#when i first started drawing it a few days ago i had to stop because it was making me feel a bit nauseous and giving me heartburn!

[lvnleah]

viv’s move to manchester.

this series masterlist can be found here!

The day you helped Viv move into her new apartment in Manchester felt strange from the start. The drive had been quiet, except for the sound of Myle panting softly in the backseat. You held Twix tightly, watching your iPad in the back seat as Beth drove. Beth had packed up a few bits into the boot and you were taking them up to Manchester for Viv’s new apartment. 

When you arrived, Viv was already outside waiting. She waved when she saw the car, her big smile making your heart feel warm. But even though you were excited to see her, you didn’t like the way the moving truck behind her made everything feel different.

The offer from Manchester City was a tough decision to make for Viv. She had offers from all over the place, even outside of the country, and she’d talked about it thoroughly with Beth and all of your family. There was no chance she was leaving England because they knew it’d be too much for you. 

Manchester had the same priorities as Viv and although it was a few hour's drive, the train didn’t take as long. Manchester was too far away for Viv to stay living in London so a few weeks ago her and Beth went flat hunting while you stayed with Leah and Buddy. The new flat was really nice and you even had your own bedroom. 

“Hey, mijn meisje,” Viv said, crouching down to hug you as soon as you got out of the car. “And there’s Twix too! Did you keep him safe for me?”

You nodded and held Twix up for her to see. “He missed you, so did I!”

“I missed you too,” she said, scooping you up for a cuddle before setting you down. 

Inside the flat, everything felt too new. The walls were plain, the floors were shiny, and there weren’t any pictures or toys like at home. You followed Viv and Beth as they unpacked boxes, helping where you could. Myle trotted around, sniffing every corner like she was trying to figure out if this was her new home too.

“Where’s your bed, Mamma?” you asked after a while, clutching Twix to your chest.

Viv pointed to a room down the hall. “It’s in there, but we have to put it together first. Want to help me?”

You nodded and spent the next hour handing her screws and holding pieces of wood while she and Beth worked. When the bed was finally done, you climbed onto it with Twix, testing it out. It felt soft and big, but it didn’t feel like Beth and Viv’s bed at home.

As the day went on, the apartment started to look more like home. Viv hung up a few family photos in the living room, and Beth helped her organize the kitchen. You even put one of your drawings on the fridge, right in the middle where Viv promised it would stay. 

But when it was time to leave a few days later, your stomach started to hurt. You followed Viv to the door, holding her hand tightly.

“Do we have to go?” you asked quietly.

Viv crouched down so she was at eye level with you. “You and Mummy need to go back home, mijn meisje. But you’ll see me at the weekend, and I’ll call you every day. Okay?”

Tears pricked your eyes, and you clutched Twix tightly. “You come back with us? Please?”

Viv’s face softened, and she pulled you into a hug. “I wish I could, Roo. But this is my new home now while I play football.”

You didn’t say anything, just buried your face in her shoulder and held onto her as tightly as you could.

Beth’s voice was soft when she spoke from the door. “Come on, Roo. We need to get going.”

Myle whined as if she didn’t want to leave either, and you couldn’t stop the tears from falling as you said goodbye. Viv kissed your forehead and promised again that you’d see her in a few days, but it didn’t make leaving any easier.

The car ride home was quiet again, except this time, you didn’t let go of Twix. Your chest felt tight, and even Myle’s gentle nudges against your hand didn’t help as you watched your iPad again. 

By the time you were back in London, it was late, and the ache in your chest hadn’t gone away. Beth tried everything to cheer you up—she made your favourite dinner, read extra bedtime stories, and even let Myle curl up on the rug in your room. But nothing worked.

The first night without Viv proved harder than Beth anticipated. She’d known it would be rough for both you and her, but nothing could have prepared her for just how much you would both miss Viv’s presence in the house.

You were curled up in her bed, clutching Twix trying to fall asleep. Beth had tucked you in hours ago, reading you three bedtime stories instead of the usual one. But it didn’t help. “Mummy,” your small voice called from your room.

Beth sighed, putting down the tea she hadn’t touched. She padded into your room, finding you sat up in bed, your cheeks streaked with silent tears.

“I want Mamma,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Beth’s chest ached. She sat down beside you in bed and pulled you onto her lap, “I know, baby. I miss her too.”

“Why can’t she stay here?” You sniffled, burying your face against Beth’s chest. 

Beth rubbed your back gently. “Mamma has her new club in Manchester, remember? And Manchester is a long, long, loonggg way from London, isn’t it? So Mamma needs to stay at her new flat in Manchester but I promise we’ll call her in the morning. How does that sound, eh?”

You shook her head. “I don’t wanna call her. I wan’ her here now!”

The tears spilt out before you could stop them. Your chest felt tight and hot, and it was hard to breathe between the sobs. Beth held you close and rocked you back and forth, whispering how much Viv loved you, but it didn’t help. The ache didn’t go away.

Eventually, you heard Beth sigh. She pulled back a little so she could look at you. “Alright, how about this? Just for tonight, we’ll do something special. Want to eat pizza in bed and watch Tangled?”

You blinked at her through your tears. “In bed?”

“In bed,” Beth said with a small smile. “But only this one time. Deal?”

You sniffled and nodded. “Okay. But I want plain pizza.”

“Plain pizza it is,” she said, wiping your cheeks with her sleeve.

When the pizza came, you carried Twix into Beth’s room and climbed onto her big bed with Myle. She set up her laptop at the end of the bed, and you snuggled under the covers while Rapunzel sang about her tower. Beth handed you a slice of pizza on a napkin, and you took tiny bites, feeling a little less sad with every bite.

By the time Flynn Rider started singing, your eyelids were heavy. You rested your head against Beth’s chest, feeling warm and safe. Twix was tucked under your chin, and Beth’s voice hummed quietly along to the music.

Before the movie ended, you were already asleep.

The next few weeks weren’t easy. You struggled to adjust to Viv being away despite seeing her on the weekends and talking to her multiple times a day. Little things set you off—spilling juice, not finding Twix in the morning, or even the sound of Beth saying “no.” Each tantrum seemed bigger than the last, and Beth tried her hardest to stay patient, even when she felt like crying herself.

Things didn’t seem to get any better. Beth had to go to training, and you had to go with her, which you weren’t thrilled about. As soon as you got to the training ground, you crossed your arms and pouted. You didn’t want to be there. You didn’t want to do anything. You just wanted to go home. 

So you decided to plop yourself down on the floor and refuse to move from the hallway outside of the changing rooms. 

Beth noticed right away. “Roo, come on, munchkin,” she said gently, bending down to look at you. “It’ll be fun, I promise. The team will be happy to see you.”

You shook your head as the tears began to bubble up. “I don’t want to stay here. I want Mamma.”

Beth sighed, she had been trying so hard to keep things normal, but it wasn’t working. She was tired, too and felt like crying at any given moment. 

You lay on your back, tears flowing down your face as you kicked your legs around. “I want Mamma!”

“I didn’t do it,” you heard Monkey say as her and Leah came out of the changing room. “You have no proof I did it.”

Leah raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms with a small, knowing smile. “Oh yeah, course, none at all,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Monkey shrugged innocently, but before she could say anything else, she spotted you still lying on the floor, tears streaming down your face. Her expression softened instantly, and she looked down at you. 

“Why the glum face, kid?” she asked. “I’m here! The party can begin!”

Beth shot her a sharp look. “Not the time, Monkey.”

Beth looked up and caught Leah’s eye. The silent exchange between them was brief but loaded: I’m at my wit’s end. Leah nodded, crouching down to your level and softening her voice.

“Hi, Roo,” Leah said gently, pushing a strand of stray hair out of your face. “You’re not having such a good day, are you? Do you want to tell Auntie Le what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, hugging Twix tighter and sniffling. Leah stayed patient, giving you a moment. “Come on, sweetie,” she coaxed. “There’s no need for tears. Where’s our happy little Roo gone, eh? I happen to know there’s a special cake in the canteen with your name on it. Shall we go and have a look?”

You sniffled again, peeking at her through watery eyes. “Chocolate?”

“Oh of course,” Leah said, her lips curling into a small, reassuring smile. “Only the best for you!”

Your lip wobbled, but you slowly reached out to take Leah’s hand, clutching Twix with your other arm. Beth let out a quiet sigh of relief as she stood back up.

“You get changed,” Leah said over her shoulder, scooping you up onto her hip. “I’ve got her for a bit.”

Beth hesitated, getting a glare from Leah as if to say “you need five minutes of peace”, before nodding gratefully and heading to the locker room.

In the canteen, Leah found a quiet table for the two of you and set you up with a slice of chocolate cake. You poked at it with your fork before taking a tiny bite, still clutching Twix protectively.

Leah watched you quietly for a moment before leaning closer. “You miss your Mamma, don’t you, huh?” she asked softly, her tone understanding.

You nodded, not looking up.

“It’s hard when someone you love moves away,” Leah continued, her voice calm and soothing. “But you’re so brave, you know that? Your Mamma misses you too, more than anything. And you’ll see her soon, I promise.”

You sniffled, taking another bite of cake. “She said she’d call tonight.”

“She will,” Leah said, smiling gently. “And when she does, you can tell her all about how you had chocolate cake and hung out with your cool Auntie Le.”

“Monks said you're not cool!” You giggled before hiccuping. 

Leah gasped in mock offense, “Oh did she now?”

“She said you’re bossy!” you said, a small giggle breaking through your sniffles.

Leah leaned back in her chair, “Well, Monkey clearly doesn’t know what cool is. I mean, who just helped you find chocolate cake, huh? That’s peak coolness right there!”

You giggled again, the sound making Leah smile in relief. “Okay… maybe you’re a little cool.”

“A little?!” Leah said, pretending to be scandalized. “Roo, you’re killing me here.”

You smiled shyly, taking another bite of cake, “You get me cake again when I’ sad next? Then you’re cool!”

Leah chuckled. “Deal, but don’t tell Monks. She’ll want in on the cake action, and we can’t have that can we, eh? She’ll be eating all of it!”

You smiled a little wider, the tears from earlier drying on your cheeks. Leah ruffled your hair lightly. “That’s my girl. Now, finish that cake so we can boss everyone in at training, yeah?”

By the time Beth came into the canteen, she was changed and ready for training. “You feeling better now, munchkin?”

You nodded, your cheeks still a little puffy from crying, “Auntie Le’s cool. She got me chocolate cake!”

Beth arched an eyebrow, glancing at Leah with mock suspicion. “Oh, she did, did she? Are you trying to bribe my kid, Le?”

Leah grinned. “Not bribing. Just being the cool Auntie, apparently.”

Beth crouched down beside you, brushing a hand over your hair. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, munchkin. Why don’t you go get some toys to take outside with you, yeah?”

You nodded before slipping off of your chair and running over to the little toy box that was for you and Buddy. 

Beth sat down next to Leah with a sigh, “Thanks, Le. How are you so good at this?”

Leah chuckled, “Tantrums are a daily occurrence in my house these days. You can return the favour when Buddy has a meltdown over the crusts not being cut off her sandwich next time."

The next few days were easier but still tough. You still had tantrums over little things but they weren’t as full blown. Nights proved to be the toughest though, so Beth had just given in and let you sleep in her bed cuddle up to her. She was doing anything to make sure you were happy. 

Beth tried her best to keep the routine as stable as possible, with the team stepping in to help where they could. She decided to take you and Myle to Manchester to visit Viv for the weekend with Vic tagging along. You were so excited you barely slept the night before, waking up at the crack of dawn to pack Twix and your favourite toys into your backpack.

The drive up was a lot livelier this time, with Vic sitting in the backseat with you, telling silly stories that made you giggle endlessly. Myle seemed to pick up on your excitement, her tail wagging as she rested her head on your lap.

When you arrived at Viv’s flat, she was waiting outside with a wide smile, just like the last time. “There’s my mijn meisje!” she called out, kneeling down to scoop you up the moment you jumped out of the car.

“Mamma!” you squealed, wrapping your arms tightly around her neck.

Myle barked happily, pulling at her lead as Beth got her out of the car. “Alright, alright, Myle, calm down,” Beth said, laughing as Myle bounced over to Viv, tail wagging furiously.

“You survived the journey then?” Viv teased as Vic climbed out of the car, stretching dramatically.

“Barely,” Vic joked, ruffling your hair as you clung to Viv. “Your kid’s got a lot of energy, you know that?”

“Tell me about it,” Beth muttered, shaking her head but smiling fondly.

“Hi, liefde.” Viv smiled as Beth threw her arms around the pair of you. 

“Oh god, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you,” Beth mumbled into Viv’s neck. 

Inside the flat, everything felt better with Viv there. She’d decorated a little since your last visit, there were more pictures on the walls, and your drawing was still front and centre on the fridge. She’d even set up your bedroom with some of your favourite toys and new bedding which had a princess on it. 

“Look!” Viv said, leading you to the room. “I got this just for you.”

Your eyes widened as you saw the new bedding. “It’s Princess!” you squealed, running over to touch it. “Mamma, it’s my favourite!”

“I know,” Viv said, kneeling beside you. “I wanted you to feel like this is your home too.”

You threw your arms around her neck, hugging her tightly. “It does! It’s perfect!”

The weekend was full of laughter and cuddles. Viv took you to a nearby park where you played on the swings and slid down the slides with her cheering you on. That evening the four of you, plus Myle and Twix, snuggled up on the couch to watch a movie. You fell asleep halfway through, curled up between Viv and Beth, Twix tucked under your arm.

“I think someone’s tired!” Beth giggled, nodding towards you as you practically laid on top of Viv. 

Viv smiled, brushing your hair away from your face before placing a kiss on your forehead, “Yeah, it’s been a long week for her.”

[arielluva]

let's play maiden dissection!

[verstappen-cult]

Having an argument with Max, sounds exhausting. Especially when both of you are stubborn, but guess what? He'd willingly beg for forgiveness if you are still upset with him and avoiding him as a result of the argument

“I can’t do this anymore.” You whisper, shaking your head and taking a step back. 

That is what finally makes Max stop dead in his tracks, mouth hanging open with whatever he was going to say next. 

You’re tired. You woke up less than an hour ago and the first thing you and Max did was argue. And you really didn’t want to start the day this way, but neither of you backed away. Things escalated quickly and you just can’t do it anymore. 

“What are you talking about?” He sounds desperate, his chest heaving. Max clenches his fists by his side, like he wants to reach out. 

You turn your head away, eyes filled with tears. “I’m gonna go see my mother. We’ll talk later.” 

Max feels paralyzed, he can’t seem to do anything but watch you leave. 

*

It’s past eight when you get home. 

The first thing you notice is that the house is lit only by candles. A lot of candles throughout the house. 

Max is nowhere to be seen, Jimmy and Sassy are the ones greeting you by passing between your legs. You bend over to pat their heads and give them a few ear scratches. 

