#he’s just so confused why he’s had to sit through this talk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enhaniki-san · 1 day ago

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exes - reader x niki ✶⋆.˚

warnings: very suggestive content, cursing, angst, break up, etc.

it's first day of school for everyone but it would also be the first time you will see niki after the break up.

before, you just suffered alone. uninstalling all social medias so you wouldn't see anything about him but every time you closed your eyes, you would imagine his laugh in your head, the warmth of his touch, his smiles...

you will scroll through messages. his texts that are full of teasing words and reassurances, it's there, all untouched. your fingers would hover over his name, your chest tightening as you debated whether to reach out or not.

"i lost him." you'd whisper to yourself then you would cry and cry and cry every night you wake up with a headache.

the hardest part is realizing that deep down, you just might be replaceable cause he's niki, he can get whoever he wants without even trying so hard.

niki though, he didn't just became distant. he became irritated and short-tempered like... the smallest things would just set him off.

teammate joking about something? niki would snap with his sharp words enough to silence the entire locker room. accidentally bumping into him? his glare would freeze them in their tracks.

and at home, niki would push his food around on his plate, appetite gone. his mom would ask if he was okay and he’d just nod without looking up, muttering a quick, "yeah, i'm fine." sometimes, he wouldn't even eat at all.

he would also sleep too much, oversleeping so often that his friends stopped bothering to wait for him in the morning. the mornings where he usually wake up crying.

you were his first girlfriend, one person he actually loved.

you were sitting at your table, surrounded by a group of people from your class, all of whom were currently losing their minds over something you'd said.

"wait, wait- say that again!" one of them choked out, clutching his stomach from laughing too hard.

you smirked, leaning back in your chair with that effortless confidence that somehow came and went depending on the situation.

the table erupted into another round of laughter and you couldn’t help but grin, enjoying the attention.

across the room, niki can't help but to watch. he leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest while one eyebrow raised in a mix of confusion and irritation.

he saw the way you had those guys wrapped around your finger. loud laughters, they leaned in a little too much...

he rolled his eyes, "the fuck?" he muttered under his breath.

"bro, are you mad again?"

niki looked away from you for a second, glaring at his friend. "i'm not mad."

"you're mad." his friend shot back, smirking. "and for what? don't you realize you could get literally anyone you want? like, just pick someone and boom, problem solved."

niki scoffed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. he's becoming very tired of hearing it. "you think i care about that? i don't want anyone."

niki looked back to you. he watched the way you casually flicked your hair over your shoulder and how your eyes sparkled as you delivered another punchline that sent the guys around you into another laughter.

it annoyed him sure but more than that, it reminded him of why he fell for you in the first place.

when niki first transferred to the school, he was used to people staring. everyone wanted to know him, talk to him, be close to him. it was almost exhausting how predictable it was... girls blushing when he walked by, guys either trying to be his friend or acting threatened.

then you came.

you like him, just like everyone. you were shy at first but you weren't afraid to flirt with him in your own way.

you had this maddening ability to make him actually feel something, even when you were just teasing him.

one moment, you'd barely meet his eyes, acting like he was just someone you know.

the next, you'd hit him with some sly remark that left him wondering if you actually like him or if you were just messing with him.

and even after you got together, you didn't stop. you flirted with him at every chance, sometimes so casually that he didn't even realize it until later.

it drove him insane, in the best and worst ways.

you didn't know it but you made him need you. you were niki's constant, his balance, someone he always look forward hanging out with, and person who could make him smile even when he didn't want to.

and that’s why it makes him so much angry now.

whenever niki look at them, he saw himself. the way he used to hang on your every word and the way you could light up a room just by being there.

he sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as his friend nudged him. "you're staring again."

you were both invited to a small house party. it was alive with music and chatter when you walked in.

some of them greeted you, casually mentioning how good niki looked, unaware of the what had unraveled between you and him. others, who knew, just exchanged awkward glances.

niki was across the room and yeah, he looked good, like always. he was leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup in his hand as he nodded along to whatever one of his friends was saying. then he was approached by a girl right after another.

"niki, are you even listening?" she asked, pouting slightly.

he blinked, realizing she was still talking. "uh, yeah." he said though it was obvious he wasn't.

the girl huffed, crossing her arms. "you know what? never mind." she rolled her eyes and walked away, leaving niki standing there and barely noticing her departure.

niki decided to left the party the moment he saw you talking to another guy again. the rain started to pour hard just when he got outside. he cursed under his breath, pulling his jacket over his head as he jogged down the street.

he spotted a convenience store up ahead and stayed under the shed outside, shaking water off his arms as he muttered to himself about the miserable weather.

after a while, he heard the sound of hurried footsteps splashing through puddles.

you were running towards the convenience store, your arms raised over your head in an attempt to shield yourself from the harsh rain. and when you were about to reach the shed, you saw niki standing there. you froze.

your eyes met and niki gulped. quickly, you turned around and ready to just go back at the party.

niki rolled his eyes, muttering a curse. of course, he wouldn't let you stay out in the rain.

grabbing an umbrella from the corner of the shed, he ran after you. "y/n!" he called, but you didn't stop.

he reached you in a few quick strides, grabbing your arm and pulling you to a stop.

"what?" you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

"you're gonna get soaked, idiot." he said simply, opening the umbrella and holding it over both of you.

the two of you stood there for a moment, and without waiting for your response, he started walking, his hand still loosely holding your arm.

you followed him. not because you wanted to but because it felt easier than standing in the rain arguing with him.

when you reached the shed, niki released your arm and leaned against the wall, keeping the umbrella angled to shield both of you. you crossed your arms over your chest, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

niki then sat down down on one of the available chairs, his back's facing you.

and it wasn’t long before you felt someone watching you. you glanced up and saw a man who's clearly drunk, swaying slightly as he approached. his bloodshot eyes were fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.

"hey, there." he said, his words slurred but grinning wide. "what's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?"

you took a small step back, clutching your phone tighter. "i'm fine, thanks." you said, trying to keep your tone polite but firm.

he didn’t take the hint, though. instead, he stumbled closer, shamelessly scanning you up and down. "c'mon, don't be like that." he said, reaching out and grabbing your arm. his grip wasn't harsh but it was enough to make your heart race.

"let go!" you said while trying to pull your arm free but his grip tightened slightly.

niki turned around at the sound of your voice. he stood up immediately, chair scraping against the wet concrete. "back off!"

the drunk guy barely had time to process what was happening before niki shoved him back with enough force to make him stumble. "i said back off or i'll beat the shit out of you."

the drunk guy ran, stumbling away.

you blinked, slightly stunned at niki's sudden aggressiveness.

"you okay?" he asked.

you just nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. "ye- yeah, i'm fine. thanks."

niki looked at you for a moment, his eyes scanned you to make sure you were really okay. he exhaled then sat again as he ran a hand through his damp hair. clearly tensed.

he patted at the chair. "can you sit here?"

"no."

niki shook his head and his lips twiched in disbelief.. "yeah, stand there so your legs will ache."

you scoffed. "why do you care?"

"oh, i don't. i really don't." he said. laughing dryly as if the idea itself was ridiculous.

"i shouldn't have stayed here." you muttered but niki heard it.

"then leave." niki said bluntly. you were about to let it go but of course, he just couldn’t stop there. "you're good at that, aren't you?"

you jaw tightens. "oh, don't start with that. you’re the one who-"

"you think this is all my fault again?" niki interrupted you. his tone's sharp as he raised his eyebrows at you.

you exhaled harshly, holding back whatever retort was on the tip of your tongue. niki looked away and you both fell into silence.

you both calmed down and ignored each other. but he's right... you're legs were starting to ache from standing. you glanced over at niki who's comfortably leaning back as he dried himself, you sighed. hesitating but eventually, you sat down beside him.

"when did you start beating people up?" you asked, half-joking just to break the tension.

he looked at you with a serious expression. "few months ago."

your eyes widened as you leaned backwards. "seriously?"

niki gave you a confused look. "no, of course not."

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at him. you watched him dry his hair, his damp strands falling messily over his forehead. you look at his face longer than it should have and you quickly bit your lip, letting your thoughts wander too far.

you can't believe you had that face between you legs before-

niki turned to you suddenly, squinting as if he could read your mind. you stuttered. "i- i swear i'm not thinking about anything weird!"

but he knows you too well. you gulped and just looked away.

however, niki did not stop staring. at first, it was just like "this girl..." then suddenly questions ran through his head. wondering when's the last time he heard your laugh, when's the last time you're this close to him...

and before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pressing his face to the side of your neck. and his hands crawled to your legs, gripping it gently.

"what are you doing?" you asked, caught off guard.

"who told you to wear this short-ass dress?" he whispered.

a small smile formed at your lips despite the ache in your chest. slowly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your fingers brushing against his neck and one hand found its way to his hair, twisting the strands softly between your fingers.

he pulled back just enough to look at you. his eyes started searching yours, desperate and unguarded. then slowly, niki started to lean in.

you leaned too, meeting his lips halfway and his hand gripping your legs harder. niki kissed you like he was making up for lost time, pouring every ounce of his frustrations and longing into each movement.

he groaned softly against your lips. tilting your head gently, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

as his lips pressed harder against yours, your own lips started trembling. the weight of everything... the breakup, the pain... it hit you all at once. tears formed at the edges of your eyes.

you tried to hold them back.

"i miss you so much." niki said between the kisses.

you broke down, a sob escaped your lips and the tears began to fall freely. niki pressed a quick kiss. "why are you crying?" he whispered.

"because!" you choked out, the words catching in your throat.

he smiled. he didn't want to see you cry but somehow, the sight of you crying filled him with relief. to him, it meant that you still care and that you still feel something.

he cupped your face care and his thumbs brushed against your cheeks. he kissed you again and again, very slow as he savored every moment.

niki hugged you, your arms wrapped around his waist as you cried. he gave you multiple kisses on top of your head.

you started touching his body, his chest up to his neck and jaw, everywhere as you rested your head in his chest, "there's no one like you." you said, adding "i was so lucky."

he's just perfect. truly one of one in the world

after hearing those words, niki kissed you again, smiling. "please be my girlfriend again."

you nodded and laughed. "but i think i'll actually kill myself if i lose you one more time." you continued.

niki just smiled again, doesn't matter if you lose him 'cause he'll just always find his way back to you.

you both began walking down the street, still hugging and touching each other as if you couldn't bear to let go. niki’s hand occasionally grabs your arm or he'd wrap an arm around your shoulders or your waist to pull you close.

"you should sleep at my place tonight."

you bit your lip, shaking your head while smiling. "mmhm, i can't."

"why not?" he stopped walking, and turned you to face him.

"because... i might not be able to walk for weeks if i'll go with you." you said with a smirk.

his heart started racing for a second before laughing, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "you're right." he whispered, arms snaked around your waist. "it's gonna be so rough."

you pulled back, your mouth dropping open in shock. "i... i can't believe you just said that."

niki shrugged with a cheeky grin. "hey, when it's you saying things like that, it's fine. but when i say it, it's weird?"

"no... it's not weird." you muttered, looking away with a small smile. "i know you're sexy but you just became even sexier. what the hell?"

niki smirked when he heard your last comment, and before you could take another step, he bent down and scooped you up effortlessly into his arms.

you squealed, your hands instinctively grabbing onto his shoulders for balance.

"what?" he said with a teasing grin, holding you like you weighed nothing. "your legs are going to hurt anyway. might as well save you the trouble now."

read part-timers!niki x reader

read part-timers!niki x reader part 2

read snitch - reader x niki

read touché - niki x reader

read touché - niki x reader part 2

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ultravi0lence14 · 3 days ago

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Change Of Heart

dean winchester x angel!reader

2.2k | angst, hurt/comfort, szn 9

summary: dean is still a complete ass, but a late night conversation has you realizing the cruel facade the older winchester puts on may just be there to cover his sweet and tender soul.

WHEN ANGEL FALLS IN LOVE

humanity truly was a fickle concept, and you started to understand that as time went on. after you and dean came back from your shopping trip, you were assumedly happier. your room was eccentric, exactly how you wanted it. there had been a white vintage dresser in your room when you woke up a day later, dean telling you that if you wanted a place for that mountain of clothes, than you’d need a place to put it.

your walls were less drab, now having pops of colour and exuberant paintings that lifted your spirits. the furniture was ugly, and the wall colour still looked like mud, but the extra pop of colour did help exponentially.

though something still felt off. you were learning more about humanity, and sam was as he usually is. but things with dean seemed to have shifted from weird to weirder.

he went from being snippy when you talked to him — closed off walls that had slight cracks in them, to completely boarding you off. he blatantly ignored you, the last full conversation you two had being when he bought you the dresser.

you’d come into the room he was in, it didn’t matter what he was doing, or how important, he’d just up and leave. you tried to talk to him as you did on your car ride, he’d give you vague, one word responses or just shake his head for yes or no.

it was disheartening, and really confusing. what had you done in this short period of time that made him change up so fast?

the night was young, a fresh 1am gracing your eyes as you looked at your alarm clock. you were watching a movie, and as time dwindled past, your stomach rumbled in remembrance that you hadn’t eaten in a while.

with a huff, you shut your computer softly and made your way to the kitchen. the bunker’s air was cold on your exposed skin. a small, tight fitted t shirt with a picture of a cat and stripped underwear were all you wore. you didn’t expect anyone to be awake, for sam was usually asleep by ten and dean was avoiding you like the plague. a quick trip wouldn’t hurt, and you’d be in and out in seconds

god, how you wished you weren’t so blindingly oblivious sometimes

instead of worrying about what sam or dean would be doing, you would’ve heard no music from dean’s room, which usually cut out by at least 2 in the morning. it didn’t make it better you had headphones on, and if you weren’t so in your head you would’ve noticed dean sitting at the kitchen table.

your head was down, twirling your hair between your fingers as you maneuvered through the kitchen. not realizing the forrest green eyes stuck on your frame.

dean felt his mouth dry up, hands tightly clasping the fork he held that had recently delved into the crevices of an apple pie. you were going to be the fucking death of him. in that tight little shirt, in those tiny ass panties. this is the reason why he started ignoring you. you were so enchanting, a beacon of light that pulsed dean’s name. he wanted you so bad his heart hurt, yet he knew he couldn’t have you.

he was a bad man, not deserving of the divinity that rolled off of you like waves. that road trip was a turning point, and he realized that his hatred was to hide what he honestly felt.

you were sweet, and too kind for dean’s coal black heart. he could see it from the start, you grace and beauty still evident even after you fell. you were everything that dean longed for, but would never allow himself to have.

that’s why he made you think he hated you, why he ignored you. but now, with the fridge light bathing your figure and lighting you up like a wishing star, dean wanted to be selfish, he wanted to push his worries away for once and indulge in the sweetest fruits.

with a clatter of his fork, dean stood up from the table and walked over to you slowly. you still couldn’t hear him, your headphones blocking out any noise beyond your music, but that’s what dean needed. he needed that moment of clarity before he fully went under.

coming up behind you, his breath tickled down your neck, making your shoulders tense as you slowly paused your music. taking your headphones off and putting them on the counter, you turned around slowly and slightly jumped as dean stared down at you through his hooded eyes.

“jeez dean,” you breathed, hand resting against your chest as you caught your breath. “don’t sneak up on a girl like that, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

he didn’t say a word, just staring down at you as his fists clenched by his sides. you didn’t know what to think, this was the first time dean had even looked at you in days, and his back and forth attitude was starting to confuse you.

sighing, you crossed your arms against your chest, looking up at dean with a stoic expression on your face. you were still an angel after all, and no one taught you about how somethings should be left unsaid.

“what is wrong with you?” the question rolled off of your tongue like poison ivy straight to dean’s heart, making him jerk back a little and widen his eyes. his mouth opened, like he wanted to say something; question you, ask what you meant, you didn’t care. you just put your hand up to halt his words.

“don’t even start,” you bit out, anger you didn’t even know you held slipping through your lips. “you think you can just ignore me for days and then come up to me and stare like a petulant child? i might be an angel who’s new to the world, but i’m not fucking stupid dean.”

your words had him reeling. you never swore — or he’s never heard you. the words coming from your lips were so firm, so assured, that dean couldn’t help a swell of pride flourish in his chest. you were growing stronger, and he couldn’t be more proud of his girl.

well, you would be his girl if he grew a pair of balls.

dean didn’t realize that he’d just been staring at you, lost in his own mind that he didn’t even respond. he finally snapped out of his stupor when you scoffed, turning around and grabbing your headphones before moving to leave the kitchen. “unbelievable. i’m done trying to crack you dean. if you don’t want to even try and care, i’ll just leave you alone for good-“

your words were cut short as dean gripped onto your upper arm, spinning you around and into his chest. his movements shocked you to the point of dropping your headphones, the only noise being the device clattering on the ground and your wracked breathing.

he was so close, so close you could see all the imperfections on his face. his scattered freckles that looked like fairy dust, the stubble that grazed his jaw and how it added to his handsome charm; everything was so overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but grip onto his shoulders as you stared up at him through your lashes.

dean didn’t know why he did it, but he knew it was what needed to be done. he was sick of hiding, and having you this close made him realize how bad he craved you.

the puffs of air from your pretty lips hitting his face, the scent of vanilla and cherries hitting his senses. your hands gripping his shoulders had his palms itching to touch you, shaking as they reached out and gripped your hips.

his batted breath mixed with yours, one hand leaving your waist to delicately dance across your cheek. “please don’t leave,” his voice was filled with vulnerability, slight edges of urgency twisted into it’s roots. “just - give me one second to explain. please, sweet angel.”

sweet angel. the nickname made you gulp, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you just stared up at him expectantly. you waited for him to speak, watching as he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. your hands on his shoulders squeezed lightly, a small sign of comfort that dean easily caught onto.

when dean re-opened his eyes, you swore you could see his walls crumbling down as he looked at you. his blockades to the real man — which made up his soul, peaking through for the first time. “i’m not good at these kind of things. i’m a killer, a ruthless, self indulgent man who doesn’t deserve your love.”

the words coming from his mouth hit you in the gut, wrenching a deep hole into your middle. dean truly felt that about himself, and it hurt your soul that he couldn’t see how much of a good person he was.

yeah, he was a dick, you could say that much, but he also cared. you saw how he loved and protected sam, how he would put his life on the line for his little brother. you watched him protect people from the creatures of the night, soft words leaving his lips as he consoled frightened victims. whatever dean had tried to show you in the past couple of weeks wasn’t truly him, and you were now determined to show him that.

your one hand lifted to his cheek, watching as his hand on your face fell down and rested on your neck above your pulse point, almost like he was trying to tell himself you were actually real. “you are none of those things dean winchester,” your words were soft, a reassurance that only left dean shaking his head.

