#someone please take my phone away from me

[barnacles34]

Bells and Whistles (Professional Hazard pt.2)

Karina x Male Reader

18+

It's three days after that beautiful night. Still in Rome.

The voicemail plays in the quiet of her bedroom. First: silence. Then a sharp intake of breath that makes your pulse jump. 

Your thumb hovers over the phone as her voice breaks into those familiar wet sounds that have been haunting you all afternoon.

'If you play that one more time—'

'Shh. This is art.'

She's burrowed in her fortress of quilts, only eyes visible over the edge. A paperback lies abandoned by her hip.

'Delete it.' But her voice has gone soft around the edges.

'Not a chance.' You take your time with your shoes. Let her watch the deliberate movements. 'This is better than your debut song—and you know how much I love that song.’'

'You're awful.' The quilt slips as she shifts. 'I was desperate.'

'Were you?' You tap the phone, find that specific moment where her voice catches. 'Tell me about desperate.'

Her sock-covered foot sneaks out, hooks behind your knee. Tugs. 'Twenty minutes for milk. Who takes twenty minutes for milk?'

'Someone wearing very expensive, very tight jeans.'

'Someone being cruel.'

You catch her ankle mid-retreat. The quilt falls away, reveals cotton shorts still damp from earlier. Your thumb finds the arch of her foot, presses. She makes that sound again—the one from the voicemail.

'Cruel?' Your fingers trace higher. 'I'm not the one sending pornographic voicemails in the middle of the day.'

'I didn't—' She breaks off as your hand slides up her calf.

'No?' You hit play again. Her recorded gasp fills the room. 'What would you call this then?'

She bites her knuckle. You replace it with your thumb, let her teeth graze the pad.

'That noise you made,' you murmur. 'Right at the end. Makes me feel invincible.'

'Yeah?' Her tongue darts out, tastes salt.

'Like I could do anything. Find Atlantis. Solve world peace.' You brush her temple with your lips. 'Handle two of you.'

She snorts, shoves at your chest. 'You can barely handle one.'

'Want to test that theory?'

The laughter dies in her throat as your palm finds her inner thigh. Heat blooms under cotton.

'Stay.' Her fingers twist in your shirt like anchors. 'I'll send more. A dozen. Two dozen.'

'Greedy girl.'

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. 'Your fault.'

When you kiss her, she melts like she's been waiting all day.

Her tongue maps the ridges of your teeth, memorizing territory she already knows by heart.

‘Cheater,’ she gasps when you pinch the clasp of her bra.

‘Architect.’

Her shorts fall. The quilt tangles around her hips. She arches when your mouth finds her neck. Whimpers when your teeth follow.

‘Still deleting it.’ She breathes.

‘Try.’

You hit playback again. Her moan swells—raw, unfiltered—as your fingers slide into her.

‘Fuck.’ Her head thrashes. ‘That’s—’

‘—Proof.’ You curl your fingers. ‘You’re my religion.’

She chokes on a laugh. A sob. Her hips stutter. You drink the sounds from her lips. Let her nails carve half-moons into your shoulders.

Later, when she’s boneless and blinking up at you, she traces your collarbone.

‘Twelve voicemails,’ she yawns.

‘Thirteen.’

‘Why thirteen?’

You press her palm to your chest. Let her feel the gallop. ‘One for every time I died at this very second.’

She stills.

Her teeth flash. Dangerous. Devoted. ‘Gladly.’

Your fingers move lazy. Slow. Dragging out every twitch, every choked gasp. She arches into your hand, sweat gluing her bangs to her temples.

‘Still… deleting it.’ She pants, hips circling.

‘Try harder.’ You crook your fingers. Watch her back bow.

Her moan syncs with the recording still playing softly nearby—a stereo echo of need. You drink the sound. Memorize the way her throat flutters.

It’s pulsing, it’s so wet and hot. Sucking in your fingers like quicksand.

‘You’re mean.’ She whines.

‘Mean?’ Your thumb swipes. ‘You begged for this. Remember?’

The voicemail crackles: “—can’t sleep, can’t think, just… please—”

You smirk. Kiss her inner thigh. Salt and jasmine. Her hips jerk.

‘No—wait—’ Her hand fists your hair. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t pull. Trembles.

You nuzzle the damp cotton. ‘Scared?’

‘Never.’

Her shorts peel away. You linger—inhale her, lips hovering. She whimpers.

You chuckle. ‘Even your pussy smells like jasmine.’

‘Please.’

The first lick is a tease. A glancing blow. She curses. The second? A vow.

You map her with your tongue—slow, reverent. Learn the rhythm that makes her thighs clamp your ears. The angle that steals her words. She’s wildfire in your mouth.

‘There—oh god, there—’

You double down. Fingers curl inside her. Thumb presses just so.

Her scream is raw. Beautiful. The quilt soaks. You don’t let up—suck gently as she shakes, drag your tongue through every pulse until she’s clawing the sheets.

Her juices quicken, a pungent musk of sex that’s just pure fucking sin—and you’re sucking it up like a thirsty dog.

Your tongue drags a slow circle around her clit—not touching it. Just tracing the swollen bud through her folds. She whines, thighs tensing.

‘Tease.’

‘Worshipper.’ you correct.

Her hips lift. You press her back down with a palm to her stomach. Feel the muscles flutter, feel the soft cream-like softness of her beautiful midriff.

First contact: a glancing lick. Just the tip of your tongue skating over her clit. She gasps. You catalog the sound—high, sharp, yours.

‘Again.’ She breathes.

You oblige. Slower this time. Let your tongue flatten, drag wet heat across her, bury your nose into her pelvis. Her fingers knot in the sheets.

‘Good?’

‘More.’

You hum. Vibration ripples through her. She jerks.

‘Easy,’ you murmur against her. ‘Let me learn you.’

Your thumbs part her folds. Expose her fully—glistening, flushed, pulse visible in the throb of her clit. You blow gently. Watch her clench, flesh constricting.

‘Cruel—’ A high moan escapes her.

‘Thorough.’

The first proper lick steals her voice. You start slow. Broad strokes from entrance to clit, savoring her tang. Her thighs quiver.

‘There,’ she hisses when your tongue flicks her clit. ‘God, there—’

You zero in. Flick. Flick. Steady rhythm. Her breath hitches.

‘Don’t stop—don’t—’

You switch tactics—suck gently. Her back arches.

‘Yes—like—ah—’

Her clit hardens under your tongue. You trace circles around it, avoiding direct contact. She sobs.

‘Please—’

You reward her: firm pressure, rapid flicks. Her hips stutter. You pin her down, red blooming around the hold you have over her stomach—relentless.

‘Close—I’m close—’

You slide two fingers inside. Curl. Her walls clamp.

‘Fuck—fuck—’

Her clit pulses under your tongue. You suck harder.

She shatters.

A broken scream. Hips grinding against your face. You ride her through it—tongue gentling, fingers stilling.

‘Too much—’

You kiss her inner thigh. Two more kisses along the outer lips. Taste salt. ‘Beautiful.’

She trembles. ‘Again.’

Her thighs tremble as she nudges you onto your back. The mattress dips under her weight. You reach to touch her face—always reaching—but she catches your wrist. Presses it to the pillow. 

Her grip isn’t firm. A request, not a demand.

‘Let me,’ she murmurs.

You nod.

Her lips start at your collarbone—a closed-mouth kiss that lingers. She exhales warm breath against the hollow of your throat. You swallow. She smiles against your skin.

Another kiss. Lower. The swell of your pectoral. The scar from that cat. Her tongue traces the jagged edge. You hiss.

The way her thick hair travels along your chest tickles. The soothing aroma of her shampoo almost paralyzing you.

Her teeth graze your nipple. Bite down just enough to make your hips jerk. The denim of your jeans rasps against her bare thighs.

‘Off,’ she says.

‘What’s the magic word?’

Her eyes flick up. Dark. Glossy with submission. ‘Please.’

You sit up to shuck your jeans. She pushes you back down. ‘Let me.’

Her fingers fumble with your belt. The leather slips. She growls—a sound you’ve only heard when she lost at Mario Kart the day before. You bite your cheek. Laughter threatens release.

‘Shut up.’

‘Didn’t say anything.’

The belt clatters to the floor. Your boxers follow. Cool air hits your cock. Her breath follows—warm, uneven.

‘Look at me,’ you say.

She does. Pupils blown. Lips parted. A string of saliva connects her tongue to her lower lip.

‘Beautiful,’ you murmur.

She flushes. Looks away.

Your thumb hooks her chin. ‘Eyes here, sweetheart.’

A whimper escapes her. She obeys.

The first lick is tentative. A kitten testing cream. Her tongue swipes the underside of your cock. Your abs clench in response.

‘Jimin—’

‘Shh.’

Her lips wrap the head. Suck gently. Your groan claws its way out. She moans in response—vibration traveling straight to your spine.

Fuck.

Her hand wraps your shaft. Strokes in time with her mouth. Too dry. Too rough. Perfection.

‘Condom?’ she mumbles around you, the slightest gap allowed for conversation.

‘Later.’

She hums. The sound liquefies your bones.

And she continues. Swollen lips wrapped around your length, tongue slightly pushing on the underside.

Her free hand drifts between her legs. You catch it.

‘Focus.’

‘Meanie.’

You guide her head back down. ‘Earn it.’

She takes you deeper. Smoldering eye contact as she inches closer to the hilt, whereupon her nose almost makes contact with your pelvic bone. Gags. Pulls off. Coughs.

Strings of thick spit follow her mouth as she wipes.

‘Okay?’

‘Perfect.’

She tries again. Slower. Breathing through her nose. Her throat opens. Takes you to the root this time. Tears spill.

You bite down on your lip.

Her nails dig into your thighs. Sting. Ground. 

She finds a rhythm—suck, release, swirl. Strings of spit travel down your length. Where her thumb massages your balls with the spit. Your vision blurs.

Amidst it all, she’s staring into you—daring you to force her down on your cock. Begging, even.

‘Close,’ you warn.

She pulls off. Strokes you fast. ‘Come.’

You arch. ‘Where?’

Her tongue darts out. Catches the first pearl of cum. ‘Everywhere.’

The orgasm rips through you. Strips you raw. You spill across her lips, her chin, the swell of her breasts. She licks her lips. Grins.

‘Good?’

‘Amazing.’

She crawls up your body. Fully swallowing the load, then pressing a light kiss on your cheek.

Her mouth lingers on your cheekbone—wet, warm. The kiss sticks when she pulls back. Milky streaks still glisten between her breasts. You thumb one. She shivers.

‘Messy,’ you murmur.

‘Yours.’

Her nipples graze your chest as she straddles you. Heat blooms where skin meets skin. You palm her ribs. Feel the rabbit-quick thrum beneath.

Her hips lift. Your cock nudges her entrance. Slick. Swollen. You hold still. Make her work for it.

‘Please.’ She breathes, sinking down.

Heat swallows you. Tight. Quivering. You bite your tongue. Blood blooms.

She moves like water—slow swirls, thighs trembling. Her breasts sway. You catch one. Lick the salt from its curve.

‘Look at me.’

She doesn’t. Eyes screwed shut. Hair plastered to her neck. Hot and heavy with arousal.

You pinch her nipple. Gentle. Cruel. ‘Look.’

She whimpers. Lashes lift. Pupils black as oil spills.

‘Good girl.’

She whimpers. Clenches. Your fingers dig into her hips.

‘Faster.’

‘Make me.’

You buck up. She gasps. Nails score your chest.

‘Cheat—’

Her rhythm fractures. Hips stuttering. You let her chase it—the sweet friction, the burn. Her moans pitch higher.

‘Close—I’m close—,’ she whimpers.

You still her hips. ‘Wait.’

She sobs. ‘Please—’

‘Say it.’

Your thumb finds her clit. Circles.

She breaks. ‘Yours. Always yours.’

You release her. Let her slam down. Take what she needs.

Her orgasm rips through both of you—convulsions, bitten-off cries. Her rhythmic roll of hips turns frenzied. You let her ride it. Milk every pulse. 

After all, you’re obsessed—crazy about her.

When she collapses, you roll her over. Press into the sweat-slick hollow of her back.

‘Again.’

She shakes her head. Weak.

You bite her shoulder. ‘Again.’

Her body opens. Always opens. You grip your cock along her swollen slit, the sticky wetness almost  drives you mad. Regardless, you fuck her slow this time. 

Deep. Dragging each thrust. Feeling how her pussy drags on your cock, slick wet sounds singing into your ears.

‘Feel it?’

She nods. Pillow muffling her whines.

Your hand slides under. Cups her breast. Squeezes.

You curl over her. Chest to heaving back. Lips to her ear.

​​Her lips linger at your ear—sticky with confession. You taste salt when she pulls away. The room smells of sex and the spilt vanilla candle she lit hours ago, wax pooling like liquid amber.

She softly guides your hand to her throat. Your thumb finds the pulse. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. A trapped bird.