The more you walk into the house, the more your heart breaks. There on the table is a big bouquet of your favorite flowers along with a small card with the word ‘sorry’ written in Max’s handwriting waiting for you. The table is also set with the chinaware you only use on special occasions, and a few more candles. 

When you turn around you see Max curled up on the sofa, your favorite weighted blanket —the one you use when you’re feeling down and Max is away for work— around his shoulders. He looks so cozy, you want to curl up next to him, but you are still a little hurt and angry from the argument you two had in the morning. You’re thinking about what you both said to each other when Max stirs, eyes trying to adjust to seeing in the dim light. 

“Hey,” You say as a greeting, trying not to scare him. 

Max turns around immediately, surprise crossing his features. “You’re home.”

“Yes? Sorry I didn’t say anything but mom wanted me to help her with gardening.” You shrug, leaving your bag and keys on the table next to the couch. 

“I didn’t think you’d come back.” His voice is barely a whisper, but you hear him anyway. Max exhales deeply, clutching the blanket tightly around his shoulders. 

“What?”

“I’m so sorry.” He blurts out, shoulders slumped. Max shuts his eyes tightly, like he’s in so much pain he can barely have them open. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I should’ve listened to you—I’m really sorry. I don’t want us to argue like that again, I felt horrible because I love you and I promised myself I would never do something like this.” You let him talk, to spill everything he has inside of him. “After you left—I wanted to go after you but I knew you needed time. But it made me remember how my dad used to talk to my mom, how they would yell at each other while Vic and I hid in our rooms.” You are already moving towards him, even before you hear how his voice breaks. 

You sit by his side, leaving some space between you two, hands itching to reach out and touch him, to draw him closer to you and hold him. 

“I don’t want to be like him.”

“You’re nothing like him,” You move closer, taking his hands with yours, thumb caressing the back of them. “Don’t you ever dare to go there, okay? You will never be like him, Max. Do you understand?” 

But he doesn’t look at you, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Max, this is not the first and it’s definitely not going to be the last argument we have. But if we talk about it, if we give ourselves some time to think things through like we did today—this doesn’t mean you are a bad person, or that you are turning into your dad.” You cup his cheek with one of your hands, caressing his cheekbone as you look into his stormy blue eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” He says again, tears in the corners of his eyes. You smile softly at him when he begs for your forgiveness again. 

“Can you forgive me too?” 

“Darling, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“Well, you’re wrong there.” You sniff, already feeling the tears wanting to stream down your face. “We were both wrong, don’t take all the blame.” Max opens his mouth to refute, but you shut him up with a kiss. It’s chaste, full of promises, and leaves you with blood pounding in your ears. 

“Do you forgive me?”

Max nods, gaze fixed on your lips. “Yes,” He directs his gaze back to your eyes, and you can see so much regret in them. “Do you forgive me?” 

“I don’t know,” You tease him by pretending to think about it. “it depends on what you made for dinner.”

A grin spreads across his face and he’s standing up in a second, tugging on your sleeve. “It’s definitely gonna make you forgive me.” He says, pulling the chair out for you to sit. “And if this doesn’t work, I have many other ways to make you forgive me.”

[millersfinest]

can u make some like generic dating ellie headcannons? (tlou universe preferably)

i love ur writing sm!!

dating ellie williams ◡̈

cw: usual fluff, mentioned love languages, mention of joel’s death (i wanted to be as canon as possible), a little nsfw but nothing too crazy.

note: here are some semi-ooc ellie hc’s!! i feel like im so bad at headcanons, but here you go. thank you for enjoying my work, i hope you like this too pookie!

ellie! is a total introvert to her core, so no matter how she found out about you taking interest in her… she’d probably need some time to think about it.

ellie! would have you freaking tf out over it too. but she means well, she’s just a really bad over-thinker—never wanting to say the wrong thing. but she’d come around and never stop apologizing to you.

ellie! would take a little while to open up to you, if you weren’t friends first. she’s been through a lot in her life, and she fears that her trauma could scare people away.

now, if you were already friends (specifically close friends), you probably would’ve already known her deepest darkest secrets and feelings by the time you started dating. every traumatic event and every fixation she’s had since she was a child.

ellie! thoroughly believes in physical touch and quality time as a love language.

for physical touch: it doesn’t always have to be sexual (she doesn’t complain either way), she just likes to touch you—knowing you’re right there next to her. you could be doing the dishes and she’d come up behind you, leaning her head on your shoulder, with her hands delicately placed on your hips. or standing by the bar at the tipsy bison, with her fingers dipped into any of the pockets of your jeans. keeping you close.

for quality time: she does love her moments alone, but they’re always better with you somewhere near by. sometimes, when she would spend hours painting or drawing in her art room, she’d ask if you could come sit in. so you’d bring your book, or whatever you were doing, and read silently in the same room as her. while a smooth record played in the background. but sometimes, she doesn’t even ask. you could be doing the most boring thing ever, and she’d float around you like a curious bumblebee.

ellie! love, love, loves being babied—even though she’d never admit it. she has a reputation to uphold, of course. during the spring, due to the patrols and supply runs, her allergies would wreck havoc on her. that’s where you come in to nurture her back to health. she’d have tissue stuck up her nose, with her head lying in your lap on the couch. you rubbing your hand over her hair, soothingly.

“if you kiss me right now, i think my sinuses will re-open.”

“ellie, you just sneezed two minutes ago.”

“baby, pleaseeeee! i need it!” and she’d give the craziest puppy dog eyes known to man. and, of course, you’d give in. giving her the sweetest smooch ever. it didn’t open her sinuses, but she knew that. just know… she’s gonna convince you to give her another to be sure.

another scenario would be coming home after a long day at work (idk i feel like doing patrols would be like her main thing). she probably had a rough day with the lingering infected, and came back with a few injuries. the moment she stepped through the door, she’d be calling for you. wrapped in your arms, smelling like the outdoors, you’d slowly undress her and then run a bath. she loved when you’d cater to her in that way—cleaning her cuts, washing her skin from dried blood and dirt. after all that, you’d cuddle in bed, pillow-talking until her eyes shut before yours.

“goodnight, els.” smooch.

ellie! was a little iffy when it came to holidays, but when it came to your birthday it was a special affair. jackson was a healthy and happy little bubble, but because the idea of loss wasn’t foreign to her—celebrating her loved ones was very important to her.

if you didn’t like grand gestures, she’d keep it lowkey. maybe throwing a little surprise for the two of you at home; cooking you dinner, having a movie night, and giving you little trinkets she found on the road. or painting something for you in secret, then giving it to you as a gift.

speaking of cooking…

ellie! has thing for making good food. a part of me feels like joel put her on when she was young, and after he died (yeah, i’m sorry) she made an effort to keep it up. playing guitar was much harder for her since she only had two fingers and a thumb on her left hand—so she decided to pick up something else to stay close to him.

so every chance she can get, she cooks for you or both of you. when you would go on patrols, you’d make sure to pick up cook books from before the outbreak since she found them so fascinating. and you loved being her little food guinea pig. spoiler: she was a fast learner so her cooking skills were pretty good.

ellie! 100% taught you to play the song (that we all know and love) that joel taught her on the guitar. and whenever you knew she needed to hear it, you’d play it for her. and, i swear on everything, there’d be tears in her eyes every time.

and for some freaky stuff… (i won’t get into crazy detail but i just wanna be thorough ;D)

ellie! just loves loving you… making love to you—doing everything that she can to almost prove that you’re everything to her (not that she needs to but she does it anyway).

meaning: at the very best, she’s a service!top. however, i can get behind her being a switch/verse (or maybe i’m bias lmao).

ellie! probably wouldn’t strap as often as the fanfics show. especially being in this apocalyptic world—where would you get them?? if they weren’t hella old… and, i feel like she’d think they were a little silly (but if you wanted to try it, she’d oblige because what you say goes).

ellie! loves to watch the expressions of your features contort into visuals of pleasure. it’s how she knew she was being good for you—doing everything that you asked but better!

your first time: of course she was super awkward. not really knowing where to put her hands at first. but once the heat began to rise, and your bodies began to press together, her entire energy changed! she’s her most confident when she’s in service to someone (in some way)—so she makes it her prerogative to make you feel good and comfortable. you weren’t really expecting that from her, though. it only took one airy moan coming from your lips for her to completely flip the script.

her hands were firmly delicate, and she made sure to be very vocal in your ears and over your body.

overall, ellie williams is a very attentive lover. in many ways than just one.

[hurtblossom]

No time to die

Pairing : Lando Norris x F1 Driver!Reader (Female)

Summary : A desire to keep their relationship secret, but for all the wrong reasons, and at what cost ?

Warnings : ANGST, Swearing, the english is still terrible, inchident on the race, blood. Confort?

NO HATE TOWARDS ANY OF THE CHARACTERS, IT'S JUST FICTION, AND I NEEDED VILLAINS.

Masterlist

Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N were both drivers for the McLaren racing team. They met when Y/N joined the team. While Lando didn’t know her at all, she had known who he was from a very young age, having already raced against him and other current F1 drivers when they were children in karting. From their first meeting, there was an undeniable spark between them, but their journeys had been very different.

Y/N was the only current female driver, which made it easy for her to catch the eyes of people around her. Not only due to her exceptional skills but also because of her beauty, which left many speechless, including Lando Norris. He remembered his first impressions of her: her confidence, determination, and captivating smile. Y/N carried herself with a grace and strength that commanded respect on and off the track.

When she met Lando, Y/N fell for him almost immediately. If you asked her, she would tell you it was love at first sight. For Lando, it took a bit more time to open up to her. Since she joined right after Carlos, he felt like she took his friend's spot, but as time passed by, he realized she deserved her place in McLaren. He recalled the moments they shared, talking about their past karting races, sharing jokes, and laughter that brought them closer each day.

The two grew closer each day, and finally, they both decided to let that chemistry become romance and started a relationship. Everything was perfect in Y/N's eyes, especially in the beginning. She wanted the whole world to see how in love with him she was. For her, they were endgame. But whenever the conversation about announcing their relationship came up, Lando simply brushed it off. He was always polite about it, saying it wasn’t the right time or that it could complicate things with the media and the team.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: * :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: * :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: * :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

A month passed, then two months, six months, and still nothing. Y/N started to notice how Lando would distance himself from her, drawing an invisible line between them. The kisses became less frequent, he would come to her apartment less often, and Y/N had stopped asking about announcing their relationship a long time ago. She missed the early days when everything seemed possible, and their love felt like a secret treasure.

Professionally, Lando kept his distance at work, being careful not to be seen with her by other drivers or staff members. When they had media duties, Y/N saw through his act. Over time, she learned when Lando was pretending. It broke her heart a little each time she tried to reach out to him, and he didn't give her the time of day. She remembered the countless nights she spent alone, wondering what went wrong, replaying their conversations, and hoping for a sign that things would change.

When Lando won his first ever GP in Miami, Y/N was ecstatic, smiling ear to ear, proud of the man she called her boyfriend. She couldn't hide her excitement and immediately jumped into his arms as soon as she got out of her car, telling him how proud she was and how she knew he could do it. He, for once, reciprocated her hug, only squeezing her a little, thanking her quickly before running away to celebrate his victory with the team. At the club after the race, Lando barely acknowledged her as he partied with his friends, other drivers, and some other girls. She watched from a distance, feeling like a stranger in a place where she should have felt at home.

A few weeks later, it was Y/N's turn to succeed, winning her first ever GP in Canada. Getting out of her car, she expected the same treatment as Lando when he won. She was jumping up and down, hugging a few team members, but she felt a certain coldness. Lando, being P2, not far from Y/N, got out of his car. Y/N walked towards him, a smile on her face, waiting for him to do anything really. He just passed by her, patting her shoulder. On the podium were herself, Lando, and Max. She was the only one not being sprayed with champagne. That night, Y/N found herself all alone in her hotel room, silent tears streaming down her face as she read the message from Zak Brown: "It was supposed to be Lando's win today. We expect you to help him win the races, not steal them from him. Be careful next time, or this win will be the last of your career." She felt a deep sense of betrayal and loneliness, wondering how things had gone so wrong.

Two weeks went by, and Y/N and Lando didn't talk much. She tried reaching out, but his replies were short and dry, so she didn't insist much, still hurt by the events in Canada. Their once vibrant connection felt like it was fading into a mere shadow of what it used to be.

Spain's GP came quicker than expected for the young female driver. She didn't want to go, feeling her spark for driving leaving her slowly. She was in her driver's room, sitting on her small bed, getting lectured by Zak, who was reminding her of what she was supposed to do. Lando, who was coming in, heard a bit of the conversation. Zak left, and Lando entered the room.

"How are you feeling about today's race?" Lando asked, looking at his girlfriend, trying to sound casual.

"Don't worry, I won't overtake you. You don't need to pretend you care how I feel," she said, getting up from her spot and adjusting her outfit, her voice tinged with sadness.

"What are you even talking about? Of course, I care," Lando said, raising his voice slightly, frustration creeping in.

"You don't care, Lando. I was so stupid thinking you loved me," she raised her voice too, tears ready to fall.

"I care," Lando argued, trying to bridge the growing gap between them.

"Yeah, like you cared when I won in Canada, or like you cared when I was all alone in my room during MY special night? You don't hug me anymore, you don't kiss me, you don't talk to me. Are we even together anymore?" Her voice broke with the weight of her emotions.

"You're so selfish, Y/N. Not everything is about you," he said, his own pain and confusion coming to the surface.

"How can I be selfish when all I do is try to please you?" Y/N exclaimed, hurt and bewildered.

"I wish I never met you. You're such a waste of time," Lando screamed, not thinking, letting his anger take over.

"You don't mean that," Y/N whispered, crying, her heart shattering.

"I mean every single word. I should have never given you a chance. I always knew I could do better than you anyway. Why do you think I never go out with you? I'm ashamed. Who would want to be seen with you?" Lando continued, his words like daggers.

Y/N didn't let any other word get out of her mouth, getting out of the room, tears streaming down her face, having a full-on panic attack. She sat down, trying to calm her breathing. After what felt like an eternity, she wiped the tears and went straight to the garage. Once she entered, Lando's eyes immediately went to her, guilt written all over his face. She quickly put her helmet on, trying to block the cameras from seeing her puffy red eyes.

When all the cars were parked in the right places on the starting grid, the lights went green, and the Spain race started.

It was on her tenth lap that Y/N started to feel something was wrong with the car.

"Something is wrong with the car," she said loud and clear, so the engineer could hear her through the radio.

"What do you mean?" The engineer said, his voice laced with worry.

"I can't slow down. I don't know what to do," she started panicking, her mind racing.

"It's going to be okay. Try to bring back the car," the engineer said in her ears, trying to keep her calm.

It was a matter of seconds before Y/N's car ended up rolling all the way toward a wall. The public went silent as the accident happened. The car behind her, which was George's, stopped, and the man came running to her. A red flag was quickly drawn, making all the other cars retire to the pit. The scene was chaotic, with everyone fearing the worst.

Lando arrived and got out of his car, looking around, not understanding what was happening. He went to Carlos, who was standing just in front of him.