“no, don’t do that. please listen to me.” you gripped his face in your hands now, pulling it down so it rested on your forehead. “you are a good man. you kill to rid the world of evil, and that’s the best thing you possibly could do.”

he just looked down at you, a sorrowful look on his face as his eyes showed the way he didn’t believe your words. “i can’t give you what you need, angel.” his words left you shocked, a testament to dean’s confession as he held onto you tighter. “i’m not capable of love, and you deserve a whole fucking ocean of it. you are the true definition of beauty, and you need someone who can give you that and more.”

tears leaked from your eyes, leaning further into dean as he gave silly reasons on why he didn’t deserve you. “dean-“ you breathed, voice shaky as a lump lodged in your throat. all he did was shake his head against yours, bringing his hand up to brush your tears away.

“no tears, please my darling girl. i don’t deserve them.” he tried to pull away, but you held him tighter, not allowing him to let go. “no!” you sobbed, eyes leaking proof of your sorrow. “this isn’t fair! you can’t do this. i didn’t even know how you felt twenty minutes ago. hell, i didn’t even know how i felt twenty minutes ago. i thought you hated me for gods sake. please just give me time to think dean, i deserve that much.”

dean all but whimpers, a sigh that sounds too heartbroken for your now fragile ears. “baby, please. just let me save you, i don’t want to burden you with my issues. you deserve security, a fairytale love you only read in books. i can’t give you that.”

“cut the shit winchester.” you snap, shocking the man in front of you. “this is my life too, remember? what i need isn’t for you to decide. so please, give me a day. and i promise, i’ll decide if i want you to ruin me or not.”

all dean did was shake his head, hugging you to him like he could meld your bodies together. “you don’t want that, pretty girl.”

“if it came from you, i’d allow you to ruin me in anyway possible, so the only aspect of love i see is your heart beating for me.” the words were a little toxic, even you as an angel could see that, but dean was so in his head, you needed to show him that he was capable of love. he was made to love someone, to cherish them and show them how beautiful his soul was. you just hoped he’d let that person be you.

leaving a lingering kiss on his forehead, you separated from the sorrowed man, watching as he reached out for you like you were drifting away in the ether.

picking up your headphones, you moved to walk out of the kitchen. briefly turning around, you stared and watched as dean looked at you longingly, waiting for you to say something. anything. “my room. tomorrow. 12am. i’ll be there with my verdict. but trust me dean winchester, you are capable of a love worth writing about.”

the words lingered as you left, tears slowly falling down your cheeks as you thought of the man who was broken in more ways than you could count. a boy who was deprived of love and believed he didn’t deserve. but you swore, you’d show him. you’d let dean winchester realize how much of a lover he was.

TAGS: @floralscented @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @honeyryewhiskey @haunteres @starzify @fallbhind @foolinthera1n @rubyvhs @jasvtsc @vaiieydoii @taurus0queenie33 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @angel-inspiredblog @galacticalllcafffeine @pascal-rascal424 @annoyingstrawberryballoon @fayeisuppose @geisterfvhrer @bluemerakis @si1ver06 @drqstqr @wh0s-ra3 @supernatural-bangtanboys @whump-loverz @mostlymarvelgirl @d3anwinchesterswife @youdontknowe @oceanolokys

*the shirt she’s wearing is in the pinterest board. . . go check it out🤭

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #imagine #supernatural x reader #fluff #ultravi0lence14 #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester series #dean winchester x angel!reader #when angel falls in love

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bewaryofpity · 1 day ago

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we all know quinn looks like he’s in a constant state of anxiety so it’s definitely not unlikely that his small, dainty hands have a slight constant tremor too. and you love teasing him about it.

maybe he’s unsure about physical touch in public because he doesn’t really like it and doesn’t want to draw attention to himself, or yourself too, and he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. and you think maybe that’s why his hand shakes a bit when he sneakily interlocks your pinkies together, or the tremble when he puts his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the crowd.

you think it’s cute how nervous he gets, despite being in front of the cameras and talking to reporters more often than not, or the fact that he’s a captain and so he can’t avoid human interactions as much as he would like.

and in the beginning you thought it was all related to being socially shy, not really a fan of talking to strangers and being asked for pictures. but months into your relationship you realize that his hands tremble regardless of the environment he’s in.

you noticed in the mornings when he’d kindly prepare your coffee before he had to leave for practice and he placed your cup in front of you a bit wobbly, but you know a cup of coffee doesn’t weigh that much.

or when he was helping you cook by chopping some vegetables and when you turned around to reach for the salt jar, your eyes glanced at the way his hands were shaking just slightly while scooping the chopped vegetables off the chopping board and into a bowl. maybe his hands were cold or maybe he was nervous for the start of the season the next night, so you left him be.

but then you caught on and you started to take a peek at his hands every change you’d get. like now, both of you sitting on the couch, a random movie you chose as background noise while you read your books and simply enjoying each other’s presence. you take your gaze off the page you’re reading to look at quinn, and you catch a glimpse of his hand turning the page, and it’s obviously shaking just barely.

it’s minimal but you notice, and a smile creeps on your lips. so you do what you do best and drop your book on the coffee table before taking his out of his hands and placing it on top of yours. he’s confused and even more so when you take the blanket off his lap, a what are you doing on his lips.

you reach towards him, steading yourself with your hands on his shoulders before completely plopping down on his lap, his brows furrowing at your sudden change of mood. he’s not really complaining though.

he puts his hands on your hips and you smile, leaning down to place a small peck on the corner of his lips and you keep kissing around his face — left cheek, nose, temple, forehead, right cheek. he’s beaming and you keep kissing him, his hands caressing your hips underneath your hoodie.

and when you start pecking his face more rapidly he begs you to stop, laughing at you, but you don’t, how could you when he’s looking all cute and his hands are still shaking against your skin.

quinn brings one hand to your cheek, parting away from your ever loving lips and you can’t miss the way his fingertips are brushing you before cupping your cheek. this is your opportunity to tease him.

“do i make you nervous, quinny?”

“what?” he’s blushing, your question catching him off guard. “no, why d’you ask?”

“your hands are always shaking.”

he doesn’t even know what to say because yes, his hands do shake, but it’s not because you make him nervous. you do sometimes, because you’re beautiful and you make his heart beat probably too fast in his chest. but his hands? that’s simply because he’s perpetually anxious and no matter what he does, the trembling doesn’t go away.

“yeah.” he says softly.

“so i do make you nervous.” you tease brushing your nose against his. and he groans, trying to hide his face in your shoulder so you wouldn’t tease him more about the growing blush on his cheeks, but you know him like the back of your hand so the natural thing to do is laugh.

“sometimes, but it’s a good nervous.” you can barely hear him, his lips hovering on your skin while he speaks before planting a light kiss on your shoulder.

you run a hand through his hair and you try really hard to suppress the laugh bubbling in your chest because quinn is purring like a cat, but his hands on your hips are still trembling, fingertips brushing at your delicate skin.

a/n: meg said that quinn looks like he has a hand tremor and i had the smallest idea for a blurb @star2fishmeg @capquinn convinced me to write in full :)

#quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #bewaryofpity writes

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sungsgirl · 13 hours ago

Text

practice makes perfect

bestfriend jisung x reader

genre: smut 18+, fluff (if you squint)

wc: 6.05k

synopsis: you have a crush on jaehyun whos a year above you in college, but you’re so inexperienced it makes you think that he will never look at you. so who will help you if not your best friend?

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

you didn’t want to ask jisung for help. in fact, you were avoiding it, trying to find other ways, because it was insane and he was your best friend since childhood.

and asking your best friend to help you learn how to kiss so you didn’t screw it up with your silly little crush? yeah, that was the craziest thing you ever were about to do.

“hey, sung,” you start, trying to sound casual but failing as your voice cracks mid sentence.

jisung glances up briefly, raising an eyebrow. “what’s up?”

you hesitate, chewing on your hoodie string as your palms grow sweaty. why is this so hard? you can’t even ask him a simple question?

“uh, so…” you trail off, your voice dropping as you struggle to get the words out. “hypothetically speaking… if someone wanted to, like… learn how to do something… how would they, uh, go about it?”

jisung stares at you for a moment, blinking in confusion. “you gotta narrow that down for me, y/n. what are we talking about? gaming? cooking? math?”

“oh my god, no,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. this was already so much worse than you imagined.

“relax, relax,” he says, setting his phone down, which made you peek at him through your fingers. “what’s going on?”

you take a deep breath, you kept reminding yourself, if you didn’t just say it, you would never going to get through this.

“i… kind of have a crush on jaehyun.” you admit quickly, the words tumbling out as if you were rushing.

jisungs brows shoot up, and for a split second, something unreadable flickers across his face before his expression turns into something neutral. “uh, okay. and?”

“and… i want him to notice me,” you continue, heat rising to your face. “but i don’t know what i’m doing. i mean, he’s cool, and experienced, and i’m just…” you trail off, gesturing vaguely at yourself.

jisung tilts his head, his lips pressing into a slight frown. “you’re just what?”

“a loser, jisung,” you groan, slumping forward dramatically. “i’ve never even kissed anyone, and what if he finds out and thinks i’m, like, a lost cause?”

jisung opens his mouth, probably to argue against the whole “loser” thing, but you cut him off, too embarrassed.

“so, i was thinking…” you pause, glancing at him nervously. “maybe you could, um, help me.”

“help you?” he repeats, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“yeah. like, practice?” you wave your hands vaguely, trying to look like you haven’t been agonizing over this for days. “y’know… kissing.”

jisung stares at you like you’ve just sprouted a second head.

you don't think you ever were this embarrassed before. you had always hung out in your best friends room, but the reason behind this visit had made you want the ground to swallow you whole.

your voice felt shaky as it cut through the silence of jisungs bedroom. "i just think it'd be better if i... y'know... knew what i was doing. i can't ask jaehyun to... y'know, like—" you swallowed as you tried to not repeat the words again. your face heated up at the thought of finishing the sentence, "to teach me how to kiss if we ever do it."

jisung, sitting on his gaming chair, nervously fiddled with his hoodie string. he moved his head in a way that made his messy black hair flop into his eyes to avoid looking directly at you. "are you, like, actually being serious right now?"

"very serious." you said with a poor attempt of trying to sound confident, but the way your voice was wobbly instantly gave you away, which only made him blink in irritation. "i-i mean, i can't... i don't want to fuck up if he–"

you closed your mouth, hesitating as you clutched one of his pillows tighter to your chest, sitting on the edge of his bed. talking to him was always easy for you, since he understood you in ways no one else could. but sometimes his ability to read you made things worse, as he was making you aware of how much of a loser you actually were.

after he sensed that you weren't completing your sentence, he tilted his head and exhaled hard. "so, if i understand correctly," he rested his chin on the back of his hand. “you want me to help you practice… for some guy? jeong jaehyun specifically?”

you squirmed. his delivery made it sound as stupid as it was. in fact, this made no sense. who asks their best friend for— gosh.

you were already too deep in to start laughing and tell him it was a joke and he was silly for falling for it, and his slightly wide eyes made it seem like he wasn’t totally opposed to this idea (which mattered way more than it should’ve).

“um… yeah,” you croaked. jisung ran a hand through his hair like he was suddenly going to come up with an excuse, but something in his eyes, the awkward confidence, tipped you off. he never really refused your offer.

“i know you never make good decisions, but this is seriously the worst idea you have ever had in your life,” he muttered, though you could tell the amusement in his tone. before you processed his reaction, he leaned forward, clasped his hands, and finished his sentence, “but okay.”

your heart skipped a beat, “okay?” you almost stuttered, “like… okay okay?”

“yeah, okay okay.” he huffed and scratched the back of his neck as though he couldn’t believe what he was saying, “i’ll help, but just practice,” his tone was serious, “if it gets weird, we stop. alright?”

you nodded quickly, “alright.”

“and don’t tell anyone about this.” he said, holding up a finger like you were a toddler.

“obviously,” you answered, which only earned you a smirk from him. a smirk that made your stomach flip. why is he suddenly smirking at you?

there is a beat of silence before jisung slides off his chair, kneeling awkwardly in front of you, where you’re perched on his bed. his height still towers over you a bit, but the soft flush creeping up his neck made you realise you weren’t the only one that was nervous.

“um… you want to start now?” he asked quietly, as if he was shy. you nodded again, your mouth running faster than your brain, “unless you’re scared of me or something.”

“y/n,” he groaned like he wanted to pull his hair out, “why are you making things harder than they should be?”

despite his words, his laugh was gentle, and maybe even fond. you bite your lip as he carefully shifts closer until your knees bump against him.

“you’re sure about this, right?” he whispers, and when you nod, he leans forward slowly, like he’s scared to startle you.

his plump lips brush yours gently at first, as if he’s giving you time to back out. his hand awkwardly lingers in the air near your shoulder, before settling there. you can barely think straight, you would’ve never thought that jisung, nerdy and awkward, would’ve been this careful and soft. you clutch onto him and his breath hitches which only makes your face burn ever more.

“just practice,” he whispers as his lips meet yours in hesitation. as you deepen the kiss, it doesn’t really feel like practicing.

he pulls back and rests his forehead on yours. you could feel his warm breath against your lips. he quickly opens his eyes, nervously trying to read you, as if he was trying to figure out if you regret it, or if he should stop.

you don’t say a word, you’re too shocked from the fact that you’re enjoying this, considering that heat was pooling in your lower stomach.

“y/n,” he whispers so quietly that it almost got swallowed by the tense air in the room. it took all your courage to swallow and look back up at him, “was that okay?” you whisper, and you feel your cheeks get red because of how nervous you sounded.

his lips twitched, which you realised was an effort to give you a reassuring smile, “yeah” he says, then he lets out a small laugh, glancing to the side to avoid eye contact, “it was more than okay.”

you blink in surprise, and then open your mouth to say something, but you can’t form words, “really?” you finally blurt something out.

you noticed his ears turn red as he retreated. “i mean, not that i do this often, i just— um… you’re—“ his voice disappears into thin air as he slides his hand up to scratch his head in embarrassment.

you would’ve chuckled and called him cute if it didn’t plant a fucked up idea in your head, the type of idea that you’re half shy to say out loud.

but once again, your mouth works faster than your brain, “should we keep going?” you blurt it out, and before you process what you said, jisung freezes.

his mouth opens and closes, but there’s no words coming out of him. “it’s not fair if i practice once,” your voice is trembling, “i mean, i have to— i should get used to, like, more….i need— i’m gonna mess up with jaehyun if i—“

“okay, stop.” jisung cuts you off suddenly, his hands coming up as he was surrendering, “i get it.”

your stomach drops at the look on his face until he settles back on his knees, leaning forward again. “we will go slow, and if you feel too overwhelmed,” his voice is so low and serious that it makes your throat tighten. “we will stop immediately, no questions.”

you nod nervously. his thumb brushes across your jaw, leaning in closer until his lips meet yours again. his lips part slightly, guiding yours open, which sends a shiver down your spine. you gasp quietly, and the sound might have gotten a reaction out of him, because he slides his hand up your hoodie, not that you don’t enjoy it.

jisungs tongue flickers against your lip in such hesitant and sweet manner that it made you instinctively arch closer and let your knees drift apart slightly. you didn’t think that this tiny shift would change anything.

the hand bracing your cheek falters and before you know it, both of you sink onto his bed, almost deliberately. as the soft mattress hugs your back, he positions himself above you, his eyes darkened.

his lips hover over yours again, “still okay?” he asks, his voice painted in roughness.

“y-yeah,” you whisper, your heart racing so loud that you’re pretty sure he hears it too.

when he kisses you again for the third time, it must be something about the pressure, the position you two are in, or the way he worries so much about you, that unlocks something in you that you never knew existed.

you feel his hand slide down, his fingers trembling as they graze the hem of your hoodie. his hesitation makes your brain almost shut down, and maybe that’s why you let your hand find his wrist and grab it, guiding him beneath the fabric of your clothes.

“y/n,” he groans softly against your lips, his voice being desperate, a sound that you had never expected to hear from… him.

his breath grows unsteady as his fingers slide higher, slightly trembling as they run over the bare skin beneath your hoodie. as this is unfamiliar to you, you wonder if you should say something, maybe a joke to ease the tension, but the moment feels so.. raw. you never felt this close w him before. so you don’t.

instead, you shift your hips slightly, just enough to send a signal to him. the movement makes jisungs face scrunch, as if he was struggling to keep himself together. his forehead dips against your shoulder as his breath brushes ovee your collarbone.

“y/n…” he says in a tone that sends a shiver down your spine. your hand searches for his wrist again, and when you find him, you guide it lower, past your waistband. you feel him freeze, his fingers stiffen up against the elastic, which makes you think that he’s going to pull away.

the bubble of disappointment forming in your mind was popped when you felt him exhale. his touch inches lower, “i don’t…” his voice is barely audible, “i don’t want to mess this up.” you look away, hiding your face from him, “you won’t. just… please?”

that must be enough for him because his fingers immediately slip beneath your underwear, sliding hesitantly across the slick and sensitive skin. the first touch makes you gasp, clutching his hoodie.

“is this okay?” he asks as his fingers explore you in slow and cautious movements.

“yeah,” you answer, your hips slightly jerking at the sensation, “jisung, it’s— yeah.”

his lips graze the side of your neck as his hand continues. his thumb circles around your most sensitive spot, which draws a soft whimper from you. for a second, you feel him freeze, as if he’s stunned by the sound, but he quickly gets back to doing what he was doing.

he shifts slightly, his free hand bracing beside your head as he adjusts his weight. you notice that he somehow got more confident, as his fingers gets braver, now slipping inside you carefully. the stretch is new to you, but it’s comfortable, and it makes your breath hitch.

jisung immediately slows, “is it too much?” he asks, his voice low, but you can feel his hand twitch where it rests against your waist.

you shake your head, pulling him close by the collar of his hoodie. “no, it’s… it feels—“ your words dissolve into a moan as his fingers curl into you, brushing against a spot that makes your whole body tense.

“oh,” jisung breathes, his movements pausing for a second before he adjusts his angle, pressing into that spot again with tentative strokes. “is that— does that feel good?”