"Harder," she whispers.

You tighten. Feel her swallow.

Her breasts press against your chest as she arches, nipples pebbling against your scars. The heat between her legs slicks your thigh.

"Inside.’

You flip her. Sheets snag her knees. She whines. You bite the sound from her lips.

Her hands fist the headboard. You press into her slow. Molten velvet. Her moan fractures.

‘Eyes.’

She obeys. Always obeys.

You move. Deliberate. Each thrust a psalm. Her breasts sway—heavy, flushed. You palm one. Squeeze. Milk-white skin blooms red.

‘More—’

‘Quiet.’

She bites her wrist. You replace it with your fingers.

‘Sing for me.’

Her cry splinters the air. You swallow it. Fuck her deeper.

The headboard knocks the wall. Syncopated. Her ankles lock at your waist. Pull. Beg.

‘Who?’ you demand.

‘Yours.’

‘Louder.’

‘Yours~!’

The word still ringing when you slam into her. No finesse. Piston hips. Her breasts slap your chest—heat and sweat and jasmine.

She chokes. Nails rake your back. ‘Too—’

‘Take it.’

Her legs lock. Ankles digging into your behind. You fuck her like proving a point. Jackhammer rhythm. Headboard cracks plaster.

Dust rains down as you drag her hips back, slam into her harder. No rhythm now—just ruin.

She chokes on a scream, face mashed into the quilt, ass raised like an offering.

Your grip bruises her waist, fingers denting flesh as you split her open again. Again. Again and again. 

You can feel your balls hit the wetness of her pussy, smacking wet sounds onto her slit.

‘Take it.’ You grind deeper, pelvis punishing her clit with each thrust. Her thighs quiver, slick with sweat and your earlier release. ‘Wanted me rough? Here.’

She sobs into the mattress, voice shredded. ‘T-too—’

‘You don’t get to.’ You fist her hair, yank her head back. Her spine bows, throat exposed. ‘You begged for this. Remember?’

A nod. A whimper.

You snarl, slamming home. The wet slap of skin-on-skin drowns her cries. Her nails claw the sheets, nearly ripping threads. You lean over her, teeth scoring her shoulder. 

Her scream cracks as you pin her wrists, pound into her like you’re exorcising ghosts.

The bed groans. Her breasts sway, nipples raw from your mouth. She’s so tight, clenching around your cock like she’s trying to keep you trapped inside.

‘Gonna break you,’ you rasp, thumb digging into her asshole.

She shrieks, back arching. ‘P-please—’

‘Please what?’

‘Ruin me—’

You do. Hips pistoning, sweat stinging the bite marks on her neck. You don’t stop—can’t stop—driving into her convulsions until your vision whites out.

She sobs. High. Broken. ‘There there there~!’

Your thumb finds her clit. Grind. Her scream lodges in your teeth.

‘Come.’

‘Can’t—can’t—’

You bite her shoulder. ‘Come.’

She shatters. Walls milking. Clenching. Begging without words.

You drill deeper. Tip hitting that spongy ache. Her eyes roll back.

‘Gonna fill you,’ you snarl.

‘Please please—’

One last thrust. Hilt-deep.

You rupture.

Whiteout. Earthquake hips. Flood her until your knees buckle.

She collapses into the fault line you’ve carved. Whimpers when you pull out. Spend drips down her thigh.

Her finger swipes it—all that cumulative spend coupled along her swollen cunt. Lets the slurry couple along her tongue.

‘I love how you taste.’

‘God. You’re too fucking perfect.’ You drop down onto her. Cuddling.

Moonlight spills through the curtains. She's tucked against you, all soft edges now.

'You okay?' Your fingers ghost over her shoulder.

'Mm.' A pause. 'Was it too much?'

'Never.'

'But I was...' She shifts slightly. 'I got carried away.'

'Hey.' You tilt her chin up. 'That's what I love about you.'

'What? Being a mess?'

'Being real.'

She burrows closer. 'Still. Sorry if I—'

'Don't you dare apologize.'

'But—'

'Want some water?'

'If you move, I'll write a very detailed exposé about you.'

'About what? My green tea addiction?'

'Chapter One: The Man Who Chose Hydration Over Cuddles.'

'Riveting.'

'Mm. I'll even include citations.'

Your fingers trace idle patterns on her arm. 'What's Chapter Two?'

'Our future kids being haunted by your tea collection.'

'Kids, huh?'

'Tiny humans who'll only drink iced americanos.'

'In winter? That's grounds for custody battle.'

She pinches your side. 'They'll be perfect.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. Little artists with their mom's smile and their dad's terrible sense of humor.'

'My humor is exquisite.'

'You'll teach them to be insufferable.'

'And you'll teach them to be beautiful.'

She props herself up. Hair mussed, eyes soft. 'Where should we live?'

'Somewhere quiet. With big windows.'

'And a garden?'

'For your flowers and my tea herbs.'

'Domestic.' She wrinkles her nose. 'I like it.'

You pull her closer. 'We'll need a library.'

'For bedtime stories?'

'And quiet mornings.'

'With a reading nook?'

'Big enough for three.'

'Four,' she corrects. 'Maybe five.'

'Ambitious.'

She kisses your jaw. 'Thought you could handle anything.'

'Try me.'

'Five kids. All girls. All with my stubbornness.'

'Terrifying.'

'But worth it.'

You thread fingers through her hair. 'Worth everything.'

'Even giving up your tea collection?'

'Now you're pushing it.'

She laughs, soft and real. 'I'll let you keep the fancy cups.'

'Generous.'

'I know.' She yawns. 'I'm a catch.'

'The biggest.'

Her fingers trail your chest. 'Hey.'

'Mm?'

'Think our kids will be tall?'

'With your genes? Doubtful.'

She bites your shoulder. 'I'm average height.'

'For a garden gnome.'

'For a normal person.’ She groans.

‘—Who has been crushed ever so slightly by a hydraulic press.’

‘Ugh.’ She falls back into the bed.

‘We need a shower.’

She huffs. ‘No, I need a shower.’

‘Hm?’

‘I know what you’re gonna do: act like it’s a shower then nail me for the next half-hour in there.’

‘Oh?’

‘Don’t oh me. My legs are still sore from the cumulative effects of the past 3 days’

'Fine.' You pull her closer. 'Five more minutes.'

'Five turns into fifty with you.'

'Can you blame me?'

She traces patterns on your chest. 'I have to be at the airport by six.'

'Skip it.'

'Right. I'll just tell my company I found something better to do.'

'Like?'

'Like getting ravished by a journalist with no self-control.'

'Sounds reasonable to me.'

Her laugh is soft. Sad. 'I can’t let go of this.'

'This?'

'You.' She props herself up. 'Your stupid jokes. Your hands. The way you look at me like I'm...'

Your fingers find her hair. 'How long?'

'A week. Maybe two.'

'I'll die.'

'Drama queen.'

'No, actually die. Waste away. They'll write articles: Local Writer Perishes From Karina Deficiency.'

She smacks your chest. 'Stop.'

'My last words will be "if only she'd stayed one more day."'

'I hate you.'

'You love me.'

'Yeah.' She kisses your jaw. 'That's the problem.'

She sits up suddenly. 'Wait. What if—'

'What if?'

'My apartment in Seoul has a separate entrance. Service elevator.' The words tumble out. 'Nobody uses it except staff. And I have this office, connected to my room—'

'Jimin.'

'—could set up a desk there. Get you one of those fancy writing chairs. And there's this cafe nearby, really private, the owner's super discrete—'

You prop yourself up. Watch her plan your smuggling with bright eyes.

'The security team changes rotation at 2AM.' She's drawing invisible blueprints on your chest. 'That's when we could—'

'Breathe, baby.'

'I'm serious.' Her fingers curl against your skin. 'I've thought about this. A lot. Like, embarrassingly a lot.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' She ducks her head. 'Have the whole thing mapped out in my head. When to sneak you in. Which staff to trust. Where to hide your toothbrush.'

'My toothbrush gets its own strategic planning?'

'Everything gets strategic planning.' She looks up. 'I'd make it work. I'd make it perfect.'

'Jimin.'

'I know it's crazy.' Her voice cracks. 'But I can't—the thought of not—'

You pull her down. Kiss her forehead, her temple, the corner of her mouth. 'Tell me more about this secret entrance.'

She breathes against your neck. 'Really?'

'Really. Though I should warn you—'

'What?'

'My toothbrush is high-maintenance. Needs its own security detail.'

She laughs, wet and relieved. 'I'm being pathetic.'

'You're being perfect.' Your thumb catches a tear. 'And I'm taking notes.'

'Yeah?'

'Mm yeah. Finally found my title: "How to Smuggle a Writer: A Professional Hazard."'

Jimin nuzzles into you further. Purring at this moment of peace.

2 Weeks Later

Dawn creeps through her expensive curtains. She's wrapped around you like a koala, skin on skin, taking up more space than her tiny frame should allow.

You try to slip away. Her arms tighten.

'No,' she mumbles against your chest.

'Tea.'

'Lies.'

'Green tea.'

'Worse lies.'

But she lets you go, rolling into the warm spot you leave behind. You pause at the door—she's barely covered by the sheet, hair a mess across your pillow. Perfect.

The kitchen gleams in morning light. That copper kettle she insisted on buying catches the sun—"Because proper tea needs proper tools," she'd declared, like your entire existence before her was barbaric.

She pads in almost-naked just as the water's heating, with your discarded shirt from yesterday.

'Cold?'

'Miss you already.'

'I'm right here.'

'Too far.' She hooks her chin over your shoulder, arms sliding around your waist. 'What blend?'

'The one you say you hate.'

'Mm. The grassy one?'

'Getting better at this.'

She hums against your skin. Already reaching for her cup—the blue ceramic one that somehow migrated from the hotel to her apartment.

First sip. Her eyes close.

'Well?'

'It’s okay.' She takes another sip. 'Bland. I guess.'

She grins wide as you turn around. Getting closer to you, inhaling the smell of your fresh t-shirt. 

'Noted.' You kiss her temple. 'Want the rest of mine too?'

'Yes.' A sleepy smile. 'But only because I love you.'

'Of course.' Your greatest triumph: her, here, stealing your tea and your heart. 'Only because of that.'

'Want breakfast?' She's already moving to the fridge.

'You're cooking?'

'Don't sound so scared.' She pulls out eggs, something that looks suspiciously gourmet. 'I've been practicing. Besides, I’m tired of eating the coal you call food, and the bacteria colony I call food.'

'Since when?'

'Since I decided to be domestic.' She hip-checks you away from the counter. 'Go sit. Let me work.'

You watch her move around the kitchen. Something's different. A nervousness in her hands, a flutter in her movements.

'Stop staring.'

She’s revelling in it, how she gets you dumb-struck every time you get a glance of her.

Too cute.

'Can't help it.'

She sets a plate in front of you. Simple breakfast. Eggs. Toast. But arranged with careful precision. Something white peeking out from under the toast.

'Fancy.' You reach for your fork.

'Wait.' Her fingers twist in your shirt. 'Look under.'

'Under the toast?'

She nods. Not breathing.

You lift the bread. There's a small note. Written as small as her hands would allow. 

���Pregnant.’

The world stops.

'Jimin.'

'I know it's fast.' The words rush out. 'I know we just—but I've been feeling strange and the test was just sitting there in my bathroom for days and I finally—this morning while you were sleeping—'

You pull her into your lap.

'Say something.'

'When?'

'2 weeks, maybe? Remember that night after the bar?'

You remember. Of course you remember. A beautiful night.

'Are you...' Her voice small. 'Are you happy?'

You kiss her. Taste salt. Someone's crying. Maybe both of you.

'Ecstatic.' Your hand finds her stomach. Still flat. But now. But soon. 'Terrified.'

'Yeah?' She laughs through tears.

'Yeah.' You kiss her again. 'Best breakfast ever.'

'Even better than your tea?'

Instead of answering, you kiss her again.

What's tea anyway?

Fin

A/N: Goodness! They make a great couple. Hope you enjoyed!

[sinnabarmoth]

Under the Weather

Pairing: Sylus x Fem|Reader

Prompt: Mini fic of Reader being a soft!dom with the lads. (Not necessarily sexual, just sweet 'let me take care of you' vibes)

Word count: 1k

Links to the other lads: (Rafayel) (Xavier) (Zayne)

“Miss! You have to come over right away! He won’t listen to anyone else we fear. Please come as soon as you can!” Was the message that Luke and Kieran had left on your phone. Panicked that Sylus was doing something stupid and reckless, even for him, you sped over to the N109 zone as fast as you could.

You pulled up to the mansion and rushed inside. “Luke, Kieran, what is it? What’s going on with Sylus?”

“He’s back in his bedroom,” Luke said, “He won’t let us in.”

“But what happened?”

“You just need to see for yourself. Please, you’re our only hope.” Kieran ushered you back to Sylus’s bedroom.