"What's happening?" he asked, anxiety clear in his voice.

"Accident. We don't know who it is," the Spaniard said, looking at the big screen, trying to get a better view of what was happening.

Lando was looking around, trying to find Y/N. When he didn't see her car anywhere, he looked back at the screen. He recognized George's car and saw what looked like an orange car, upside down, stuck between the wall and the tires. He ran to the McLaren facility, his heart pounding.

"Y/N? Are you conscious?" Lando heard Zak say, his voice tense.

He picked up headphones and listened carefully. He heard weak breathing.

"Y/N? It's Lando. Please reply to me, baby," Lando said, earning looks from the team.

"It hurts," Y/N struggled to say, her breathing uneven.

"Where does it hurt, baby?" Lando asked, trying to keep her awake, his voice trembling.

"Everywhere. Please get me out of here. I can't move," Y/N was crying, fear in her voice. "Lando?"

"I'm here, love. They're trying to get you out," he said, his heart breaking.

"I don't want to die, Lan," she sobbed, her voice barely a whisper.

"You're not dying, baby," Lando murmured, tears streaming down his face.

The safety team got Y/N out after several minutes of struggling. Once she was finally out, George helped her stand. Everyone let out a breath, thinking it was finally over. Lando was looking at his lover, trying to control his own breathing, not to break down right there and then.

But everything came crashing down again when Y/N stopped walking, her orange suit becoming more and more stained with red around her abdomen. She collapsed, her body giving out.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: * :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: * :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: * :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

"I'm not asking you to apologize, I'm asking you to explain to me how the fuck did you let this happen?" Lando was screaming on the phone. "Zak, she almost died. There's no good excuse for that." He hung up after that, returning to his sitting position next to Y/N's bed, who was still unconscious.

He looked at her, his hand reaching for her hair before grabbing her hand, intertwining their fingers. He felt an overwhelming sense of regret and sorrow.

"You have to wake up, baby, I can't live without you," he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it gently, his voice breaking.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N remained unconscious. The doctors were doing everything they could, but the prognosis was uncertain. Lando stayed by her side every single day, his heart breaking a little more with each passing moment. He whispered to her about the future they would have, the places they would go, and the love they would share, hoping against hope that she could hear him.

One quiet evening, as the sun set outside the hospital window, Y/N’s fingers twitched slightly. Lando’s heart leapt with hope. "Y/N? Can you hear me?" he asked, his voice filled with desperation and love.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly. She looked around the room, her gaze finally landing on Lando. "Lando," she whispered, her voice weak but clear.

"I'm here, love. I'm here," he said, tears streaming down his face.

"What happened?" she asked, confusion and pain evident in her eyes.

"You had an accident, but you're safe now. You're in the hospital," Lando explained, his voice shaking with relief.

"I was so scared," she said, her eyes filling with tears.

"I know, baby. I was scared too. But you're going to be okay," Lando reassured her, holding her hand tightly.

As the days passed, Y/N slowly started to recover. Her physical wounds began to heal, but the emotional scars were deeper. She couldn't shake off the feeling of betrayal and abandonment she had felt from Lando before the accident.

One evening, as they sat together in the dimly lit hospital room, Y/N finally broke the silence. "Lando, we need to talk," she said, her voice firm despite her frailty.

"I know," he replied, looking down at their intertwined hands. "I've been a terrible boyfriend. I took you for granted, and I hurt you. I'm so sorry, Y/N. You didn't deserve any of it."

"It’s not just about the accident, Lando. It's about everything that led up to it. The way you distanced yourself, the way you made me feel like I didn't matter," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I was wrong. I was selfish and stupid. But I love you, Y/N. I want to make things right," Lando pleaded, his voice breaking.

"I love you too, Lando, but I need time. I need time to heal, not just physically but emotionally. I need to figure out if I can truly trust you again," Y/N said, her voice trembling with emotion.

Lando nodded, tears streaming down his face. "I'll wait for you, Y/N. No matter how long it takes. I just want you to be happy, even if that means letting you go."

She looked at him, her heart aching. "I appreciate that, Lando. But you need to understand, it's not going to be easy. You hurt me deeply, and it's going to take time for me to process everything and decide if I can move past it."

"I understand," Lando said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll do whatever it takes to prove that I'm worthy of your trust and love again."

[jo-speaks]

good graces ft. quinn hughes

in which…

quinn hughes realizes you'll be okay, with or without him.

warnings: MDNI. brief smut (again, it's like a paragraph), mature language, mentions of cheating, and i think that's all.

track three in short n' sweet (hughes brothers version) series!

When I love you, I'm sweet like an angel

Drawin' hearts 'round our names

And dreamin' of writing vows, rockin' cradles

“What’re you doing?” Quinn asked, wrapping his arms behind you as you shut the oven door, leaving the sweet treat you made to bake.

You took off your oven mitt before sighing and leaning back into his hold. “Baking cookies. You said you wanted some this morning, right?

He let out a soft laugh, “Yeah. How did you hear that though?”

“It’s not like you’re quiet when you’re on the phone with Conor.”

Quinn rolled his eyes playfully, dismissing your comment about how comfortable he was when talking to his teammate. He set one of his hands to lean back against the kitchen island where he felt a piece of paper under his palm. He furrowed his eyebrows, creasing the sheet slightly to pick it up. 

After a quick examination, he realized it was the recipe you had written down for the cookies. In the top corner of it, he saw his initials next to yours, enclosed in a heart. Quinn felt a warm feeling in his chest knowing you had done that, not caring if he saw it or not.

He held the paper in front of your face, which you had buried in the crease of his right elbow. “What’s this?”

You traced your eyes over the paper, “The recipe for the cookies? Don’t tell me you can’t read all of a sudden.” He gave you a thin-lipped look before tapping his finger over the childish drawing causing your eyebrows to lift in realization. “Oh, that. Got bored, thought it was cute. Something we could show the kids.”

Now it was his eyebrows that rose, “Kids? Like our kids?”

“Yeah, two of them. One of each. We can have them after our billion-dollar wedding.” You stated that like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Quinn knew you weren’t entirely serious. The two of you had this conversation a few months ago and he knew you wanted him to focus on his hockey career while you focused on your career. You both agreed you didn’t want to rush into anything until you were settled. And since Vancouver had been his home for 6 years and yours for 5 of those when you decided to move in with him, maybe it was time to start putting down those roots together.

Don't mistake my nice for naive

“Y/N, please. You’re being ridiculous. You were the one who told me to come in the first place!” Quinn called out to you as you walked away from him.

You stopped and turned back to face him, “Because I thought you’d have fun celebrating with your team here! Not flirt with the bartender the whole night!”

He rolled his eyes, setting you off even more. “I wasn’t flirting with her! I was getting Brock his drink!”

“Whatever, Quinn. I’m going home.” You sighed, not wanting to continue arguing with him in front of a bunch of people.

“I wasn’t flirting.” He mumbled, defeated.

You almost felt bad for reacting the way you did, but you knew him. The half smile and constant nodding all while keeping his eyes on her lips as they moved. 

You weren’t stupid.

I don't waste a second, I know lots of guys

You do somethin' suspect, this cute ass bye-bye

Like, ooh

Baby, you say you really like it being mine?

So let me give you some advice

After the whole bar argument, you decided to repay the favour a few days later when you had gone out to that same bar with your girlfriends. The same night you knew the Canucks would be celebrating their victory there. You watched the door attentively before a tap on your shoulder caught your attention.

“Y/N, this is Josh. He thought you were cute!” Was the only thing your friend said before walking away. The stumbling in her steps was the only thing you needed to explain the situation. 

Josh rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he placed his drink down on the bar and took the seat next to you. He cleared his throat, “Hey. Pretty interesting friend you have there.”

You snorted, “Tell me about it. You should see her sober, she’s still the same way.”

He laughed, “So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting alone?”

Before you could answer, you heard the bar erupt in whistles and clapping. You didn’t even have to turn your head to know who had walked in. Josh glanced over your shoulder, getting a view of the team himself. His focus came back to you when you tilted your head to interrupt his view. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. But to answer your question, I’m just here because I’m pissed at my boyfriend.”

You noticed his face drop before returning to the way it was before, “No way. I’m here because I’m pissed at my girlfriend!”

Your eyes widened at his confession, letting out a small chuckle. “Yikes, you’re an asshole.”

“Yeah?” He propped his arm on the bar, “How are you not?”

“Well for starters, I’m not approaching anyone. Second, my boyfriend just got here, so he knows where I am. And it doesn’t take a genius to know that your girlfriend has no idea where you are.” You answered, seeing the team take a seat at the tables next to where you were sitting.

As Josh sat in front of you, stunned at your words, you caught your boyfriend's eyes. He took a double take, not realizing it was you the first time. You looked away, bringing your attention back to the man in front of you as Quinn kept his on you.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” Josh asked.

You smirked slightly, “Quinn Hughes.

Josh’s eyes widened, “Bullshit.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer so you could talk in his ear and look over it to lock eyes with Quinn. “Don’t believe me? You’ll see who walks over to you when I leave.”

You backed up and got off your stool, heading to the bathroom as you kept eye contact with your boyfriend as you passed him. After you did, you heard him get up, his footsteps going the opposite way from where you were heading.

~

“What the fuck was that,” Quinn grumbled as he got into his car.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Quinn scoffed, “This is fucking gold, Y/N. You were all over my ass for doing the same shit on Tuesday, but when you do it’s all good.”

“Yeah, no. See, the difference between what I did tonight and what you did earlier this week is that I actually wasn’t flirting, I just wanted you to see what it was like to feel how I did when I saw you actually flirting with someone else.” You retorted, knowing how ridiculous the words coming out of your mouth sounded to him.

Yet on some level, Quinn knew you were right. He sighed before reaching over the center console to take hold of your hand. 

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sober, but I still knew what I was doing. I don’t want to lose you over this, so please tell me what I can do to make it up to you.” He whispered.

You turned to look at him, “You like being my boyfriend?”

He nodded.

“Then don’t lie to me.”

Boy, it's not that complicated

You should stay in my good graces

Or I'll switch it up like that so fast

'Cause no one's more amazin'

At turnin' lovin' into hatred x2

I won't give a fuck about you x3

That was cool

I won't give a fuck about you (Oh) x3

Yeah

“She’s the last person I’d want to piss off,” Jack told his brother over the phone as Quinn finished up telling him the whole bar fiasco the two of you had gone through a month ago. 

“Tell me about it. I’m not just saying this because she’s my girlfriend, but she’s literally always right. It’s getting scary.” Quinn confessed, pulling his car into the parking garage of the apartment complex.

Jack sighed, “Well, shit. Good luck with that, bro. Lukey’s calling you later, I gotta go.” 

Quinn said goodbye to his brother, hanging up the phone as he stepped out of his car, grabbing the bouquet of flowers he had gotten you for no reason. After the whole situation, he knew he couldn’t only make it up with verbal apologies. So he went old-school, settling for getting you flowers whenever he felt like they were needed. 

He stepped into the elevator, rocking back and forth on his heels as he reached your floor, walking out the second the doors opened. 

As he unlocked the front door of your shared apartment, he could hear you talking in the kitchen. 

“Yeah, I don’t know. I didn’t want to forgive him, but he’s making up for it.” You said to whoever you were talking to over the phone. 

Quinn stepped in quietly, your back still turned and your AirPods in your ears as you cooked dinner for the two of you. Still unbeknownst to you, Quinn walked to the hallway across from the kitchen, wanting to hear your conversation. 

Was it wrong to eavesdrop on you? Yes. Did Quinn know this? Also yes. Did he care? Not really. 

You let out a sigh, “Listen. He knows better than to do that to me. He also knows that I’m the last person he wants to fuck with because I can switch up incredibly fast. If he wants to cheat on me, he can go right ahead. But he knows damn well I’ll be out replacing him that same night.”

His face dropped. He knew that you were telling the truth, which is what scared him straight. 

“I don’t give a fuck if he wants to go out with Bella Hadid. If he does that without breaking up with me, I’m going straight to his mother and maybe even social media if I’m feeling petty enough.” You laughed, but there was nothing you were joking about. 

By now, Quinn wanted to ignore any woman that came his way.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love him so much. So much to the point where I would get down on my knee and propose to him. But, if so much as lies to me about anyone or anything, he’s gonna need a good lawyer.”

I'll tell the world you finish your chores prematurely

Quinn lined himself up in between your legs, pushing into you completely in one swift movement. You let out a breathy moan as your nails dug into his biceps. He didn’t move, letting not only you but himself adjust to the feeling. 

“Fuck, Q. You feel so good.” You mumbled, your brain foggy from the feeling of him being buried inside of you.

He mumbled something you didn’t quite understand before pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back into you completely. He did this a few more times before letting out a guttural groan, spilling into you.

This caught you completely off guard. Quinn had never finished this quickly before nor had he cum before you did. When he came to, he realized what had happened.

“Shit.” He mumbled, too embarrassed to move or even look you in the eyes.

You cleared your throat, pressing a soft kiss to kiss lips. “It’s fine, babe.” You pushed his body back, pushing him out of you. “I can just use my hand.”

He shook his head, finding his voice once again. “No, let me do it. I don’t- I don’t know what happened.”

Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on

With your favorite athlete

Shoot his shot every night

Want you every second, don't need other guys

You were scrolling on your phone, swiping up on all the notifications you were getting from Instagram, seeing as you had just posted. 

Quinn was featured in a few of the pictures, drawing the attention of his friends and fans to your account. Your head was propped up on Quinn’s lap as you lay on the couch as he played his video game on the living room TV. 

One notification caught your eye as you furrowed your eyebrows seeing the DM request that had come through. 

‘rjosi90 wants to send you a message.’

“Hey babe? Who’s this?” You asked, turning your phone around to show him the account.

He paused his game, looking down to look. “You don’t know who Roman Josi is? He was that guy you met at the awards ceremony, remember?”

“Oh! The one you never shut up about!” You teased as soon as you remembered the name.

Quinn rolled his eyes, nodding at your words before resuming his game but keeping his attention on your conversation. “What did he send you?”

You opened the message, your eyes widening as you internally debated on telling him the truth, not knowing how he would react. But, you knew you wouldn’t want him lying to you if he got the same message from another woman, so you decided to be honest.

“He said he thinks I’m pretty and that you’re a lucky guy.” You read, eyes quickly flashing back to Quinn.

His cheeks were red and his eyebrows were knitted together. You looked at his hands, which were now gripping his controller so tight that his knuckles were going white. “Are you gonna respond?”

Hesitantly, you shook your head, “Not if you don’t want me to.” 

Quinn had never been an insecure person, but he wasn’t always confident. And your delayed reaction probably didn’t help. You let out a breath before grabbing the controller out of his grip and setting it to the side. 

You sat up, swinging your legs on either side of his lap and taking his face in between your hands. “Hey. I want you. Only you.”