“yeah,” you gasp, nodding helplessly. you’re clinging to him as you feel your mind turn foggy, not being able to form a thought, the only thing you can process is the way his fingers feel inside of you.

now that he figured out what you like, his lips brush against yours slowly again as his fingers pick up a rhythm. your legs tremble as the pressure builds. you don’t even notice the desperate noises spilling from your lips until jisung mutters, “baby, you’re so—“

he’s not able to finish his sentence, because your hips arched against his hand instead, he swallows the rest of the sentence in a kiss.

his fingers press deeper, curling just right, and it makes you overwhelmed by the pleasure. the way his face is so close to you, his lips brushing yours, giving you small kisses, it’s almost too romantic.

though, you can tell he’s still hesitating, but the heat pooling low in your stomach makes you want to beg for more. each movement makes you tremble beneath him, clutching on his hoodie like it helps you regain composure, but it still felt like everything else was blurring.

“tell me if i’m… if it’s too much,” he says, his voice soft. his free hand shifts to your waist, his thumb brushing against your cold skin.

“it’s not,” you manage to answer, your mind still foggy. you watch as his brows furrow and his lips part, unsure of what he said.

he shifts his angle slightly, trying something new again, and it feels so good that you bite your lip to stifle a whimper (unsuccessfully). it’s almost like he’s surprised at the way you react, but it doesn’t make him stop. he picks up a faster pace, which draws sounds that you never knew you were capable of making. you can barely think, or even form any thoughts. all you know is how jisung feels, how patient, careful, and focused he is.

he’s watching you attentively, like your every reaction is fascinating, like he wants to memorise what makes you squirm and shake beneath him. “does this feel good?” he stammered.

you nod desperately, gripping his clothes tighter, your body curling as that tight and burning pressure inside you slowly starts building up. “it does,” you gasp, unable to stop the way your hips shift, almost matching his rhythm. “jisung, it— i—“ your eyes roll back in pleasure as you moan his name out.

you don’t realise how close you are until you feel the heat overtaking you completely, the sharp pull in your stomach snapping. you tremble under him, the rush of release washing over you in waves. the way you cry out makes jisung freeze before he slows down, guiding you through it, he somehow knows exactly what to do.

when you finally come down, he stops, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, his face is flushed, his pupils blown wide, but there’s something behind his expression, it’s so soft that it makes your chest ache. you don’t even want to imagine how you look like right now.

you blink up at him, still catching your breath, somehow still managing to smile. “that…” your words trail off, and your face burns hotter than before.

jisung looks down at you his fingers still lightly resting against your skin, “did i do okay?” he asks timidly, as though he’s genuinely unsure, despite the way your body feels like it’s still floating.

you let out a small laugh, nodding as you reach up to cup his cheek. your voice is quieter than you expect when you reply, "yeah, jisung. you did... really okay."

the blush that overtakes his face is so red that it makes you laugh again. he collapses onto the bed next to you with a groan, flopping onto his back. his arm is draped lightly over your stomach, like he can’t quite bring himself to let go completely.

for a minute, neither of you says anything, the only sound in the room being your breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioner. your cheeks still feel hot, no, your entire body feels hot, but you can’t stop the small, breathless laugh that bubbles out of you. jisung turns his head, “what’s so funny?”

you glance at him, catching the faint pink on his ears and the way his messy hair sticks up at odd angles. he looks so much like his usual dorky self that you almost forget what just happened. almost.

“i just…” you trail off, biting your lip to hide another laugh before finally giving in. “i can’t believe you used to help me with building sandcastles, but this is what we’re doing now.”

jisung stares at you for a beat, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh too, but then he snorts loudly, the sound bursting out of him before he can stop it.

“oh my god, y/n.” he covers his face with one hand, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “why would you say that?”

“because it’s true!” you answer, grinning now, the tension in your chest unraveling as the laughter overtakes you both. “like… think about it. you used to help me build those stupid towers with the little flags, and now you’ve got your fingers, like—”

“stop, stop, stop,” his voice cracks as he rolls over, burying his face in his pillow. “don’t finish that sentence.”

you’re both laughing so hard now that tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you don’t even care how ridiculous you sound. it’s stupid and awkward and so perfectly the two of you.

jisung finally lifts his head, still grinning like an idiot, and nudges you lightly with his elbow. “okay, but really, sandcastles were way easier. i didn’t have to worry about… ruining anything.” his voice dips at the end, quieter, and you blink at the sudden shift, your laughter fading just a bit.

“you didn’t ruin anything,” you say softly, bumping your shoulder against his. “i mean… i think you were so amazing, actually.”

jisung’s ears turn red again, and he scrambles to sit up, looking everywhere but at you. “don’t say stuff like that,” he mutters, tugging on the strings of his hoodie like they might save him from combusting. “you’re gonna make this weird.”

“weirder than it already is?” you tease, tilting your head with a smirk.

he groans, hiding his face in his hands. “god, i hate you.”

but there’s no edge to his words, and when you sit up too, nudging your knee against his, he glances at you through his fingers with a shy smile.

“i’m serious,” you say quietly. “thank you. for, y’know… helping me.”

jisung drops his hands, his gaze softening. “yeah. of course.” then he grins, all nervous energy again. “but i am never going to be able to look at a sandcastle without losing it now.”

you shove him lightly, laughing again, and he catches your hand before you can pull away, holding onto it. he shifts closer on the bed, his hand still holding yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. “so…” his voice is low and nervous, “did the practice, like, actually help?”

you look at him, your cheeks flushing when you realised just how much ‘practice’ you had gone through. “um… yeah” you say nervously while intertwining your fingers with his, “it definitely helped me,”

he smiles a little at your response, but his gaze was flickering on your lips. the way he looks at you makes your heart flutter in ways it shouldn’t.

“…this isn’t practice anymore, is it?” he says quietly as his lips brush yours.

this isn’t about jaehyun anymore. actually, it hasn’t been for a while now. you were fully aware of that, and judging by his words, and actions, he knows it too. “no,” you whisper back, tilting your face up to him, “it’s not.”

the kiss that follows up is different. it’s not hesitant like before, but it perfectly conveys the desperation of you. jisungs hand cups your face as his lips move against yours and he pulls you closer to him. you softly sigh into the kiss and let your hands slide up and tangle in his hair.

his weight shifts, gently easing you down onto the mattress, “baby,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you with his flushed face, “is this okay? like, are you sure about it?”

“yes,” you reply, though your voice was trembling a bit. “it’s okay.”

as you answer, his lips find yours again, his hands start smoothing over your sides and he settles between your thighs. you arch into him as he shifts his hips against yours, the pressure sending pleasure through your entire body.

jisung hesitates for a moment before reaching down to tug at the hem of his hoodie. his hands fumbled slightly as the fabric caught on his wrists, but you didn’t care. all you could do was watch as his pale skin was revealed inch by inch until he pulled the hoodie over his head and let it drop to the floor beside him.

you don’t realise you’re tugging at your own hoodie until his hands shift closer to you to help you with it. as the hoodie slips off your shoulders, he tosses it to the side. he glances at you like he’s about to say something but isn’t sure if he should.

“stop staring at me like that,” your face was burning, you couldn’t even look at him.

“sorry, it’s just…” he pauses, his hand brushing your waist as his hands were slightly trembling, “you’re so… pretty.”

the vulnerability in his voice makes your heartbeat faster than it already was. you’re not even sure how to respond, so instead you reach for him, sliding your hands over his skin.

you arch up slightly, your lips meeting his again in a kiss, and his hands rest on your waist. your hands slide down his chest before moving to the waistband of his sweatpants. you hesitate for a moment, biting your lips as you look up at him for permission. jisung swallows hard, his blush more prominent as he nods. “i mean, if you’re sure,” he says quickly, his voice almost cracking. “i’m sure,” you reassure him.

tugging down at the fabric of his sweatpants was so messy, both of you were fumbling with nervous hands, a quiet giggle breaking through the tension when the elastic got stuck on his knee. “this is nothing like it seems in movies,” jisung says with your laugh following up soon after.

“you’re fine,” you answered, pushing him onto his back so you could help slide the fabric off completely. his boxers remain, for now.

your clothes follow soon after, first your jeans, which jisung awkwardly helped you get out of, and then, with his encouragement, your panties.

there’s a moment of silence as you lay back beneath him. he hovers above you, his lips slightly parted as his eyes undress you once again.

“you’re so… beautiful, y/n,” he says while his gaze stays fixed on you.

“stop,” you mumble, looking away, you don’t want him to see how red your cheeks are.

“i mean it,” he insists, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your collarbone. he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, glancing down at you as if he’s making sure you’re ready.

when you nod, his hands move carefully as he slides the last barrier away. your heart skips a beat when you realise what is about to happen.

he hovers over you again, his hand slipping down to your waist as he shifts closer, positioning himself. “if i, um… if something feels wrong, just tell me,” he whispers, his face not leaving yours, “i don’t want to hurt you.”

you nod, your heart softening at his caring tone, “i will, ji, don’t worry.”

he smiles, leaning down to kiss you again, it’s so slow and sweet, there’s so much affection in it. after letting nervous giggles out, he finally presses in you. he pauses immediately, his face scanning yours as his brows furrow.

“does it hurt?” he asks, his voice containing worry.

it does, a little, but it’s not unbearable, you shake your head quickly, forcing a small smile, “it’s fine, just… go slow?”

he exhales, nodding as he leans in again to press a kiss to your temple, “yeah, slow, okay,” the way he’s so patient and gentle almost breaks you. his hands find yours and laces your fingers together as he moves slowly, giving you time to adjust. every time you tense, or your breath changes, he stops immediately, waiting for your breath to settle before continuing.

"you're doing so good," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "just tell me what you need, okay?"

it's overwhelming in the best way. the soft way he speaks to you, the warmth of his hand squeezing yours when he feels you clench around him, the way his kisses linger against your neck like he's trying to reassure you without words.

"jisung," you say, your voice shaky yet enough to cut through his concentration.

he glances down at you quickly, "what? am i hurting you?”

"no," you say quickly, tightening your grip on his hand. “you’re just… so attractive.”

his face flushes immediately, and he lets out a soft, nervous laugh, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder. "oh my god, don't say that, i’ll mess it all up if you keep saying stuff like that."

"you're not gonna mess anything up," you reply, your free hand sliding into his hair. "you're perfect."

his movements falter for just a moment before he lifts his head, his eyes locking with yours. for a second, he just stares at you, his expression unknown. then, he leans down and kisses you again, but harder this time.

everything about the moment feels impossibly close, his warmth, his voice murmuring your name, the way he doesn't let go of your hand even for a second.

your bodies move together, you're still holding jisungs hand, your fingers gripping his. "you're doing so good," he murmurs again, his voice uneven as he dips his head, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

the sincerity in his tone makes your chest feel too tight, and you're sure he can feel the way your heartbeat thuds erratically under his touch.

"jisung," you breathe, his name slipping past your lips.

he looks at you, his eyes wide, "i'm here," he whispers, his free hand brushing softly against your waist. "i've got you."

every shift, every deepening stroke sends another wave of heat through you, drawing you closer and closer to a breaking point you didn't realise you were this close to.

his movements grow shakier, his breaths coming in sharp, unsteady bursts against your neck. you can tell he's right there too, holding on just as tightly as you are.

"i can't—“ your voice cuts off into a soft gasp as your body tenses beneath him, your grip on his hand tightening. “jisung, i—“

"it's okay," he says quickly, his words coming out quiet as his own body trembles. "i've got you. just... let go, baby. i'm right here."

his voice is all it takes for you to finish. your whole body tenses, the heat unfurling in an overwhelming wave that leaves you breathless, trembling beneath him. the sounds that escape your lips are ones you've never heard before, they’re so soft and broken.

jisungs movements become less controlled as the tension in his body builds. the little sounds he's making, soft gasps and quiet groans are etched into your memory already, the closeness of it all making your chest tighten.

his lips are on your neck, brushing against your skin in a way that feels comforting, as though he's using you to keep himself grounded. his free hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, his touch delicate.

"y/n," he whispers, his voice shaking as he presses deeper, his breath hot against your ear. "i’m— god, i can't— where—“

you understand immediately, the frantic edge in his voice mirroring the way your own body still feels like it's vibrating from release.

"it's okay," you whimper, your hands clutching at his shoulders, "you can—“ you pause, your words catching in your throat before you nod softly, pulling him even closer. "inside, jisung. it's okay."

his whole body shudders at your words, and he lets out a soft, broken moan as his rhythm stutters. his grip on your hip tightens slightly, his fingers trembling as his forehead drops to your shoulder.

"are you— are you sure?" he asks, his voice is tight, strained with the effort it's taking him to hold on just a moment longer.

"i'm sure," you whisper, your breath catching as his hips press flush against yours. "it's okay. i want you to."

it must be his breaking point. with one last deep thrust, jisung lets go completely, his body collapsing against yours as he spills inside you. the sounds he makes are low and muffled against your shoulder, his breathing uneven and shallow as his fingers curl into your waist like he's clinging to you for dear life.

you can feel the heat of him inside you, and the realization sends another wave of warmth through your body, leaving you breathless.

for a moment, neither of you move. he’s still holding you, still pressing kisses to your shoulder, and your hand reaches up to run your hand through his messy hair. jisung hasn’t moved much, still pressed close against you as both of you work to catch your breath. his hand rests gently on your waist, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin.

“you good?” he asks softly, tilting his head to glance at you. his cheeks are still flushed, a faint pink lingering on the tips of his ears, and his hair is a mess, but his expression is serious.

“yeah,” you reply, your voice a little hoarse. you manage a small smile, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “are you good?”

he huffs out a laugh, his lips curling into a grin. “i mean… i think so? unless i, like, accidentally broke you or something.”

you snort, swatting his shoulder lightly. “you didn’t break me, dumbass.”

“just making sure,” he says, grinning a little wider now.

he sits up then, careful not to disturb you too much as he grabs a spare hoodie from his chair and offers it to you without a word. you tug it on, your cheeks heating at how impossibly jisung it smells. he pulls on his own clothes clumsily, his movements shaky, but he recovers quickly, turning back to you as he rubs a hand through his hair.

“do you, uh, need anything?” he asks, looking slightly nervous as his gaze flickers around the room, like he’s wondering if he’s supposed to have some plan.

“water might be nice?” you suggest, smiling faintly.

“got it,” he says quickly, almost tripping over his own feet as he heads to the kitchen. you bite your lip, fighting back a giggle at how adorably confused he still looks.

when he returns with a water bottle in hand, you sit up and take it from him, mumbling a quiet “thanks” as you sip. he flops down beside you again, a sigh leaving his lips as he rests his head against the headboard.

the silence is nice, comforting even, but it doesn’t last long before jisung shifts, glancing at you with a mischievous spark in his eyes.

“so,” he starts, drawing out the word in that dramatic way he always does when he’s trying to annoy you. “you think jaehyun could’ve done it better?”

you nearly choke on your water, whacking him in the chest as he laughs. “shut up!”

“i’m just saying!” he protests, holding up his hands in surrender. “if this was, like, a whole competition, i think i deserve at least a nine out of ten. maybe a ten, if you’re feeling generous.”

“oh my god.” you roll your eyes, but you’re laughing too now, clutching at your sides as his dramatic pout melts into his usual grin. “you’re so full of yourself.”

“i’m practical,” jisung corrects, poking your cheek lightly.

“and annoying,” you shoot back, though the love in your voice is impossible to hide.

you both get lost in giggles again, the ease of your friendship slipping back into place.

it isn’t until the laughter fades that the unspoken feelings creep back in, settling between you. jisung clears his throat softly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“so, uh… are we still…” he hesitates, his voice faltering slightly. “you know. best friends? after, uh… this?” your heart tightens at the vulnerability in his voice, and you reach over, squeezing his hand.

“yeah,” you say, smiling at him even as your cheeks heat up again. “we’re still best friends.”

jisung visibly relaxes at your words, his lips quirking into a relieved smile.

“okay,” he says softly, then after a second, “but, uh… does this mean we’re, like, best friends who, y’know…” he gestures vaguely, his ears turning bright red. “do this stuff now?”

you blink at him, then burst out laughing, the sound spilling out before you can stop it. jisung groans, hiding his face in the pillow again.

“stop laughing! i’m being serious!”

“you’re not real,” you manage between breaths, leaning over to press a light, teasing kiss to his temple. “but yeah… i think we’ll figure it out.”

jisung laughs again, the sound is so warm, so yours.

“i love you, y/n,” he says softly, his voice quiet.

your breath catches, and for a second, all you can do is stare at him, your heart feeling like it’s about to burst.

“i love you too, you’re everything to me.” you whisper back, pressing a kiss to his lips.

in this moment, nothing else matters but him, jisung, your best friend, or should i say your boyfriend, and how stupid you were for not realising how in love you were with him.

and the way he looks at you now? you know your feelings are reciprocated.

#park jisung #jisung nct #park jisung smut #nct jisung #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #jisung x reader #park jisung x reader #nct dream x reader #park jisung fanfic #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #park jisung fluff #jisung fluff #nct fluff #nct dream fluff

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stevie-petey · 3 days ago

Note

a cutesy fluff blurb w steve and bug for all the angst coming from the season 4 rewrite😭😭 i hate to see bug and steve go through all this but your writing is just so so so incredible that i’m just completely and utterly drawn to it.

i missed steve and bug so much so heres a fluffy blurb of everyone finding out theyre finally together <3

enjoy !

"steve and i are dating."

you hold your breath, bracing for impact. steve is frozen next to you, perched on the edge of the couch as if getting ready to run at the first sign of danger.

all week the two of you have agonized over this. telling everyone that youre now together was a given. obviously it wouldnt be a secret, but telling everyone seemed simple at first. now, with dozens of eyes staring at you: its terrifying.

especially when the news is met with complete and utter silence.

mike yawns. el and max stifle giggles.

"youre all shockingly quiet right now." you finally say, hating this immensely.

robin looks up at the ceiling, suddenly finding the wheelers basement a fascinating thing. will picks at the carpet beneath him and dustin taps his leg impatiently on the ground.

lucas, bless him, has the decency to smile at you. "thats great, y/n."

"did we..." steve scratches the back of his neck. "did we, uh. miss something?"

"why the hell is everyone acting so weird?" you butt in, now really starting to wonder if you and steve did something heinous to deserve the weird silent treatment.

jonathan shifts on the floor, and your eyes narrow at him instantly. crossing your arms, you jut your chin out at him. "fess up, byers. whats going on?"

his eyes widen slightly, and nancy, who is sitting next to him holding his hand, bites back a smile. your eyes narrow even more and jonathan finally releases a laugh.