You were scared about what you may end up finding on the other side of that door. Whatever Sylus was doing that had the twins this concerned couldn’t be good. You took a deep breath and knocked. “Sylus? Are you in there?”

“Go away.” he called through the door but he didn’t sound right.

“Not a chance, babe.” you opened the door but didn’t immediately see him. “Sylus?”

“I said to go away.” you turned toward the bathroom and found your boyfriend sitting on the floor, his face pressed against the seat of the toilet. When he saw you he groaned. “I told them not to call you.”

“Are you…are you sick?” you knelt down next to him and felt his forehead. “Oh god, Sylus, you’re burning up.”

“It’s just a cold. I’m fine.”

“Uh huh, just a cold. That’s why you’re in here hovering over the toilet.” you rolled your eyes. “Have you even taken any medicine?”

His frown deepened. “For the love of--” you stood up and rifled through his cabinets and pulled out some fever and flu medicine. “Take these.” you put the pills in his hand and got him a cup of water. “Drink.”

He must not have had the energy to fight you because he did as you commanded without even a little pushback. Any other time he was such a brat. This fever must be really hard on him. “Keep drinking, we don’t need you getting dehydrated.” you kept the cup to his lips, not stopping until he had drank everything.

“Thank you. I’ll be fine now.” he said.

“If you think you’re getting rid of me that easily you are sorely mistaken.” you grabbed a small hand towel and soaked it in cold water. You pressed it against his burning face and you saw the way he sighed in relief. “Honestly, I’m kind of surprised you can even get sick.”

“I’m just full of surprises.” he sighed. For someone who was already pale he looked positively pallid now.

“Come on, let’s get you to the bed.” you helped pull him to his feet, taking it slow so his legs didn’t give out underneath him. As gently as you could you set him back down on the bed and pressed the cool towel to his forehead. You then grabbed a trash can and set it next to the bed just in case he had to puke.

“My poor guy,” you grabbed another towel and started wiping away the sweat on his neck. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“I was handling it.” he said.

“Very poorly. If you weren’t already sick I’d punish you for taking such poor care of yourself.” you sat next to him on the bed. “You don’t need to be embarrassed about needing help, Sylus. If I was sick and I tried to hide it from you, how would you react?”

He closed his eyes. “I’d say you were an idiot.”

“Exactly. And now, I don’t want to have to take advantage of a sick person but desperate times call for desperate measures. Until you are feeling well again I am in charge of you. Understood?”

A breath of a chuckle left him. “Yes, kitten.”

“Good. Have you tried eating anything yet today?”

“Been a bit preoccupied.”

“Got it. Be right back.” you went out to the kitchen and started rifling through the cabinets, finding some instant oatmeal and bananas. You assured Luke and Kieran that you had Sylus well in hand and that they didn’t need to worry about him. They both looked relieved. They cared about their boss so much, it was cute.

You also quickly brewed some tea and brought the tray of food back to his room. “This should be easy enough on your stomach.” you set the tray down on the bed and spooned some oatmeal up. “Open.”

“Feeding me now?”

“If you want to do it yourself--” he cut you off by licking the spoon clean. “That’s better.”

You kept feeding him bites of oatmeal and giving him sips of tea until some of the color started to return to his face. “Looks like the medicine is finally starting to kick in.” you replaced the cloth on his forehead for a fresh one. “Feeling any better?”

“Much. But I don’t know how much the medicine had to do with it.” he grazed your hand.

“The medicine helped plenty, but I’ll happily take the rest of the credit.” you reclined next to him, tucking yourself against his side. “I was really worried when the twins called me.”

“Apologies, kitten. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I’m your girlfriend, it’s in my nature to worry.” you rested a hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. “Next time you’re feeling poorly, tell me. Okay?”

“Okay.” he closed his eyes. “I rather like having you fret over me. My kitten takes charge so gently. You can’t help being sweet, even when you’re being bossy.”

“I’d rather you do as I say because you want to rather than because I forced you. You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, as the saying goes. Or in this case I guess I’m catching crows.” you poked his chest. “Now get some rest, I’ll be right here by your side.”

“What if I get you sick?”

“Then we’ll be sick together and have to rely on Luke and Kieran to take care of us.” you chuckled. “But I wouldn’t worry about it. Just rest.”

“Fine.” he looped an arm around you, keeping you close to him. “And thank you.” he murmured before finally falling asleep.

You kissed his cheek. “Anything for you, my love.”

[deliciousangelfestival]

Change of Heart - 1 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Time changes everything. Interviews used to take place indoors, in studios, or in booked hotel rooms. The questions were serious—focused on economics, politics, or other weighty topics. Back then, only experts or public figures were deemed worthy of being interviewed.

But now, thanks to social media, interviews can happen anywhere. They’re no longer the domain of reporters or TV stations. Instead, anyone with a phone, a camera, and a microphone can conduct an impromptu interview in random places.

These spontaneous interviews often gain far more attention than their polished, scripted counterparts on TV. On the streets, people are asked silly, lighthearted questions, and their candid, often hilarious answers resonate more with viewers. They feel authentic and relatable, unlike the carefully curated responses of experts.

Some people never imagine their offhand comments will make them go viral. Take the girl who became famous overnight for her absurd response to a random question—she jokingly told someone to spit. It was ridiculous, but human nature is unpredictable. The absurdity drew millions of viewers, and just like that, she became an internet sensation.

Today, another viral moment is taking over the internet. The current trend? A simple, loaded question:

“If you were offered 1 million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Many people, interviewed alongside their partners, responded with sweet or heartfelt answers. But one woman gave a response that stopped everyone in their tracks:

“Give me 1 dollar. I’ll leave him this second.”

And the interviewer handed her the one dollar.

Her comment sparked chaos online. Most people laughed, seeing it as a joke and sharing it for its sheer absurdity:

“LMAO, this girl is my spirit animal!”

“She’s not wrong, though. 😂 Relationships are overrated!”

“The audacity! 😂😂😂”

However, not everyone found it funny:

“This is what’s wrong with society—no loyalty anymore.”

“Imagine being her partner and seeing this. Yikes.”

“If this is how people think these days, I’ll stay single forever.”

But there was one man who didn’t find it amusing at all.

He replayed the video, his expression unreadable, though the tension in his jaw betrayed his anger. The room was silent except for the faint hum of his phone’s speaker. His piercing gaze flicked to the woman sitting across from him as the video looped again.

Bucky Barnes hadn’t paid attention to what was happening online. As the CEO of the Lena Group, a leader in car and chip manufacturing, his schedule left little time for distractions. It wasn’t until his secretary and his mother mentioned the viral uproar that he decided to investigate.

Watching the clip now, he felt a surge of disbelief. Shock. Anger. He had worked tirelessly to build his empire, and yet here she was, casually dismissing him with a joke to a stranger.

“So,” he said, his voice cold as he set the phone down on the table, “you think I’m worth one dollar?”

She didn’t flinch under his icy glare. Instead, she calmly lifted her teacup, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. Her movements were measured, deliberate, as if his words carried no weight.

Meeting his gaze, she tilted her head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Now that I think about it,” she said, her tone casual, “70% discount sounds fair.”

His grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles turning white. “What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded, leaning forward, his voice sharper now.

Her expression didn’t waver. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m tired, Bucky. I’ve had enough.”

The room felt heavier, the unspoken words between them thickening the air.

His jaw clenched as he let out a heavy sigh. “You’ve got to be joking.”

His eyes searched your face for any hint of humor, anything to suggest you didn’t mean it. But there was none. Only calm resolve.

He looked at you—the woman he had married two years ago. The truth was, this wasn’t an ordinary marriage. It was what people called a contract marriage. But to Bucky, it was just business. Marriages forged to benefit two businesses had existed for ages, after all.

The so-called marriage contract was simply a guideline—a formal agreement to ensure both parties understood the terms, what was acceptable and what wasn’t. Many people chose contract durations of three or six years before going their separate ways. But Bucky had kept it simpler: a one-year contract, renewable if his wife agreed.

The reason he opted for this arrangement was to avoid the casualties of love. He’d seen it firsthand—his parents, who had started with love, had eventually torn each other apart, not literally, but close enough to leave scars on everyone involved. It was enough to make Bucky swear off traditional marriage altogether.

But his grandfather had other plans. “If you don’t marry, you’ll never inherit the company,” his grandfather had declared, determined to ensure his legacy stayed within the family. Having watched his son—a serial adulterer—destroy the family’s reputation, the old man had become obsessed with the idea of keeping his grandson grounded.

Bucky, however, had no interest in marriage. He had no desire for emotional entanglements or the drama that came with them. Yet his grandfather’s ultimatum left him with no choice. If he wanted to lead the company, he had to marry.

That was when he turned to a matchmaker agency, one well-known among his wealthy peers. It wasn’t cheap, but the agency had stellar testimonials, and they assured him they could find the perfect partner.

And they did.

That’s where he met you. You, too, were looking for something unconventional. You weren’t interested in traditional marriage and came from a good family background, which made introducing you to his parents remarkably easy. Despite his parents’ separation, you navigated the introductions with grace, impressing his mother and, surprisingly, his father.

The wedding happened quickly. You were the ideal partner—easygoing, understanding, and undemanding. When the first year of the contract ended, Bucky asked if you wanted to continue. You had simply smiled and said, “Yes.”

To him, that was enough.

Two years had passed since then, and he thought everything was fine. You never complained, never asked for anything more than the life you had agreed upon. He thought you were content. He thought you were okay.

But now, standing before you on the last day of the contract, he couldn’t reconcile the image he had of your quiet satisfaction with your answer in that viral video.

He stared at you, confused and hurt. “Why did you say it?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “Why give that answer? I thought everything was fine.”

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you glanced at your watch, casually checking the time. “I’m not,” you said, your voice calm, almost detached. “At 12 a.m., our marriage contract will be over. By tomorrow morning, I won’t be here.”

His mouth opened as if to protest, but no words came out. He reached for the black tea you had placed in front of him earlier, taking a sip. It had gone lukewarm—neither hot nor cold, a temperature he despised. It mirrored the hollow, uncomfortable feeling gnawing at his chest.

Finally, he set the cup down with a dull clink. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said, his voice firmer now, though tinged with weariness.

You said nothing in return, merely turned and walked away.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next morning, when he woke up, sunlight was already streaming through the curtains. His eyes flicked to the clock on his nightstand—10 a.m. He sat up abruptly, his head spinning slightly from the sudden movement.

He rarely ever slept this late. For years, he had trained himself to wake by 5 a.m., no matter how little sleep he’d had the night before. Even on his most exhausting days, he never overslept. At most, he might sleep in until 6 or 7 a.m., but 10? Never.

Rubbing his temples, he tried to piece it together. What had made him sleep like this? He thought back to the night before, to your calm words, to the tea…

His hands froze mid-motion. The tea.

A surge of realization hit him. You drugged him.

He swung his legs out of bed, his movements sharp and full of urgency. Throwing on a robe, he stormed out of the bedroom, his voice cutting through the quiet house. “Where is she?”

The housemaid appeared, her expression hesitant and unsure. “She left, sir. Early this morning.”

His jaw tightened as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “And she didn’t say anything? Not a word?”

The maid paused, then held out a small item. “She left this, sir.”

He grabbed the velvet box from her hand, his chest tightening as he opened it. His breath caught at the sight of your wedding ring nestled inside.

For two years, he had worn his own wedding ring daily, thinking of it as nothing more than a piece of jewelry. But now, staring at your ring, it felt heavier than it should, as though it carried the weight of your departure.

Inside the ring box, you left the same crumpled dollar bill. It sat there like a cruel punchline, mocking everything he thought both of you had built together—a final, silent reminder of just how little she thought he was worth.

He set the box down on the table, his eyes scanning the room. When they landed on the wardrobe, he froze. It was still full. You hadn’t taken a single thing.

His mind raced. Where could you have gone? How did you vanish so quickly?

He reached for his phone, dialing his security team with shaky fingers. After two rings, someone picked up.

“Where is she?” he barked, his voice tight with frustration, the tension unmistakable.

The security officer on the other end hesitated. “Mrs. told us… madam wanted to meet her.”

His brows furrowed. “My mother?”

“Yes, sir. She’s in another state.”

That meant only one thing. You had gone to the airport.

“Did she take the private jet or a commercial plane?” he demanded.

“Commercial, sir. It was a last-minute trip, and we hadn’t prepared the jet.”

Bucky’s grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles whitening. His jaw clenched as frustration surged within him. He wanted to scream, to lash out at the sheer incompetence of his team. You fucking idiot. The words pounded in his mind, but he bit them back, forcing himself to stay composed.

“Who bought the ticket?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“It was Mrs. who purchased the ticket herself.”

Bucky exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience wearing thin. He wanted nothing more than to explode, but he kept his voice steady. “Find out where she went.” Without waiting for a response, he ended the call.

Immediately, he dialed his mother. The line connected after a single ring.

“Hello.”

