. Nicholas shifts a little nervously, glancing at the screen.

“Not at the moment,” he replies, Arthur looks at him, curious as to what’s happening. Nicholas catches sight of Arthur and hurriedly adds to his statement. “I can put you on with Mr. Leclerc’s brother,” he says, earning a satisfied response from the caller. Arthur curiously takes the phone, stepping into a quieter spot.

“Arthur Leclerc speaking,” he says a little warily.

“Good Afternoon Mr. Leclerc, your brother, Charles, has been wounded in a training incident and is currently being transported back to France for recovery,” Arthur listens carefully as the necessary details are conveyed.

“I will pass the message along to Charles’ wife, will you be notifying our mother?” Arthur asks, receiving confirmation of the next people that will be notified. As the call ends, Arthur’s mind kicks into crisis mode.

“What was the issue?” Nicholas asks, watching as you have a stellar overtake for P3.

“Charles is wounded, he’s being evacuated for recovery,” Arthur does his best not to panic. He knows that Charles must be okay for it to just be a phone call, but he can’t help but worry. It doesn’t help that you are none the wiser as you drive.

“Shit. Do you think we should pass the information along to her now?” Nicholas also goes into crisis management mode.

“No, she’d want to pull out of the race and it’s almost over. I’ll talk to the team, book the earliest flight back to Nice that you can,” Arthur instructs before searching for the PR team so they can get you out of media duties. Fred is his next stop, catching the team principal as soon as the race ends.

“I can’t get her out of the podium, but I can make sure she gets out of everything else,” Fred promises, sending Arthur on his way to intercept you.

“Great drive,” Arthur smiles as he hugs you.

“Thanks,” you eye him warily. “Something is off, what are you hiding?”

“Something happened, Charles is fine, I will tell you more about the call after the podium,” Arthur says, sending your mind in a spin.

“What happened?” you press, heart rate rising. Arthur walks with you to the cooldown room.

“I don’t know exactly, he’s injured but he’s okay. I promise I will tell you more right after the podium. Nicholas is rebooking our flights now and Fred is getting you out of the post-podium duties,” Arthur tries to soothe you. You feel a little numb as your brain tries to process everything without panicking.

“He’s okay?”

“It wouldn’t have been a phone call if it were serious,” Arthur says, trying to reassure himself too.

It seems to be enough for you to mask your worry with a nod.

“Meet me in my drivers room after the podium,” your voice is a little shaky as you part from Arthur. You feel numb throughout the ceremony, leaving as soon as champagne starts to be sprayed.

“I called Maman and booked a hotel near the base, our flights have been successfully updated,” Arthur says as you get back.

“Thank you,” you pull him into a tight hug.

“What are brothers for?” Arthur says, melting into your hug a little. You’ve never gotten ready to leave the paddock so quickly or packed a hotel room, but you soon find yourself on a plane back to Nice.

Pascale awaits the two of you at the airport, a coffee in her hand for you. You didn’t sleep on the flight at all. Even though that you know Charles is okay, you can’t fight the anxiety and fear the courses through you.

“Hi sweetheart,” Pascale hugs you after handing you the coffee.

“Wow, I thought I was your favorite child?” Arthur jokes, earning an eye roll from Pascale.

“I love all my biological children equally, I just happen to love Y/n more,” Pascale says cheekily, making you chuckle.

“Don’t let Enzo and Charlotte hear that,” you say, happily taking a seat in the car. Arthur sits in the back with you since Lorenzo is in the front seat.

“It’s a party in here,” Arthur smiles, trying to liven up the car.

“Phenomenal drive,” Lorenzo looks back at you.

“Thanks,” your tired smile is enough to end the conversation. The gentle sway of the vehicle as Pascale is enough to make you fall asleep.

As you are asleep, Arthur gets a text from Charles letting him know that he’s back on base. Arthur sends back a picture of you sleeping against the window, cozy in one of Charles’ hoodies, as well as when you will be there to visit. Your phone buzzes with a good night and congratulations text from Charles, but you don’t stir. The exhaustion of the day hit you hard and you couldn’t fight it any longer.

Arthur carries you to your hotel room while Lorenzo and Pascale worry about the luggage.