"stop glaring at everyone, bug." he looks at you fondly. "i think we're all just wondering who won."

your face scrunches in confusion. "what...?"

dustin jumps up from his seat, sick of the anticipation. "just spit it out already! did i win? for the love of god, please tell me you guys got together on july 11th. please."

nancy raises her hand. "or july 16th. id prefer that date, actually."

"what about y/n's birthday? i thought everyone agreed my date made the most sense." will speaks up, looking eagerly at you.

an offended scoff escapes your mouth when you finally realize whats going on. "that bet seriously cant still be going on."

"answer the question, y/n!" dustin wails, practically choking on the taste of victory of the $30 that went into the betting pool. "when exactly did you and steve finally seal the deal, huh?"

"what the hell is this kid talking about?" steve looks around the room, completely confused. "why does it matter when we got together?"

jonathan explains before you can. "we all placed bets on when youd get together. lucas and max were out of the running a while ago. but me, nance, dustin, and will are still in."

"i, for one, am still personally offended that i wasnt allowed to join the bet when i found out about it." robin says, looking pointedly at him. "just so you know."

"sorry," jonathan says without any real sympathy. "rules are rules."

your face burns wildly. "y'all are insane and this is such a gross invasion of privacy-"

"screw privacy! tell me when steve found a pair of balls and asked you out." dustin stumbles in front of you and steve now, panting. "i need the money!"

"dustin!"

steve places his hands on his hips. "i already had balls, thank you very much."

you elbow him. "please stop talking."

"the kid was doubting my manhood-"

"do you enjoy having my elbow in your ribs?"

mike, no longer finding this conversation amusing, stands up and claps his hands. "alright, im bored. will," he turns to him. "clearly they didnt get together on y/n's birthday. they were locked in a death lair and not even steve is dumb enough to make their anniversary that date. so youre out."

steve wants to argue with him, but admittedly he cant.

mike then turns to dustin. "it wasnt july 11th, either. considering the fact that we had funerals to attend and we all know y/n's crippling guilt complex."

"hey!"

"hes not wrong, angel."

you elbow steve again and he doubles over in pain.

then mike turns to nancy. "and it wasnt july 16th because its currently the 27th and theres no way in hell harrington would be able to keep his mouth shut for that long."

again steve really wants to argue with mike, but, unfortunately, hes right.

mike finally turns to jonathan, sighing tiredly. "which leaves us with you and your guess of july 19th. aka: the only possible date left. wow, shocker! jonathan byers correctly guessed something about y/n henderson!" he spins around, glaring at you as if this somehow all your fault. "are we done here now?"

robin, not at all whispering quietly, leans over to max. "this kid has some serious issues."

"like you wouldnt believe," the girl mumbles. "trust me."

dustin shoves mike out of the way, inadvertently causing the teen to stumble into jonathan and fall on top of his sister. "hes wrong, right? please tell me hes wrong. y/n, im your brother. we are blood."

"well, technically mike is wrong. july 19th isnt when we got together." you begin to say, raising your voice when dustin starts to cheer wildly. "it was july 20th, so mike isnt wrong about jonathan winning."

two things happen at once.

first, dustin falls to his knees in despair, screaming in agony as max and el cover their ears and glare at him.

the second thing that happens is dustin regaining his senses and then tackling jonathan, with nancy and will right behind him.

its a mess of screams and screeches as jonathan tries to defend himself, but you simply press your back against steves chest and watch the storm unfold with slight vindication.

serves the fuckers right for betting on your private life like a game of poker.

"how much money do you think our relationship ended up being worth?" steve asks you, wincing under his breath when he sees dustin pinch jonathans nose.

"better be at least $20. if be offended if its anything less than that."

he laughs, the sensation of it sending vibrations down your own body. he kisses the crown of your head. "thats my girl."

"how did you know?" dustin has jonathan pinned now. "how do you always win?"

"get off me! it was just a lucky guess-"

"that was $30 you asshole!"

you hum, pleased. "think i can convince jonathan to give me some of his cut?"

steve laughs again. "only if you give me a percentage as well."

#ask #anon #m speaks #m's writing #come home blurb #set in between seasons 3 and 4 !#I MISSED WRITING THEM RAAAAAAAAH

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wikaa33 · 7 hours ago

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my first shift!

so, i went to sleep at like 2 am. it’s really important to mention that during that day i felt worse when it comes to my mental health because of personal reasons.

for this whole day all i’ve been thinking about is how badly i want to be with my s/o right now and generally in my dr. as i was going to sleep i decided that i am not going to try to shift tonight, i will simply imagine my s/o hugging me so i can comfortably fall asleep and feel safe. and i also had decided that i will be taking a break from shifting to focus on my mental health - a funny thing is that i thought to myself “what if i shift tonight? just like those people who go on a break and they shift unintentionally. that would be funny”

i went to sleep. i woke up during the night and i see that there’s a peace of white fabric above my bed. and now, long story short - i decided that if i try to shift in a few days i’ll first shift to my own room with a slight difference (my walls were supposed to be pink or i was supposed to have a white bed canopy). then i’ll shift to my dr. so i wake up and i see this white peace of fabric above my bed right, my first thought was:

“no way that this is happening right now.”

and as i said that i sat on my bed and started to affirm that i am in my dr, that my s/o is right beside me. my head started spinning so much, i laid my head on my lap, i don’t know how to explain it. everything was spinning to this point that i didn’t know what was going on, i saw some bright lights (this is kinda weird because i would never think that i will feel symptoms as i kinda don’t really believe in that but whatever). as i was affirming that my s/o is right beside me, i’ve felt that someone is sitting on my bed. i’m assuming it was him. but well, i got scared! LMAOO and as i opened my eyes i saw that i am in my room.

dumb me didn’t realize that i had shifted. i looked at my phone and saw that it’s exactly 3:20 am. i saw that my door was opened (i never leave it this way). it made me really anxious and i decided to go to my parents room to talk with them and calm myself down. as i stood up from bed i saw that there are a lot of push pins on my floor - white and light pink ones. in my cr room i have them on my walls, so i thought that they simply fell down on my floor. i put on some slippers (that i saw for the first time in my life) which were super small. it confuses me why i didn’t realize that it was a shift tbh, maybe it’s because i was super tired and anxious and all i had in my head is to go to my parents? i don’t know.

so as i am walking through the hallway i see that someone is standing behind the door to my house - i saw that because through peephole i could see that the lights outside were turned on. i walk towards the door and i see a person - i thought it was my friend who lives in front of my apartment. i thought that he was trying to find keys to his house but then he started walking towards my door. he knocked - silly me thought that it would be funny to knock back (“haha he probably doesn’t expect this at 3:20 am, i’m gonna scare him”).

as i knocked back i realized that it wasn’t my neighbor (he had his head down the whole time and just now i saw an unfamiliar face). he started knocking aggressively on my door and i saw that more men were climbing the stairs. it was so scary because suddenly more people were knocking on my door. just before i went to tell my parents, i made sure that the door was locked.

my mom woke up and she asked me what’s going on. my dad came up to me. i told them that some weird people are just behind our door. as i towards the door with my parents i see that the door started to open. it made me panic because i thought that it was locked.

these men walked into our house and THEY TOOK OUT A STUN GUN? i reached my hand to take it away but this one guy tried to use it one me. i quickly put my hand back, my dad started to talk with those guys. as he was distracting them, i quickly grabbed the stun gun. i tried scaring them away but ALL OF THEM TOOK OUT NAILS? (you know, these metal things) i got so scared because i thought that if i use this stun gun on them then the nails will become electrified and they will hurt me or my parents.

and that was the last thing i saw. i guess i got so scared that i shifted back. tbh this doesn’t really make sense but trust me: when i came back i was so confused why i am in my bed. my heart was beating. then it clicked: “omg. i shifted”. LIKE IT WAS SO REAL, SO SCARY I HAD TO GIVE MYSELF SOME TIME TO REALIZE WHAT JUST HAPPENED. I JUST WAS SO SURE THAT IT WAS A SHIFT, IT WAS SO REAL. also, when i came back it was 3:28 which is pretty interesting.

when i came back i was STRESSED. like truly LMAOO but now as i am thinking about it - a win is a win right. I SHIFTED YALLL to a scary place but whatever. i learnt so much from this shift, i’m so happy!! i’m assuming that it was a scary experience because while trying to shift from this “kind of a waiting room” to my dr i felt anxious, gotta work on that but also as i said i’m not feeling well mentally so yeah i’m not surprised

but what i’m surprised about is the fact that i didn’t realize that i shifted. but like, it felt so real that i was SCARED FOR MY LIFE I THOUGHT I WAS IN MY CR. kinda sad cause if i had realized that i shifted i would have been able to shift to my dr from there but whatever! i learnt so much 💗🙏🏼

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thatgenericwriter · 1 day ago

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Bedazzled || Gregory House

Paring: Gregory House x fem!reader

Summary: who would have thought an angel would be so comfortable hanging around the devil

Warnings: none

Word Count: 0.7k

p.s. based on a request by anonymous

P.s.s. takes place around the first few seasons

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

When you first walked into House's office everyone was convinced you were lost, but when you walked up to House and started to talk with him without hesitating, no one knew what to think.

The ducklings watched in shock as the head of the pediatrics department, a person who could accurately be described as the kindest person in the hospital, casually chatted away with House.

You paid them no mind as you continued to talk with House who watched in amusement as you vibrantly describe to him one of your patient's symptoms, your bracelets clinking against each other as you wave your hands around rapidly.

The ducklings quickly pretend to be working on something as you and House walk through the adjoining door. You greet all of them by pulling out a handful of candy from one of your lab coat's pockets and placing it on the table. "Hi! I'm y/n and I'm the head of the pediatrics department! Here is a token of my appreciation for helping me with this patient!" You smile at all of them before taking a seat at the head of the table.

As you settle in you miss the looks of confusion and shock that passes everyone's faces. Once you're comfortable you swivel towards House. "Take it away boss man!" The ducklings swear they see a hint of a smile on his face before he starts to go over the case details.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You had first met House in the cafeteria after accidentally spilling your drink all over him. You quickly started to apologize before digging your monster truck themed tissues out of your bag and offering to him. The next time you were in the cafeteria line a brand new pack of monster truck tissues appeared on your tray.

You and House had been eating lunch with each other for a month before you had asked him for help. Leading to the funnest four days you ever had.

When you were not trying to save a kid's life, you were helping House bedazzled his pill bottles, decorating his cane with goofy stickers, and pulling pranks on Wilson.

His team watched in pure shock as House allowed you to do all these things to him without a single snarky comment or rude gesture. They had come to the conclusion that you were magical. That was the only explanation for why House was so nice to you.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Once the case was over, you bid your goodbyes to the team leaving them with yet another pile of candy and a special friendship bracelet for each of them.

After thanking everyone once more you feel a tug on the back of your shirt and turn to see House gesturing you towards his conjoining office. You walk through the door and hear the blinds close from behind you, effectively blocking the ducklings' view of you both.

"If you're feeling left out don't worry! I made you a bracelet too!" You hold up his bracelet along with the matching one on your wrist. "Yours is extra special cuz it matches mine!"

"I don't want your friendship bracelet." You look up at House with a disappointed look on your face. "Oh." Sadly you avert your gaze away from him.

You feel his hand under your chin before you're being forced to look at him. "I don't want your friendship bracelet because I don't want to be just friends with you."

Your eyes widen in surprise and you open your mouth to respond, but House's lips are on yours before any sound gets out. Quickly, you kiss back tilting your head slightly to deepen it. A muffled moan leaves your lips before you are shocked out of the kiss by the sound of the blinds opening.

You quickly move away from House only to see Cameron and Foreman handing Chase cash. "They were betting on us!" You march towards the door and watch as the three ducklings speedily try to leave the room.

"Nuh uh! All of you sit down right now!" All of them sit down at the table as you walk up to Chase. "Money. Now." You stick your hand out and Chase places the money in your hands before looking down at the table shamefully.

You giggle before yelling over your shoulder to House. "Lunch is on me, babe!"

#x reader #greg house x reader #gregory house #gregory house x reader #hate crimes md #house md #gregory house x fem! reader #x fem!reader

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emotionalhottiee · 2 days ago

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Whole Again ❤️

Jimmy Uso/ Jonathan Fatu

This is the conclusion to Broken

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise stated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events in this fanfic are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Warning: 18+ (This content may include explicit material).

Before i knew it we were back at Jon’s condo. And ever since we stepped out of his car, we have been inseparable. Our lips only coming apart to press elevator buttons and open doors. I know that this sounds crazy… But i feel whole again now that we are together. He was made for me.

We reached his door FINALLY. Our lips came undone to allow Jon to unlock his door. He seemed as if he was a bit nervous the way he was fumbling with his keys. It was honestly so cute to watch.

As he held the door open, i walked over towards his leather couch. As much as i missed him, there needed to be a conversation.

Jon was standing by his front door messing with something before he made his way over to the couch. Walking right in front of me, he bent down so he was literally hovering over me. He leaned forward to kiss me again, but i put my hand up abruptly stopping his lips from touching mine. A confused look arose of his face as he moved over to the right of me sitting on the couch, but turning his body so that he was facing me. “We need to have a conversation about the infidelity before we can just move on as if nothing happened.” I stated calmly. Trying my best to get through what was going to be an emotional talk.

You can do this.

“I hadn’t imagined being able to forgive you. Because watching you fuck someone else, in the same bed you fuck me. That killed me inside Jon”. I murmured avoiding eye contact. “And then where’d you go? Chasing a new piece of ass, instead of calling me”. “Your future wife” i threw my hands up doing a very aggressive air quote. Because that is what he always called me. “You cheated and then you moved on as if i meant nothing to you.”

I came undone. As much as i tried to hold back the tears, but they couldn’t be contained any longer as they were steadily falling down my face.

No longer being able to avoid eye contact Jon placed his fingers gently under my chin, lifting my head up until i our eyes met for the umpteenth time tonight. “What happened with that girl meant nothing to me”. My heart was pounding out of my chest. “I made a mistake that i have regretted ever since” he stated his eyes looked past all of my tears, deep into my soul. Sending a wave of chills down my spine.

It is insane how this man, can make me want to apologize to him for the things he did wrong.

I hate to admit that he had the kind of power over me. But he simply did. And then came those words that i had longed to genuinely hear for 5 agonizing days. “I’m Sorry”. He stated his voice deep, but soft for me. He kept lookin into my eyes, pleading to me without saying another word. Crazy how two little words can mean so much. Causing you to forgive even the most hurtful things imaginable. With a simple apology. The pain and hurt and betrayal i had been feeling for the last 5 days, slowly started to vanish.

God i hate how much i love this man.

But he is my true weakness. How can i stay angry at the person, who brings me so much happiness? Why would i? Life is all about forgiveness right? Aren’t you supposed to forgive those who hurt you?

Throughout my internal conflict Jon never took his brown eyes off of me. I saw all the sincerity i needed to see in those eyes. He reached his finger up to my eyes wiping the last of my tears. Before returning his gaze to mine. “I never meant to hurt you Kenzi. I promise it was a terrible mistake that will never happen again”. He said lovingly while he pressed his forehead against mine.

Bringing my hand up to his beard in awe of those facial features that adorned his face. “I forgive you Jonathan” i said calmly again, because i genuinely did. Nobody will understand why it is so easy for me to forgive this man. And it’s simply because i need this man perhaps more than i need my own supply of oxygen. As unhealthy as that sounds my obsession with him is truly that deep.

We exchanged a few more passionate kisses. Whispering sweet nothings to each other in between. As Jon got off the couch first. His towering 6’3 frame bending down in front of me once again. But this time he was scooping me up into his arms as if it were nothing. Our faces coming back together as he carried me into his bedroom, with my legs wrapped around his waist.

I noticed the brand new bed set on his king sized bed. And a small smile crept up on my face. “Im glad he changed the sheets”, i thought to myself relived that he didn’t have those same sheets from his past transgressions.

He laid me down on the king sized bed and he placed a trail of kisses from my cheeks down to my neck. “I love you so much, little mama” he whispered into my neck know that would send me into a frenzy. “I love you too baby” i whimpered back softly. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he took his large hand gliding it down my body, until he came in contact with my the silver button of my boyfriend jeans.

Sitting up on his knees, he freed up his other hand to slide my jeans down to my ankles, before tugging them off of my body completely. He did the same with my crop top shirt freeing my bra-less boobs from them. I sat myself up on my elbows to watch him. As he stared at my almost naked body, biting down on his bottom lip allowing me to only see the top row of his pearly white teeth. Rubbing his hand over my Fenty boy shorts he smirked feeling the wetness he had cause through my panties. “You missed Daddy didn’t you?” He asked his smirk never leaving his face. All i could do was nod my head, as he inserted his middle finger into my center. I let out a whimpering moan. As he knelt down only nesting his face in my neck to slowly pick up the pace. “FUCK” i let out as my hands tried holding on to the sheets. He placed kisses on my neck knowing his was going to insert another finger. I squeezed my self ever so tightly feeling the added finger. He kept a steady pace as he bought his face up to mine. Telling me he loved me before placing a kiss on my lips.

He knows what he’s doing to me.

I let out a barrage of my moans, as i came on his fingers. He just looked at me grinning from ear to ear. As he pulled out his fingers now covered in my juices. He stood up from the bed, stripping himself of his clothes until he was left in only his boxers. He came back down to me kissing me as he slowly pushed my body flat onto the bed. Planting a trail of kisses as he made his way down to my thighs.

He was unusually quiet, which to me was a sign he was focused. He finally removed my panties after what felt like an eternity. Coming face to face with the pussy that belonged to him. He kissed me on the insides of each thigh before he kissed my vagina. My hands found their way to his hair that was brushed into a bun. Taking out the rubber band that kept it together, so that i could run my fingers through his beautiful curls.

He made out passionately with my vagina, moving back and forth between my opening and clit never missing a beat. At this point my hands embedded in his curly hair pushing his face into my glistening pearl, as i did that Jon took it as a sign to insert his tongue into me. Bringing one hand up message my clit while sliding his tongue in and out of me. feeling me near the edge. He removed his finger from my clit, going back to using only his mouth. He moaned into my pussy instructing for me to cum for his and i gladly obliged.

Making sure to clean me up, with his with tongue, he bought his face back to mine. Kissing me passionately with what was left of my juices that remained on his lips. He slowly rose back to his knees, then off of the bed to his feet to remove his final article of clothing, his boxers. Freeing that big beautiful brown dick of his that was swinging back and forth.