You pressed a kiss on his lips which he barely returned out of his own frustration. Pulling back, you started to litter kisses all over his face in an attempt to cheer him up. Trailing from his lips to his cheeks, then to his jaw, and stopping on his neck. You sucked on a sweet spot that caused his hands to come up and settle on your hips. 

“I don’t want anyone but you, Quinn.”

You do somethin' sus, kiss my cute ass bye

As you stepped into his room, he quickly shut off his phone and turned it face down. You furrowed your eyebrows as you stood in the doorway.

“Am I interrupting something?” You questioned.

He shook his head rapidly, clearing his throat as he rubbed his hands together before walking over to you. “Just caught me off guard.”

You scanned his face. His cheeks were flushed and his face was sweaty. Not wanting the answer you thought it was, you gave him a look before speaking again. “Was just gonna ask if you wanted to watch a movie with me. But if you’re… busy, I can just watch it by myself.” 

Quinn cleared his throat, “Uh, yeah. Let me just do something really quick and I’ll be right out.”

You simply shook your head, walking out of his room and heading back to your room and laying down on your bed with your laptop in front of you as you curled up in a blanket waiting for your boyfriend.

Even though the two rooms were separated by a small hallway, the walls were still relatively thin. You heard his door open and close but his feet remained still. You could hear the noise of his phone keyboard in front of your door, typing one last thing out before he walked into your room.

“So what movie are we watching, pretty girl?” He asked, setting his phone on your bedside table.

You eyed his phone before looking at him, “Everything okay?” 

He gave you a confused look, “Yeah, why?”

“Sounded like you were typing something important.” You shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of what could be nothing.

But, his wide eyes told you everything you needed to know. You sat up, raising your eyebrows in a way that said “Tell me what’s going on.”

Quinn shifted on his feet. “My ex texted me. She was saying she wanted to meet me for dinner and…” He cut himself off.

“And what?” You pressed.

“She wants to try again.”

You scoffed, “Okay. What did you say?”

He took a breath before answering, “I told her about us and that I’ll pass on the dinner because I’m very happy with you.” The way his words came out, you didn’t fully believe him. Yet at the same time, his face and body language told you he was telling the truth. You could tell he was nervous telling you, but you knew he wasn’t lying.

You nodded your head, “Okay.”

“Okay? What does that mean? I can show you the texts if you want!” He rambled.

Pulling him down onto the bed with you, you wrapped the blanket around him as well before setting the laptop in a way where you could both see it while lying down.

“I trust you, Q. If you say that’s what you told her, I believe you.” You whispered.

Boy, it's not that complicated

You should stay in my good graces

Or I'll switch it up like that so fast

'Cause no one's more amazin'

At turnin' lovin' into hatred x2

I won't give a fuck about you x3

Oh, no

I won't give a fuck about you (Oh) x3 

Oh

No, I won't

I won't give a fuck about you, no, I won't

(I won't, I won't, I won't) x2

Quinn sat in the parking lot of Roger’s Arena. You had driven home early, wanting to beat the traffic seeing as the score by the middle of the third period was 0-4. 

The loss of the game and your going home early left Quinn thinking. 

You didn’t need him. 

Sure, you loved him and you loved living with him and the company and affection he gave you, but at the end of the day, you were completely fine being alone. 

The realization had Quinn wiping a few stray tears from his cheeks as he started up the engine of his car. He drove back in silence, hoping you’d be showering and in bed by the time he got home. 

As he focused on the scenery around him in the late hours of the night, that feeling of sadness fizzled into a feeling of relief. If for whatever reason Quinn left you, you would be okay. And now that he understood that, he became even more determined not to lose you.

Because regardless, Quinn Hughes didn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t his.

[matchamiko]

hello!! could I please request prompt 25 with toshinori?

˚₊ ⊹ 25. The first makeout session that could lead to more + Toshinori Yagi

˚₊ ⊹ Warnings: dry humping, previous established new relationship, canon small-might, making out.

He was - grading papers? Finishing off a report on the last homework he set? Actually writing the next homework assignment in fact? Either way, his coffee table was strewn with papers, some in neat piles and some discarded none to kindly, caught under the fans of his laptop open on a word document baring names and grades and percentages he’s not really focusing on right now.

You came over a few hours ago with a bento box or two for the next days at school. It was just something you started doing for him, claimed it was because he wasn’t eating enough and that your love language was cooking food for people, but you loved that he would kiss your cheek and parade it around the school wrapped in its cute cloth with its cute bow. And you kind of never left, chatting idly with him from the kitchen while you brewed tea, something soft for him and a herby concoction for yourself, something to make you sleepy and all the more acceptable.

Toshinori could taste it in your mouth. The tea and something else, something distinctly you. Leaning backwards as you cup his sharp jaw, smiling when you hum and kiss his nose affectionately. There was something on the TV, something mind numbing and calm, a documentary about Geisha's he thinks but he's too focussed on his work, and on you. The futon you'd insisted on setting up for him was comfortable, soft and heavy at the same time, a perfect support for his back while he was tucked up by the coffee table while you lounged like a cat on the couch behind him, asking lazily every few minutes for a kiss. This was the first one on the mouth. You'd started on the back of his head, then on his long frazzled strands framing his face and then his forehead, then his nose and when you pecked his lips; Toshinori found himself chasing and chasing and chasing.

"Don't tell the kids that I abandoned their grades for you," he's twisted at a strange angle with his lips muttering yours, a prayer only for you to taste, "Aizawa'll kill me if he knew,"

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed and drawing your hands up the sinewy expanse of his neck,

"You have your priorities in perfect order, thank you very much," Toshinori allows you to slink down to the floor, following the droop of your legs and curling into his lap with deep, yearning sigh "I require kisses and you're supplying them, you're serving your duty to your partner,"

He laughs and then moans with the shape of your lips on his jaw,

"I suppose, if you put it like that," he looks at you for a moment, a soft smile stretching over his features and you return it, a little something extra in your eyes he can't quite make out. You two had kissed before, a lot and often but this felt different, felt like honey trickling down his bones and crystallising hot in his belly. Toshinori hums with the tracing of your mouth over his neck, sucking something mean into his delicate skin and he shifts, hands settling on your hips.

Hips that slot deeper against his and give this shy little shudder. A large slender hand cups the back of your head where you practically vibrate against him, the air suddenly palpable and sweet. You think he might ask you to stop, that you've gone far enough and that he's not quite ready for anything more intense, given his injuries and situation and maybe he wants you to go home or even take a break or even -

"Do that again, please," he's far from sober, drinking your lips and swallowing your gushing whimpers, desperate for the kisses and the licks he's come to know so well. These are different, headier, a little smoky and a little dangerous, slow and hard and all things moreish. His free hand guides your hips, into what he's not sure but you gain confidence at his request, undulating with such wantonness that he's the first that moans out loud. Punched and loud and startling, Toshinori flushes right down to his stomach, peaking from where you'd shoved your hands under his shirt, hardly denting your frantic kisses. His grip is harsh, demanding and selfish, smoothing to your ass and this time it's you that grunts at the way he massages a spreads you, slouching lower and wider against the couch.

"I want - I wanna -," you're stuttering but it's from lust, from the sheer magnetic want for the man beneath you, heavy lidded and panting open mouthed, "Please, can we - we don't hav'ta but also, y'know?"

Toshinori kisses you again, slow and deliberate, decisive with his answer; wordless save for a whimper and a jerk.

all rights reserved © matchamiko. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[sectumsempraaa]

And Now I Do

Pairing: Draco x fem!Hufflepuff!reader

TW: none really, pure fluff

Synopsis: You and Draco have been dating for a few weeks now. When you get a PT job in Hogsmeade, he disapproves of how much time it takes away from being together.

Word count: 2k (almost)

Hello everyone 🤍 This is my first fic ever! I've been reading all your lovely stories, fingers crossed I am half as talented as you all. Sorry if it's long? I'm a thorough gal. Enjoy :)

“Ugh, do you have to?” Draco groans into your neck as he sucks on your skin lightly, giving a gentle tug. You giggle, playfully pushing him away with a hand on his chest.

“Yes, Draco, I have to go to work.” you respond, as he gives you the biggest puppy-love eyes. You shift away from him because you know the longer you look at him, the deeper you’ll be under his spell. You two had just started dating a couple weeks ago and, to your friends’ dismay, very much want to spend every waking moment together. But you had also recently gotten a job in Hogsmeade at a coffee shop to make some money for yourself, since your parents’ vault at Gringotts was not the most… plentiful.

“Why did you get a job anyways? I could think of a thousand other, better, things we could be doing…” his voice trails off as he climbs across the bed and grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles, using his other hand to tug you by your shirt closer to him.You hum and shake your head, pulling away and stepping into your shoes next to the door.

“Because if we want to spend the holidays together, I have to be able to afford it.” He gives you a sympathetic look and sighs, dramatically falling backwards onto your bed. A pang of longing hits your chest and has you turning around. “And…” you saunter back to the edge of the bed, climbing up to straddle him. You feel his hands touch your thighs, crawling their way up your skirt. Leaning down, you take his face in your hands, your noses grazing. “All the gifts I want to get you.”

He smirks and sits up, engulfing your lips with his. The kiss becomes deeper with each stolen breath, you feel his hands grab your ass as your arms wrap around his neck. He smiles devilishly and whispers into your mouth, “I still think it’s rubbish.”

—

It’s been a few weeks now, the holidays drawing nearer. Late November at Hogwarts was always your favorite, and now it’s even better with Draco constantly cuddling you and taking any opportunity to wrap you in his Slytherin robes.

You’re in the library working on yet another essay for Charms class when you feel a familiar presence looming over you. You glance up to find Draco with both his hands leaning on the table in front of you, his smile fading quickly when he notices the bags under your eyes.

“Love, you need a break. Please take a break.” He begs as he slides your parchment towards him, forcing you to stop. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Your vision feels delayed, eyes moving around the room, with no sense of time. It could be midnight or five in the morning. You don’t know how long you’ve been here, working endlessly to catch up on school after your shift. You work nearly every day now until 8pm, usually starting assignments and working on them late into the night. It hasn’t become uncommon for you to fall asleep in the library or in an empty classroom.

“I’m fine, really, I just…” your voice fades to a whisper as your eyes start to close. Draco taps a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze to his.

“Sweetheart, someone who forgets to take off their work uniform before diving into hours of homework isn’t fine.” You look down and notice you’re still wearing your apron from the coffee shop, covered in tea and food stains. Sighing, you lift your hands to your face, despite being too tired to be embarrassed.

“That’s it. I can’t stand to see you like this anymore. You’re not going to work tomorrow.” You hear him speak but it sounds so far away through the brain fog in your head.

“Can’t call out…” is all you could get out before your vocal cords give up.

You feel Draco walk behind you and start to untie your apron, resting it on his shoulder as he helps you out of your seat. “Arms, love.” He says as you wrap them around his neck, submitting to his instruction. He picks you up with one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. The last thing you remember is snuggling your face against his shoulder and breathing in the lingering scent of his cologne before you drifted off.

—

You wake up the next morning, but not in your room. You recognize the dark green wallpaper instantly as you raise your head off the pillow. You grab Draco’s watch off his nightstand and nearly fall out of bed when you see the time.

“Oh my god, shit, shit, shit,” you curse under your breath, looking around the room frantically to find you’re alone. You grab your apron off the back of his armchair and bolt for the door, trying not to think about how late you are for your Saturday opening shift. You make it to the common room and slam into someone while rounding the corner, yelling in the midst of your rush.

“FUCK, Theo!” you shout as his eyes widen and a boyish laugh comes out of his mouth as he steadies you with his arms on your shoulders.

“Didn’t know the angelic Hufflepuff could curse,” he says while looking down at you. Your face turning red, you blow past him to the common room door. He starts calling after you again but you have no time to listen.

“No need to run, cara mia…” 

—

Entirely out of breath, you sprint your way off school grounds and all the way to Hogsmeade, trying to ignore the mess of hair sitting on top of your head and the racing heart beating in your chest. Right as you approach the door to the shop, you stop suddenly in your path when it opens in front of you, revealing a Draco that looks a little too pleased with himself.

“What… what are you…” you attempt to speak, choking on the dry air as it tries to fill your aching lungs. “Why didn’t you… wake me up?...” you manage to ask with a hand on your chest and the other on your knee.

Draco takes you in his arms, waiting a minute before giving you an explanation. “First, you need to come back down to Earth. Then I’ll explain. Gods, you look-”

“Careful.” You manage to interrupt him before he finishes the thought, throwing an angered glare up at him.

“Rested. Beautiful, and rested.” he says to you gently, enough to make you melt as he tucks a hair behind your ear while you catch your breath. He cups a hand on your cheek and you notice the smirk that hasn’t left his face since he walked out of the shop.

“Something’s up. What did you do?” you ask urgently, looking quickly between him and the shop.

“Why does everyone always assume I’m up to no good?” he jokes, earning him another angry glare from you.

“Maybe you are!” your eyes go a little wide as the volume of your voice surprises you. He takes a step closer to you, eyes narrowing, taking your face in his hands to make you look at him.

“Maybe I can’t stand to see you crumbling before me every night, maybe I’m tired of saying hello to my girlfriend in passing. Maybe I’m selfish and want you all to myself,” his words slow to a halt before giving you a knowing look. “And now I do.”

He lets go of your face, letting you step back with a face full of confusion. Eyebrows furrowed, you grow silent as you notice the shop owner behind the counter through the windows doing the side work you normally do each morning. Draco interrupts your puzzled thoughts by holding up a piece of paper to your face.

“I gave your two weeks.”

“You… what?” Your brain nearly shuts down. This isn’t real.

“Here.” He hands you an envelope, which you hesitate to take. Opening it slowly, your gut tells you that you already know what this is.

“I took your earnings to Gringotts this morning. The cash in your book bag. You can’t be carrying that kind of money around. We opened an account for you.”

“...we?”

“My father might have helped. Not many people can manipulate the bank, love.” You know he’s making playful banter but you’re still working hard to put the pieces together. You stare down at the check, watching a tear fall down to it, marking the paper. You didn’t have to ask about the extra couple of zeros that magically appeared next to what you actually earned.

“Don’t argue with me. You’ll lose. Let me, let us, take care of you. We can and we want to.” he says gently.

You look up from the check and receipts to the boy standing before you. A stern look on his face tells you enough. He’s right. You’re overworked, underpaid, and on the brink of failing classes. And maybe worst of all, you rarely get to spend time together. This isn’t benefiting anyone anymore. You just feel guilty that it took another person to fix it before you.

“Darling, as much as I’m a fan of the dramatics, I am starting to worry your silence is an indication of my quick and impending death.” he jokes, rubbing his chin with his hands.

“Okay.” you whisper.

He grabs a curl laying on your shoulder and twists it around his fingers. “Yeah?”

You smile up at him, quickly stepping onto your tippy toes to kiss him. His arms wrap around your waist, his fingers digging into your sides. Your kiss claims him, the only way you know how to thank him right now. This is your man, your man who provides. When you pull away, he rests his forehead on yours, relieved at your surrender.