You wake up to sun peeking through the blinds. Arthur is sprawled out on the queen bed beside yours, lightly snoring into the pillow. You turn and see your phone plugged in on the nightstand. Scrolling through your notifications you see the text from Charles. A smile tugs at your lips as you quickly fire off a reply. An alarm starts going off, making you jump a little.

“No,” Arthur groans, barely conscious while pressing snooze. Silently you get out of bed, finding your suitcase and retrieving everything you need for a shower.

The hour creeps by as you anxiously meet up with the family and go to the base. Following the directions, you make your way to the hotel room Charles is being kept in for the moment. As you reach the door, the sterile environment surrounding you, you feel a wave of nerves consume you. Almost like you are a little kid.

“Go ahead, I need a second,” you whisper to Pascale who gently squeezes your hand and offers an understanding smile.

“It’s scary, we will be inside waiting for you,” Pascale says, entering behind Lorenzo and Arthur. “Y/n will be here in a moment, she had to take a call,” Pascale buys you time. She knows how scary it is seeing the person you love hurt. You let your heart rate settle before stepping into the room, watching Charles’ face light up when he sees you.

“Mon ange,” Charles whispers as you lean in to kiss him.

“You aren’t allowed to scare me like that,” you smile, a tear threatening to escape.

“Now you know how I feel when you drive,” Charles replies, reaching up and pushing back a piece of hair.

“I feel like we are intruding,” Lorenzo jokes. Charles awkwardly shifts to the side of the bed, pulling you down with him. Pascale creates an excuse that involves them stepping out for a moment, giving you and Charles a quiet moment alone.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m alive and well,” Charles grabs your hand, pressing it to his heart.

“I know, it just isn’t what you want to hear first thing after a race,” you feel yourself relax as you rest your head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat reassuring.

“I think I might leave after my commitment,” Charles admits softly, drawing your eyes up to him.

“Next year?”

“I want to be with you, help build our future, maybe even be a stay at home dad one day,” Charles runs a hand through your hair.

“I could always hire you to be my private jet pilot,” you suggest.

“But then I couldn’t be with you mid flight,” Charles winks, making you flush.

“Cheeky,” you lightly nudge him.

“Let’s not worry about what I will do career wise yet,”

“My full time WAG,” you chuckle, letting out a sigh of content when Charles pulls you close.

“When I get discharged today I can go home and recover. I just have to do paperwork remotely and come back for medical appointments,” Charles reveals, drawing your eyes back up to him.

“Really? Is it wrong to say that I’m glad it’s summer break?” you ask, hand moving up to play with the ends of his hair.

“No, it is nice to be home with you,” Charles agrees. He leans down and you tilt your head up so your lips can meet his in a soft kiss. Charles lets out a soft groan of content as his mind wanders to the few weeks ahead of you while he heals.

“We brought food,” Arthur breaks your quiet conversation. The rest of the morning is spent eagerly awaiting discharge. When you do eventually get home, Pascale helps to get Charles settled while Lorenzo cooks dinner. You and Arthur prep the guest rooms so they can stay the night.

“Sorry you had to cancel the trip,” you apologize to Arthur who just shrugs as he puts the pillowcase on a pillow.

“That’s okay, we can go during the next break. I think I’ll go back to Monaco for a bit then come back here when the boys get here,” Arthur says, not fussed about missing the trip.

“I’ll let you settle in,” you leave the room, going to your own so you can change into sweatpants and a hoodie.

Charles beat you to it, you open the door to see him shirtless with sweatpants sitting low on his hips. You catch yourself staring hungrily until you snap out of it.

“Sit back down on the bed, how are you even standing without crutches,” you chastise him, closing the bedroom door behind you before crossing the room.

“Putting my weight on one leg works well enough,” Charles grins, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you towards him.

“Well you shouldn’t be doing that when you just had surgery on the ankle,” you frown, trying not to look at your ridiculously hot husband in front of you. His hands slip under your shirt, traveling up your back. Shivers run down your spine as one hand slides forward.

“Hmm, well maybe I should just lay down then and let you do the work,” Charles murmurs huskily, as you glance at the door.

“We’d have to be quick,” you reply quietly.