He climbed back in bed, coming down to me, until i felt his entire frame over me. Kissing me once more. All this passion he was giving me had made my knees weaken. He looked me in my eyes in between kisses as he inserted his fully erect penis into me. Both of us letting out of moan of pleasure. Him from feeling my warmth tighten around him. And mine from feeling the dick that i was in love with, enter me again after what felt like forever. I bought my legs up to wrap around his waist as my arms wrapped around his neck. As he feed my pussy stroke after stroke. I dug my nails into his skin as he move one arm to separate my leg slightly allowing him to dig his deepest so that his dick could kiss my cervix.

Trying not to make him bleed from my scratching i opted to move my hand back to his luscious curls, that were now all over the place. While my hands were roaming through his hair he placed his forehead against mine. Signaling to me that he was inching closer to a finish. As was i. He whispered another sweet apology followed by him confessing his love for me again.

Locking our eyes together again. Was enough for me to release all over his member as he groaned against my lips. Waiting for me to ride the last wave of my orgasm. He released his load inside of me mixing all of our juices together inside of me. While getting out his final strokes. He laid on top of me trying to catch his breath. I slightly turned my head towards his as i ran my fingers across his soft back.

He planted a soft kiss on my lips as he rolled off me. I took this as an opportunity to go to the bathroom and get myself together. Before finding one of Jon’s large tshirts to put over my naked body. Laying back in bed, he pulled me to him so that we were skin to skin leaving absolutely no room in between us. He softly let out one last “I love you little mama”, before shutting his eyes. I stared at him while caressing his face. Simply responding with an “I love you too Jonathan”. He smiled eyes still shut as we held each other before drifting off to sleep.

This is where i belonged.

#fanfic #jimmy uso #jimmy uso fic #jimmy uso smut #jimmy uso fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #jim #uso

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leesolbeesol · 1 day ago

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I LOVE YOU! 愛してる! 사랑해!

sungho x fem!reader (ft. mild instigator!taesan and mistaken!woonhak)

GENRE: pure unedited fluff! SUMMARY: Sungho keeps avoiding you... so why is he confessing to you in Japanese? WARNINGS: she/her pronouns used one time | highschool!au but you can ignore that most of the time | this is my world and overtly self-insert so reader doesn't speak japanese and takes chinese in school NOTES: everyone say thank you boynextdoor for the fantastic comeback! seriously though, all their songs are so good i cant even believe it also no proofreading we post like god intended. WC: 2.2k (woww)

It was all Woonhak’s fault—that’s what Sungho thought, at least. He set up the damned snowball fight after all.

The first time you saw—really saw—Sungho was when you cast a snowball at him and the icy contents landed right in his face and froze him when they snuck through his coat down his neck. You’re not sure why he didn’t block it, you saw him evade others thrown with far less warning and far more force. Instead, he stood with a ready snowball in his gloved hand. That’s the problem—he stood. He just stared at you as your attack wet his brown hair and dropped between his collar and his neck. You had met Sungho a handful of times, but when you did you didn’t speak to him much at all. He was kind of quiet and there were plenty of other mutual friends around for you to chat with, so you didn’t press it. He was pretty, of course, but that alone wasn’t enough for you to individually pursue him. Plus, anytime you showed up it’s like he suddenly had somewhere else to be. You eventually assumed he just didn’t like you all that much, and that was fine. A little disappointing, but fine. After your attack, his expression didn’t change, save for his eyebrows which raised a little. The poor boy looked like he had seen a ghost. You would have put more thought into it if another friend of yours, Taesan, cruelly dared you to a fire—or, snow—fight by crashing an icy cold ball of snow right onto your head. Almost as fast as Sungho had come to the front of your conscious, you were taken away again. The image of him, however, was burned into your mind. Why did he look at you like that? Why did he not react? How did he look so perfect? Those were some pretty frequent thoughts, though the last one you tried to ignore. Regardless, it kept coming back. The image of his soft brown hair, long for the boys your age, sprinkled with snow and his surprised, slightly parted lips came to you at the most inconvenient times.

—

The second time you saw Sungho, he was sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair on the slightly raised wooden stage of your auditorium, his navy guitar slotted in his hands, about to start another song to the cheers of the small audience that had gathered during their free period. You remember him prefacing the song with something along the lines of ‘this is a work-in-progress,’ he tsked, ‘so it’s not done yet, but I hope you like it so far.’ You join the group on the periphery, smiling and nodding along to the song he starts. His voice rings clear around the room as he strums the hook. His hair falls just over his eyes that close when he starts singing the lyrics. You shoo away the thought that tells you he looks handsome—really handsome, especially in his element with the music swirling around him. It makes no sense, but when you look at him you want to talk to him. You want to ask him what inspired him to write it, you want to ask him how he got into music, you want to ask him. The song is heartfelt throughout, but the lyric that sticks with you is ‘yeah, I’ve got it bad,’ because that’s the line that preceded the chorus, the tentative chorus in which he critically screwed up when he saw you. You swear it was like his brain stopped for a minute when he saw you swaying along. Wrong chord, wrong lyric, wrong chord, again. You could feel the glances being exchanged by the confused crowd. After he tore his eyes away from you, he barely got it together for the end of the in-progress work. You looked to Woonhak, a few people to your left, and he just shrugged. The song was good, but still, you couldn’t quite figure out what was up with Sungho.

—

The third time you saw Sungho, you barely saw him at all. This was because of the open door, the paper thin walls of your classroom, and Sungho’s loud voice that fills whatever space he’s in. You infer that that’s how he is normally—‘normally’ meaning specifically not around you. It’s beneficial here, though. You were mercifully sitting against the interior wall and took the golden opportunity to rest your head and take a break from thinking so hard about… well, lots of things. Classes, new collectables, what you were going to have for dinner, you know what it’s like. It was Taesan’s, not Sungho’s, voice that broke you from your cursory peace. Taesan’s voice is certainly loud, especially when he’s surprised.

“You’re joking!” Taesan said and was quickly shushed by Sungho. It appeared to just be the two of them. It was strange—you were friends with most of Sungho’s friends, but barely friends with Sungho himself at all.

“Quiet down! I’m not kidding.” Sungho groaned, and you heard a clunk against the wall your ear was against, so you assumed he was leaning too. “This is just what I’m like, I don’t know what to do at all. I’ve got it really bad.” Taesan laughed at his friend’s complaint. It’s funny, that line was almost the same thing he said in the song. “It’s not funny.” He sighed. He was scolding Taesan, but you feel yourself frown as if he could hear your thoughts about his recurring phrase.

“It’s a little funny.” Taesan presses him. Sungho does not sound like he thinks it's funny.

“I’m being serious, Taesan. She’s all I ever want to think about.” Your ears perk up at the mention of a pronoun. Sungho has a crush? That’s news to you, at least. You mean, maybe it could be something else, but it damn sounds like he has a crush. This makes your heart twist in a way that you are highly uncomfortable with. “Everything's a mess, I’m all over the place. I can’t figure this… this thing out.” He laments. You kind of get it, though. Something you don’t get, however, is the way you hope he doesn’t figure it out. The part you refused to think about was that you didn’t want him to like someone else. God, you hadn’t even spoken to this boy. This is pathetic. You tore your ear away from the wall and covered your ears. Out of sight—or, earshot—out of mind, that’s how it works right? Apparently not, because even after you can’t hear him and that moment gets farther in the past, you think about him. Why can’t you stop thinking about him? This is so stupid.

—

The Friday that Sungho came to school late with his hair sticking up and wearing wrinkled clothes was, counterintuitively, the day you found him the most attractive yet. He sat down after whispering a hushed apology to your frowning teacher. He wasn’t even wearing his contacts, and he always wore his contacts. His glasses framed his face nicely, you decided. You looked back down at your paper as quickly as you looked up at the latecomer entering your classroom. It was hard to focus on your work for the rest of the day. In your Mandarin class, you bombed your quiz. How do you even write that character? You had no idea. All of the sudden, ‘高’ only made you think of Sungho and his stupid broad shoulders and not at all if there’s a hook at the bottom or not. Damn you, Sungho! You got what he meant by the lyrics in the song he had played in the auditorium. You got it bad. As you glanced out the window, you saw the very beginning of the budding cherry blossoms. They look so happy, all bunched up together and starting to bloom in hues of soft pink.

They look the same as you exit from the main door, pink and falling and beautiful. You pause outside those doors, taking in the sight. The trees are pretty, even against the gray sky. You feel more like the gray sky, conflicted. Especially so because you heard Sungho tell Taesan that he “couldn’t take it anymore,” and was “going to tell her today.” That certainly dampened your mood. Not that you have any skin in the game, but you secretly hope that he finds a reason not to.

You hear a commotion near the doors, and see Sungho rather unceremoniously shoved out of the door by, by the looks of it, more than one set of arms. He looks like a deer in headlights, but starts moving anyway. You watch him, puzzled, before he starts walking over… to you. Behind him, you see Woonhak’s face poke out of the door frame before he looks to be pulled back by someone. You turn your attention back to Sungho, and realize you weren’t mistaken at all. He was walking towards you, holding something behind his back. A slight smile plays on his nervous lips as he closes the remaining distance between you, and you can’t help but glance around to see if this is some kind of joke. He was “going to tell her today.” Is he serious? Are you dreaming?

“What is it?” You ask, though you’re not quite sure why you’re asking or what you hope the answer is. He says nothing, simply extending a hand from behind his back and presenting you with a neatly folded piece of white printer paper. The ink on the inside bled through, slightly visible on the back.

“Aishiteru. Open it.” He encourages you and rolls his bottom lip in his teeth. You had watched him long enough—not in a stalkerish way! Just… in the way that you like looking at his face—to know that this is the face he makes solving a difficult equation. You also know enough about Japanese to recognize the romantic nature of his initial phrase. Why the hell is he speaking to you in Japanese? Regardless, if you weren’t blushing already, you definitely felt heat creeping up to your cheeks now. Doing as he instructs, you gingerly open the folded paper like it’s an artifact that could disintegrate if you so much as touched the paper the wrong way.

It doesn’t disintegrate, but it might as well have. You stare at what’s written with a blank face. You recognize every other character (your Chinese teacher would be proud), but this is definitely not Chinese. You do recognize the swirling nature of what’s written, however. You furrow your eyebrows, why the hell does Sungho think you speak Japanese? Why is he writing to you in Chinese? Now you’re more confused than nervous. The butterflies in your stomach have settled, evidently asking the same questions you are.

“Sungho,” his name isn’t a question, but it comes out sounding like one, “I can’t read Japanese.” You hold up the paper to him as if he didn’t know it was in Japanese, and he looks absolutely petrified as your words hit him.

“Really?” His voice comes out high-pitched, and he clears his throat. “I mean, you actually don’t speak Japanese?” His register is back to normal, and now he sounds just as confused as you.

“I take Chinese, who told you I take Japanese? What does this even say, anyway?” A smile tugs at your lips. Oh, Sungho. He’s not stupid, you don’t think, maybe it was Woonhak who told him. Woonhak could probably mistake Chinese for Japanese. It could’ve been Jaehyun.

He groans, “Woonhak did.” This satisfies the first part of your question, but he seems hesitant to answer the second part. You raise your eyebrows, prompting him, “well, this is super lame,” what you don’t know is that he internally curses himself, Taesan had told him ‘no self-deprecating statements,’ oops, “but I thought it would make the way I told you unique.”

“Told me what?” You cock your head. The butterflies are back. Thanks to Taesan, you have a sneaking suspicion of what it is, but you refuse to celebrate until you get confirmation. It’s like in debate (your friend had told you way too much), you can think you won the most rounds but you can’t say you won anything until you’re officially told so. It’s like that.

I love you! 愛してる! 사랑해!

“I like you. I like you a lot. I’ve got it really bad.” He smiles and you think your heart might melt or explode, you’re not sure which feels more imminent. You’ve been told you won. It’s like a big weight has been lifted. The cherry blossoms look pinker.

“That’s what you wrote in the song!” You remember, hoping that he’ll be impressed you were paying attention.

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly, rubbing his neck, “that was about you.” It might be the best sight you’ve ever seen. This kind, handsome boy telling you he wrote a whole song about you. “It’s finished now, I can play it if you want… is that embarrassing?” He’s asking for reassurance, and, oh, do you give him reassurance. Reassurance comes in the form of putting your arms around him. Actions speak better than words—that’s your reasoning, at least.

“That’s not embarrassing. That’s cute.” You tell him, though your words are slightly muffled since you’re not speaking directly to him anymore. The butterflies in your stomach cheer you on as you muster all the courage you can find in the deep crevices of your heart and mind, “I like you too, Sungho.” You tell him, and you can hear his heart beating through his coat.

FINAL NOTES: yippee!!! going to a debate tournament wont post for a few days love you mwah

#bnd sungho #boynextdoor sungho #bnd sungho x reader #sungho x reader #sungho x you #kpop fluff #boynextdoor #boynextdoor fanfic #boynextdoor fluff #boynextdoor au #kpop au #kpop fanfic #willeeam shakespeare #bnd fluff

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666anxiety666 · 2 days ago

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HAI HAI HAI CAN I REQUEST A FIC WITH DAISUKE (<3) AND CURLY WHERE DAISUKE IS IN A LEE MOOD AND GOES TO ASK CURLY FOR TWORDS I FEEL LIKE IT WOULD BE SILLY THEY’RE SO SILLY (not in a romantic ship way) AUGH

OOP-

🌺just ask🌺

Mouthwashing tickle fic

Lee: Daisuke Ler: Curly

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

Daisuke didn't know what was wrong with him... why on gods earth was he feeling this way? all day, all damn day he had been flustered and shy. this was obviously very unlike Daisuke. why was Daisuke acting like this you may ask? it all started that morning on the tulpar.

"morning Daisuke." Curly mumbled as he entered the kitchen area of the ship. Daisuke smiled and opened his mouth to respond. but instead of ruffling Daisuke's hair like he normally did, Curly poked Daisuke's side, drawing a small yelp from the boy.

thankfully no one was around to see or hear, only Curly who chuckles as he grabs whatever it is he's getting from the fridge and walks away. Daisuke sat there flustered out of his mind, and he had been like that all day. the slightest touch setting him off and making him shiver.

that evening, Daisuke was laying in bed. still replaying that same moment in his head over and over. what the hell was wrong with him?! Daisuke couldn't take it anymore. he left his room heading down the hall.

now we are here, Daisuke standing outside of Curly's bedroom door. he debated even going through with this. asking Curly, the CAPTAIN, of all people to TICKLE him?! "god damn it, Daisuke..! just knock and ask... I'm sure he wont mind..." Daisuke paused "no, NO! you can't ask him THAT! what am I even doing? oh man, this isn't a good idea-" Daisuke's words caught in this throat when Curly's bedroom door slid open, revealing Curly himself standing there with a confused look.

"Daisuke? what are you up to?" the captain asked, a small huff of a chuckle leaving his throat. Daisuke froze. "C-Cap! I-I was um... I, well..." Daisuke trailed off, he had no idea what to say, he was so flustered. Curly chuckled, placing a hand on Daisuke's shoulder, causing Daisuke to shiver. "why don't you come in, kid?" Curly smiled, already slightly pushing Daisuke before the younger could protest.

Daisuke sat on Curly's bed. the room was organized and laid out nicely. Daisuke was so flustered, unsure what to do with himself other that sit as still as possible on the bed. Curly sat next to him after a few moments.

"so... what's got you so worked up? and don't tell me its nothing. you're not really quiet when talking to yourself." Curly chuckled. Daisuke cursed himself in his head. "something about wanting to ask me something..?" Curly asked. Daisuke looked away. "I-It's embarrassing, Cap..." Daisuke stammered out.

Curly blinked before huffing softly. "I'm sure whatever it is, its not as embarrassing as you think, kid..." Curly smiled, holding his hands up. "I won't laugh, i swear." Curly chuckled. Daisuke looked at Curly for a split second before looking away once more. god he hated this.

"can you like... do the thing you did this morning..?" Daisuke asked in a quiet voice. Curly raised an eyebrow. "what thing?" Daisuke huffed. he was really going to have to do this, wasn't he? "y-y'know... when you did the thing, you... tickled me..." Daisuke mumbled out in an almost whisper. Curly blinked. "when i what? come on, kid. spit it out-." "can you tickle me again, damn it..!" Daisuke blurted out. his face quickly went red once he realized what he just sputtered out.

Curly paused. it was quiet for a good few seconds. just as Daisuke was convinced he had weirded Curly out. Curly chuckled. Daisuke's gaze was quick to land back on Curly. "you said you wouldn't laugh!" Daisuke exclaimed.

Curly continued to chuckle for another moment before calming slightly. "sorry, sorry, it's just... that's all?" Daisuke blinked. "what do you mean?" Curly rolled his eyes slightly. "I mean is that what you got yourself all worked up about? it's not a bid deal, kid." Curly pat Daisuke's shoulder.

Daisuke was dumbfounded to say the least. "I-" Daisuke was suddenly cut off as Curly's hand moved from his shoulder to his hips, going right for the kill. Daisuke almost jumped like ten feet in the air, letting out a loud squeal. "CUHUHURLY! WAHAHAHAHAIT!" Daisuke instantly tried to pull away, but curly was quick to hold Daisuke down.

"what's wrong, Daisuke? isn't this what you wanted?" Curly chuckled. a small smile on his face as he dug his thumbs right into Daisuke's hips, making the young intern squeal and kick his legs weakly in a failed attempt to get away. "THIHIHIHIHIS ISN'T FAHAHAHIR!" Daisuke thrashed, trying to divert Curly's attention elsewhere.

"oh fine, fine..." Curly let up a tiny bit by moving to Daisuke's sides. Daisuke was still giggling like crazy, have face all pink. "is that better?" Curly asked, half teasing but also half caring. "s-shuhuhut uhuhup!" Daisuke giggled. his hands latched to Curly's wrists, but not pushing him away.

Curly gasped in mock offense. "shut up!? do you speak to your mother with that mouth? and hear I was going soft on you!" Curly instantly moved his hands once more, this time to Daisuke's tummy. forming his hand into a claw and digging in without mercy. Daisuke shrieked. throwing his head back as he cackled. "NOHO! WAHAHAIT! IM SOHOHOHOHORRY!" Daisuke pleaded desperately.

even though Daisuke was fighting this, he genuinely needed this after basically suffering all day. "CUHUHURLY PLEHEHEHEASE!" Daisuke squealed. jolts of ticklishness sparked through him as he weakly kicked his legs again, only for Curly to pin the down with his own. "Please what, Daisuke? I'm not doing anything..." Curly teased with a small smirk as he played innocent, still clawing at Daisuke's poor tummy.