“Yeah.” You let out a small laugh as the blush takes over your cheeks. A feeling of pride grows in you as you realize how much you’ve earned this. He took a huge risk in doing this at all, knowing how upset it could have made you.

“Good, because you really had me thinking I was a dead man there for a minute.”

“Mmm, maybe not dead but… a stupefy might have crossed my mind.” He laughs and pulls you in for a tight, warm hug.

You take his hand and lead him away from the shop, down the street towards The Three Broomsticks. He asks where you’re leading him to and, with a bright smile, turn back to him, walking backwards momentarily to face him. Your hand still clutched with his, he swings it back and forth.

“We are, finally, going on a date. And it’s on me. Yeah?” Biting your lip, you lift your eyebrows, waiting for his response. This time, it’s his face that goes crimson as he flips his hair, adjusting the buttons on his jacket to look more presentable.

“Yeah.” He stops and pulls you to him again, lifting and spinning you around this time, a loud laugh escaping your mouth. “Wait until my parents meet my girl. My wonderful, gorgeous, thoughtful, hilarious, and slightly threatening, girl. I can’t think of a more perfect Christmas present.”

“Hmm, that’s too bad, cause I was gonna buy you many, many more.” You kiss his cheek with enough pressure to make him burst into laughter again. He puts you down and looks at you seriously.

“Love, you’re smart enough to know I will beat you in that contest.” He reaches around your neck to untie your apron, letting it fall to the ground, leaving it behind.

 Yeah, he will.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[mccardswife]

You are enough

heyy! this is my first one shot so it is not the best but feel free to give any tips!

arsenal wfc x teen!reader

warnings: mentions of violence, bruise, angst, sh, a few cuss words, suicidal thoughts, protective awfc and fluff in the end. Please remind me if I have forgotten some! (don't read if you get triggered)

(not proofread so if any mistakes give me a heads up)

word count: 2144

enjoy!

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

Being a 16 year old professional football player is not the easiest thing in the world. Yes, you do what you love everyday but it has its up and downs. I signed for arsenal 3 months ago but I had no idea it would be that difficult. I don't feel like I belong here, all the girls on the team are truly amazing don't get me wrong, but it is so hard living up to the standards. Especially when I am me, just me and only me. I don't feel enough

After my alarm went signaling me to get ready for another day of training, the thought of going to training today dreaded me, and it has for weeks. Silence, I lay in my bed in silence just thinking of all the bad things that can happen today. If you are wondering where my parents are, the truth is. I live alone, yes, alone as a 16 year old in England. My parents has never supported me playing footy, not even when I was little. They wanted me to have a career that was meant for "girls" and not "boys", but that sounded bizarre. Football is for everyone, but they don't seem get that into their head. My parents kicked me out when they found out I signed for Arsenal, we lived in London, but since I got kicked out I had to get an apartment for myself. It was pretty hard but my best friend helped me and I am so grateful thankful for her. I have not told the team about me living alone for 6 months, they would go all protective and wanting to know why but I can't tell them, not yet. I don't want to be judged. Saying to the girls that I got kicked out of home, even thinking about it makes me feel so embarrassed and ashamed of myself.

I lay in bed, in pain. Physically and emotionally. Last night, after I was out grocery shopping I took the metro home as always, when a man probably doubled my age walked over to me. I then realized that it was my father, he dragged me into a corner and asked me if I still was into all that "football shit". I got furious and started whisper shout at him, turned out that was not the best idea. He started going about me being a disgrace to the family, not only the family but the world, that no one is ever going to love me for playing football, and then he punched me right in my cheek. I felt thrilling pain in my face, but he grabbed my wrists hard and said in my face "You useless bitch, no one cares about you and never will".

That sentence goes through my mind over and over again. I was almost impossible to fall asleep last night, because of the pain I was in both physically and emotionally. What my father told me, got to my head and I was thinking. Maybe he was right, I am a disgrace, no one will ever love me, maybe if it would be better if I just disappeared.

Well, well. Got to get up for training and stop thinking. Seriously y/n, get your shit together...

I walked downstairs to the bathroom and got dressed and tried to cover the bruise on my cheek that now has gotten all blue, yellow and purple. It was really painful and very difficult but totally worth it when I was done and I literally could not see a damn thing. Then I did the same to the bruises on my wrists and after I tried to cover up the dark bags under my eyes but that was a bit more of a job.

Suddenly I got the urge, the painful urge. I took the hidden blade from the mirror cabinet and drawed lines on my right arm. One, two, three, four.

Then I looked at the clock. Shit, I thought. The training starts in two hours and we have breakfast together in the dining room an hour before. The metro usually took 30 minutes, I packed my bag in a hurry and left.

When I walked in to the facility I heard two voices yelling my name behind me. Lotte and Alessia walked quickly over to me. "You excited for training?" Alessia asked you. "Yes totally" I said in a lie, I think they saw that I lied because it did not look like they believed me at all. "What about you Less and Lotte?" you said to try getting the attention away from you. It seemed that it worked because they said in sync "Yes". Less and Lotte looked at each other and we giggled.

When we walked in to the dining room, everyone was there. I tried to brush off all the looks I got. Why does everyone look so suspicious today...

"Come here Y/n, sit with us", Leah said after I served myself food. Leah sat with Katie, Kim, Lia, Caitlin, Steph, Beth, Viv and Kyra. I walked nervously over to them and sat down in the seat beside Beth. They started talking and I just sat there quietly eating my food being in my thoughts until Viv said "Y/n, you've been quiet, are you good". They looked at me concerned, "Me? Yes of course Im good, just sat thinking about the upcoming training today". I lied straight through my teeth. "Okay, if you're sure. but you can talk to us though", Caitlin said. I just said a quietly thank you, and then we walked to the locker room and got ready for training.

We started doing some light jog then got into some training drills. I was already sweating, it was surprisingly very sunny outside today and I wore a long sleeve training jersey because of my scars. "Aren't you hot in that", said Jen to me. I just simply shrugged her off saying no.

I was so exhausted, my body is so tired and I really want to lay down. When we had water break I just laid down on the grass. Sweating, I rubbed my face because I was so tired.

Beth and Viv walked over worriedly, they have become my unofficial parents after my transfer to Arsenal. They looked shocked when they saw me. "What" I said in a panicked voice. "Why do you have a big black bruise on your cheek?" Beth said, "And on your wrists?" Viv said. "Is something going on at home?" Viv asked with a knowing look. "No, no of course not, why would you assume that".

After training everyone looked worried and concerned, my passes and shots got sloppier and sloppier, I was hurting more and more. When I was about to leave, Kim, Katie, Leah and Jen cornered me. With Beth and Viv looking guilty behind. They brought me into a private room and they started telling me what Beth and Viv told me. Then all of a sudden Kim said "You know, all the team has been worried and concerned for a while, I can't remember how many times the girls have repeatedly come and talked to me". I looked at her ashamed. "Why do you have bruised?" Katie asked, "I just fell" I said, the lie obvious.

I started scratching because my scars got really itchy, I really wanted to just disappear right there and then. Then Leah grabbed my right wrist softly and pulled up my sleeve, the last thing before I broke down was gasps from the girls. I started trying to make up excuses but none of them were having it, "come with us" said Beth, "We will bring you to the medical room and then we want you to tell us everything". I desperately did not want to but I knew it was no chance of me getting out of this.

When we got to the medical room they put me on one of the beds. My scars were infected, that is why they itched so damn much. Jen was cleaning up my bruises while Kim cleaned up my scars. I know the people who worked here could do it but I did not want them right now, it is bad enough that now the whole team knows.

Leah then said in her stern but soft captain voice "Now tell us everything". I tried to tell her that it was nothing. What Katie said broke me "Please babe, we only want to help you. We know it has been hard for you but please". Then I broke down again, full on shaking and crying. Desperately gasping for air.

I started telling them everything, how my parents are and that they has never supported me once for the choices I have made, that I don't feel like I belong here because I am only me... When I spit out the truth about me living alone for 3 months because my parents kicked me out and that they were abusing me for years before, I saw tears in all of the girls faces. It was a heartbreaking sight. I told them how I ran into my father last night and what he did and said to me and I started sobbing again and saying silently to myself "It is true, what he said. I am a reckless disgrace full kid".

"You are enough y/nn, I promise you babe" Viv said. All of the others agree but I could not help believing my fathers words. "Actually me and Beth have been thinking for a while, we have a spare room and big enough place for 3, and you are like our kid. I am being for real, we love you as our own family. All the team does, but we wondered if you wanted to come live with us?" Viv asked me. I was hesitant and I think Beth saw that because she said "We are not taking no for an answer". I felt a smile creep up on my face and as desperate I was trying to hide it all the others saw and started smiling too. I said to Meadema, "thank you moms". I realized what I said "shit fuck, sorry I did not mean to".

"Y/nn it is okay, you have no idea how glad that made us, you are like our kid" Beth and Viv said.

After a while of me telling them about my thoughts, how I have been feeling for the last weeks, they decided to get me into therapy. We have a therapist at the facility so we agreed to be going to her twice a week. "I am grateful for all of you, I really am but I just feel like a bother" I said quietly.

"No babe stop" Jen said, Katie walked over to me, she took her hands on my head and said "You are enough, a hundred times enough". "You are like a younger sister to me, it breaks me to see you like this, not only me but all of us. We and all the team loves you. You are the baby of the team."

"We will always protect you, and we will get your so called parents locked up." Kim said to me. "Not Viv and Beth but the other parents" Jen said in a playful tone.

"That I understand" I said with a smile of my face.

Leah asked me if she could tell the other girls and the Gaffer, she needed to anyway but it was nice she asked me. I said yes then she walked outside.

A few minutes later they all came in. Kyra, being kind of like my annoying twin ran over to me and hanged on for me for dear life in a bear hug. I started explaining to them a bit more, and reassured them that it was not their fault but my manipulative parents.

I also said that I called Viv and Beth mum and that I am moving in with them and Lessi and Laura said at the same time "about damn time". All the team broke out in laughter.

"I am sorry for not telling you but I feel a thousand times better now after telling you, I have been scared and not felt at home here for a while but telling you and knowing that I can count on you girls will help me. The whole team is kind of like my family I never got and I can't ask for more than that. I am so grateful for all of you, and I love you"

"We love you too y/nn", Leah said with the softest most heartwarming smile ever. "You are our family, blood or not you will always be family" Kim said reassuring.

"Always," Katie said

"And you are enough" the team said lovingly.

[outstretchedwingzz]

♱ timeloop yan♱

i was scrolling back through some old art and found a drawing from like four years ago of my first ever yan oc!! so now he's y'all's problem hope u love him <3

(THIS IS SO LONG FOR A PART ONE LMAO IM SO SORRY)

⟡ The one on the right is the old art of him!! My boy!!

⟡ His name at one point was Lucas, however I'm retconning that and thinking of a new one because Why Would I Choose Lucas

⟡ Some Tuesdays are just better than others, you've decided. You had a rough day, some kid had spilled fruit punch down your front, you had spent a frankly ridiculous amount of time trying to de-popcorn the aisles of the movie theater you worked at, and you kept getting pestered by some shy dude who wouldn't even buy a ticket! He just kept asking nonsense questions and then shuffling back to the arcade!

⟡ All you wanted to do when you got home was shower until you were a raisin, play video games until your brain was mashed potatoes, and then curl up in your bed.

⟡ The next morning you wake up feeling a little better, very little residual blah left from how shit your previous day was. Luckily, you had today off to reset and recharge.

⟡ That being said, you stayed up late and slept in even later, only to be woken up to the sound of your phone ringing where you had tossed it the night before. You groan and grumble as you get up, shuffling your way to your phone and picking it up.

⟡ It's your boss, because why wouldn't it be, and he's asking you why the hell you aren't there yet! Your brain takes a moment to kick back into gear before you answer that you had worked a double YESTERDAY and had today off.

⟡ All you get is an angry "Check again! And be here before I start goin' grey, yeah?" and then he just hangs up on you. You fucking hate that guy. Still, you check your schedule while grumbling and muttering some not so nice things.

⟡ The shock and dread settles in your stomach when your calendar finally loads in, and in big, bolded letters at the top it tells you that today is Tuesday, and you definitely have work today.

⟡ You register that "oh. i think im passing out." in the second before you hit the corner of your desk.

⟡ You wake up with a gasp, sitting up quick and clutching your chest, looking around wildly only to find yourself.... back in your bed. The clock on your wall tells you it's morning. You scramble quickly to your feet, rushing to grab your phone and begging it to not be slow as you open your calendar.

⟡ Tuesday.

⟡ Now, skipping past the inevitable few Tuesday long breakdown you have where you simply refuse to believe this is happening, you eventually figure out the loop resets every night when you go to sleep, or if you somehow die. That was a fun few days.

⟡ After a week or so of this, and of screaming profanities as your boss over the phone for a few of the loops, you decide to maintain some normalcy you were gonna start going to work. Sure you never gained any money, but at least it got you out of your house and sometimes you could even pretend that things were different day in and day out.

⟡ After awhile even that gets boring though, when everyone becomes recognizable, and you begin to know what movie tickets they're gonna get and their exact food order.

⟡ It's only after three days of monotony (yet you refuse to stop going to work, clinging to the last shreds of some kind of normal) that you realize that it's not all the same.

⟡ Well, one thing changes. That guy, the one who kept asking questions that first day. Sometimes he wasn't even there, and everyday he seemed to have different questions. Ranging from personal, to stuff about the work, but still different.

⟡ It's that sudden lightbulb moment that has you going off the rails just a tiny bit.

⟡ You're stuck waiting a few days for the next time he comes in, but eventually he does. He always does. He's hardly able to get a word out before you're scrambling over the counter, and grabbing him by the front of his shirt. You choke him a little on his own necklace, but that's fine.

⟡ It's not until you're in the corner of that dusty little arcade he hangs out in that you shove him up against the wall, glaring daggers into his soul.

⟡ (Ignore the way he wets his lips and just how much it looks like he's giving you heart eyes right now it's all totally in your imagination.)

⟡ "Who the fuck are you, and how the fuck are you doing this?" Are the first words out of your mouth. He looks confused for a second, going to open his mouth when you just start rambling.

⟡ About the never ending fucking Tuesday, about having to clean up the same spills everyday, about getting the same bullshit call from your boss, about selling everyone the same! Fucking! Movie ticket! It's never ending!

⟡ It's not until you stop to breathe that you realize just how hard he's shaking. Just how his chest heaves as he sobs, hands having came up to clutch at your wrist desperately.

⟡ You step back quickly, dropping his shirt and in turn dropping him. He scrambles forward on his knees, gripping the thighs of your pants with shaking hands.

⟡ "You're stuck too?"

[alilixx]

James Wilson x Fem!Cardiologist Reader

Heartbeats and Invisible Connections

Nothing to say so i hope you will like it! Btw i just rewatch The devil wears Prada and i love smmm MIRANDA??? I mean, i will write on her soon (i will never abandon House md, everything for my girls!