“5 months without you, I’m pretty sure I can be quick,” he smiles, letting you take over. His rough hands gliding across your skin as you straddle his waist.

“I guess we should rejoin them before they get suspicious,” Charles sighs, pressing a kiss to your head as you snuggle into his side.

“I guess so, but tomorrow afternoon we will have the whole house to ourselves,” you grin, rolling away to throw comfy clothes back on.

“I can’t wait,” Charles pulls on the hoodie that you tossed to him as well as some shorts.

“Use the crutches,” you narrow your eyes as he stands up, likely planning on just hopping to the kitchen.

“Or I could use you as my support,” Charles takes the crutches from you. You glance down at the cast encompassing his ankle.

“Are your feet cold?” you frown, brows furrowed with worry.

“I’m okay, if something hurts you will be the first to know. I promise,” Charles tries to ease your worry. You nod as there is a knock on the bedroom door.

“Dinner is ready kids,” Pascale says as you open the door.

“Thank you, Maman. We were about to come down,” Charles answers before you can.

“Take it easy,” you stress. The first two weeks are important to recovery and you know he isn’t great at sitting still. Pascale watches you fuss and she feels her heart warm at how careful you are with each other.

“Took you long enough,” Arthur says, mouth half full. Lorenzo fights a laugh as Pascale scolds him.

“We were busy,” Charles smirks. You whip your head towards him, smacking his shoulder.

“Charles,” you gasp, voice a mix of scolding and being scandalized.

“What?” he says innocently as you sit at the table.

“Enough, let’s enjoy this meal,” Pascale says, taking in the sight of all her children minus Charlotte.

“Oh, I have the perfect bottle of wine for this, I’ll be right back,” you quickly stand up, going to find the bottle.

“So when am I getting a grandchild?” Pascale looks at her three boys with a raised brow. Arthur chooses that moment to closely study the rug beneath the oak table.

“This decor is quite nice, I like that vase,” Arthur says.

“Charlotte and I aren’t even married yet,” Lorenzo protests, turning the attention to Charles.

“Buying our home was the first step, but we are waiting for Y/n to at least win the championship first,” Charles shrugs.

“Doesn’t she have a good lead right now?” Lorenzo asks, a smile smile playing on Charles face.

“Is she? I had no idea,” he says slyly.

“She could probably drive for the first few months of pregnancy,” Arthur interjects, feeling left out.

“If she has the smoothest pregnancy ever that is,” Pascale adds.

“Alright, let’s not rush it that soon. We will discuss it over winter break,” Charles shuts it down.

“Discuss what over winter break?” you ask, holding a bottle of wine and four glasses in your hands.

“When you and Charles are going to have a kid,” Arthur answers first as you sit down.

“Ah. Yes, no plans of being pregnant mid-season. Not really keen on missing a whole season either,” you say, pouring the wine.

“Where’s mine?” Charles asks as everyone gets a glass but him.

“No wine with your medicine, mon amour,” you tell him.

“We don’t even need to be here, you have his care handled,” Lorenzo chuckles.

“He will be locked down,” you joke.

The night passes quick and soon you and Charles are home alone for the first time in a long time. You take the opportunity to get in a run while Charles takes a nap, but when you get home he is in the kitchen.

“Hey, I’m making us lunch,” Charles greets you as you pull off your headphones.

“Yum. I’m going to take a quick shower then I’ll be back,” you say, eager to clean the sweat off you.

The two of you quickly fall into a routine. Charles for the most part rests, keeping his ankle propped, but he does occasionally join you in the gym to keep active a bit. He also does his best to help you clean and prep the house for the group of guys who are crashing your home.

“All of our privacy, gone so fast,” Charles pouts while you make a bed.

“I know, it’s only for a few days though,” you try and find the bright side. Summer break is passing quickly and a part of you doesn’t want to race again just yet.

“I have a meeting with my commander tomorrow morning,” Charles says. You pause, the white sheet in your hand going taught as your hand grips it tighter.

“What about?”

“I’m not sure, maybe about the medical check yesterday,” Charles plays it cool, but you can hear the concern in his voice.