“I’m glad you called,” she said briskly. “Do you know what’s going on right now?”

His grip on the phone tightened. “Did you ask her to meet you?”

“Me? No, I—”

He ended the call before she could finish. That ruled out her involvement.

His mind raced as he considered the possibilities. If you had boarded a plane, he could easily track your destination. But the other option loomed: that the airport was a decoy. You had used his mother’s name as an excuse, ensuring your movements would go undetected by his security team, who clearly hadn’t been following you as closely as they did him.

Bucky’s phone buzzed. The confirmation from his team came through, and the news made his blood boil.

“Mrs. bought a plane ticket but didn’t get on the plane,” the head of security reported.

“Did you check the surveillance cameras?” he snapped.

“Yes, sir. We’ve reviewed the footage. There’s a woman with a similar appearance to madam who rented a car at the airport.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, his frustration mounting. He sucked in a breath, exhaling slowly to keep his temper in check. So, it’s option two. You’re still in the same state.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath, pacing the room. He could feel the tension radiating through his body. “At least you didn’t go far.”

Without wasting another second, he barked into the phone, “Chase the car. Check every schedule she might have left behind, and contact her friends. I want updates—fast.”

Ending the call, he threw the phone onto his desk with a sharp clatter. Running a hand through his hair, he leaned against the desk, staring out the window as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. For someone who always had the upper hand, this was new territory. And he hated it.

Bucky sat in his office chair, staring at the empty ring box on his desk. His mind swirled with unanswered questions. Why had you suddenly left without a word? Both of you had been such a good team—practical, efficient, and untroubled by the complications that plagued most marriages. At least, that’s what he thought.

If he could, he would turn back time and relive the past few months, examining every moment you’d spent together. Had he missed something? Made a mistake? Or had something happened that he was completely unaware of? The uncertainty gnawed at him, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years.

His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“We found her. But…”

“What?!” he barked, standing abruptly.

“It’s not Mrs.,” the security team clarified hesitantly.

A chill ran down his spine. “Then who is it?”

“It’s her friend, sir.”

His stomach tightened, and for the first time in years, Bucky felt a flicker of fear. He thought he was closing in, that you were still within his reach. But now, you were out of his watch, slipping further away with every passing second.

“Secure her. I’m going to meet her,” he ordered, his voice cold and sharp.

“Yes, sir.”

"Prepare the car," Bucky ordered, his voice cold and demanding.

"But, sir, you have a meeting at 2 p.m", his assistant replied, hesitant.

Bucky shot him a sharp glare, his jaw tightening.

The assistant quicklu nodded. "I'll reschedule it, sir," he muttered avoiding Bucky's piercing gaze.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Minutes later, Bucky arrived at a quiet café where Grace was waiting under the watchful eye of his security team. The moment he saw her, he recognized her immediately—your friend, the one who had attended your wedding. Grace was the only person you had trusted with the details of this marriage contract.

Bucky approached the table, his expression unreadable, but his clenched fists betrayed the storm brewing inside him.

“Where is she?” His voice was steady, but there was an edge of desperation he couldn’t fully mask.

Grace avoided his gaze, staring down at the steaming cup of coffee in front of her.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I could raise my voice at you, but I won’t. Grace, please. Tell me where she is.”

Grace finally looked up, her expression guarded. “As far as I know, last night was the last day of your marriage. Today, she’s a free woman.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, Bucky’s mask slipped. He stared at her, bewildered, the weight of everything sinking in. What had he done to make you leave? Had he overlooked something so significant? And why did Grace seem to despise him so much?

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed again. He stepped aside to take the call, his jaw tightening as he listened.

“Sir, we’ve reviewed additional footage. Mrs. used Grace’s ID to purchase another ticket. She’s already on the plane.”

Bucky’s grip on the phone tightened. His gaze snapped back to Grace, who was now watching him warily.

“Grace,” he began, his voice sharper this time. “I’m asking you again. Where is she?”

Grace shook her head, her tone calm but firm. “I don’t know.”

His frustration boiled over. He leaned forward, his palms flat on the table as he stared her down. “Don’t lie to me, Grace.”

She didn’t flinch. “I’m not lying. You don’t know anything about her.”

Her words struck a nerve, leaving him momentarily speechless. He straightened, trying to collect himself, but his mind was racing. Don’t know anything about her? He hated the implication.

“She trusted you,” he said, his voice low. “You were the only one who knew about the arrangement, the only one she confided in.”

“And that’s why I won’t betray her trust now,” Grace replied evenly.

Author Note: Do you found this interesting? Would you like it to be continued?

[logans-whore]

Hi~

I was reading your old man logan one-shot and mwah chief kiss

Can I ask for some more old man logan and young reader?maybe he's unsure of whether he should give into his desire or keep pushing her away but when he saw her laughing at her phone or talking to a boy friend of hers he loses it?

Or anything like that love yaa

I swear I'm working on my other requests, but holy hell, this caught hold of my brain like a dog with a chew toy and it didnt let go. This can be read as a prequel to this fic, but can be read as a standalone too! Also this turned out way fluffier than I thought it would, but oh well. I hope you like it!!!

https://www.tumblr.com/logans-whore/773031900713451520/may-i-please-ask-you-to-write-something-for-old?source=share

Logan is fully aware that he's too old for you. He's too aware, if you're the one being asked.

The two of you were the only ones to survive the Westchester incident, him because of his healing, you because you hadn't been at the mansion on the day of the incident.

So you, him, and Charles move in together, hiding away. Later, Caliban joins you.

Now, you've had a thing for him for years. But seeing him there, caring for you, for Charles, being protective, and providing? Yeah, that scratches the lizard part of your brain just right.

And he notices, sees the way you look at him like he's the only thing you'll ever want. And he turns you down, over and over again, keeping you away. He's way too old for you, and starting to look it too. You deserve someone young. Someone good, and kind, and caring and perfect, like you.

And you're not the kind of girl to push it. To force a relationship with someone who doesn't want you. (Or so you think. He wants you. Very much. He's just an idiot)

So you put yourself out there. You've been working as a waitress to help pay the bills. And a customer gives you his number, and he's sweet and funny and cute, and you say yes. Thinking this is your chance to get over Logan, to move on, find someone new to love. You start texting him, and he seems great. You really like him, and you think, with time, with patience, maybe you could grow to love him. Not the all encompassing, full body experience that loving Logan is, but maybe a simpler, less painful love.

Logan on the other hand, sees you texting. All the damn time. After several pointed remarks on phones, and how young people should get off them and have a conversation, he finally asks who you're texting.

When you tell him about Adam, the cute guy from the diner, his heart drops. He's grown to love you, to love your kindness, your compassion, the way you look at him, how absolutely fucking stunning you are. And thinking about you with anyone else? Hell no. You're his. Not that you belong to him, but you're his, and he's yours, the way only people in love are each others.

And he can't lose you, he realizes with startling clarity. He just can't.

So the next morning, as you make breakfast, about to start your shift, he slinks iinto the kitchen, looks you dead in the eyes and says. "I love you."

You nearly drop the spatula you're using, choking on your own spit. "W-what?" you sputter, surprised and confused.

"I love you" he says again. You look at him for any sign of him joking, of him playing some fucked up prank. You find none.

"I'm sorry I didn't say it before", he continues, like he hasn't just dropped the emotional equivalent of an atomic bomb on you. "I'm sorry. But I love you, honey. And I don't want to see you with anyone else but me. I know-" he hesitates, but continues. "I know I said I'm too old for you. Know I said you should find someone your own age. But I'm taking it back. And I'm asking you, not to fall in love with him. I want you in love with me."

You stare at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You- you're serious?"

"I just gave you the cheesiest goddamn speech I've ever given in my life, of course I'm fuckin' serious" He grumbles, and you can't help but laugh, before crossing the distance to stand in front of him and kissing him stupid

"I love you too," You murmur against his mouth, and feel him beam against you, smiling into the kiss. "I'm not gonna fall for him. I'm already in too deep with you"

Hours later, when he's fucking you into the mattress, you cry his name over and over again, and he knows, warm and safe in your arms, in your heart, that you mean it. That you're his, and he's yours.

Logan is full aware that he's too old for you. He loves you anyways.

[rafeysbambi]

bambi

part ix

summary:

kind, sweet and the definition of innocent, obsessed with pink, bows and all animals but especially deers. y/n has barely held a boys hand let alone been kissed until rafe cameron lays eyes on her

a/n:

hi new part!!! sorry for the delay i’ve been away with no signal but finally back home! someone mentioned on the last part about a tag list, please let me know if you’d like to be added to that ! hugs n kisses x

rafecameron: i’m here princess

you practically ran downstairs, seeing the message, rafe knocking on the door seconds later. you opened it to see rafe standing there smiling at you, another bouquet of flowers in his hands. “hey there pretty lady.”

“hi” you smiled up at him, “here come inside while i pop these in my room” you pulled him inside by his hand.

your father came out of his study hearing the noise, “ah hello rafe” he shook his hand giving rafe a small smile. “y/n or my receptionist i should say tells me you’re going to a bonfire tonight?”

“yes sir that’s correct.” rafe responded with a small nod his eyes glancing back up to the stairs you ran up.

“and tonight will there be drinking?”

“i won’t be drinking tonight sir no.”

“correct answer, good sport. you just make sure my y/n is well looked after son.” rafe nodded in response as you ran down the stairs.

“okay bye daddy i’ll see you later” you placed a kiss on his cheek before grabbing rafe by the arm and pulling him outside.

“you’re very eager tonight doll” rafe chucked as you lead him to the car. he opened the door for you before jogging around to his side.

“i’m just trying to save you from my fathers interrogations.”

“oh right so i should be thanking you now huh?”he smirked as he looked over at you and you just nodded your head and giggled in response. “alright doll you know what to do” you smiled at him as he handed you his phone. you couldn’t help but blush as you opened his spotify seeing that he’d added your playlists to his library and followed your profile.

god he’s so cute.

you scrolled through a playlist, clicking on juna by clairo. you watched from the corner of your eye as he listened to song, silently studying the lyrics. “do you like it?” you asked.

“yeah it’s cute baby, all your musics so cute.” he smiled reach over to hold your hand as he drove. you played with his fingers while you hummed to the music, looking at the window as you drew closer to the beach, the array of cars lazily parked indicating you had arrived. rafe looked over to you as he parked the car, “alright if anyone offers you anything, don’t take it, if you want a drink you let me know and i’ll get it for you.”

“okayy”.

“and if it feels like it’s too much, you just tell me and we can go somewhere else.” you just nod in response and he looks at you, his gaze full of concern, “i’m dead serious.”

“okay rafe, i promise you if i feel uncomfortable i’ll let you know.” you squeezed his hand before placing a soft kiss on his cheek, “i know that i’m safe with you.” rafe’s eyes softened, satisfied with your response, he got out the car to open the door for you.

“are you cold? do you want my jumper?” he looked over to you before grabbing his jumper out the back of the car not even waiting for you to answer.

“it’s still warm out rafe” you giggled looking up at him with your big doe eyes.

“i’m giving it 20 minutes before you start telling me you’re cold” he teases before grabbing your hand tightly and leading you towards the bonfire.

rafe was right, it was chaotic to say the least, there were people dancing mindlessly, people playing games with red cups, people running around and screaming. it wasn’t crazy like a murder scene unsafe crazy just completely different to all the garden parties and high tea’s you were used to.

“you good?” rafe looked down at you. you nodded in response, squeezing his hand looking around. “alright let’s go meet some people” rafe moved his hand to the small of your back as he lead you over to a group of people who all turned to greet rafe. “this is y/n” rafe introduced you to everyone, topper gave you a big smile.

“hey y/n, glad you guys made it.” he couldn’t help but to smile at the two of you, not used to seeing rafe like this. “y’all want a drink?” topper asked the two of you. rafe shook his head, causing toppers eyebrows to raise. “you not drinking tonight bro?” topper queried, causing a couple of the other guys to start questioning if rafe was okay.

“nah not tonight bro” rafe’s eyes flickered down to you for a second and topper immediately knew that this man was down bad causing him to nod and smirk.

you on the other hand were stood looking up at rafe wondering how much he would normally drink based off of the reactions he was getting. you knew it was common for people your age to drink and you were probably one of the few that hadn’t. you just didn’t know what to think, your mind kept racing back to what your brother told you, or even worse to the way ruthie and her friends laughed at the thought of you talking to rafe.

sensing your eyes on him, rafe looked down, moving his hand from the small of your back to rest on your hip, tracing small patterns with his thumb. he leaned his head down to your ear, “you all good?”

“yeah, all good” you gave him a small smile. he wasn’t buying it, grabbing your hand leading you away from the crowd. “rafe-“

“now tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head?” he asked tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“nothing i just-“

“it doesn’t look like nothing.”

“i just i don’t know what to think rafe, it’s like you’re this person with me and then with everyone else it’s someone completely different.”

“what?”