Warning: Mature, NSFW, Some Dark!Wilson, death, House being House.

Pairing: James Wilson x Fem!Cardiologist Reader

Laughter could be heard in the hospital room, just like every day. The young boy in front of you was in tears from laughing so hard at the TV, and you were just as amused as he was. After all, you were watching The Powerpuff Girls! You knew it was his favorite cartoon, so you watched every new episode with him. Even though Cuddy wasn't too thrilled about it, you spent at least two hours a day with the young patient. Blake was a five-year-old child suffering from an incurable heart condition. A malformation took up too much space, hindering the development of his lungs. The chance of survival after surgery was minimal, so you couldn't offer it.

Blake had been entrusted to you two years ago, when his mother passed away from pancreatic cancer. His father, a very busy businessman, gradually stopped coming to visit. At first, he would come occasionally, but soon he no longer found the time to visit his own son, citing a busy schedule. You tried to understand, but deep down, you couldn't accept this prolonged absence. How could someone leave their child to face such a serious illness without parental support?

You then promised yourself that you would never let Blake feel abandoned. You became more than a doctor to him; you were his guardian, his pillar, the only constant in his turbulent life. The first few months were difficult. How do you explain to a three-year-old that his father was abandoning him? It was almost impossible. Blake often cried, asking why his father no longer came. Your heart broke every time, but you found the words to comfort him, inventing stories about heroes and adventures to give him hope and joy.

Over time, you established a routine. You came by every morning to gently wake him up, often with a special breakfast you brought from home. You shared these simple but precious moments before starting the long days of tests and treatments. Blake loved The Powerpuff Girls, and you quickly adopted the habit of watching the episodes with him. It was a comforting ritual, a bubble of happiness in an often dark daily life.

With every operation, every scan, every MRI, you were there. You held his hand, reassured him, promised him that everything would be okay. Even though you knew the chances were slim, you always kept hope. Blake had become like a little brother to you. You admired his courage, his ability to smile despite everything. His resilience gave you the strength to carry on, even when the weight of reality seemed too heavy to bear.

The other doctors and nurses respected your dedication, though some whispered that you were getting too emotionally involved. But how could you not? How could you remain detached when a child depended on you for everything, when he called for a hug in the middle of the night after a nightmare, when he proudly showed you his drawings and asked for your opinion? Blake needed you, and you were ready to do anything for him.

One morning, as you were preparing Blake for yet another round of tests, you found yourself thinking about the future. What would become of Blake if... No, you couldn't think that way. You shook yourself mentally and focused on the present. Today, he would watch a new episode of The Powerpuff Girls, and you would be there by his side to share his laughter and tears. You owed him that much.

Every day was a battle, but also a victory, no matter how small. And you would continue to fight for Blake because he deserved it, because he was more than just a patient—he was a part of you.

Of course, he cost you a snack every day because the young boy had a sweet tooth. Several chocolate bars, whether caramel, coconut, or other flavors, you knew he would eat them. You ate together to keep him company; eating alone as a child in the hospital wasn't easy.

Months passed, and you noticed that Blake seemed more tired than usual. He had started to complain about unusual pains, and you noted a worrying pallor on his face. Your medical instinct pushed you to look deeper, to understand what was wrong. After a series of initial tests, you still couldn't determine the exact cause of his symptoms. One night, as Blake slept peacefully after an exhausting day, you found yourself in your office, immersed in his medical files.

It was then that you decided to consult James Wilson, the head of oncology at the hospital. You knew his reputation and expertise because you had risen through the ranks together, and you knew he would be the best person to help you understand what was happening to Blake. You occasionally saw him during department head meetings at the hospital.

The next morning, after preparing Blake for his routine tests, you headed to Wilson's office. As you knocked on the door, you felt both anxious and determined. Wilson looked up from his papers and greeted you with a warm smile.

"Good morning, Dr. [Y/N]. What can I do for you?" he asked, gesturing for you to sit.

"Good morning, Dr. Wilson. I need your expertise. One of my patients, Blake, is exhibiting some troubling symptoms, and I can't identify the exact cause. I'm afraid it might be something serious."

Wilson nodded, his expression becoming more serious. "Alright, tell me more about his symptoms and show me his files."

You spent the next thirty minutes detailing Blake's condition, his medical history, and the results of recent tests. Wilson listened attentively, asking pertinent questions and taking down important notes.

"I'll need to examine Blake myself and perhaps order a few additional tests," he said finally. "What you're describing could be several things, but I want to be sure before drawing any conclusions."

You nodded, grateful for his help. "Thank you, Dr. Wilson. I just want to make sure we're doing everything we can for him."

Later in the day, Wilson joined Blake in his room. With your reassuring presence by his side, Blake showed courage and cooperated during the additional examinations. The following days were filled with tests and anxious waiting.

Finally, the results came in. The diagnosis was devastating: Blake had developed heart cancer, a rare but possible complication of his pre-existing heart condition. The news hit you like a punch, but you knew you had to stay strong for Blake.

You turned to Wilson, feeling the weight of this news. "What do we do now?" you asked, determined not to give up.

"We're going to fight," he replied calmly. "I'll work with you and the team to develop a treatment plan. Blake is an incredibly brave little boy, and he deserves all our efforts."

You simply nodded before returning to his room, holding his hand while you sat beside his bed. He slept peacefully, and you rested your head on his arm. The past few days had been complicated due to the stress. Cuddy had quickly stopped by after hearing the news from Wilson. She looked at you through the window before leaving a few minutes later.

The following days were even harder. Should you tell him? Explain that he would die sooner? Leave him in denial? These choices were impossible to make, but your routine didn't change. He shouldn't know until you made a decision.

Unfortunately, today was a night shift for you. You returned to your office, lingering over Blake's adoption file, but decided to leave to avoid sinking even further. Hours passed, and you could finally take your break, which you obviously spent with Blake. Without realizing it, a single tear fell down your cheek. Just one. But in that tear lay all the pain contained for days.

This tear was wiped away by the only man who could understand your suffering. James.

"Cry, Dr. [Y/N]. Now that I’m here with you, you’re free to reveal your sadness," he said softly, his comforting hand resting on your shoulder.

Those words, full of compassion and understanding, broke down the last barriers you had built to contain your pain. You finally let out the tears you had been holding back for so long. James stayed by your side, offering his silent but powerful support. You shared a moment of raw humanity, where the roles of doctors faded away, giving way to those of human beings facing suffering and uncertainty.

After a long while, you pulled yourself together, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, James. I needed that."

"We're all in this fight together," he replied with a comforting smile. "And we will do everything for Blake."

Your next destination was Cuddy's office. You took a moment before opening the door, and when you opened and closed it behind you, your words came out in a rush.

"I'm giving up on Blake's adoption file."

She looked up from her computer and simply nodded. She knew the file wouldn't be accepted; she just wanted you to make that decision yourself. You had worked with her for about ten years, so yes, she knew how you operated. After that, interactions with Cuddy became less frequent. It wasn't her fault, but her office reminded you too much of the premature death that Blake was going to face.

You saw James often enough to discuss Blake's case. Sometimes, he even joined you for lunch. You found this rather pleasant. James had a unique way of making Blake smile, even in the most difficult moments. His anecdotes, subtle humor, and reassuring presence provided a certain comfort that you couldn't deny.

One day, after sharing a meal with Blake and James, you found yourself feeling a bit lighter, almost optimistic. The bond developing between you and James was a valuable support. You spent hours discussing treatment options, analyzing test results, and exploring every possibility to give Blake a chance to pull through.

Despite the grim diagnosis, every little progress, every smile from Blake, and every moment shared with James gave you the strength to continue.

One evening, as you were finishing your rounds, James joined you in the hallway. "I wanted to thank you," he said, his eyes filled with sincerity. "For everything you do for Blake, and for allowing someone like me to be a part of this fight."

You smiled, touched by his words but still mindful of his reputation as a flirt. "I should be the one thanking you. Your presence makes a huge difference, not only for Blake but also for me."

He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart beat a little faster. "You don't have to carry all of this alone. We're a team, remember."

Months passed, and despite all the efforts by you, James, and the medical team, Blake's condition continued to deteriorate. Each day, you saw his smile become a bit more fragile, his voice a bit weaker, but his will to live remained astonishingly strong. The relationship between you and James grew stronger, and he became one of the most important people to you during this dark period. You spent more and more time together, sharing the sorrows and the rare moments of joy.

Blake continued to laugh at his favorite Powerpuff Girls, devouring the chocolate bars you brought him each day. James often joined your small meals, bringing with him a comforting presence and a quiet strength that helped you hold on.

Despite all attempts at treatment, Blake's heart cancer was too advanced. The discussions with James grew more serious, more somber, as options dwindled. You had tried to protect Blake from the gravity of his situation, but he wasn't fooled. One day, as you were watching an episode of his favorite cartoon, he took your hand and asked in a soft but determined voice:

"Am I going to die, Y/N?"

The shock of his words left you speechless for a moment. You exchanged a glance with James, who stood silently beside you. Finally, you took a deep breath and answered with heartfelt sincerity:

"We are doing everything we can to keep you healthy, Blake. But yes, your illness is very serious."

Blake nodded, seeming to accept this reality with a surprising maturity for his age. "Thank you for telling me. I'm glad you're both here."

The following weeks were marked by a melancholic tenderness. You did everything possible to make Blake's last days as happy and comfortable as possible. Laughter was mingled with tears, each moment becoming precious and fleeting.

Then, one morning, as you arrived at the hospital, you felt a heaviness in the air. Entering Blake's room, you found James already there, sitting by the bed, holding Blake's hand. The little boy was sleeping peacefully, an unusual serenity on his face.

"He's gone," James murmured, tears in his eyes. "He fell asleep without pain."

You felt overwhelmed by a wave of sadness, but also relief. Blake no longer had to suffer. You sat on the other side of the bed, taking his small, cold hand in yours. Tears flowed freely down your cheeks.

"We did everything we could," James said softly. "And he knew he was loved until the end."

These words brought some comfort. Blake had been surrounded by the love and dedication of those who cared most for him. You spent a long time by his side, with James, mourning the loss of the brave little boy but also celebrating the life he had, no matter how short.

The days that followed were filled with mourning and memories. James’s presence beside you was invaluable, and together, you found the strength to say goodbye to Blake and to move forward, despite the pain.

Blake had been more than just a patient. And even though he was no longer here, his memory would continue to live on in you, constantly reminding you why you became a cardiologist, though your mental health did not improve despite your attempts at positivity.

After all this, you barely left the hospital. You hardly slept anymore. Running on energy drinks and coffee, your heart grew increasingly fragile. You no longer took much care of yourself, doing just enough to survive and continue your work. The loss of Blake, whom you considered your little brother, was a gaping wound. Although you knew it was better for him, you couldn’t accept the truth. Years of fighting for this, only for him to ultimately succumb to cancer, made you feel nauseous.

One evening, as you were changing in the locker room, you heard footsteps approaching. James approached you gently, causing you to flinch slightly. You were still lost in your thoughts, pondering a solution that had eluded you, a miracle that had never come.

"Y/N," he began softly, his voice full of compassion. "It's not your fault. Life is sometimes unfair, but he's better off where he is. It's hard, and I understand, but take care of yourself as Blake would have wanted. I'm not telling you to live the life he should have had, but not to destroy yourself in an 'honor' to him."

His words, though well-intentioned, hit you like a slap. "Don’t tell me how I should feel!" you retorted sharply, anger and pain mingling in your voice. But seeing the sadness and understanding in James’s eyes, you realized you had reacted too abruptly. "I’m sorry, James. I know you’re trying to help."

James shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. "You don’t have to apologize. I know how hard it is. But you can’t keep going like this; you’re going to destroy yourself."

What you didn’t know was that Cuddy was behind it all. She was deeply concerned for you. Unable to bear seeing her head of service fall apart, she had asked James to look out for you, even if it meant spending more time at your place or inviting you to stay at his.

In the following days, James increased his presence. He regularly came to see you, encouraging you to talk about how you were feeling. One evening, after a particularly grueling day, he invited you to dinner at his place. You accepted, too exhausted to refuse.

At James’s home, the atmosphere was soothing. The simplicity of his apartment and the warmth of his welcome all helped you feel a bit better. You spent the evening talking, not about work or Blake, but about everything and nothing—childhood memories, dreams, passions.

"You know," James said at one point, setting down his coffee cup, "Cuddy asked me to look out for you. She’s worried about you, just like I am. You’re important to us, to the hospital. But more than that, you’re important to yourself. Blake wouldn’t want to see you destroy yourself like this."

These words touched you deeply. The harsh reality of your situation, combined with the immense fatigue you felt, began to crumble under the warmth of James’s compassion and support.

"I know it’s hard to hear this now," he continued, "but you need time to heal. And you don’t have to do it alone."

Tears began to silently stream down your cheeks. For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to feel the pain, without pushing it away, without hardening yourself. James approached and gently embraced you, letting you cry against him.

"I'm here," he murmured. "We’re here for you."

In the following days, you began to accept James’s help. He would join you for long walks after work, make sure you ate properly and got some rest. You knew the road to healing would be long, but with James by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope begin to emerge.

Seeing that you were improving, Cuddy called you into her office one day. "I’m proud of you," she said simply. "And I know Blake would be too."

You smiled, feeling a newfound strength within you. "Thank you, Cuddy. For everything."

One of the long evenings at James's place, you sat side by side on the couch. Exhausted from the emotions and work, you couldn’t help but let your head fall onto James's shoulder. "What movie do you want to watch?" he asked, not realizing that you had already dozed off. He looked at you tenderly before taking your hand and gently stroking it. James was aware that the role of a cardiologist was demanding; you often worked with children for diagnoses, and he knew it was exhausting and that you slept little.

Gently, he slipped one hand behind your back and the other under your knees. Carefully standing up, he cradled your light body in his arms and carried you to his bedroom, where he laid you down on the bed with great care. You had already fallen deeply asleep and were unaware of the situation. James tenderly stroked your cheek, once again gazing at your face.

"Rest well, Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You’ve given so much for Blake. Let me take care of you now."

He adjusted the blanket over you, ensuring you were snug and warm. Then he quietly withdrew, making sure not to make any noise. As he closed the door, he cast a final glance to ensure you were sleeping peacefully.

James settled on the couch with a book, but his mind was elsewhere. He thought about you, your strength and pain, and how much he wanted to help you through this tough time. Hours passed, and eventually, exhausted himself, he fell asleep.

In the morning, you woke up in a room you didn't immediately recognize. The events of the previous evening slowly came back to you. You remembered being at James’s place, having fallen asleep on the couch… and now you were in his bed. A feeling of warmth and security enveloped you.

Hearing your movements, James got up and came to join you. "Good morning," he said with a gentle smile. "I hope you slept well."

You nodded, touched by his care. "Thank you, James. For everything."

“There’s no need to thank me. You need rest, and I’m here to help,” he said sincerely. “Now, let’s have a nice breakfast. It’s time to take care of yourself.”