You shove the sheet under the bed, making it slightly more aggressive than before. “You don’t think-“

“It’s possible. The check went well, I’m making progress healing, but I will still have to go through PT and make other clearances for fly again. I still have three months of recovery and some more physical therapy on top of that,” Charles says.

“But you’d still have time left in your commitment,”

“I know, I just need to be ready for anything they may say,” Charles sighs.

“I’m right by your side, whatever happens,” you take his hand. Charles gives you a small smile, heart swelling at the support.

“Thank you, mon ange. Now, tell me all about how you are going to win this year,” you finish making the bed and sit down on the edge. Charles sits beside you, hand sliding down your palm to interlock your fingers.

“I’m trying not to think about it or really speak on it. I feel like the past few years it’s been like a dangling carrot, just out of reach. I want it so bad but I’m so nervous that I won’t get it,” you admit, feeling like a bit of weight is off your shoulders. It doesn’t help that you haven’t signed a contract yet for the next year and beyond.

“You are the best driver I know. You are persistent and resilient, you have worked so hard to get to this point. If you don’t win your fans will still love you just the same as they will when you do win and I will love you even more regardless of the outcome,” Charles returns your support. You feel the warmth of his free hand brush away a stray tear on your cheek.

“There is no one else that I want to go through life with other than you,” your voice breaks slightly, thick with emotion.

“I feel the same way. I love you more and more every day,” Charles leans closer to you, a feeling from deep within telling him that everything will be okay.

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Price and his marriage problems with you

Angst to comfort 'cause I just can't deal with leavin' it hangin' and being angry at the writer (me) for just endin' it like that Playlist Inspo: Yaur, it ain't a song but a whole ass playlist 'cause we in for a hellavu ride *fire sound effects*

Price just sometimes gets too prideful for his own good, his bravado taking the step forward instinctively when it comes to serious conversations involving you.

Deep down, he always wants what's best for you-- for you and him together as partners.

But that sometimes doesn't get translated in the way you would understand his intent, and this is proven true once again when he comes to learn that you driven home drunk after a night out with your friends.

"You could've gotten hurt."

Price, whenever in an argument with you, would never shout. That to you, speak volumes from the way he positioned himself to a wide legged stance, arms crossed to the way his icy glare seeped into the words coming out of his mouth.

But you've had enough of it.

"Well, you look like you could care less." You huffed out, slamming your front door closed and tossing away your shoes.

"Care less?" He hums, one eyebrow raised as he takes in your disheveled appearance. "Then my texts asking where you were and offering a ride home are just nothing to you?"

"No!"

"Then tell me," he steps closer but you step back. "how does it look like to you?"

This feels like he's cornering you, badgering for an answer he wants to hear and not about how you feel-- but you just can't seem to gather the courage to speak on it, after being denied of such things for so long.

So you bit your lip, backing up so far with your arms wrapped around, that you hit your back on the door-- and you had half a mind to run away from this, from everything, and most of all-

From him.

Price sees the panicked look on your face and feels his hand tucked under his armpit twitch, but his rational brain stops him-- knowing that if he let his inhibitions go right now, he'd see you hurt even more.

"Darlin'," he softly calls out this time, "tell me." But the demand remains the same-- and for a moment this made you believe he'd finally get the point and ask how you feel.

About him. About how this relationship have crumbled into.

"Y'know what John," you scoffed, "you wouldn't understand anyways."

He feels the ire grow from the way his hairs stand on end at your dismissiveness, your unwillingness to give an olive branch and just let him help you.

"Tell me anyways." He insists and you couldn't help how you obviously rolled your eyes at his one insistent dialogue option. Persistent in his ways of getting you to talk.

"And I said," you growled, "you wouldn't understand nor care to anyways!"

"THEN FUCKING MAKE ME!"

He cracks.

You crack.

And something inside both of you does as well.

Like a snap of a cord, the tension in its high rise grow cold.

Silence permeating the area you once found comfort in and called- "home."

Price sees the terror in your eyes and he just fucking knows he fucked up.

Fucked everything up just because he broke first-- snapped too hard at someone who held so dearly, but has now broken himself.

And he's panickily trying to fix it. Fix you. Fix each other.