"maybe if you say sorry I'll stop..." Curly trailed off. Daisuke was trying so hard to push Curly's clawed hand away, even though he didn't want Curly to stop. "JUHUHUST FUHUHUCKING STAHAHAHAHAP!" Daisuke pleaded franticly, secretly dragging this on more. Curly tsked. "you're gonna play this game, huh? how rude, no manners at all..." Curly chuckled.

"fine then..." Curly pulled his hand away. Daisuke panted, thinking it was over, much to his disappointment a little. however, before Daisuke could think anything further, Curly was blowing a raspberry right onto his stomach. Daisuke screamed, instantly trying to push Curly's head away.

"AHAHA- W-WAAHAHAHAIT! NOHOHOHO PLEHEHEASE!" Daisuke Pleaded through squeals of frantic laughter. it was a shock no one else on the ship heard Daisuke and thought the poor boy was being murdered. Daisuke's please fell on deaf ears as Curly kept it up. Daisuke was loosing it. kicking his legs harder, his hair now a mess covering his bright red face.

Curly kept up his raspberries for a minute or two before taking pity on the poor intern who was bright red to the point it reached his ears. Daisuke panted heavily, curling up on himself and hugging his stomach as he giggled even after it was over.

"oh man..." Daisuke huffed, his hair a wreck. curly chuckled "you okay, Daisuke?" Curly asked softly, helping the younger sit up. "y-yeah... that was..." "Good?" Curly butted in as he nudged Daisuke's shoulder. Daisuke's face flushed a little. "h-hey! it was... okay, maybe..." Daisuke trailed off as he averted his eyes. Curly laughed, ruffling Daisuke's hair.

"nothing to be embarrassed about, kid..." Curly said softer. "you can ask anytime you know..." Curly carried on, his eyes meeting Daisuke's once more. Curly smiled, poking Daisuke's side one last time, causing the young boy to yelp. "it'll be our secret, huh?" Daisuke sighed with a small chuckle, rubbing his side slightly. but he nodded, feeling relief. "yeah... thanks cap..."

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loved writing this! took multiple takes cause I couldn't figure out how to write a Lee mood in the best way, but I did my best! :>

#mouthwashing tickles #mouthwashing tickle #tickle fic #lee!daisuke #ler!curly

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goldsbitch · 2 days ago

Text

Twelve grapes

chapter 2 - Red and Blue

Does he always talk so much?" Charles asks, wondering whether excessive talking is a requirement for Red Bull drivers. Max snaps right back. "Only when he's awake." Charles nods understandingly. "Must be hard for you," he mocks Daniel's tone.

or Charles spends the afternoon pinning over his ultimate rival.

warning: m/m kiss, 8k words

Fake it til you make it. But, Charles has been faking it for so long now, he can hardly remember what it feels like to believe in himself. He pushes through. There is no other option.

It only dawns on him after the dreadfully long medical exam, when he’s finally out of the car and watching the replays of Alonso launching himself over his Sauber. It hits him when he sees all the other people, worried and then relieved that he survived just fine. Another tell-tale sign is all the phone calls and messages he keeps getting, from just about anyone he's ever met.

But, there isn't fear inside of him - he does not allow that emotion entrance, ever. He is convinced that if he had, it would be over for him in the world of motorsport. And who is he without that?

Anger piles up inside him, which is not an unfamiliar feeling, but the intensity is on another level.

It feels like the paddock is trying to suffocate him. There are people, cameras everywhere and he would give anything to leave - like right now. He walks and walks and walks. Circles, triangles, whichever will confuse anyone watching the most.

The start of his first F1 season feels like a bittersweet dream. Him coming in, having three amazing races and then finding the person source of misfortune for the following ones. DNF's, crashes and who knows what else. There is always the debrief afterwards, where he has to sit and watch his mediocre teammate smirk with unmasked joy. Charles believes he is not a violent person, but if he really had to punch someone, it would be without a doubt Marcus Ericsson.

The more he spirals, the clearer the face of his teammate becomes, until Charles finally snaps, finds an alley between the technical trucks and proceeds to start kicking one of the tires with everything he has.

The-stupid-blonde-asshole. Untalented-waste-of-a-seat. He can't rob him of his chance at Ferrari. He is so close.

"Uhm, hm."

The excessively loud pseudo-cough snaps the young driver back to reality. Only then he realizes just how tense his whole body is and how his foot hurts from the numerous kicks he granted to the truck in front of him. He can't calm himself immediately. But, he stops and turns around, to evaluate the damage he would need to clear by not making sure enough to avoid any witnesses. He quickly concluded the worst thing to happen would be for a fan or a team principal to stand there. When he locks eyes with the person standing few meters into the alley, he makes a mental note never to assume he can imagine the worst.

Standing there, with all his grace and beauty is none other than Max Verstappen. He spares him one look and then goes on to examine the kicked tire. Charles is about to drown in embarassment when he hears him speak.

"Not bad for a French guy," he remarks with a smirk and stands back up. Why anyone would think teasing someone mid-rage is a good idea is beyond Charles. He avoids looking at him as he bites his lips in frustration and adds blond people of all hair shades to his list of enemies. Max's hair counts as blond, therefore that makes them two people he wants to kick, along with Marcus. As if he could read his thoughts, he runs his hand through the messy, post race strands, which sends Charles into the loudest sigh he probably ever mustered.

"You know, I have a special wooden desk back home for when I need to punch things," the Dutch says matter-o-factly.

"I don't have an anger problem like you," he snarls through gritted teeth, failing at proving his point.

"Right. I also have a cheeky bottle of whiskey in my driver's room, if you wanna take the edge off." Yes, alcohol after an anger spree practically screams healthy, Charles wants to reply - but doesn't.

His heartbeat is somewhat coming back to down to post-race normal, he rests his hands on his waist and stares at the tire once again. He gulps, turns his look back at Max, who is still standing there, waiting. Never before he thought that Max would be the one offering him help to find his peace of mind. He must be tired or sick. "Come on, Charles," Max states, but does not move. There is something incredibly grounding about his certainty. A wave of calm hits Charles like a tsunami. Out of nowhere, it's like time stops and the world around fades into a grey hue. Charles counts his deep breaths. Stoic Max stares at him, as if he knows something more than him. It's the tone he uses that grounds him the most. Charles would normally snap back into getting mad at that fact that three words and Verstappen manages to change his mood - but he is so tired. Sudden realization of that steers his answer. "Ok," he says simply and tries not to read into the smile that creeps onto Max's face. Charles can't get the song Pale Blue Eyes out of his head.

Charles is happy that unlike him, Max still has all of his five braincells working and chooses the least visible way into Red Bull motorhome. It is probably a miracle that he manages to sneak him in, though it was way later after the race than Charles assumed. His anger walk must have been minutes long. He suppresses any guilt about his team, who are probably searching for him. He likes Sauber people, but tries not to think of the as his team. Because they hopefully won't be for long. It's the thought about the ongoing Ferrari talks that get his riled up again. Maybe walking into the den of the devil - Red Bull - was the biggest mistake he made that day. A visible reminder of how Max already had everything Charles wished for. Top team that's capable of fighting podiums. A place that screams "Max' home". He is not a visitor, he is someone who the teams counts on in their plans for the future. Not only is Charles still angry, he feels smaller than ever, as he drags behind him. The perfect metaphor for his career so far. Anger is slowly getting replaced by despair. Typical Charles' spiral.

He sinks in deep into the couch in Max's room. A small glass with honey colored liquid is in his hands immediately after. This is the moment Charles remembers he hates whiskey.

"So, you're on a bit of a run of bad races, huh?" Max opens and sips his drink, without even a hint of having an intention of toasting. Then again, Charles has nothing to toast to. Yet. Despair gets overshadowed by the hope the Ferrari contract might be a way out of this "run of bad races".

"Yeah. The car just does not have it. Or maybe I don't have it and it's actually good that other people crash into me, at least the fans get a good show."

"There is a difference between self-criticism and self-hatred, you know?" Max says in an uncharacterically calm tone. Charles can't think of any other reply apart from an eye roll.

"However, you had an impressive start. I was actually worried," Max continues, making Charles's heartbeat freeze. "For a moment," he adds maliciously after few seconds of silence, bringing Charles back to life. Max was worried and now he pities him. Oh, how nicely paved the way to hell is.

"I don't need you to feel sorry for me," he spits out, party regretting that he ever followed Max, partly happy he can be unreasonably mad at someone without much of a consequence. He's always playing the good PR boy. It's all calculated, he is not in his final destination yet. His goal is not simply to be in F1, his goal is to crush it. And he is sitting across from the one who is on his way to have it all. Max dared to smirk as he kept casually leaning against the motorhome wall.

"I would never degrade you by feeling sorry for you, mate," Max reacts, his tone hinting he shared Charles's disregard for drivers pitying each other.

"Good," Charles concludes and sips from the horribly bad drink.

"Was the crash bad? I saw some replays and I'm surprised you're sitting here. I'd expect you be to locked with the medics," Max changes his tone to a more casual one. Like they weren't talking about a several G crash involving multiple cars and a world champion flying over his head.

"I think this was my worst one yet," he admits. "The medics let me go after making sure they do every test on this planet on me."

"So, tell me. You pregnant?"

Charles laugh as the stupid joke. He blames his tired mind. It is noticable that Max is pleased with himself. Who would have though he'd be sitting here, in a Red Bull driver room, after a massive crash, cracking dumb jokes with Verstappen out of all people.

"How long is the car going to take to repaire?" the Dutch asks, waking Charles up a bit. Was that why he brought him here? To lure information out of him?

"I'm sure it's fine. I have other cats to whip," he remarks quickly, already planning on starting to being the one asking questions.

"Wha-you're whipping cats?" Max frowns, half confused, half concerned.

"Yeah, why would-"

"Whipping cats?!" It is Max now who would be called the "angry" one in the room.

Charles doesn't understand why he looks so baffled. "Yeah, j’ai d’autres chats à fouetter, it's the mechanics problem to do so."

There is pure confusion in the room, before it finally clicks. "Mate, I don't think that translates directly. I don't want to give out advice, but don't go around saying you're whipping cats for fun," Max mutters.

"Um, does it not?" Charles speaks while red runs into his face. It's all the languages in his head, one jumping over another. How is it that everyone else seems to not make these mistakes anymore.

Finally, Max lets out a small chuckle. "Happens to all of us," he contradicts what Charles didn't even have a chance to say.

To say the door opens silently and smoothly would be an understatement. Daniel Ricciardo slams in, like the owns the place. Charles does not understand many things, the Australian driver will probably be on the top of that list. He automatically stiffs up.

Daniel closes the door and pauses, taking in the scene with his "punch me" grin. "Well, well. What do we have here? Max Verstappen and… wait, don’t tell me." He snaps his fingers theatrically. "Charles Leclerc. Sauber’s crown jewel."

Charles’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond.

Max observes without a reaction. Daniel does not wait a response. "Didn’t expect to find you here, mate. Shouldn’t you be back at Sauber, poring over data and figuring out how to make that car go faster than a lawnmower?" he sings his vowels in a tone so unpleasant to Charles's ears. Yes, Charles thinks. I should be. But I am not. Sue me.

Max shoots Daniel a warning look, but Daniel either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

He leans against the counter, his tone shifting, almost sympathetic. "It must be hard, though. Coming into F1, everyone expecting you to be the next big thing. Having all those hopes and dreams on your shoulders, only to realize... the car’s not good enough. That no matter how talented you are, sometimes you just can’t win."

Charles stiffens, his grip tightening on the glass. He feels his anger building up again and the urge to storm out growing inside. He closes his eyes with the hope that maybe once he opens them again, the Australian will be gone.

Daniel smiles, almost kindly. "But hey, chin up. Every legend has to start somewhere. Even if it’s at the back of the grid."

There’s a beat of silence. Charles swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. Max, sensing the shift in mood, stands abruptly.

"Daniel," he says sharply. "Enough."

Daniel puts his hands up in defense. "Chill out mate, I'm just surprised he is here and I wanna cheer him up. But, Charles," he turns away from Max, "you're always welcome here. As a visitor, you know. Just to be clear," he says and ends it with his iconic, punch-worthy smile. To add another layer to Charles's pile of discomfort, he goes and puts his arm around Max, like the overly touchy friend he must be. Max does not seem to be phased by it. Charles tries not to think about how often that must happen. It's hard to control the cocktail of emotions, so adding a hint of jealousy to it is making his glass overflow. The older driver pinches the younger one's cheeks and Charles can't help but roll his eyes and shift his focus on the nearly empty glass of whiskey. One more minute of this and he is out.

To his luck, since Daniel seems to have run out of jokes to throw around, he spins on his heel and starts walking away. "I'll leave you guys to it then. Charlie, if you want, we are going out later in the evening, text me if you wanna join," he says and walks out. Charles finds it amusing to think he'd have Daniel's number saved. Once the door closes behind him, he can finally breathe again.

"Does he always talk so much?" Charles asks, wondering whether excessive talking is a requirement for Red Bull drivers.

Max snaps right back. "Only when he's awake."

Charles nods understandingly. "Must be hard for you," he mocks Daniel's tone.

Max nods back overly dramatically. "Yes. It is. Especially when the noise blocking headphones are just...not good enough."

Charles puts his head in his hand, exhaustion creeping in.

Max seems to not notice that and continues in their talk. "You really don't like him, do you?"

There is a smirk forming at Charles's lips. "And do you like him?"

Only he knows with what kind of undertone he is asking. The jealousy still present in the air. He hopes Max does not pick up on it. Or does he? It's a confusing day.

"Yeah. He's a good friend," he murmurs back, blue eyes now locked with the messy green ones. "Do you want a refill-"

Charles can't cope anymore. No more whiskey.

"Max, why are you being, so..." he interrupts him and immediately pauses, searching for the right word to define what ever he had been so doing. And since he can't find anything better suited, he inevitably ends up with: "...nice."

Out of all the things he would describe Verstappen, this was probably the last of them. Truth be told, the only reason he followed Max to his motorhome in the first place was the immortal curiosity Charles was born with. Anything that involves Max seems to draw him in. All of the arguments - which there hadn't been many these last few months - all the snarky comments and exchanges, frowned upon looks and lines shared through media...Charles knew, deep down his biggest weakness was just how much he wanted to be accepted by Max. The allure of Verstappen - Charles imagines that's how everyone feels about the Red Bull driver.

"I don't bother spending my time on thinking why I do, or say, things," he proclaims nonchalantly, providing Charles with something that feels like the key to the enigma of it all. Well, of course, that would explain hell of a lot things about this man. He stares at him, as he keeps his casual lean on the table and fiddles with his glass. There is something about that statement that Charles finds hard to believe. But he decides to keep that question for the future.

It's only now that Charles realizes he is not calm, in fact, he is the opposite of that emotion. Tense, on edge. Like before jumping off a cliff. He wasn't like that before Daniel interrupted them, only once he left them alone again. The contrast of just how much he hated Daniel's presence and if fact appreciated the lack of it starts to hit. Charles had been in different driver's room before. But, never in Max's and it was never kind of like this. Suddenly, he is hyper aware of his every move, how small this rooms feels, contrasting its actual size. The couch underneath him is too hard and the icy glass is starting to hurt his fingers. He gulps. Max has never looked so tall before.

"You're weirdly quiet. Getting calmer now?" Max asks and interrupts the thought spiral Charles fell into.

"Yeah, all calm now," he lies and almost burn holes into Max with his stare. He wants to stay in this moment forever. There is nothing pleasant waiting for him out there.

Charles winces after taking a last sip of whiskey. "You don’t even like it," Max notes, watching him. "No," Charles admits. "I hate it. It tastes like someone melted a campfire and put it in a glass." Max laughs, genuinely this time. "Then why did you take it?" "I don’t know. Peer pressure?" "Next time, just ask for a soda. You can still be mad with a Coke in hand."

Charles just nods, without needing to respond. Max takes a deep breath in and a pause, before he speaks again.

"When are you leaving Spa? Do you have time this evening?"

Charles's response would have been very different hadn't been for Daniel's invitation. "I'm not going out with you and Daniel," he says firmly.

Max rolls his lips. "So, you do have time."

There is a tingle somewhere deep inside him. An urge, curiosity and the inability to say no to Max. "I'm leaving at midnight," he replies and it sounds more like a question.

Max grants him one of the most obnoxious smiles this century has seen. "We'll just have to make sure you're back on time. Go to the hotel and pack your things in advance. Oh, and don't wear white sneakers."

Charles is totally normal about it. It's a perfectly acceptable reaction to pack in a time a pit stop crew would be impressed by. Cancelling a gaming session with one of the engineers he had scheduled for the evening was also a perfectly ok thing to do. The pacing around the room and nail biting until his finger tops bleed is maybe little over the top, but he is alone in the room. He's allowed to freak out.

He and Max are mere acquaintances. The definition of friends not really applying to them. It would be totally ok for him to hang out with his usual suspects, but this was new. Was Max luring him into a trap? Was he going to have him strip naked and then have his Dutch friends jump over from the bushes and laugh at him?

Charles is someone who freaks out ahead of things. He considers that to be an advantage for racing, panicking on flights rather than in the cockpit.

He unpacks and then repacks his suitcase, just so that he has something to do. Curses himself for only bringing one pair of dark blue sneakers (and white ones, of course).

He has been like this for the last hour. Waiting on Max to text him he can finally go downstairs - because he is not going to let him know that he is pacing nervously. He is not going to sit in the hotel lobby, like some loser that has nothing better to do than to wait at him.

Charles blames the headache on the crash.

The sky gets progressively darker when he start giving up on Max ever texting him. Charles is a stupid, stupid boy, for believing he was talking seriously about making plans with him.

This hotel room ceiling isn't the most interesting piece of art work, but Charles would be able to repaint it by memory by the amount of time he spends laying on the unmade bed and staring at it. There is a little crack in the left corner, slight elevation between the hallway and the bedroom and a knock on the door.

A knock on the door. His mind goes immediately to the handsome Dutch driver (not that the image of him ever left since they departed, really), but he quickly gets himself up and adjusts his expectations to reality. It's probably someone from Sauber checking on him. Or his manager with some updates, he also rarely texts before coming over.

Deep breath and he opens the door. His face is calm, but if someone took Charles's pulse, they'd probably send him straight back to the medical centre. Max is standing there, looking calm and composed as ever. Back in his casual non-team wear. If it were up to Charles, he'd finally take him shopping for some flattering clothes. This is not doing him justice at all. Thank God his face is protected from the effects of that ugly stripy t-shirt.