You sat down at the table, noticing pancakes and fruits you loved. The sight of the carefully prepared food comforted you, and you began to eat with appetite. What you didn’t know was that Wilson had added nicotine to your drink. His goal? To make your brain associate the pleasure and dependence on nicotine with his own presence, creating a subtle and gradual addiction to him.

You took a sip of your drink, savoring its taste. Quickly, a sense of relaxation washed over you, soothing your tense nerves. You felt strangely good, almost euphoric. The food, the coffee, the reassuring presence of James… everything seemed perfect.

“These pancakes are delicious,” you said with a smile. “Did you really take the time to make all this?”

James nodded, his gaze full of tenderness. “I wanted you to start the day on a positive note. You deserve to feel good, Y/N.”

You continued eating, feeling better and better with each bite and sip. The nicotine was working its magic, reinforcing the positive association with James. You felt closer to him, more dependent on his comforting presence.

James, discreetly observing your reactions, saw that his plan was working. He knew you were vulnerable, and he wanted to be the one to support you, the one you would need. He wanted you, just for himself.

As the days went by, a routine settled in. James often prepared meals for you, inviting you to share these moments of respite and comfort. Every meal you had together seemed to give you renewed energy and strength. What you didn’t know was that James continued to add nicotine to your drinks, subtly increasing your dependency.

“There’s no need to thank me. You need rest, and I’m here to help,” he said sincerely. “Now, let’s have a nice breakfast. It’s time to take care of yourself.”

You sat down at the table, noticing pancakes and fruits you loved. The sight of the carefully prepared food comforted you, and you began to eat with appetite. What you didn’t know was that Wilson had added nicotine to your drink. His goal? To make your brain associate the pleasure and dependence on nicotine with his own presence, creating a subtle and gradual addiction to him.

You took a sip of your drink, savoring its taste. Quickly, a sense of relaxation washed over you, soothing your tense nerves. You felt strangely good, almost euphoric. The food, the coffee, the reassuring presence of James… everything seemed perfect.

“These pancakes are delicious,” you said with a smile. “Did you really take the time to make all this?”

James nodded, his gaze full of tenderness. “I wanted you to start the day on a positive note. You deserve to feel good, Y/N.”

You continued eating, feeling better and better with each bite and sip. The nicotine was working its magic, reinforcing the positive association with James. You felt closer to him, more dependent on his comforting presence.

James, discreetly observing your reactions, saw that his plan was working. He knew you were vulnerable, and he wanted to be the one to support you, the one you would need. He wanted you, just for himself.

As the days went by, a routine settled in. James often prepared meals for you, inviting you to share these moments of respite and comfort. Every meal you had together seemed to give you renewed energy and strength. What you didn’t know was that James continued to add nicotine to your drinks, subtly increasing your dependency.

Sitting at the table, you took a sip of your drink, immediately feeling a sense of well-being wash over you. James watched you discreetly, satisfied to see that his plan was working. You felt better, calmer, and most importantly, you felt dependent on these shared moments with him.

Days turned into weeks, and your dependence on James became increasingly evident. He had become your anchor, your refuge. You could no longer imagine going a day without seeing him, without feeling the sense of well-being he provided. The nicotine had done its job, but it was James's love and attention that had truly made you addicted.

Seeing that his plan was working perfectly, James decided to reinforce your dependence even further. One evening, after a particularly pleasant dinner, he suggested that you stay at his place for the night. You accepted without hesitation, feeling safe with him. While you slept, he discreetly installed surveillance apps on your phone and computer, allowing him to track your movements and communications.

The next morning, you woke up feeling refreshed, completely unaware of the ongoing manipulations. James greeted you with a smile as you emerged from sleep. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," you replied with a smile. "I feel much better."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said, handing you a cup of coffee. "Let's start the day on a positive note."

With James by your side, you began to slowly rebuild your life, unaware of the subtle manipulation that had facilitated this dependence. To you, James had become indispensable, the pillar you could always count on, and you had no idea of the shadow of his plan that loomed over your relationship.

Months had passed since Blake's loss, and your relationship with James Wilson had evolved remarkably, even if it was partly due to manipulation.

One evening, after a particularly challenging day at the hospital, you found yourself at James's place once again. You had developed a sort of ritual: after work, you would go to his home for dinner, conversation, and much-needed respite during this tumultuous period of your life. That night, the atmosphere was especially soothing. The dim light in the living room, the whisper of the wind through the open windows, and the comforting warmth of James's home created an ambiance conducive to deeper confessions.

As you sat on the couch with a glass of wine in hand, the conversation drifted to more personal topics. You found yourself sharing stories and thoughts that you had never dared to confide in anyone else.

"You know, James, I don't think I could have gone through all this without you," you said softly, looking at your glass as if searching for answers. "You've become an essential part of my life, and I can't imagine moving forward without you."

James looked at you with a tenderness you had never truly noticed before. "Y/N, you are incredibly strong. But even the strongest among us need support. And I am so glad I can be here for you."

He set down his glass and took your hand in his, a comforting gesture that sent a wave of warmth through your body. "We've been through so much together, and I believe it has brought us closer in ways neither of us could have predicted."

The silence that followed was charged with emotion. You turned slightly toward him, searching in his eyes for confirmation of what you were feeling. And in his eyes, you saw the same spark, the same depth of feeling that burned within you.

"James…" you began, but words failed you. He seemed to understand, as he gently leaned in, closing the distance between your faces.

"Y/N, I think what we have goes beyond friendship or mere professional support. I've grown attached to you in a way I never thought possible."

His words resonated within you, and before you could respond, he leaned even closer and delicately pressed his lips to yours. It was a tender kiss, filled with all the unspoken emotions, all the shared moments, all the mingled pain and comfort.

The kiss lingered, your hands naturally finding their way into each other’s hair, and for the first time in a long while, you felt whole. When you finally separated, your breaths were staggered, but your eyes shone with the same emotion.

“I love you, Y/N,” James murmured, his eyes locked onto yours.

“I love you too, James,” you replied without hesitation, feeling a certainty you had never felt before.

You spent the evening talking about your feelings, your fears, and your hopes for the future. You fell asleep in each other's arms, finally finding peace in each other's presence.

The days that followed were marked by a new dynamic between you. At the hospital, you continued to work as professionals, but the exchanged glances, shared smiles, and subtle touches spoke of a blossoming love. The support you had always shared became even stronger, solidified by the intimate relationship you now had.

James continued to keep a close watch on you, ensuring that you were taking care of yourself. And you, although you were still unaware of some of his past manipulations, felt increasingly grounded in this new life. Meals together, evenings spent talking and watching movies, and shared nights became precious moments where you finally felt loved and understood.

However, it was impossible to completely avoid Gregory House’s sharp gaze. Nothing escaped the doctor renowned for his keen insight, and he had quickly noticed the changes in the relationship between you and James.

One afternoon, while you were in the break room, House hobbled in with his characteristic cane, a curious and mocking glint in his eyes. He settled heavily onto the couch across from you, fixing you with an enigmatic smile.

“So, Y/N, I’ve heard that Wilson has become your knight in shining armor,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You blushed slightly, but you didn’t let House intimidate you. “Yes, you could say that,” you replied calmly.

House nodded, a sneaky smile on his lips. “Interesting. But tell me, do you really know everything about your valiant knight? Because, you know, Wilson has always had a knack for hiding his little manipulations.”

You frowned, feeling a twinge of concern. “What are you trying to say, House?”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Oh, nothing specific. Just an observation. Be careful, that’s all. Wilson has a dark side, and sometimes he thinks his actions are justified by noble intentions.”

Before you could respond, James entered the room, a defiant expression on his face. “House, maybe you could find someone else to annoy,” he said tersely, positioning himself protectively between you and House.

House raised his hands in surrender, but his sneaky smile didn’t fade. “Alright, alright. I’m leaving. But remember, secrets have a way of surfacing.”

He left the room, leaving you with a sense of unease. James turned to you, his eyes softened with concern. “Don’t let him get to you, Y/N. House likes to sow doubt. We know how we feel about each other, and that’s all that matters.”

You nodded, trying to shake off the doubts sown by House. “You’re right, James. We know what we have.”

Weeks passed, and although House never missed an opportunity to make a pointed comment or cryptic remark, your relationship with James continued to grow stronger. You found comfort in each other, and despite the shadows of the past and James's subtle manipulations, you felt increasingly rooted in this new life.

The moments you shared had become anchors in your daily routine. Whether it was having lunch together, sharing laughter during quiet moments, or finding solace in each other's arms after exhausting days, every instant deepened the bond between you.

And so, despite House’s warnings and the shadows of the past, you found a new reason to live and smile every day. It was quite common for you to dream of James, Blake, and yourself as a family. You promised yourself to nurture your relationship with James for Blake, for the family that should have been.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

The sun was barely rising, its first rays filtering through the curtains in James's bedroom. You opened your eyes, feeling the comforting warmth of James's body against yours. He was still asleep, his face relaxed and free from worries and House. You took a moment to watch him, letting a sense of happiness wash over you.

You got up gently so as not to wake him, slipping into one of his oversized t-shirts, and headed to the kitchen. Preparing breakfast had become a sort of ritual. You set water to boil for coffee and began making pancakes, a specialty you had perfected for James. Adding fresh fruit and maple syrup was your way of starting the day on a positive note.

James arrived shortly afterward, drawn by the delicious aromas filling the kitchen. He came up to you, kissed your cheek softly, and murmured a sleepy "good morning."

"Good morning to you," you replied with a smile. "Breakfast is almost ready."

You sat down at the table, enjoying the pancakes and discussing plans for the day. The subject of Blake rarely came up in your conversations, to avoid a constant reminder of the promise you had made to cherish this relationship.

After breakfast, you both got ready to head to the hospital. The drive to Princeton-Plainsboro had become a well-practiced routine, and even though the trip was short, it was filled with discussions and exchanged smiles. At the hospital, you parted ways to join your respective departments, but not without a final quick kiss and a knowing look.

The morning was as busy as ever. Between consultations, diagnostics, and meetings, you threw yourself into your work with the same passion that had driven you since the beginning of your career.

At lunchtime, you met up with James in the cafeteria. House made his usual appearance, throwing out some sarcastic remarks that made everyone smile. Despite his sharp attitude, there was an unspoken respect and camaraderie in his interactions.

“So, lovebirds, how’s the couple life?” House asked, a smirk on his face.

James responded with a similarly playful smile. “Better than your social life, House.”

Exchanges with House had become an integral part of your daily routine, a kind of game to which you had now grown accustomed. After lunch, you returned to your department, your mind still partly occupied by James’s reassuring presence.

The afternoon flew by, marked by consultations and surgeries. But whenever you had a moment of respite, you couldn’t help but think about the promise you had made for Blake.

By the end of the day, exhausted but happy, you met James at the hospital exit. You went home together, discussing the events of the day and sharing your thoughts. Once home, the evening ritual began: a simple yet delicious dinner prepared together, followed by a few hours of relaxation in front of a movie or a series.

That evening, as you sat side by side on the couch, you snuggled up against him, feeling his arm close around your shoulders. The day had been long and tiring, but it ended on a note of tenderness and intimacy.

“You know, James, sometimes I think about what Blake would have wanted for us,” you murmured, your eyes fixed on the TV screen.

James tightened his embrace a little, his soft voice responding to your murmur. “He would have wanted us to be happy, Y/N. And I believe he’s watching over us, wherever he is.”

The following weeks were marked by camaraderie and teasing between you and James. Your relationship evolved gently, blending tenderness and playfulness, turning each day into a shared adventure. Beyond the consultations and emergencies, there were these stolen moments where you teased each other, making daily life at the hospital much brighter.

Each morning, your drives to the hospital were filled with little jokes and lively discussions. James particularly enjoyed teasing you about your music choices, and you retaliated by commenting on his sometimes overly bold ties. These light-hearted exchanges allowed you to start the day with a smile.

At the hospital, you found moments to reconnect, whether it was for a quick coffee between consultations or to share an impromptu lunch in a quiet corner of the cafeteria. The exchanged glances, knowing smiles, and discreet yet meaningful touches all reinforced your connection.

House, of course, never missed an opportunity to tease you both gently. One day, while you were having lunch together, he approached with a sly smile on his face.

“So, you two, still playing cat and mouse?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“We prefer to call it chemistry,” you replied with a wink at James.

House raised an eyebrow, amused. “Chemistry, huh? Just be careful not to blow anything up like like Wilson and cheating.”

The following weeks were filled with camaraderie and playful teasing between you and James. Your relationship evolved slowly, mixing tenderness and playfulness, turning each day into a shared adventure. Beyond consultations and emergencies, there were these stolen moments where you teased each other, making daily life at the hospital much brighter.

Each morning, your drives to the hospital were punctuated with little jokes and lively discussions. James particularly enjoyed teasing you about your music choices, and you retaliated by commenting on his sometimes overly bold ties. These light-hearted exchanges allowed you to start the day with a smile.

At the hospital, you found moments to reconnect, whether for a quick coffee between consultations or to share an impromptu lunch in a quiet corner of the cafeteria. The exchanged glances, knowing smiles, and discreet yet meaningful touches all reinforced your connection.

One day, you decided to play a bit more daringly. Having discovered that James had a weakness for chocolate, you prepared a little surprise. You had found some special chocolates infused with aphrodisiac ingredients, and you were curious to see how he would react.

You waited for the right moment, choosing a day when you both had some free time. After lunch, you invited him to stop by your office for a sweet little break.

"I have a surprise for you," you announced, pulling a box of chocolates from your drawer.

James raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A surprise, huh? I like surprises."

You handed him a chocolate with a mischievous smile. "Try this and tell me what you think."

He took the chocolate, looking curious, and put it in his mouth. From the first bite, you saw his expression change slightly, a glimmer of surprise passing through his eyes.

"It's… interesting," he said as he finished the chocolate. "There's something different about it."

You just smiled, holding back your little secret. A few minutes later, you noticed a subtle change in his behavior. His eyes grew darker, his posture more assured.

"Y/N," he said in a deeper voice, moving closer to you. "What did you give me?"

You laughed softly, taking a small step back. "Just a bit of chocolate. Why? Didn't you like it?"

He stared at you intensely, a half-smile on his lips. "Oh, I loved it. But I think you knew exactly what you were doing."

Before you could respond, he pulled you by the waist and drew you close. His burning gaze never left yours, and you felt your heart race. The weeks of teasing and flirting had led to this moment.

"James, we're in the hospital," you whispered, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

"I know," he replied, his voice husky. "But I can't wait any longer."

He kissed you with a new intensity, his hands exploring your back with a possessiveness that made you shiver. You let yourself sink into him, your own desires taking over. The door to his office closed behind you, isolating your little world from the rest of the hospital.

James lifted you and placed you on his desk, his lips never leaving yours. Papers and pens fell to the floor, forgotten. His hands slipped under your blouse, and you felt a shiver of pleasure course through your body.