“all those guys just seemed so surprised you weren’t drinking like it was the most unrealistic thing in the world, but i guess i never really took you as someone who would party and drink a lot.” you started to ramble, each word making you feel more and more that you were just in fact putting your foot in your mouth.

“right so this is because a bunch of drunk guys wanted me to drink?” rafe pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“no that’s not what i mean” you stutter out quickly realising that you’d messed up.

“right okay well i’m going to go get a drink of soda” and with that rafe turned his back and started to walk off.

“rafe wait” but it was too late, you pulled at your hair in annoyance. you took a couple of deep breaths to compose yourself before turning around to try to look for where rafe was. somehow the 6’2 boy was out of sight. you sighed before making your way over to a bench perched around the fire. you sat down replaying the conversation in your mind over and over. you didn’t even notice when someone sat down next to you.

“you look way too sad to be at a bonfire right now” you practically jumped at the voice, turning your head to see the boy with messy blonde hair who started laughing. “woahh didn’t mean to scare you. god do i look that scary or something, you looked like a deer stuck in headlights there.” the boy was full of energy basically bouncing as he threw his head back laughing at himself

“sorry, i just wasn’t expecting it” you said softly.

“nah don’t apologise, s’all good uh what’s your name pretty?”

“y/n”

“right y/n it’s a pleasure to meet you” he stuck out his hand for you to shake, “i’m j-“

“don’t you dare touch her maybank” you looked up to see rafe storming over, he made it to you in seconds, pulling the boy up by his shirt.

“my bad cameron, maybe if you didn’t leave your girl all alone, i wouldn’t have to keep her company” and with that rafe punched him square in the face knocking him straight to the ground, people rushed over, topper and a boy sporting a bandana stepped between rafe and maybank.

rafe wasn’t interested in it though, he looked over to you grabbing your hand, “we’re leaving.” his grip was tight but not enough to be painful. the walk back to the car felt slow despite how fast rafe was walking. he opened the door for you, letting you get in before he got in himself and started the engine all without saying a word. he looked over to you, “seatbelt now.”

“rafe.” you pleaded with him, your bottom lip stuck out as you pouted.

“what?”

“are you mad at me?” you asked looking up at him.

“no, i’m mad that he nearly put his hands on you.”

“he was just going to shake my hand-“

“you didn’t see the way he was looking at you, god i should’ve punch his face in.”

you grabbed his hand, taking a deep breath, “rafe it doesn’t matter how he was looking at me because all i care about is how you look at me.” he looked in your eyes, and you felt his touch soften. “i’m sorry for what i said earlier it wasn’t fair of me to make assumptions based off of what other people say.”

“i did used to drink a lot more, you were right i suppose, it was just something we all did. but i haven’t since i met you.” he cupped your chin with his hand, you melted into his touch, “i’m sorry for losing my temper. i just hate the thought of you with anyone else, i can’t stand to think about it.”

“then don’t.” you said before connecting your lips with his, meeting for a sweet kiss.

it was perfect, better than any movie kiss, the butterflies, fireworks it was all there and though it only lasted a few seconds before you pulled away, cheeks reddened, your lips tingled with excitement for minutes after.

“not a bad night” rafe said with a smirk on his face, causing you to teasingly roll your eyes, before you placed another kiss on his cheek.

[frakts1ya]

let you break my heart again ft. xu minghao

💔 -> or, minghao realizes what he did wrong and wants to try again || wc : 1k.

☆ song recs! : let you break my heart again - laufey ; cold love - the8 ; darl + ing - seventeen ; real man - beabadoobee ; try again - jaehyun, d.ear

You and your ex both remember the break-up day like it was yesterday. A year together, 365 plus days filled with laughter and tears, which were all gone. Your ex, Minghao didn't know why he really did it, why he broke up with you. He just woke up one day and lost feelings.

You spent a week crying in the arms of your friends. You loved Minghao, and even if you tell yourself you had gotten over him, a little piece of you still wants him.

"...after that I literally- y/n? you good?" Danielle asks, noticing your shift in demeanor. There, out of the corner of your eye, you see Minghao, your one and only ex, the love of your life, hanging out with his friends. “That bitch.”

“Dani, it's… it's fine,” You say, still staring at him. His gaze meets yours, and your eyes widen. 

You sheepishly wave to him, which he hesitates before raising his hand back at you. 

Your phone then buzzes. Minghao is on the phone, so you're guessing it was from him.

 come over here.

“He's telling me to come over, I'll be back.” You run over to Minghao, and the friends he's with take this as a sign to leave.

“Hello, y/n.” Words you haven't heard in so long. It warms your heart, even if he doesn't like you anymore.

“Hi, Hao. How are you?” The conversations you've had all those years ago, forgotten about. From the early getting-to-know-each-other icebreaker talks to the late night deep conversations, you miss all of it.

“I'm good. You?” Minghao's heart skipped a beat. It's been so long since you've called him Hao.

“I've been good. Why do you still want to talk to me?” Such a mood killer, y/n. You know, but something inside you needed a conclusion.

“I need you.” Even Minghao wasn't expecting those words to exit his mouth.

“Huh? Hao, what do you mean?”

He exhales, already unsure if he wants to say what he has in mind. “I regret everything. It's been 6 months since we broke up, yet I can't stop thinking about you. I thought I lost feelings, but seeing you again today made me realize how much of an asshole I was to you. So please, y/n, give me another chance.” 

After he finishes, he watches your expression shift, eyes softening and darting away from his figure. “I don't know. You already broke my heart once. I was sad for weeks, Hao. I don't know if I could do this again.”

“I'll do better. I won't hurt you like I did last time.”

You stop for a second to think. Minghao was looking at you with the same expression he had when he first confessed to you. 

“Let's go get some coffee together, okay? We'll see what happens.”

“That drink looks disgustingly sweet. You're going to have a heart attack.” Minghao comments on the caramel frappuccino you ordered.

“You’re the one who ordered plain tea! Let me taste,” You took his cup and sipped the tea, scrunching your face up at the bitter taste.

In response to your reaction, Minghao took your drink and tried it, also making a disgusted face after swallowing. The two of you both laugh like you were still together. 

“I missed you,” You mutter ashamedly. 

“Yeah, I did too. I'm really sorry for breaking up with you. I-” Minghao stops mid sentence.

“You..?”

“I tried dating someone else for a bit. It didn't last. She said I was too hung up on my ex. I told her she was wrong, but I don't think she was.” Minghao holds your hand, his thumb tracing circles in the space behind your pointer.

“Oh, Minghao…” You pout, using your free hand to brush stray strands of hair out of his face. “Then, why did you do it?”

“I didn't think I was good enough,” He admits, barely audible for you to hear, “You deserved better than me, and I don't think I was ready then. It's different now. I've improved. Started meditating, taking better care of myself, you know.”

“You were always good for me, baby.” The whole café disappears as your lips approach his, bringing him in a soft kiss. 

“Shit, I didn't mean to-” You apologize, running off before Minghao could say anything. 

“Yeah, I fucked up bad!” You rant to Danielle, who's intently listening the entire time you recap your encounter.

“Did you see his face?” Danielle inquires, “Maybe he liked it?”

“I don't think so. He's going to hate me now. I thought we could restart, but, fuck!” You exclaim exactly as thunder hits the ground, making you jump. “This world hates me.”

The doorbell of yours and Danielle’s shared apartment rings, and Danielle glances over at you. “Want to go get it?” You shake your head, and Danielle goes to open the door. You hear incomprehensible chatter before Danielle goes back to your room to tell you: “Y/n, someone's waiting for you.”

You go to the door, where a very wet Minghao stands.

“Um-”

You can't get any words out before his hands are harshly gripping your cheeks and he's kissing you.

“Payback for leaving me in the café after you kissed me,” Minghao pants.

“Why? You're soaking wet, did you not bring an umbrella?” You fret, hands grabbing onto his damp button-up.

“Didn't have one. I needed to see you as soon as possible, my love. Let's start over.”

His forehead is pressed against yours, you could feel your heart beating out of its chest. “No, let's pick up from where we left off. I loved you then, I love you now, and I'll love you in the future.”

“Okay…” The two of you are quiet for a hot second, before Minghao asks, “Can I come in and dry myself?”

“Of course. You know where the bathroom is.” You let him in and close the door behind you. As he makes his way over to the bathroom, you watch with the same eyes you watched him with when he first came over, or when you had your first kiss with him.

Though you knew (or, at least hoped) he wouldn't repeat his mistake, you would let Xu Minghao break your heart again.

[a-d-nox]

tarot hypothesis: major arcana and squid game player numbers

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

067 (0+6+7 = 13 -> death)

has a very transformative experience while playing the games especially when playing marbles. unfortunate for her, she has an unforgettable death moment where she's dying from her internal wounds only for 218 to "unexpectedly" kill her before she could succumb to the wound. like the mourners in the card, 456 is so devastated by her death that it changes his outlook on the final game.

218 (2+1+8 = 11 -> justice)

is the first person to mention the voting process to leave the game on the show. also kindly let ali borrow money and his phone... despite the final rounds, he began the games with a level of fairness kept in mind.

101 (1+0+1 = 2 -> high priestess)

perfect definition of reversed high priestess energy, he shows time and time again that his is disconnected from his own intuition - he doesn't know who to trust outside or even inside the games. he also relies too heavily on others when it comes down to it...

456 (4+5+6 = 15 -> devil)

gi-hun is like the terminator he just keeps coming back for more - but seriously homeslice literally comes back to the worst place he has ever been and where he has faced his own addiction with games... also he tends to make the same mistakes over and over like trusting people he thinks he knows...

333 (3+3+3 = 9 -> hermit)

myung-gi is a cryptocurrency influencer... its virgo male coded... but also i would like to predict him dying in darkness or being alone in some fashion during the final season's games. if not that then, i believe 222 is going to leave him in the dust.

388 (3+8+8 = 19 -> sun)

tell me dae-ho doesn't have hella youngful energy? also of naivety??? the sun is explorer so either he is a VIP or he could escape (by mere luck)... OR, which i think is most likely, he will end up being somewhere he shouldn't be and be killed for it.

246 (2+4+6 = 12 -> hanged man)

martyr coded... we just knew he was gonna die... and it's a horribly sad story because his sick daughter is all alone now...

120 (1+2+0 = 3 -> empress)

GET IT GET IT GET IT!!! i am sorry WHAT that is so on the nose. a trans woman as the empress is crazy spot on. i love it!! i saw that and was like *GASP*!!! also *gasp* because its park sung-hoon

007 (0+0+7 = 7 -> chariot)

oof more reversal energy... that man hesitated so hard when it came to getting his mother in my opinion and he hesitated when voting too... not to mention the lack of impulse control that he has...

149 (1+4+9 = 14 -> temperance)

i have seen a lot of people saying that she is a VIP and i disagree especially if this matrix numerology is still spot in s3. she is definitely a "friend" and not a foe.

390 (3+9+0 = 12 -> hanged man)

another martyr coded person. he was set up so the audience would love him and feel like he was a good person only for him to get swept away by someone who he just knew too much about.

222 (2+2+2 = 6 -> lovers)

bro please hear me out... front man's wife died carrying their baby - what if his empathy and projection of his history on to her is what ends up saving her life?? he did make a few comments (no i don't think he just has human decency lol) about taking it easy and to be careful because she is pregnant...

044 (0+4+4 = 8 -> strength)

when i was watching the show i was like i don't see it - i get moon (18) energy vibes but not strength (8) then she had her mini meltdown and i was like there it is... there is the vulnerability under that mask of "faith" in fate.

125 (1+2+5 = 8 -> strength)

then on the other hand... this is an extremely vulnerable character with zero back bone seriously reversed energy...

230 (2+3+0 = 5 -> heirophant)

thanos - tell me that man's ritual was not popping a pill and getting out there in the game.

001 (0+0+1 = 1 -> magician)

OBVIOUSLY no one can trust anyone what equals 1. its a duh moment (even in the 8 show - which i may do next if this does well) - the magician is a creator when upright and a manipulator when reversed...

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© a-d-nox 2025 all rights reserved

[tonysbed]

Secrets I keep | Part 2

Max Fewtrell x Norris!reader

Lando Norris x Sister!reader

Daniel Riccardo x Norris!reader

summary: You and max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

not proofread

series masterlist | masterlist | previous | next

-

“I hate people” You say as you sit down at the small table in Daniel’s kitchen. He sets breakfast on the table and raises an eyebrow “I know, but why now?”

You turn your phone to him and show him the post that kika had send you earlier in the morning “Is it that unbelievable that two super attractive people are friends?” You chuckle at his words which makes him smile.

It slowly fades “Has lando said anything to you about it?” You shake your head but lean a bit back “Actually.. He did ask me yesterday what we are” Daniel raised an eyebrow “Really? And how did that go down?”

“Told him we’re friends. Then I asked why. He said he was just wondering and then told me to forget he asked” You shrug and take a bite of your breakfast.