"Hey, man. You good to go?"

Most people would send a text—or, at worst, ask reception to make a call. The fact he must have asked for his room number (and the more alarming fact he managed to get it from them) and then came all the way up, is concerning.

Max's brows furrow. "Have you lost the ability to speak in the last two hours?"

Charles slaps himself mentally. "Funny. Hello to you too."

A totally concerned-free smile spreads on Max's cheek and he walks past him to his room. "Let's grab your bag and get going, we're on a schedule."

Before he has time to blink, he is standing in a hotel elevator and Max Verstappen is carrying his bag.

There is the usual crowd of people mingling around the hotel - crew members, reporters, some overly excited fans. Charles tries to hide as Max leads them through shortcuts, this place obviously being his playground. Charles manages to relax himself a bit when he realizes nobody probably managed to get a picture of them walking together. Another miracle of the day.

The sports car, older model, but obviously worked on, growls to life as Max turns the key. The engine’s rumble reverberating through Charles’s chest. He sits stiffly in the passenger seat, his fingers unconsciously gripping the edge of the seat.

There is an old school smell of a cheap gas station car scent that punches through his nose. Max seems to be extremely comfortable in the car, as if he’s had it for years.

Without much of a conversation, they depart. The car smoothly jolts forward, tires screeching slightly as Max accelerates out of the hotel parking lot. Talk about subtle. Charles is sure the sounds of this vehicle must have had half of the heads turn. The streets of Spa blur past them, the small town lights quickly giving way to the empty countryside roads. They drive on roads between fields, sometimes pass a small lump of forest. Max is treating the road as an old partner, smooth sailing - but definitely on the edgy side of things. If Charles hadn’t known Max as a Formula 1 driver, he’s think he was some small town tuning guy.

"You drive like this on the track too?" Charles mutters after minutes of silence, trying to sound casual.

Max grins, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "No, I’m much faster on the track,“ he says as he hits the top of the hill a little too fast and sends them nearly flying before they land back on the road. He laughs and it is in that moment when Charles realizes that THE Max Verstappen is just another car guy.

The countryside passes them by and Charles has to admit there is some sort of magic to it. It’s different than the roads around Monaco, more rustic and northern. Less glam and more roughness. Had he grown up here, he’d probably spend his teenage years cruising through.

„Did you used to drive here a lot when you were young?“ He asks, head lots in his own thoughts.

Max does not reply immediately, but then he goes onto explaining that yes, he has driven through every road this place is surrounded by. As early as when he was fourteen. Charles rolls his eyes and makes few comments on the incompetence of the local police.

„Is there a specific place we’re going to?“ Charles asks after what feels like thirty minutes of driving, glancing nervously at the dense trees closing in around them. He is not checking the time, his trust lies with Max on that.

"You’ll see," Max replies, his tone maddeningly cryptic and sends the car into another turn in a way that would have then crash had there been any car in the opposite lane. Charles is not bothered by Max's driving, he knows he is more than capable of judging the situation. Had the driver been anyone else, he'd be out of the car after the first turn. His faith lies in the fact Max probably does not want both of them dead.

"Great," Charles mutters. "This is how horror movies start, you know."

Max chuckles, flicking the headlights to high beam as they zip down a narrow country road. "Relax, Leclerc. If I wanted to kill you, I’d have done it on the track. More fun."

Charles throws him a glare. "Very comforting. Thanks."

Max doesn’t respond immediately, his focus sharp as he takes a turn far faster than Charles would.

"You’re tense," Max remarks, barely hiding the amusement in his voice.

"Oui, I wonder why," Charles shoots back with lips turned upwards. It's a different kind of adrenaline, to completely give in and follow his lead.

Max glances at him briefly, his smirk widening. "You don’t trust me?"

"I trust you to try and scare the shit out of me, yes," Charles remarks.

"Good. Keeps things exciting."

Charles tries not to wonders what exactly "things" means in this scenario. He notices that he left all of the worries and stress of today back at the hotel. It feels like they'd been on the road for days, in the good way. Time works in funny ways.

The road grows narrower, the trees taller and denser. They block nearly all of the remaining sunlight. Charles realizes he hasn’t seen another car, or even a house, for several minutes.

"Seriously, Max. Is there a destination we're going to?" His tone is sharper now, just a hint of panic in it.

"You ask too many questions," Max replies smoothly, his hands steady on the wheel.

"Forgive me for being curious when you’re driving me into the middle of nowhere," Charles says, his voice rising slightly, tone set on teasing mode. He hasn't noticed, but he is scrunched in the seat, leaning on the door and completely comfortable, despite the potential death threat of this all.

Max chuckles again, clearly enjoying himself. "Are you always this dramatiqué?" he mocks his accent.

Charles turns to him, exasperated. "Dramatic? You’ve practically kidnapped me. It is what it is, I have to face the situation. I am ready to cooperate. Should I start preparing a ransom note? "

Max tilts his head thoughtfully, his smile teasing. "Who would pay for you, Leclerc?"

"Funny," Charles deadpans, though his heart skips at the flirtatious edge to Max’s tone.

He leans over to examine the dashboard. "At least we have enough fuel to last us long."

Max looks in the same direction and bites his lip.

"What?" Charles asks, double checking if he hadn't read it wrong.

"Yeah, that thing has been stuck like this for years."

Charles lets out a loud breath. "Putain, Max."

Max finally parks the car as they reach something resembling a gate and a fence (he, of course, does not park like a normal person, but drifts the car in - Charles is not even surprised at this point).

"We're here," he announces and kills the engine.

Charles examines the creepy surroundings and sighs.

"What's up with you now?" the cheery Dutchman asks him.

"I'm trying to pick which God to pray to."

He hits his arm playfully. "Come on, enough with the drama, you're gonna like this," he says convincingly and gets out of the car. Charles has no intention of not following him, his blood flowing in the opposite direction than usual. Or at least that's how it feels.

He walks few steps behind him and takes in the scenery. The damp grass, leaves and small stick crunch below their feet. A distinctive humid forest smell is something he hadn't felt in forever and it's surprisingly refreshing to take a deep breath. He tucks his hands into the sleeves of his jacket, trying to fight the chilly air. Max appears to be unaffected by any of it and walks with intention. He passes the small cottage, which looks like it needed a renovation twenty years ago. Charles was expecting that to be the their final destination, so when Max walks by it, he nearly trips on wet leafs, trying to follow his direction. He hopes it went unnoticed.

It all starts to make a bit more sense when they pass the first two cars, parked in a place where normal people would plant a tree. He starts to realize this must be some sort lair of the Verstappen family or their close friends. The further deep they go into the forest / garden, the more car parts, tires and general junk they pass. Charles has many questions, but the anticipation of what is that Max actually wants to show him stops words in his throat.

Right on cue, Max starts speaking on his own, gradually slowing his steps. "My dad and I would come here in between races and we'd fix old cars together. It's a good place to test parts and repair karts. But it's become so messy over the years," he comments as he has to kick a random door frame blocking their way. "One day I'll come over for few weeks and clean it all up. He's never going to do that on his own."

The intimacy of this information is something Charles wasn't ready. He keeps his silence, sensing Max does not need a reaction anyway.

"But, there is a plus side to this being currently a shit hole," he stops and turns around to face Charles, who mimics his move. Even in this dim low light, Max's eyes shine like something out of this planet. "We can fuck some shit up," he grins like a little kid he was just few years and hands Charles an obscurely massive hammer that he picked up somewhere along the way.

Charles gives him a questioning look, before slowly accepting this strange object. Max's grin does not leave his face.

Charles stares at the hammer in his hands, its weight unfamiliar but oddly grounding. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Max gestures ahead, and Charles’s eyes follow to where an old, rusted Volvo car sits under a drooping tree. The windshield is cracked, the paint flaking off like dead skin.

"Whatever you want," Max says casually, leaning against a nearby pile of tires. "But I’d start with the windshield."

Charles’s jaw drops slightly. "You want me to, what? Smash it?"

Max nods, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself. "It’s therapeutic. Trust me."

"Max, this is ridiculous."

They stare at each other and Charles feels guilty all of a sudden, for dismissing his idea so bluntly. He sighs as he faces second instance of peer pressure from the other driver within the span of few hours. He wonders which choice exactly he made this morning that steered his day in such a different direction. Had someone told him he'd be smashing cars with Verstappen in the evening, he'd laugh in their face.

"Just try it. One hit. I won’t tell anyone."

Charles hesitates, his grip tightening around the hammer’s handle. The thought of swinging it, of letting loose, feels... disturbing. But then again, everything about this day has been weird. Maybe that’s the point. Max babbles along, as he always does once he starts, something about getting all the emotions out.

Charles ignores the rest of his speech and tries to imagine this is just like any other sport, be it tennis, golf or anything that involved swinging. He takes a deep breath, picks up the inexplicably heavy hammer and swings it against the windshield. The material is surprisingly sturdy and the hammer bounces back, driving the force into Charles's body, as if to mock him. This pisses him off, he can't have Max laughing at him and calling him a "pussy". He tightens his lips, adjusts his stance and swings once again.

Finally, a crack appears at the point of impact, the quiet sound of breaking multiplied by the silence of the forrest. This is followed by a muffled cheer behind him. Charles is still surprised at how much force he needs to use to actually make any damage on the old plastic laced glass and it rilles him up. He is not going to walk away from here being beaten by a windshield older than him. He swings again.

And again, again and again. Each impact comes with bigger force until the glass start to crumble apart. He does not feel cold anymore, the old fire he barely tamed this afternoon fully back up.

Marcus. Alonso. Stupid lawyers making things too complicated. The reporters. Sauber. Ferarri. Ferrari. Ferrari.

The pieces are not only crumbling, but now they're falling in every directions - and Charles feels alive. Ferrari. He moves a bit to smash every little part that still survived in the corner. Ferrari. The structure of the windshield is completely falling apart. Ferrari. He smashes the big pieces that are pathetically lying on the ground, mushing them down into nothing. He lefts out a heavy breath. Ferrari.

I will be a Ferrari driver next season.

Only when he lets go, no more damage left to be done on his victim, he realizes he said those words out loud. He is met with a curious stare of Max Verstappen. Charles slipped up when he wasn't suppose to. It's been brewing in him for weeks now. Only his managers know. He figures not even Sauber knows.

"Nothing is final yet. It could still fall to shit," he clarifies, staring at Max with anticipation.

Max shifts his weight from one leg to another and blinks few times. "Nice. I hope it works out for you."

Charles is careful now, coming down his high, facing the consequences. "Please, don't tell anyone," he almost pleas, worried that this info getting out might somehow sabotage the whole mission.

The mood changes. Surely, he must feel it too. This is no longer "two bros smashing shit together". Oh God, please, does he notice the way the air stopped moving? Is his mouth also dry? His skin fired up with unholy electricity? Max as unreadable as ever. It's making Charles's brain spin. He would give everything, almost anything, for a quick glimpse into the brain of the enigmatic guy standing in front of him.

He isn't a teenager anymore, but Charles knows the boy is not fully a grown up yet. His features are a mixture of the hard lines and angles of and adult athlete, but all of that is still combined with youthful - Charles would dare to say naive - softness. It must be something in the damp air. Maybe he is suffering from fresh air reverse-toxic shock. His lungs so used to the painful unnatural environment of a racetrack, that it only takes few minutes in the forest to make him feel dizzy. He has to draw his gaze away for a moment. Deep down he knows he's going to appear as a creep, eyeing his rival, with an open mouth. If he could, he'd choke on the words Max's says and drown in his eyes for hours. But, that is not normal. Max is just few centrimeters taller than him, but it feels like he is towering over him. Charles's main concern should be that he had just revealed a precious information to the competition. He has to actively remind himself what the objective is - and that it does not have anything to do with just how long Max's eye lashes are.

"You know I wouldn't tell anyone," Max says, momentarily kicking Charles out of his haze.

He stands still, frozen and barely reacts to the smile Max sends his way. Once again, it's like Max is drinking a third brew of the same tea Charles is having - the smirking boy unaffected by the bitterness.

He takes two steps closer to Charles. "My turn now," he whispers and reaches for the hammer Charles forgot he was holding. Max passes him by and the Monegasque stays still for a moment, trying to memorize the feeling of Max's fingers lightly brushing his own.

The trip back is like a negative photo, contrasting the brightly colored banter they shared when they were driving in the opposite way. The car is quiet, so quiet in fact Charles's in praying for Max's stereo to work. It does and now their drive is accompanied by some bad radio station, speaking in a language he does not understand. Like a third passanger in the car, laughing Charles directly into his face. You don't even understand the radio. How can you believe you'll ever understand what you feel right now.

Darkness has fallen some time ago and it's the first time Charles actually whips out his phone, to check the time and his messages, but mainly to distract himself and avoid looking at Max. Because suddenly, the Dutch boy is too close. He doesn't know why, but it's like Max has found a way how to make it physically impossible to be in his presence - yet this car, with Max in the driver's seat, is also the only place on the planet where Charles wants to be. There is comfort and excitement. Comforting excitement. Charles must be going crazy, he thinks and ignores all messages on his phone and reverts back to watching the dark countryside.

"Text your team that you'll arrive directly to the airport," he hears a pragmatic order from the driver's seat. Charles dares to look at him, but his eyes are glued on the road. He obeys without a comment. The realizations only hits him at that moment. Max has probably ditched way more people than he himself did, in order to go on this ride into nothingness. There are probably people waiting at him at several bars, his motorhome and few volunteers lined up to follow him to his hotel room. And yet, there he is, sitting next to him, driving on nameless roads.

"Did you have good time with me?" he asks, like the anxious boy he is. It's not a brave question, it's full of unspoken uncertainty and a worry, that Max had hoped for him to be a more entertaining company. Is that why he doesn't speak as much as he did on the way here?

Charles knows the way to doom is to push Max Verstappen. That boy won't do a single thing he does not believe in, unless the contract under he is makes it impossible. He hopes he is not pushing right now.

"You know this is the first time you've looked at me since we left the cabin?" the Dutch proclaims, ignoring his original question. And he is right, Charles is hyperaware of that.

Charles lets out a short laugh, the kind that’s more exhale than sound. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

Max’s lips roll into a grin as his eyes flick back to the road. "I’ve heard that before. But I think you like it."

"Don’t flatter yourself." Charles rolls his eyes, but there’s no real bite behind it.

"Too late," Max fires back smoothly, his grin widening. "Besides, you’re the one who agreed to smash my old car. What does that say about you?"

Charles straightens up, almost offended. "I did not-"

He is quickly interrupted by the Dutch. "You did not what - you didn't smash my car? Is that what you're saying?" He is clearly amused with himself and to prove that he playfully smashes the steering wheel.

Charles is silent, inhaling so much air to calm himself down he might actually explode. Impossible, this man was sent from hell to torment him.

"And didn’t that feel good?" Max continues smoothly, his voice dripping with chilli honey. Sweet, but punching.

Charles doesn’t answer, which only makes Max’s eyes widen.

"Aha! You did like it," Max says triumphantly.

Charles huffs, crossing his arms. "I never said that."

"You didn’t have to." Max’s tone is smug, his confidence infuriatingly unshakable. "Admit it. You enjoyed smashing something for once instead of, I don’t know, smiling politely and saying merci."

Charles snorts. "You think I’m polite?"

"Painfully," Max replies, his tone still teasing but just sharp enough to make Charles sit up straighter. "Like you’re afraid to let people know what you’re really thinking."

"And what are you thinking, Mr. Painfully Blunt?" he says more like a joke and does not expect and answer.

To prove Charles wrong, once again, Max turns slowly to face him. He makes sure each word he says has enough time to ripe. "That it's obvious I had a good time with you, Leclerc."

It's the same as trying to ignore a deafening sound. Even if you block your ears, it still pierces through. It creeps up into your chest in waves invisible to the naked human eye. A loud beat that makes your chest alive and your throat stuck - because whatever you might say, it won't be heard over the noise anyway. It does not need addressing, but it's impossible to disregard.

If I slip up, even for a moment, it might ruin everything we’ve both worked so hard to pretend doesn’t matter.

To completely counter anything he is trying to suppress, Max casually puts him hand on Charles's thigh - on Charles's thigh. The part of the human body between the knee and the hip. It's a true test to stay normal about it.

"Don't get lost in your head again, Charles," he says ever-so-casually and removes his hand to put it back on the steering wheel.

If they were to crash and die right now, Charles probably wouldn't mind. He's about to have a heart attack anyway.

It was getting more than clear they were reaching the final destination, even if only by the decreasing amount of trees growing next to the road. City lights and signs pointing to the airport giving away that this trip is about to end.

If Charles started this afternoon angry, he is ending it confused - about himself, about what kind of person Max Verstappen actually is and how is he suppose to go about his life after this. It's not a new information to him that he likes guys. But it is the first time he has to face having a tiny, minor, minuscule crush on another driver.

As they near the airport so much he can see the small plane he is about to board with the closest of his team, Charles speaks again.

"Maybe drop me of one street away...Just so that people don't have questions."

It's a pragmatic suggestion and he hopes Max does not read anything into it.

"Fair," is the response he gets and is somewhat satisfied with.

This time, Charles braces himself for another "drift park", but is met with a casual and very precise parking on Max's part.

They sit in silence for a moment. Charles wants to do something, but he can't put a name on it.

"Well, it's been fun. Thanks," he says almost coldly and pulls the thirty years old door handle.

Nothing.

Next to him, there is a chuckling noise. Charles tries again, but the only effect this has in the increase of volume on Max's laugh.

Fine, two can play this game, he figures and turns to him with a raised brow.

Charles meets his gaze for a long moment, the weight of the playful challenge hanging between them. "You know," he says finally, his voice low, "I could just climb out through the window."

Max snorts, leaning back and pressing the unlock button with a flourish. "Be my guest. The the dramatic diva you are.“

"You use that word a lot, you know?"

Max keeps his act on. "I think it's time to leave now," he teases and does absolutely nothing in order to open the car.

Charles leans back, also not intending on moving. There is warmth in his chest and it's spreading all over his body. The smile he has on his face is one he can't prevent.

"Is it now," he questions, and tries to open the door once again, this time without even looking at the handle. None of them expecting any other result.

After few shared looks, Max clicks some random button on his side of the car to unlock the doors. The soft click feels like a challenge.

Charles lingers, his hand resting on the handle but not pulling it. "You know, for someone who claims not to care, you sure put a lot of effort into keeping me around."