His deepest nightmare coming into reality, the side of him he tried so hard to keep from you resurfacing, the acknowledgements of his faults getting the better of him as he you stare each other soullessly-- eyes not showing the same spark it did the first time he took you out.

Price knows he gets scary and unreasonable-- its part of his identity and how he deals with the other aspect of his life that he tries so damn hard to keep away from you.

Yet here it is- making its appearance in the worst. fucking. time. possible.

The silence is now broken with a sob coming from you.

You, who is unable to take in the state of the proud John you know and love now look to utterly destroyed from the one sentence leaving his mouth.

And the fact that its now out there, speaking a thousand emotions behind the four words he released in desperation.

You do love him. You love John so much sometimes it hurts to see him hurt you.

You're so damn frustrated with yourself that you can't handle being hurt by the man you love- you feel so pathetic, unable to take his concerns guised in criticism, his messages of tough love behind the formal texts on your phone, his small actions of appreciation from respecting your space and letting you breath after another argument.

"Are we done for John?"

You ask, through hiccups, forcing the matter on hand-- one of which you both desperately avoided for so long.

You wait.

You could hear the air still once again, it taking a chokehold on you, making you more desperate of the deprived oxygen.

You hear him shuffle to you.

The arms you previously wrapped around yourself were now around someone else, a different set now covering your own torso.

"My love," he chokes out, a soft "...Please" is all that he could manage.

"Please what?" You, yourself could barely respond but you knew you had to. He had to as well.

"Don't..." he sighs, head falling onto your shoulder. "...don't say such things."

"Why not?"

He feel him still.

"Tell me John."

He feels your position now. Vulnerable, wounded, and cornered without a choice.

"I'm sorry," he finally says with his chest heavy, "I'm so sorry my love, please."

He grabs your face desperately, hands now cupping your face instead of your waist.

And you could just see- how equally broken this man is.

You never saw Price cry, but that one time he slotted that ring on your finger and finally called you, 'his.'

But this... this is completely different.

From the way his eyes are dilated, not in love, but in genuine distraught. His hands shaky, not in nervousness, but anxiousness. His hands soft, not in care, but of fright.

If this is destroying him, then it did for you too.

Price continues to beg and plead, wiping your tears and dismissing his own. It doesn't matter if he can taste his salty tears and snot-- you just mattered more, and refusing to just stand there and watch you cry.

With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand to his hand softly grabbing it and Price thinks he finally got to you.

But you pull it away.

Instead, you pull in downward and intertwine it with yours, slightly swinging it between you.

"John."

You call out and he opens his ears, replies, anything to get you talking--, "yes my dear?"

"I'm hurt."

He's about to ask why, where, how-- he wants to know everything.

"And I think I'm hurting you... well, more like us."

He shakes his head, disagreeing immediately.

"Darling, no." He fumbles his words, "its me- I'm hurting you, hurting us, and I-."

"No, its my fault."

"No, its mine."

"No, I just sometimes can't take it."

"Then its me! I'm at fault."

But you both insist and it seems endless until you both run out of breath again, yet... your intertwined hands persist. Grip so tight that you wouldn't even think of letting go.

This...makes you laugh, a soft one, and John swear he could hear bells ringing again.

You test it and try to pull away but he doesn't let you.

You giggle again and its infectious that Price couldn't help doing it as well.

"Why..." his chuckles die down but a smile stays painted on his lips, "why were you laughing?"

You shook your head and continue swinging your hands with more energy, "don't know..."

"But," you raised your head- eyes connecting once more, "this is just so silly."

"Silly?" He scoffs, so confused at the how quick the emotions are changing.

"Silly." You insisted but end of sighing, hands slowing down.

"I think," you began with your voice down back to a whisper, "we should be honest and talk."

Price immediately nods in agreement and adds a, "and take a step back?" And he does this literally too, making you chuckle.

Realizing as well at how cold the room has been, contrasting the warmth of your hands.

"yeah..." you mumble and unconsciously reach out for him again. "let's try... again?"

He reaches for you but this time, his grip is soft as if he was ready to let you pull away again.

"Together."

A/N: gonna be makin one for the other boiyos too so... part 1/4? :>> Masterlist for my other works here!