“Hm. A tad weird no?” He says, sipping his coffee. You shrug “He can believe whatever he wants. And he’ll know where to find me if he has questions” Daniel nods and focuses back on his food.

“So, what is the plan for today?” You ask curious “Well, I’d say finally going to let you hold a koala and I got an invite to a party. You know these people too” He says with a smile. You smile wide “Koalas? Finally!” He chuckled “That’s the only thing you heard, hmm?”

“Absolutely. But yeah we can go. What kind of party?” He shrugged “just a party. nothing fancy” “no fancy clothes?” He shakes his head “Thank god. I didn’t pack fancy”

“As if we couldn’t just go and buy something” You roll your eyes at him “Finish up. I wanna see koalas” “Relax, they won’t run away” “You never know”

-

danielriccardo

liked by yn, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1m others

danielriccardo she finally got to hold a koala! and meet someone who looks happier than her 🐨👀

*tagged yn*

yn happier than me? more than you. You’ll get wrinkles from smiling this much

danielriccardo Im only smiling because you’re here

yn charmer much?

danielriccardo always for my favourite girl

yn dont make me blush, riccardo

danielriccardo 😁

user @/landonorris ???

user tagging lando as if he’s stupid

user he can read yk

landonorris are you ever coming home, or what? 😂

yn never. this place is to beautiful

landonorris daniel, i’d like my sister back

danielriccardo can’t do anything, sorry mate

user now why is he so close to her.. 👀

user sure, friends

user woman and men can be friends yall

*liked by yn*

-

yn added to their story

[caption 1: night out 💙 caption 2: I expected more patience from him.. he stood there for 20 minutes..]

franciscagomez girl, you’re telling me you two aren’t a thing??

yn yeah?

sure…

yn why is everyone so weird all of sudden. I’ve visited daniel alone before

that was different..

yn sure.

landonorris be safe please!!

yn will be. i’m with daniel, remember?

yeah that doesn’t calm me down..

yn ttyl 🫶🏻

yeah yeah 🤍

-

Drinks had been flowing for a good amount of time. It was safe to say that neither you nor Daniel were on the sober side. You stood next to him, while he was sitting on a chair, explaining something to the guy next to him.

One of your friends, who was rather clumsy, pushed you over and right into Daniel’s lap. You let out an surprised squeal and hold onto his shoulders for support. In an instinctive way, his arms wrap around you and leans against you in his drunken state.

You smile at the filming person who is laughing along you, while the friend who fell tried to get back up, which was even harder while laughing.

You helped her and watched them go to the bathroom. You now finally look at daniel, who’s lap you were still seated on. He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“If you wanted to sit, you could’ve just said something.” You laugh and turn to face the rest of the group “You’re an idiot”

“I’ve been told before” He laughed and you felt his thumb caressing your side. You sigh and let your head fall on his shoulder “Should we go home?” You hum “My feet hurt” “Told you to go in sneaker” “Shut up” He chuckled “I’ll call a cab”

-

You stumbled into the door and steadied yourself on daniel’s arm. You kicked off your shoes “I’m so dead” “Me too. Sleep?” “100%. I’m eating tomorrow.”

He nods and kicks off his shoes as well. You flop down on the couch “that’s not your bed” “I’m to lazy to walk there” He laughed and stumbled over to you. Before he could say anything, you moved and held up the blanket, inviting him.

“Not the plan but sure” He laid down next to you, looking at you. You make him turn and lay on his chest “Definitely comfortable” You mumble before your knocked out cold.

He laughs softly before closing his eyes as well.

-

Lando had been kind of worried about you. He knew how daniel could get when he was drunk. He had stopped the aussie from doing stupid things before while partying. He let his head fall backwards with a groan.

Max looked up from his phone and sighed “Just text her” “So I’ll get the same answer as before? No thanks”

Max rolls his eyes “I’ll be on stream if you’ll need me.” He got up and walked into his streaming room. Lando stayed on the couch. It was already late in australia, he knew that. You should’ve been back already.

His phone lights up and he sees his mothers name.

‘Did you know about this?’ Attached was a picture of you, sitting on daniel’s lap.

He opened the message

Lando sets his phone down. The picture engraved in his mind. This was out of character for you. Or was it? Did he even know who you were? Were you as close as he thought?

His thoughts were interrupted by Max poking his head in the door “Should we order some food? I’m starving” Lando nods “Sure”

“What’s up with you?” Lando shakes his head “Still about Yn and daniel?” “There is a picture from tonight..” Max raised an eyebrow as lando picks up his phone and shows it to max.

Max’s fists clench at his sides and he has to restrain himself from a sarcastic comment “Oh”

“Why would she lie? I mean, she could’ve told me! I’d rather know from her than the internet” “I’m sure she’ll explain.” “I hope.” “Let’s order food and get your mind off a bit.”

-

You had woken up with a raging headache. You tried to sit up, which didn’t work. You look up and see Daniel’s sleeping face. You feel his arms still wrapped around you and pause. Why in gods name are you in this position?

You gently lift his arms and slip out of his arms. You get into the guest bedroom and put your phone down to charge. While your phone was charging, you got some ibuprofen, water and set some down on the couch table in front of sleeping Daniel.

Your phone finally turns on. You’re horrified when you see missed calls from your mom, and texts from various people. You check your moms messages first and freeze again. When did that happen? You on Daniel’s- The fall.

Oh great.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and try calling your brother. It was around midnight in the uk so you weren’t sure he was going to pick up.

“Yn?” “Lando! Oh thank god. Thought you might be sleeping” “no, i’m not. I can’t sleep actually” You hesitate “The picture-“ “I don’t wanna hear it. Why would you lie to me?” “Lando-“

“no. you go and say you’re friends and that’s what I see? Who are you trying to fool here?” “We are just friends!” “sure as hell doesn’t look like it”

“Lando. We were drunk. I was pushed and landed there” “Sure. Well, good to know you’re okay. I’m going to bed.” “Lando please” The line goes dead and you sigh. Great.

You go and call your mother, who was a bit more understanding but still didn’t quite believe the story you told her.

A knock on the door startled you “yeah?” Daniel slowly opened the door “You okay?” You nod “Headache is getting better. Did you take your ibuprofen?” He nods “So..there’s-“ “A picture yeah. Mom and lando already ripped me one.” He sighed and sat down next to you on the bed.

“It is so out of context! This is really annoying.” He nods again and looks at his hands. You stand up “I’m gonna go and eat something. You coming?” “Yeah”

This time, the kitchen was silent. Neither of you knew what to say after last night.

-

“So when is he supposed to be here?” You ask Daniel as you put on your hiking shoes “Any minute. Oscars quite on point when he’s supposed to be there.” In that moment the doorbell rang.

Oscar stood there, smiling softly “Good morning you two! How have you slept?” You roll your eyes “Fine. We really shouldn’t have had that many drinks tho” Oscar chuckled “Yeah I saw. What did Lando say?”

You three make your way downstairs “He wasn’t mad about the sitting in his lap thing at all. He thought I was lying tho when I told him we’re just friends, which isn’t a lie. We’re really not together. Nothing.” You say defeated.

“I’m sure he’ll calm down and you’ll get to talk to him.” You nod “I hope. I really didn’t lie to him” Oscar pats you on the back “It’ll be alright. He’s bark no bite”

Daniel laughs “That’s what i said too! He couldn’t be mad at you forever even if he tried. He loves you way to much” Oscar nods in agreement “He’s always talking about you. Sometimes I feel like I know you better than Lando” You chuckle at that.

“Ill text him once we get back”

-

yn

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, danielriccardo and 926.467 others

yn when in australia ☀️

*tagged oscarpiastri / danielriccardo*

oscarpiastri my hair oh god

yn I loved it 😂

danielriccardo yeah, i’m sure lily loved it too 😂

oscarpiastri I hate you both

yn 🧡

danielriccardo never going on a hike with you ever again

yn why? I made it to the end

oscarpiastri after laying on the floor and refusing to get up because you know who is ignoring your messages

yn now that is mean

danielriccardo no, just the truth

user Is lando ignoring yn??

user I would too if my sister would have something going on with my friend

user we don’t even know if they do

user have you not seen the pictures??

user and? you need to chill out. not every woman who has a guy as friend wants to date him

*liked by yn*

user see? she even liked the comment.

user the difference between daniel and oscar 😭

user daniel is so boyfriend coded

-

Daniel closed the trunk and made his way to the driver seat. You stare out of the window. Neither of you have actively acknowledged what had happened the night before. The hike with oscar took your mind off it all a bit but you were sure. You had to get to lando before it all gets to his head.

The ride to the airport was quiet. Only as you finally made it and Daniel got your stuff out of the trunk, he finally looked at you.

“Here” “Thank you” “I’ll bring you to your gate” You nod and you both walk in silence. It wasn’t as comfortable as it had been a few days ago.

As you arrived at your gate, you hug him. You stay like that for a few moments before you pulled away.

“yn?” “Daniel” He looks at you a bit nervous “We’re good, right?” You smile softly “Yeah, we’re good. I’ll text you when I land.” He nods “Have a good flight” You wave at him as you leave.

caption: Home sweet home 🇲🇨❤️

franciscagomez weren’t you supposed to be back in like 5 days?

yn lando is ignoring me because of the picture. There’s more to that.

oh..hope you guys figure it out. Gossip sesh w alex soon?

yn 100%

-

Max got a bit mean, oops. Let’s see what she’ll do and what Lando does next 👀

I’ll try posting every 1-2 days. I don’t do tag lists btw

[jimmy-johns-was-taken]

Hihi!! Do you think you could maybe do father figure tim wright reacting to his kid (reader) sneaking out? :> Thank u! ^^

MORE ANGST??? MORE DAD ANGST???

cooking up something devious rn >:)

Idk what to Title this :)

Walking alongside the beat up pavement, you slowly dragged yourself toward the inevitable. Tim had texted you a few hours ago, asking where you had been. After you saw the notification on your Lock Screen, you knew that you were done for.

It had been a quiet evening in the small cabin. Toby and Brian were out and about, some random last minute mission. Kate was currently away at another mission, while Cody had locked himself away to work on a science project. You, bored out of your skull, had only been mindlessly scrolling through social media when you decided to leave.

Thinking a little, you knew that Tim wouldn’t want you leaving this late (unless it would have been work related). So, you took to being a normal and reckless teen, opening your window and jumping down, running off into the woods.

That was three hours ago.

You had been laying on a rock, looking up at the star, mapping out the galaxy in your mind. The constellations captivated your mind, allowing their stories to play out in dramatic scenes. You smiled, taking notice of the brightly lit North Star, remembering how it had saved you on many occasions.

A loud ‘buzz’ had knocked you out of your daze, glancing down at the phone to see a message from Tim. Without even reading it, you knew you were screwed. Something just screamed at you, telling you that he knew you had snuck out and would be in loads of trouble.

Picking up the device, you unlocked it and looked at the message. ‘Get home. Now.’ It was simple and too the point. Letting out a sigh, you took one look back up at the stars before making your way back to the cabin.

That brings us to the present, standing in front of the dimly lit run down cabin. From the outside, it didn’t even look inhabitable. Walking up the stairs, each one creaking under your weight, you grabbing your key. Unlocking the door and turning the knob, you took a few breathes, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the lecture.

Pushing open the heavy door, you could see Tim sitting out the kitchen island, his face hidden in shadows. You swiftly entered and shut the door behind, locking it and straightening your posture.

“Uhh…hey,” you murmured. Was he angry? Upset? Worried? The shadows cast down on Tim made it impossible to even see his face.

“Where’d you go?” The southern drawl to his voice ever apparent as you shuddered. He was so serious!

“Just for a walk,” I responded, slinking up to the island and grabbing a glass out of the cupboard. “Wanted to get out, clear my head,” you stated as you filled the cup with water.

“Listen, I’m not going to lecture you,” your eyes widened slightly at his response, “but please, you have got to tell someone when you leave.”

“Huh?” You tilted your head to the side, earning a sigh from him. He rubbed his hands over his face, massaging the area around his eyes.

“Just…tell someone where you’re going, ok? I understand that you…you aren’t a little kid anyone,” the words were quiet and soft, uncharacteristic from the normal gruff tone.

“Yeah, I’m basically an adult,” you giggled, walking over and resting on the counter.

“Not to me, to me…you’re a kid,” Tim looked up at you, a tired look in his eyes. “I can’t control you, what you do, say, think. You’re getting older, and I have to accept that,” he sounded almost heartbroken. A soft smile made its way to your face as you looked at Tim, seeing his glaze casted downward.

“You’re a kid to me, always will be,” he said, referring to how young you were when you first met. You really weren’t that young, only 14. But that had been so long ago, it felt like a lifetime.

“I might not always be your little girl who you get to show how to use a gun,” you smiled, looking at the water in your glass, “but, I’ll always be your kid. Blood or not, you’re stuck with me.”

Tim laughed, rolling his eyes at you. He didn’t want to get rid of you, and he’d kill anyone who tried to take you from the little family in the woods.