Max raises an eyebrow, his grin turning slightly lopsided. "You noticed?"

"I’m not blind," Charles replies, leaning back into the seat, a flicker of playfulness in his expression.

Max looks at him for a moment, something sparkly in his gaze before he nods toward the door. "You better go before I change my mind."

He tries opening the door once again and this time it really does.

Charles moves back and exists the car, pit in his stomach growing. He has to wait few seconds for Max to get and open the trunk with his keys. Illuminated only with the back lights, red mixing with yellow, he moves automatically, never letting Charles go off his sight. He hands him his bag and receives a little "Such a gentleman," comment from Charles. And then they keep standing there, as if Medusa herself turned them into a stone.

Charles feels possessed. Like he’s not in control of his movements anymore. He lost that ability somewhere in the woods.

He is pretty sure he’s shaking from the panic that drives him. His body is floating two meters above the ground.

Max’s eyes burn into him, as if it was all a dare.

The boy is standing too close for his own good.

Charles is pretty sure there is acid running through his veins. He knows, he is absolutely certain, he will regret whatever he is about to do.

There will be no going back.

Should I touch him, it will the perfect way to ruin this newly found friendship.

Max does not move or walk away.

Fuck it, he thinks and slams his lips again Max’s. Knock the wind out of me, Max Verstappen.

It is quick as a lighting, but bright as such. He reaches over to the back of Max’s head and holds him still, but giving him enough freedom to pull away. I’m begging you, please don’t.

It’s cathartic to know what his plump lips feel like against his own. He holds his lower lip between his own and moves, once or twice. He knows his time is running out. For a moment, he allows himself to drown in this real life fantasy. Max’s lips are soft and addictive. It’s like running a marathon is the time you would do a sprint.

He fights the urge to continue and moves back. Knowing this one moment, lasting only few seconds will be locked in his fantasies forever.

He pulls away and tries to avoid looking at Max’s face, knowing well enough that whatever he finds there, won’t be pleasant.

„I’m sorry,“ he murmurs and almost runs away to the airport.

Festival of shame is about to begin, but the insides of his body still burn with excitement and desire. He kissed Max Verstappen and he didn’t pull away immediately.

Their first and only kiss.

It was a mistake, one that Charles will have to apologize many times.

But he’ll be happy to die for. Feeling this alive should be illegal.

He does not look back. His bravery ran out the moment he put their lips together.

Oh, God. I’m stupid, I’m stupid, stupid, stupid.

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an-unknowntraveler · 1 day ago

Text

Cheering up

LEE Telemachus, Ler Penelope and Odysseus. very slight lee Odysseus.

Pls don’t ask how I finished this so fast.

Twenty whole years... twenty whole years had passed since Odysseus was gone, then... he returned. He killed all of the suitors, to protect his son, Telemachus, and his wife, Penelope.

Telemachus loved his father, but was struggling to get adjusted to having his father around, considering his father made... some rather... terrible dad jokes. Penelope feared Telemachus would dislike his father, despite it being the opposite.

And it was a year... after the return of Odysseus of Ithaca. Telemachus was training with Athena, but he kept getting distracted. "Is something wrong??" Telemachus heard a voice say, then he looked up. oh. it was just Athena. Telemachus didn't know what to say, or do really. He just sighed, and sat down on the ground, while Athena looked down at him with curiosity.

"Telemachus??" She called out again. And there it was.. no reply. she was slightly concerned, she was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts though, when Telemachus suddenly spoke up. She looked at him again, as he said the words of... "Athena, I don't know why. I love my father dearly — yet I can't seem to get adjusted to having him around. Despite him being gone for so long, and me constantly missing him." He looked ashamed of himself, and looked away from her, in fear of what she'd think.

"Oh... Telemachus... don't worry about it, please." her much stoic tone during training vanished softening a lot, as she kneeled down next to him.

"It's okay to feel that way Telemachus, it's confusing sometimes. your feelings are valid, no matter what. it's okay to be confused. or scared." She spoke, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"you,me, Penelope, and Odysseus, know deep in your heart. You love your father. You might not be adjusted to having him around right away, but that doesn't mean you don't love him, because you do love him. That's what matters most."

Telemachus started crying, babbling about something. “Athena!! But- but— I don’t want to feel this way! It’s not making me feel better!” Athena didn’t know what to do, so she disappeared. Just like that. Telemachus cried more when she left, he felt alone. He kept thinking… why did she leave?? did she hate him? Is she ashamed of him?? She might be…

Penelope was walking through the palace, and found her son, Telemachus sobbing. she immediately went over to him. “Telemachus? My son?? Are you alright??? What happened?? Where’s Athena…?? Did you get hurt?!?” she suddenly panicked, worried he was hurt, and that Athena left him.

“What— no!!—“ Telemachus sniffled, he spluttered when he spoke. “I’m not hurt— I’m fine.. it’s just..” Penelope stopped panicking much. But was curious, and raised an eyebrow. “Just what, Telemachus…? Talk to me…” she looked at him, sad.

“How do I say this… mother…??? I… I’m not adjusted to having father around— I love him dearly— but I’m having trouble getting used to the annoying dad jokes, when I’m trying to acutally talk to him, I’m tired of the jokes!! I just want to be able to talk without joking, and humor..” Penelope’s gaze turned stern slightly.

“Telemachus.. your father is trying his best to get to know you better! He’s trying to have fun with you.. you need to be nicer!” She raised her voice slightly. Telemachus was shocked, on hearing her close to yelling at him. He felt hurt.

“I just spoke my feelings to you?! And that’s all you’re going to say??…” he sniffed. he stood up, and ran off, to his bedroom. Penelope’s slight anger turned into guilt. She didn’t want to hurt Telemachus, but she didn’t understand why he’s feeling this way. she sighed, and walked away. she went to hers and Odysseus’ room.

Odysseus was sitting on the bed. “Penelope!! hello—!!” Odysseus spoke akwardly, though he was happy to see his beautiful AAAMMMAAAZZZIIINNGG wifeee! but he was confused to see her looking… slightly guilty??… what had happened?? Odysseus became concerned. “Nel….?” When Penelope sat on the bed next to him, she looked down. He scooted closer to her, and held her hand tightly, slightly rubbing her hand with his thumb gently.

“I feel like I hurt Telemachus.” She suddenly spoke, and looked at her husband, who was confused, again. “Whaa….??” Penelope groaned.. “I said… I. hurt. Telemachus. Accidentally.” she poked him in the side each time, he scooted away from her when she poked him, slightly embarrassed. but then it faded.

“How’d you hurt him??” Penelope was scared to tell him, incase Odysseus got mad at her for it. “I… raised my voice at him.” Odysseus had never felt so stunned in his life?? his wife, the sweetest woman in the entire world. RAISED HER VOICE… “WHAT..??” He said a bit louder then he wanted.

“But you have to understand, he said your jokes are annoying, and that you won’t take him seriously. I told him you’re trying your best and yeah.”

“Oh.” Odysseus said.. “well.. where’d he he go. maybe we can cheer him up, huh..?” Penelope slowly looked up at him, and smiled. “Ohh.. yeah… you’re right. did you know, Telemachus is ticklish?? He’s as ticklish as you are!” “Oh- hey!” Her husband huffed. and stood up.

“well let’s go find him, Hon.” He walked out of the room, she followed. they walked around the palace, and eventually found him sitting in his room by himself. “Hey, kiddo.” Odysseus sat next to Telemachus on the bed, and Penelope sat on the other side of Telemachus. “We’ve been talking.” She finally spoke.

“About what.” Telemachus said, coldly. Odysseus raised an eyebrow. “are you giving us attitude??” Telemachus scoffed, rolling his eyes. “What if I am??” “Don’t be annoying.” Odysseus scolded softly. “We were here to come cheer you up!” Odysseus then said, happily.

Telemachus furrowed his brows in slight confusion, and annoyance. “and how are you going to do that?? I’m not a child anymore.” Telemachus kept up his annoyed front, till Penelope spoke, and Telemachus became nervous. “I told your father, you’re ticklish.”

Telemachus’ eyes widened with horror. “You told him… WHAT??” he panicked. Odysseus and Penelope smiled at him innocently, till Odysseus spoke. “First, you need to hug us. Cause you love uss… sooo muccchh!!” Odysseus was teasing him. And hugged Telemachus, and so did Penelope.

Telemachus hugged them back, till he stifled his laughter, as he felt one of them start tickling his sides. “Nohoho…. Stooppp…!!-“ then the second set of hands tickling him, he started giggling, and couldn’t help it. he figured out who was who eventually. his father tickled his stomach, while his mother tickled his sides, Telemachus giggled, and giggled, his laughter was slightly squeaky.

Telemachus snorted when his father tickled his underarms instead, and he kicked his feet slightly, and pushed against his father and mother a tiny bit. “Well that was a silly sound, wasn’t it??” Odysseus teased. Telemachus squeaked at that, and he blushed slightly out of embarrassment. He felt like he was dying.(from the teasing. Not the tickling.) “Hahaha— you guys! Stop it— I cahahant take ihihit!!” His laughter was joyful and infectious, and Penelope laughed softly.

Telemachus giggled more and more, his parents eventually stopped. Telemachus still giggled softly after that. And caught his breath, while his freckled face was still slightly flushed. “We didn’t bother you that much, did we??” His father asked, looking at Telemachus. And acutally hugged him. “No.. I’m fine… thank you.” Telemachus finally said. He hugged both of his parents. he snuggled against both of them softly. He was feeling slightly sleepy. and eventually fell asleep. his mother brushed the hair out of his face gently. and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight my son…” she said, and smiled. in Telemachus’ dreams. He was thinking of getting revenge. but he couldn’t tickle his dear mother. So he’d just have to tickle his father instead. hint hint…

#hurt/comfort #tickle fluff #fluff #parenting #gentle parenting #epic the musical tickles #sfw tickle community #lee!telemachus #lee!odysseus mentioned…#ler!penelope #ler! Odysseus #light angst #tickle fic #epic the musical silly #epic ithaca saga #valwrites

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ashblooddragons · 2 days ago

Text

La Danse Macabre (Chapter 2/?)

Series Masterlist

119 ac

Rhaenyra’s pov

I sit next to the herth with Jace and Luc watching as they play with their blocks and wooden dragons. Jace was always independent so it is no surprise he is playing alone only occasionally letting his brother join. But my little Luc? Well he must always be near me, he's a Mama's boy through and through. Always crawling after me, handing me toys hoping it will bring a smile to my face. I've tried to leave him but the Nursemaid's say he only wails and screams for me to come back.

He truly is my little boy. Which only reminds me how the little girl I've always dreamed of, always wanted, I can't connect.

I can't explain it, I want to. Oh do I want to, what Mother doesn't want to bond with their child? But I just can't.

Each time I look at her I remember all I've lost. Especially when I think about how I lost Alicent.

Now that I'm older, wiser, I know she didn't have a choice on whether or not she could visit my Father. He is the King, he asked for her and she couldn't say no. Gods I can't even say no so why did I think she could?

I lied to her, used the fact we both lost our Mother’s so she would believe my lies. I still can't believe I did that, I pray to any gods nightly that my Mother would forgive me for using her name for my lies.

But the moment I know I truly lost her, lost my best friend, the one person I felt saw me, was the day Jace was born. She knew, I know she did, anyone with eyes would know. I had a son that most definitely wasn't Laenor's. I slept for pleasure with a man after I gave her pretty words and soft kisses. I did what my Uncle did to me, I did the thing I swore I would never do to another, to the person I hold most dear.

And for that alone I can't blame her for her anger, her rage.

It is a wonder to me how she still holds my little girl so dear. Mayhaps because she wasn't born out of lies and broken promises, but of duty like Alicent did with all of hers.

I regret turning to Harwin, I was drunk and sobbing when he knocked on my door to see if I was alright. I don't remember who made the first move, who kissed the other first. All I do know is one moment I was telling him all my woes and the next I was riding him like my life depended on it. I can't say I regret it fully, I got my little boys out of it, but there is a part of me that wonders if I still would have if I did what was right and lay with Laenor when we needed to.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts when the door opens and Laenor walks in laughing with a squealing Valaena in his arms.

“We're back!” He exclaimed as he lifts our daughter off his shoulders where she is pulling his locks like and rests her upon his hip.

I smile at our girl's laughter, at how Laenor looks at her. I know it's different to how he looks at the boys, and I don't blame him for it. That is our little girl, the boys are mine.

But then I frown in confusion when I take in his state of dress. Riding leathers, smell of sulfur, surely he didn't. I think before I notice Valaena is wearing her little pink riding leathers too.

I let out an annoyed sigh. “Haven't we talked about taking her on rides? I thought we agreed that we would tell the other at least before taking her.” I say as he sets her on the ground so she can greet me.

He gives a sheepish grin before shrugging. “I saw her in the gardens with the Queen, as I figured she would be from what you told me this morning of our girl's plans. And she kept begging for Seasmoke, I mean she was in tears before I told her we could. She twisted my heart with those eyes of hers.” He says in mock fury towards our daughter who only giggles before kissing my cheek.

I can't help but chuckle at his words, Valaena had him wrapped around her little finger since she was born and she knows it. “You shouldn't give in so quickly, I was getting worried she was gone longer than Alicent told me.” I say seriously as I wave a Maid over telling her to get a bath ready for Valaena.

“I'm sorry, I told a guard to tell you where I was taking her. They must have forgotten or gotten busy.” He responds truthfully before kissing my brow.

I frown at his words, most knights would listen to the future King Consort, so why didn't this one?

“Who did you ask?” I say as I untie Valaena's little riding boots. It never ceases to bring a smile to my face when I look at how small her shoes are. They fit in my hands but in her hands they seem perfectly sized. It only reminds me how young she is, how the court has yet to sink their claws and teeth into her fragile heart.

“Harwin, he was coming back from a patrol with the City Watch. He said he would tell you.” He says picking up a whining Jace.

I feel rage fill my heart at those words. It is not the first time Harwin kept something like this from me. If I ask him to find Valaena he always comes back saying he couldn't. But when I or Laenor go to find her it takes no time at all. I have noticed his scowls and disdainful looks towards my daughter but played it off as tiredness. Mayhaps I should rethink my relationship with the Knight called Breakbones.

“I will speak to him when I can, will you watch the boys as I clean our daughter so she doesn't smell of dragon during dinner?”

Laenor nods taking the spot I had just sat playing with Jace and Luc.

Once the warm water is poured into the brass tub I set Valaena inside as I go to pick which oils to use in her hair and bath.

“Do you want jasmine or vanilla?” I ask putting them under her nose, letting her pick between the two.

“That one!” She exclaims pointing at the vanilla vile.

I pour a little into the bath before filling the dropper and letting drop after drop into her hair. I then use my fingers to make sure all of the oils are in her hair before taking a wooden cup and leaning her head back.

“Close your eyes, Darling I need to rinse your hair.” I say when I notice her pout as I stopped her from playing with her wooden toys.

I gently rinse her curls taking in how long they are when wet. I know her hair was long but everytime I wash it I'm blown away how long it truly is.

“Good, now we need to wash that stinky skin.” I say putting my brow to hers and scrunching my nose to make a silly face.

I take the bar of lye soap with jasmine petals and oil infused, and lather it against a wet rag before rubbing said rag along her arms.

“Did you have a good flight with Papa?” I ask, wiping a bit of ash from her brow.

“Uh-huh, he went really fast and did the dracarys.” She responds excitedly.

It's moments like these, where it's just the two of us that I feel like I can actually connect with her. But usually something takes my attention, the boys are the largest culprits of this. Especially Luc, unsurprisingly.

“Oh? Did he now?” I ask, hiding my chuckle when I hear Laenor curse under his breath about how he should have told Valaena to not tell me that part.

“Yeah, we even went through it!” She says spreading her arms out like wings pretending to be like Seasmoke.

“Well how else are you to fly when there is dragon fire? Around it? No, where is the fun in that?” I respond smiling when Valaena nods her head like what I said is the smartest thing to be spoken in all the world.

Once I know she is all clean I pick her up out of the bath wrapping her up in a warm towel before heading towards her chambers. I thank the gods I have such a large apartment, I already have to put Jace and Luc in the same room together. Any more children and I'll need to get rid of the suller.

Once I set her on the bed I turn towards her wardrobe deciding which dress she should wear. I've narrowed it down to three.

The first is a red dress with onyx, gold, and rubies along the neckline. It's similar to a dress I own myself but I know I won't be wearing it tonight so that is now out of the question.

The second is a purple dress that my Father, her grandsire gave her a moon ago on a whim. It has silver embroidery in the shape of dragons along the long sleeve and hem. But what truly makes it breathtaking is the diamonds encrusted along the collar and hem of her sleeves. It would be lovely at a ball but for a dinner, it is too much.

Finally, I hold up one Lord Corlys gave her. It is a dusty blue and beige dress. It has golden dragons embroidered along the hem of the short sleeves and hem of the dress. It has pearls and small sapphires sewn into the neckline. It is lovely, and extravagant like a Princess and heir to the throne should be. But at the same time, it is simple enough for a dinner with family in a quiet seller.

It's perfect.

I quickly dress her making sure nothing is wrinkled before moving to her hair. She keeps wanting to move so I finally give her my necklace to look at. It's her favorite, it's the one her father gave me. A silent chain with a diamond-encrusted seahorse. It was a gift after we were wed, a symbol of our shared house now. And in return I gave him a dagger with the Targaryen symbol on the pommel.

“Are you ready for dinner, my love?” I ask once she is all ready.

But sadly the only response I get is a nod as she wiggles in my arms as she stares at Laenor.

“Papa.” She whimpers out catching his attention and he walks over to us taking her in his arms.

I didn't want him to, I never wanted him to take her from my arms, to take our special time together. But she's a Daddy's girl, always was, so she will always turn to Laenor before she turns to me. I know it is wrong but I feel resentment towards Laenor because of that. I carried her for nine moons, I was in labor for thirteen hours birthing her. And yet he is his favorite?

Mayhaps that is why I chose to be with Jace and Luc more? To protect them yes, bit because they want me and no one else.

I watch mournfully as Laenor carries Valaena out of our apartments. Her chattering in his ear a mile a minute. More than she ever does with me. Maybe I'm not cut out for daughters, or maybe that dark, helpless place never left me after she was born? Maybe I just think it is now that Jace and Luc are here? Maybe that's why I can't connect with my daughter, because I haven't been able to find myself again in a long while.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy @athzhowakar

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