[erenash]

ten (satosugu angst)

Ten years and it still feels the same...

Loosely based on the song I'd Have To Think About It by Leith Ross. So I recommend listening to it on repeat while you read.

(also available on my AO3 ashes_to_ash)

----

It’s been ten minutes since Satoru’s last phone call to Suguru. But in the infinity user’s mind, it was nine minutes of unnecessary silence. Suguru wasn’t one to leave Satoru hanging, especially since they…well– since they made things official a few weeks ago. 

Flipping his cell phone open and then closed twice, Satoru debates leaving another voicemail. 

I’ll give him ten more minutes before trying again , He decides as he lays back on their shared futon. Just wanting Suguru to be safe, Satoru sighs and closes his eyes in an attempt at self-soothing.

— —

It’s been ten weeks since Suguru’s disappearance. 

Satoru hasn’t been able to sleep, eat, drink, think, talk, move, blink, breathe.

He knew Suguru wasn’t coming home the second he left that tenth voicemail. 

He still left ten more.

Satoru Gojo was the last person to show any weakness, but when it came to Suguru Geto, the young man was beside himself. No one knew what to do. 

He feels as if he’s in a constant free fall. Every moment he’s awake is just another reminder that Suguru left him– and that he isn’t coming back. It made him want to sink to the bottom of the ocean tenfold. 

And this, Satoru Gojo, was the person who was the strongest jujitsu sorcerer in the world. 

But what truly makes one strong?

Power? Strength? Money? 

None of these added up in Satoru’s brain.

Love is what drove him to become the strongest. His friendship and love for Suguru made him who he is. 

So what is Satoru Gojo without his one and only?

— —

It’s been ten months since Satoru Gojo was ghosted by his best friend and lover, Suguru Geto. 

As he walks through the crowds of people, Satoru takes a deep breath through his nose. He’s prepared for this. All the things he’d say to Suguru if he ever caught glimpse of him around the city. 

He knew exactly how he’d stop the man that held his heart. He’d make him listen, make him watch as Satoru laid his heart out for him one last time.

“Take me with you this time, please,” Satoru would beg unashamedly. “Take me back. Take me back. Take me back.”

That’s only if Suguru even wanted him…maybe he doesn’t, which is something Satoru has to remind himself of constantly. And Satoru found out exactly what Suguru’s been up to lately, and he doesn’t even fucking care. 

Ieiri called him a bit ago and told him she ran into Suguru and where. Satoru didn’t even bother listening to anything else, teleporting to the strip of shops outside a train station.

Satoru’s been telling himself for months and months that he’d find love again. He’d get another chance. He’d find someone worthy of all this cursed romantic energy he’s been holding onto for Suguru. He’d find a place, a person, to put it into. 

Making his legs work harder as he speeds up, Satoru sees the back of a familiar head with long black hair. 

If he asks me to go with him, I will , Satoru promises his own heart. 

I cannot let him go again.

“Suguru!” Satoru’s voice calls out over the strangers surrounding them.

Stopping and turning around in shock, Suguru Geto looks at him. “Satoru?”

The strongest jujitsu sorcerer halts about ten steps away from the former jujitsu high student. 

“Suguru,” Seems to be the one word Satoru is capable of saying at the moment since he says it once more.

His six eyes take in every inch of Suguru available. 

From hairline to cheekbones. Neck to the waist. Elbows to fingertips. Hips to feet. Satoru does his best to seal Suguru’s handsomely beautiful features into his memory.

Ten fucking months of absolute hell, but Satoru isn’t even mad. 

He’s relieved .

Suguru’s dark eyes meet Satoru’s bright blue ones, waves crash against one another in their gaze. Ocean meeting rocks found deep beneath its waters. This wasn’t the familiar set of eyes Satoru knew and loved. No, Suguru’s look was cold and unyielding.

In the direct sunlight of summer, Satoru finally feels it– the chasm between them.

And it sort of…it sort of knocks the wind out of Satoru. 

There he is, breathless for Suguru. Except this time, it’s different. So, so different.

Satoru doesn’t even need Suguru to say it. 

He already knows what’s about to happen before Suguru even opens his mouth.

Not even ten minutes later, it’s all over.

Not even ten minutes later and Satoru Gojo can’t breathe, can’t move, can see, can’t hear. 

Suguru has all but truly defeated him, being Satoru’s Achilles heel and all. But getting his heart broken over and over is more powerful than any curse Satoru’s ever encountered.

Not even ten minutes later and Satoru’s officially lost his one and only.

Not even ten minutes later, Suguru Geto is gone; and he didn’t ask Satoru to go with him.

Not even ten minutes later and Satoru Gojo has decided that love is the most twisted curse of all.

— —

Ten years later, here he is again, standing before the only love of his life. 

Satoru isn’t sure how much more he can take. Not only has Suguru Geto become one of the jujitsu world’s most wanted curse users– but Satoru’s been the one sent to execute him officially.

There Suguru is, slumped against an alley wall, bleeding half to death already.

After ten years of honing his own techniques, Satoru’s known Suguru’s whereabouts for months now. He could’ve found Suguru at any second, yet he choose to ignore that invisible red string tugging at his heart. 

Suguru didn’t want him, the man had made that crystal clear ten years ago.

Looking up at Satoru from his hunched position, the sunset glimmers behind Suguru from the other end of the alleyway as he smiles at Satoru. 

The chasm that was there prior… is gone now.

“You found me.”

“I’d always find you,” Satoru tells him, stepping a bit closer. 

He can see just how badly Suguru is injured; the cult leader’s entire right arm is gone. A blood trail from the opposite end of the alleyway indicated which direction he came from.

“Okkotsu did quite the number on you.” 

The joke from Satoru makes Suguru grin even wider, his voice raspy as he says, 

“Can’t you just curse me a little bit? This is our end, you know.”

A deep want lodges itself inside Satoru’s throat. 

The strongest sorcerer knows exactly what’s being asked of him, but he can’t grant Suguru the one thing they both desire most at this moment. 

Each other. Forever.

So Satoru lets himself think about it. 

He promised himself all those years ago that if Suguru asked him to go with him– he would. And he wants to honor the younger Gojo’s promise and feelings.

Suguru is here, saying he wants to be with him.

The feeling is unmatched…a weakness only the two of them can understand…

Ten fucking years and it still feels the same.

It’s the worst and best feeling– loving someone this much.

Satoru knows things just wouldn’t be the same if he did what Suguru is asking. So after a long moment, Satoru shakes his head as he whispers, 

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I know.”

Ten long beats of silence fill the air as they just gaze lovingly at one another.

“Can I ask why?” Suguru mutters the question so quietly that Satoru almost misses it.

Tilting his head to one side, Satoru gives Suguru a gentle smile.

“You never loved me the same amount. If you did, you never made that clear to me.”

“I did, Satoru,” Suguru promises, his eyes watery as he tries to scoot himself closer to Satoru, 

“I swear I did.”

Satoru takes ten deep breaths, willing himself not to do what his heart desires most. He just looks at Suguru, pleading with his eyes to not ask him again.

Because he’d give in, he would curse Suguru and himself together in less than ten seconds.

“I see,” The words were faint from Suguru’s lips, and he closes his eyes as he adds, 

“Do what you must. Just make it quick.”

Reaching one hand out, Satoru cups Suguru’s face softly to make the half-dead man look at him one last time.

“I’ll never not be in love with you, Suguru.”

“I love you, Satoru.”

Ten years have passed since they’d said those words to one another.

Ten years and it still feels the same.

Ten seconds later, Suguru is dead, and Satoru is left crying into the shoulder of his one and only’s body.

Ten minutes go by, and Satoru can’t bring himself to move, think, blink, cry, breathe.

And Satoru just knows in his soul that ten years from now, he’ll still be in love with Suguru Geto.

Love really is the most twisted curse of all.

[kultklassickiller]

Prada You Chapter 16

Summary:

In the summer of 1998, sparks fly between Nyeya and Jey.

Nyeya is an 18-year-old around the way girl. Jey is older, paid, and fine. He is also the leader of the infamous Prada Bois alongside his twin brother Jimmy.  The two have chemistry. However, Nyeya has plans outside of her attraction. With a birthday around the corner and dreams of living a good life, Nyeya sets her sights on enjoying the perks of Jey's money and hood celebrity.

But baby girl has no clue what it takes to really be down. Nyeya is about to learn some hard life lessons at the expense of her 'Prada' priced dreams.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya (Nye) Green (OC)

Author’s Note: This story is happening in an alternative universe. It features the current and original Bloodline members along with other WWE stars. So, the characters are themselves, but some things are switched around for the stories sake. This was originally written with all original characters, but I think it could work better this way. Hope you guys enjoy it and I actually finish it...

Warning: Please be advised that this chapter contains underage drinking, age gap relationships, brief violence.

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Chapter 16: Weight

Saturday morning came too soon, dragging the haze of the previous night along with it. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, landing square on my face as I blinked awake. I shifted under the sheets, the familiar weight of the bracelet on my wrist pulling me back to reality. The memory of Damian’s kiss burned hot in my mind, a dangerous mix of confusion, anger, and something else I wasn’t ready to name.

What did he mean by that?

I turned over, burying my face in my pillow. The kiss wasn’t what haunted me most; it was the possibility that someone might have seen it. If the wrong person had been outside, it could ruin everything. Jey wasn’t the type to brush off betrayal—real or perceived. I shuddered at the thought of what he might do.

My mom’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “Nye! I made breakfast, come get it while it’s hot.”

“Coming!” I called, throwing the covers off and heading to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face, hoping to wash away the lingering guilt and unease. But when I looked in the mirror, all I saw was someone who was in way over her head. I glanced down at the bracelet before sliding the bracelet off, leaving it on the bathroom counter.

---

Later that morning, Jey’s number lit up my phone. I stared at it for a moment before answering.

“Morning, baby,” he said, his voice warm and casual, like nothing had happened the night before.

“Morning,” I replied, trying to sound normal.

“Tama’s not done celebrating,” Jey said with a chuckle. “He’s throwing another party tonight at his place. You and your girls should come through.”

I hesitated. “Another party?”

He paused, his tone sharpening. “Yeah, Nye. You got a problem with that? You gone be busy or what?”

“No, no problem,” I said quickly. The idea of another party, especially one where Damian might be, made my stomach churn. “I’ll let them know.”

“Good,” Jey said, his tone softening. “Don’t have me waiting all night to see yo’ pretty ass either.”

The line went dead before I could respond. I sat there for a moment, staring at the screen, wondering if “having fun” was even possible anymore.

---

By early afternoon, I was at the mall with Kiyah, Natasha, and Nataya. The air-conditioned corridors were bustling, shoppers weaving in and out of stores with arms full of bags. We ducked into a boutique, the girls immediately gravitating toward racks of dresses and jumpsuits.

“You think Tama’s party is gonna top last night?” Kiyah asked, holding up a sequined black dress.

“Probably,” Natasha said, flipping through a rack of skirts. “I mean, it’s at his house, so you know it’s gonna be even crazier. You know how they get down.”

Nataya glanced at me, her expression curious. “You good, Nye? You’ve been quiet.”

I forced a smile. “I’m fine. Last night was something else. I guess I’m still tired.”

Kiyah smirked, nudging me with her elbow. “Tired from being Jey’s girl? Must be nice.”

“It has its moments,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light.

The girls continued browsing, laughing and joking about their finds. I lingered near the fitting rooms, pretending to look at a dress. My thoughts were a tangled mess, Damian’s words and actions replaying like a broken record.

“Y’all find anything yet?” a familiar voice called. I turned to see Jey strolling into the store, his presence commanding as ever. His red Prada bucket hat sat low on his head, and his black designer tee fit perfectly over his broad shoulders.

“Jey!” Kiyah exclaimed, her voice rising with excitement. “Aye, what you doing here, big bro?”

“Figured I’d stop by,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Thought I’d treat my girl and her friends today. Pick out whatever y’all want. It’s on me.”

The girls erupted in laughter and cheers, their gratitude spilling over in a flood of compliments. Kiyah practically danced over to the register with an armful of clothes. I was positive she was going to "borrow" some clothes if he hadn't showed up to pay for them.

I stayed back, watching him. “How’d you know we were here?” I asked, my voice casual but edged.

Jey’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a glint in his eyes that made me uneasy. “I always know where my girl is. Gotta keep tabs on you.”

“Tabs?” I said, trying to sound playful despite the knot tightening in my chest. “You’re not stalking me, are you?”

“Nah,” he said, brushing a loose braid from my face. “Just making sure you’re good. You know how it is.”

I forced a laugh, but the unease stayed with me.

---

That evening, as I stood in front of the mirror adjusting the top of my dress, my mom knocked on the door and stepped in without waiting for an answer. Her eyes immediately scanned my outfit.

“You’ve been going out a lot lately this summer,” she said, her tone light but incisive. “You must be seeing someone?”

I froze for a moment before answering. “Just hanging with friends, Ma. Tryna enjoy the summer before I start college courses. And.. it’s nothing serious with him. He's just a friend.”

Her brow arched. “Mmhmm. Friends don’t buy you dresses like that. I’ll say he’s in much deeper than you think. Perhaps, even in love.”

My heart raced as I turned to face her. “It’s nothing like that,” I lied. “Just someone I’m talking to, getting to know is all.”

She didn’t press further, but her eyes lingered on me for a beat too long. “If you say so, girlie. Does he know it’s not serious. If not, you should tell him that. Be careful, Nyeya. People don’t play about their feelings,” she said softly before leaving the room.

Her words stayed with me as I grabbed my clutch and headed out to meet the girls. The weight of everything on my shoulders remained, a reminder of how deeply I was tangled in this web.

---

The twin’s car they borrowed from their mama rattled to a stop in front of Tama’s house, a modest two-story home tucked into a quiet street. The porch and backyard were alive with people. On the porch, groups smoked and laughed, while in the backyard, a grill sizzled, and folding chairs circled a card table where men shouted over a heated game of dominoes. The faint sound of music leaking through the walls promised the party extended inside too.

Kiyah twisted in her seat, craning her neck to take in the scene. “This it? Doesn’t look like much from out here.”

Natasha, gripping the wheel, rolled her eyes. “Girl, it’s not supposed to look like much. You think Prada Bois want attention from everyone on the block?”

Nataya laughed, pulling down the visor mirror to fix her lip gloss. “As long as it’s fun, who cares? Just don’t wreck Ma’s car trying to get in this driveway.”

I stayed quiet, adjusting the top of my strapless black dress. The fitted fabric clung to my body, showing just enough skin to feel daring but not too much to feel exposed. My heels clicked against the pavement as we got out, my nerves twisting tighter with every step toward the house.

“Alright, let’s go y'all,” Natasha said, cutting the engine. “Ma’ll have a fit if we’re back too late.”

---

Inside and outside, the party thrived like two worlds blending into one. The house buzzed with chaos and celebration, while the backyard held its own rhythm. Laughter spilled from the kitchen, mixing with the sound of dominoes being slapped down on the folding table outside. The glow of string lights crisscrossed the yard, casting warm, uneven patches of light over the crowd. The living room buzzed with laughter and loud conversations as people filled every available seat and leaned against the walls. A group had taken over the couch, their dominoes game growing louder by the minute. In the kitchen, a mix of women and Prada Bois gathered around the counter, where bottles of Hennessy and Grey Goose lined the surface.

The backyard was alive with movement. Tama held court near the grill, his beer bottle raised as he told some story that had everyone around him doubled over in laughter. Jimmy leaned casually against the fence, a blunt in hand, trading barbs with Solo and Jacob. In one corner, a group of women giggled as they scoped out the Prada Bois, their bright dresses catching the light with every shift of their hips. The air was thick with the scent of barbecue and the occasional snap of a lighter. Other women, dressed just as boldly as me, hovered near the Prada Bois, their eyes full of intentions I didn’t want to think about.

“Aye, this is more my speed,” Kiyah said, her grin widening as she spotted the card table outside. She gestured toward the domino game, her excitement contagious. “Y’all know I’m about to clean somebody out tonight.” She swayed her hips to the song, “Hypnotize” by The Notorious B.I.G as we made our way into the house. “Come on, Nye. Don’t look so tense. You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself. Ain’t nothing going down 'cause they don’t want it to be shut down.”

I managed a small laugh, but my stomach churned. My eyes scanned the room, searching for Jey. Nataya nudged me, pointing to a corner near the kitchen. “There he go. Go get him, girl.”

Jey was perched on the arm of a recliner, his legs stretched out and a drink in hand. His red Prada bucket hat was gone, replaced by the close-cut lines of his fade. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes sharpened as soon as he spotted me, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“There go my baby,” he said, standing to meet me. His arm slipped around my waist, pulling me close. “Thought y’all got lost.”

“Traffic,” I said, the lie slipping out easily.

He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke. “You don’t need to be so stiff, Nye. Loosen up, mama. It’s just a party. I got you. Always.”

The warmth in his voice eased some of the tension in my chest. I glanced up at him, his crooked grin softening into something almost tender. He took my hand, lacing our fingers together. “You good now?”

I nodded, and he kissed my forehead before leading me toward the backyard.

---

The energy in the backyard swirled around me. Groups mingled under the string lights, laughter and conversation blending with the thumping bass from the house. Jey’s hand stayed on my lower back, a quiet reminder of his presence as he led me to where the music pulsed louder.

The beat changed, slowing to “Nice and Slow” by Usher that made couples inch closer. Without a word, Jey pulled me toward the open patch of grass where others had already started dancing. Jey pulled me onto the patch of open space where a few people had started dancing. His hands rested firmly on my waist as we swayed to the rhythm, his eyes locked on mine.

“We’ve never danced like this before,” he said, his voice low and almost amused as his hands adjusted slightly on my waist.

I smirked, meeting his gaze. “You saying you don’t know how to dance, Jey?”

He laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “Nah, I know how. Just never had someone worth dancing with.”

His words caught me off guard, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “That supposed to be smooth?” I teased, trying to ignore how much the compliment hit.

“Just being honest,” he murmured, his eyes searching mine. “You’re looking real good tonight, Nye. You always do, but tonight…” He trailed off, a soft smile tugging at his lips before he leaned in closer. “You look edible.”

The kiss came naturally, his lips brushing against mine softly at first before deepening. For a moment, everything else faded—the crowd, the music, the lingering doubts. It was just us, swaying together in a world that felt briefly untouched by the chaos around us.

When the song ended, he pulled back slightly, his thumb brushing my cheek. “See? Told you I got you. You ain’t gotta worry with me, baby.”

For the first time that night, I believed him.

---

The hours slipped by as the music vibrating through the walls and seeping into the backyard like a second heartbeat. The cops hadn’t shut things down, which was good. I hadn’t seen Damian all night either. At first, I felt relief—a reprieve from the chaos his presence always seemed to stir. But as the minutes ticked on, the absence gnawed at me, an itch I couldn’t quite reach.

He’s not coming, I finally told myself. And with that, I decided to let go, if only for the night.

“Girl, what are you doing standing there like a statue?” Kiyah’s voice broke through my thoughts. She grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the makeshift dance floor in the center of the living room. “Come on, Nye. You need to loosen up. Shake that ass with me.”

Her words struck a chord. She wasn’t wrong. Letting out a small laugh, I followed her lead, moving to the beat of “Love You Down” by INOJ that pulsed through the crowd. The warmth of the drinks Jey had brought me earlier made my movements fluid, the tension in my shoulders finally melting away.

Nataya wasn’t far off, but she wasn’t dancing—at least not with her feet. She was nestled on Jimmy’s lap in the corner of the room, their faces inches apart as they whispered and laughed. Natasha twirled near the kitchen, her giggles blending with Sami’s as he spun her dramatically, earning cheers from the crowd. And Kiyah? She was shamelessly pressed against Jacob, the two of them swaying in sync as though the music had been made just for them.

It felt good to laugh, to be caught in the rhythm of the night. For once, I let myself have fun.

---

Jey’s hand found mine as I stepped off the dance floor, my cheeks flushed from the heat of the room. He pulled me close, his dark eyes sparkling with something playful.

“You’re finally having fun, huh?” he teased, his voice low enough to send a shiver down my spine.

I nodded, a small smile playing on my lips. “Yeah, I am.”

“Good.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against my temple before stepping back. “Let’s keep it going.”

The music shifted again, and Jey led me into another dance. This time, the tempo slowed, the kind of song that made couples draw closer. His hands rested firmly on my waist, his fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of my dress. I couldn’t ignore the way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the room.

“You look beautiful, Nyeya. Especially when a smile on your face,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the haze of noise around us.

I looked up at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “You’re laying it on thick tonight,” I teased, but my voice betrayed me, softer than I intended.

He smirked, leaning closer until his forehead almost touched mine. “Just telling the truth.”

For a moment, I let myself embrace his soft side. The tension between us felt lighter, like it was something we could set down instead of carry forever.

---

As the night wore on, the drinks kept coming. Jey seemed intent on keeping my glass full, and the warm buzz in my veins made the world feel softer, less jagged. Kiyah was still glued to Jacob, their laughter loud enough to cut through the music. Natasha was practically floating as Sami spun her again, this time dipping her so low she shrieked. Even Nataya had come up for air, though her lips were still red and swollen from kissing Jimmy.

I was watching them, smiling at their antics, when a figure stepped into my peripheral vision. A man I didn’t recognize sauntered toward me, his expression too familiar for my liking. He wasn’t dressed like the Prada Bois—his jeans were baggy, his white tank slightly dingy—but his swagger suggested he thought he belonged.

“You Jey’s girl, right?” he asked, his voice smooth but edged with something sharp.

I nodded slowly, already on edge. “Yeah.”

“Figured,” he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Gotta say, I get it now.”

Before I could respond, a voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. “Yo, what the fuck are you doing, uce?”

Jey was already crossing the room, his shoulders tense, his jaw set. The man turned, hands raised in mock surrender. “Relax, bro. Just talking.”

“Talking to who?” Jey snapped, his voice rising. “My girl? You lost your damn mind?”

The tension in the room shifted instantly. Conversations hushed, all eyes turning toward the brewing storm. The man smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not that deep, bro. Chill.”

But Jey wasn’t hearing it. He shoved the man, hard enough to send him stumbling into the wall. The reaction was immediate—voices shouting, people scattering, the air charged with chaos. Jimmy was at Jey’s side in an instant, gripping his twin’s shoulder.

“Uce, calm the fuck down,” Jimmy said firmly. “Not here. Not now.”

The man straightened, glaring at Jey, but before he could retaliate, Solo and Jacob were there, stepping in to diffuse the situation.

“You need to go,” Solo said, his tone low and menacing. “Now.”

After a tense moment, the man backed off, muttering curses under his breath as he was ushered out. Jey shrugged off Jimmy’s grip, his face still tight with anger. Without a word, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the crowd, leading me to a quiet corner of the house.

---

He didn’t stop until we were in an empty room, the door slamming shut behind us. The sound made me flinch, but Jey didn’t notice. He ran a hand over his face, pacing the small space like a caged animal.

“What the hell was that? I leave yo’ ass alone for five minutes and this what you do,” he demanded, his voice low but trembling with frustration.

“I didn’t do anything,” I said, my words tumbling out. “He came up to me. I didn’t even know him. Like it’s not that serious, Jey.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jey shot back. “You think I’m just gonna let some random ass dude talk to you like that, in my face, around my people? You’re mine, Nyeya. Mine. I need you understand that shit.”

His words hit like a slap, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Somewhere deep inside, a voice whispered something I didn’t want to hear: Would Damian have treated me like this?

Jey stepped closer, his tone softening but still firm. “I’m just trying to protect you. You don’t get it, Nye. Everybody ain’t cool. In my world—it’s dangerous over here. I can’t have anyone thinking they can take what’s mine.”

I nodded, though the knot in my stomach tightened. “I get it,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t sure if I did. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as if that could erase the cracks forming between us. But even as I leaned into his embrace, the doubt lingered, heavier than ever.

"You belong to me, Nyeya. Can't nobody have you but me.”

---

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[astrophiliaxx]

SILVER SPRINGS | MIRANDY

Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me.

[robocultist]

So, I just watched Hannibal. Cue my new hyper fixation for the next few months. While we’re here, might as well rant off some of my first initial thoughts.

1. The cliff scene ripped my heart out. There is no better way it could have ended. I’m going to rant about this later, or else it will take up half of this post.

2. How the fuck did Freddie bloody Lounds survive to the end???

3. Both of the main characters are so so fucked up. Main reason I ship them is cause if they are not together they are a hazard to everyone around them.

4. On that same note, how did Will not have a stronger reaction to his head literally being attempted to be cut in half?

5. The crime scenes are so beautiful at times. Especially the mushroom one and the dude in the flower tree.

6. I’m just happy Alana and Margot got a genuinely nice ending.

7. I’ve listened to Love Crime over 50 times over the last couple days.

8. Bedelia is such an interesting character, especially with her relation to Hannibal. The final scene with her cooked leg can be interpreted in several ways, also going to rant about this later.

9. Hannibal fanfic is god tier. Please give me recs.

10. I want a romcom of this show filmed from Hannibal’s perspective, this is a need.

Expect more Hannibal posts soon, this turned out longer than I expected :D

[beta-adjacent]

Y’all gonna be so fr with y’all rn I need to see more fpreg in my omegaverse. I don’t know the stats on it and I don’t even like the pregnancy trope but I need it. Give me my lesbian fpreg fic I need it more than air

[schadenfredde]

Gay or European but it's Polnareff with his boyfriend bestfriend Hol Horse

[heav3nb9by]

mmmmmmm the children yearn for impulse purchases.