"You've driven me crazy, Y/N," he murmured against your skin. "And now, you'll face the consequences."

He kissed you briefly, and you wanted more. You opened your mouth, and your tongues met. You felt his hands grip your hips and shift your body on the desk, pulling you closer to him. His tongue explored your mouth as if he, too, enjoyed the blend. He pulled away slightly and looked down at your outfit, which revealed your hardened nipples, due to the passionate kiss and the moisture that had dampened your clothing.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathes out before lifting you off the desk, your legs wrapping around his torso. He kisses you again, much more fiercely, as if you were his prey. His tongue battles to dominate yours, and you give in, wanting him to take control. He presses you against the office door and takes the opportunity to ensure it’s locked. He kisses you as if you had always done this and as if it were your last kiss. You moan against his lips as his hand moves between your thighs, massaging them before sliding into your pants and removing your clothing until your panties fall to the floor. You try to close your legs, the cool air hitting your core, while his lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, then down your neck as if he’s devouring every part of you.

His kisses are wet, and you hear him moan before pressing his body against yours, you feel his erection.

"Are you sure ?" He says before completely losing control and he rubs his covered erection against your exposed pussy "mmh", you moan being the only noise you can make to respond and nod at him. He pulls down his pants and boxers at the same time. The shy one, you would have stopped him. He pulls the bottom of your t-shirt up to your chest and his cock brushes against yours making you moan his name.

"Moan my name again. Otherwise I wouldn't give you what you want" and he rubs his cock again between your thighs, his fingers place one of your locks of hair behind your ear, then go down all the way down your body to your clitoris.

“Wet, just for me” and he presses his fingers against my skin a little more before stroking my clit with his thumb. Long ones caresses, giving me pleasure but increasing my impatience. You feel his whole hand between your thighs, his fingers continuing to caress you relentlessly.

“James, please” you moan.

“Fuck” he removes his fingers and thrusts into you, making you moan in surprise and pleasure. The door is locked, and House music prevents everyone from hearing you. He pulls out of you only to come in again, harder, you moan and bury your head in the crook of his neck, clinging to his t-shirt.

“Y/N, I want to feel your hands on me” he moaned before helping you take off his t-shirt and swinging it behind him. He still carries you, he pulls you away from the door and suddenly slams me on top of him, entering me again. The pain in my back and the lust flowing through your veins makes all your sensations stronger. He speeds up his movements and your nails dig into his shoulders. He goes faster and nibbles your skin, in your neck, your chest, anywhere your skin is exposed.

“James, I-I’m going to-” you’re cut off by another moan that leaves your mouth. He understands what you are trying to tell him and growls "Go on princess, I'm waiting for that", you feel your body reach its climax and he gives one last thrust, harder than all the others while his hands massage your thighs.

You sigh in pleasure and release all the tension your body was holding and cum. He doesn't stop moving back and forth and waits for you to finish. You seek his mouth and kiss it, he moans into yours and still doesn't stop, you feel him cum inside you and he parts into your lips to blow.

“Y/N, are you-” he moans again, the sound leaving his mouth and the music turning you on, you grind my hips against his and he moans louder and louder. You have control.

“Y/N – don’t stop” you continue to move your hips and with each movement you sigh in pleasure. You feel him finish completely and he catches his breath heavily his head still in your neck. He slowly pulls out of you and gently places me back on the desk. He quickly puts his boxers back on before putting your panties back on. You get off the desk and put your clothes back on correctly. He stares at you through his loving eyes and smiles viciously before saying "we'll do this again whenever you want but no need for an aphrodisiac" and he winks at me with a kiss on the forehead.

The tension of the past intimacy transforms into a soft and tender atmosphere. You stay embraced for a moment, savoring the warmth of your bodies and the deep connection you’ve just shared. James shifts slightly, looking at you with infinite tenderness.

"How are you feeling?" he asks softly, caressing your cheek.

"I feel… good," you reply with a smile, your eyes shining with happiness.

You spend a few more minutes talking softly, your laughter and murmurs blending with the gentle light of the office. But the reality of the hospital eventually catches up with you. James stands up first, helping you to sit up and tidy your clothes.

"We should get back to work," he says with a smile, but his eyes reveal a desire to prolong the moment.

You quickly rearrange yourselves, trying to regain a professional appearance. Once outside the office, you share one last knowing glance before returning to your respective tasks. The day continues, but the excitement and warmth of your intimacy remain with you, giving you renewed energy, knowing that he was going to get his revenge.

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

It felt so real.

What - Yearning. Daryl misses you and your family so badly that it seems his imagination is dreaming you up to keep him from going crazy

When - big time jump to when Daryl finds himself in France (spinoff season 1, episode 2)

Where - the school in France

Pronouns - she/her (howdy, wife reader!)

TWs - language, reference to child loss, self-loathing, sappiness (it's fanfiction, y'all XD ) and Daryl gets a little...'excited' (mild instance of sexual arousal between a married couple)

Perspective - Daryl 3rd person POV

References - some are yet unpublished because this is a significant time skip, which means a few little surprises. Others can be found throughout the series!

Series? - the Slowpoke Series! It's a fun, slow time that sticks to canon to help maintain immersion (as much as you can with adding an oc lol) ;)

Can I read this chapter if I haven't started any part of the Slowpoke Series yet? - definitely

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“It's so good to hold you again, sugar.”

Those words, that voice, made him relax into the bed. She was there again! He’d last imagined her when he was being tended to by those nuns, so it was only, what, a handful of days ago?

Wasn’t enough for him, he missed her so much.

“Dare, I want them all. Full stop, every last one.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I knew you’d say that.”

“As if you aren’t wantin’ to take at least a handful. All those kids with just an old woman to care for them…well, now she’s dead, but…” She sighed and held him tighter. “Lou reminds me of Enid. Don’t you think they look similar? M’sorry her name had to be Lou. A lot of things over here are making you homesick, ain’t they? And that poor boy in Maine, named TJ, too.”

He pulled her closer, doing his best to not wake himself up so Y/N would stay with him. He wished that kid, with same name as his oldest, has just gone back to his girlfriend like he'd told him to.

“Our own Louise lights a candle with me for you every day. Those nuns would be proud.”

He swore to himself that whenever these dreams happen, there’s got to be some way it isn’t just all in his head. It was way too real.

It felt so, so real.

But that Louise was lighting candles for him, he knew because Carol told him when she spoke to him briefly over the radio in Maine...

“Did Carol also mention that Lydia’s been drawing you? Or did I write part that in the letter?”

“The letter. Carol and I didn't have much time to say anything.” Y/N wrote him a long, long letter. One part mentioned how both Lydia and Glenn took to getting nightmares again after he left. At Maggie’s suggestion, Lydia had been drawing his picture. Apparently it helps her feel safer.

RJ had been 'retreating more than usual,' also. Adam was acting out, too, so she wrote. If Daryl was figuring it right, the boys losing another father figure probably hadn’t helped.

“Dare, he’s three. Three-year-olds don’t only act out with foster parents, Adam would be doin’ the same with Alden. And RJ is without Michonne right now. That's the greater culprit.”

His wife also wrote how Coco just started calling her ‘mama,’ and correcting her to say ‘auntie’ wasn’t working yet. She chalked it up to her being a motherly figure and the baby assuming all caring ladies were ‘mama.’ He wondered if Gabe knew yet. Ain’t like Y/N hasn’t been a mama to that little girl since Rosita died. Actually, nah, Gabe obviously knew; Y/N would’ve (legit) run to him immediately and told him what was up.

The faces of all their kids ran through his mind over and over, Lydia and Judith and RJ included. Then his wife’s face. Carl. Adam. Hershel. Gracie. Coco. Carol. Ezekiel. Maggie. Rosita. Aaron. Jesus. Jerry. Rick. Merle. T-Dog.

“Oo, I want to be here when T-Dog visits. Has he ever visited?” Y/N chirped.

He wished. “Once. I just think about him a lot.”

“Bummer. He must have been so thrilled when we actually did name our first after him, without you even tellin’ me nothing about how he’d teased you on it! Say, what about Uncle Jesse? Does he visit? He must’ve been happy TJ’s middle name is for him!”

He shook his head. You even visited me before I was smart enough to fall for you. When I fell down the ridge. It was you and Merle.

A sneezing from one of the kids in another part of the building resounded four times. It woke him briefly.

He closed his eyes, focused…

It was okay, Y/N was there. Daryl breathed a sigh of relief.

“I am a mite surprised you didn’t take the floor anyway,” Y/N admitted, peeking over his side to look at where the nun Isabelle was laying down next to him. “Or share with Laurent so the two sisters could share.”

“Neither of them trust me enough for me to share a room with the boy. And she sounded like she didn’t want me on the floor. Must be that I’m gettin’ too old." All I feel these days is tired and sore. "Hell, I don’t think I could get up if I slept on the floor.”

Angel, I ain’t the same without you, I’m a fucking mess. Look at the shit show that I’ve made of things.

His wife whispered, “Hey. You know I can hear that, I’m from your imagination.”

“Y/N, I miss you so fucking much.” Baby, I’m so goddamned far from you all and I don’t know how I’m gonna get out this time.

“No cusses in front of the kids, Daryl,” She cupped her belly, the one he was imagining she might have again. Carol, when she spoke to him, used what little time there was to mention how Y/N was avoiding taking a test because she missed him too much. Y/N didn’t say nothing about it in her letter she'd packed in there during one of his home visits.

How’s that for a reason to hate yourself?

“You should,” shot back another familiar voice. “Leaving your own kin, leaving your woman. Ain’t you learned nothing, boy? Didn’t think you was that much of a deadbeat but here’s proof the apple didn’t fall far from the tree."

Merle.

Damn, it’d been ages!

"Yup. Nanu nanu," his brother mocked, waving his metal stump and glaring. "Here you are, in the white flag capital of the world, surrounded by Euro kooks instead of your own blood.”

“Oh, Daryl, don’t imagine him as cruel again!" Y/N cooed. "Let us both love you if you’re gonna go about having us here.”

Daryl breathed slowly so he wouldn’t wake up. When he felt level enough, he answered, “I don’t have much control over what y’all say.”

“I thought you had some control over it.” Y/N gently pushed his hair off his face. He loved it when she did that. Delicately, she examined the new scar gracing his forehead.

“I blame that old coot what you let whup you on the head as to why you’re seeing things,” his brother crooned.

His wife nodded. “Another concussion, you poor man. But this isn’t a hallucination, it’s just a dream. It’s that good kind of dream where you’re not fully awake but not fully asleep.” She trailed her hand along his forearm.

“Y/N, you’re too good for this sad sack.”

She fired back faster than Daryl knew his imagination could go. “Merle. You love your brother to death and you’re happy he got hisself a wife and family.” Y/N had pushed herself up to sitting in order to scold him. “Tell me you don’t swell with pride seein’ him be a good father and good husband. The cycle stopped with him, and you’re proud of it.”

Daryl, a hand protectively around his wife’s side, was busy trying to figure out what Merle was even doing, whittling?

Ah, he was eating an peach with the knife attached to his metal stump.

Weird, he thought ghosts didn’t eat.

“Maybe I ain’t a real ghost, retard,” was a blunt comeback. “Maybe I’m just a poor copy you conjured up in that concussed little head of yours.” Merle then turned to Y/N. “As for you, kitten, he left you and your brats! Left you when you was up the duff, left you when you don’t even got all your legs no more! How’s he supposed to protect you when he’s out here?”

“Merle William Dixon! I ain’t ‘kitten’ and those ‘brats’ are your nieces and nephews, dick. Noah’s middle name is even for you, so you best watch your mouth, hear?”

Merle smirked and sliced off another wedge from the peach. “There’s my sister-in-law. I had to make sure your square self at least still had that fire in ya.” He offered her a slice, but she crossed her arms.

The expression on her face was so disappointed it made Daryl’s chest tug.

His brother duly inclined his head in apology and raised his hands in surrender. “You’re right, ma’am. Y’all are doing a good job on them brats. And this sumbitch ain’t nothing like our old man, so there’s something.” Merle chopped another piece of fruit. “And it’s always a pleasure to roll with a fellow amputee, Y/N. Not many can relate to how trippy the phantom limb bullshit can get.”

She tilted her head in agreement, rubbed the spot above her prosthetic calf, and settled back down next to her husband with a big sigh. “I do wish Daryl imagined you in a kinder light, Merle, but, either way, I’m happy he watched Mork & Mindy because it got him thinkin’ about you — and now you’re here for him!” Her hand grazed along her bump. “And, you meant to say to him that I was possibly pregnant.”

“Dunno about that, sister, you’ve always seem to know when you been knocked up.”

“That ain’t incorrect,” she confessed, curling in on herself. “Even if I was, it’s possible we had a loss again, Merle. Whether early or late this time.”

“Another reason he shouldn’t be screwin’ around out here.” Merle next words sliced him as if his heart were the peach in his hands. “I'm angry for your own good, lady. What if you had to handle another kid's death, this time on your own?”

The bad memories crashed down like waves threatening to drown him in grief and guilt. He wanted to pummel his brother in the hopes Merle would best him and make him pay for leaving her.

But Merle wasn't actually there. Neither was Y/N. It was pretend. Daryl was just beating himself up in his head, and failing even at that.

Y/N said the words as Daryl thought them: “Why are you twisting the knife?” She swallowed and covered her face with her hands. “Maybe, this mission is w-worth the sacrifice of, of us not havin’ him here right now.”

No. It’s not.

I know you said that before I left to make it hurt less, but it’s not. Listen to your stutter, you know it ain’t.

I should be back there with you, not constantly leaving for weeks at a time. I'm supposed to be home now. I'd told Carol when I reached her on the radio back in Maine that I'd be there in a about a week, which is what she would've told you. This whole thing is horseshit!

“Darlin’, think on happier things or you’ll upset yourself awake or into another nightmare,” Y/N soothed. "You almost woke from anger at Merle just there, which is really just anger at yourself." Her fingers laced into his where his hand rested on her belly. His wish was that his dream would include feeling the baby move. He loved that feeling. Except, he must’ve been waking up because his dream wasn’t letting him feel her hand or her belly very much when he tried. Still, it felt real enough. He’d take what he could get.

“Might could be fun to think back on how beautiful it was making them, if indeed we made another one.” She walked two fingers along his bicep. “Would’ve happened on or around the last night before you left. Or,” she mused, then started to giggle. At that moment, he could even imagine the vibrations of her laughter as if she were really, actually laying beside him. It felt so real! “I wouldn’t be surprised if made them on the day itself, that was soo — oh man, hold up!” She pulled away from him and eyed his crotch in suspicion. “No sex dreams allowed, there’s a bride of Christ in the room! Keep that thing down, deal?”

He almost laughed out loud, and possibly in real life. So long as he didn’t wake up, he didn’t care if he laughed in his sleep. The reactions, the tone, it was all just like his Y/N. And he could hope they had another kid. He’d take as many as came along.

Aw, shit, how far would she even be along, if this one made it? How long had he been away?

“Goddamn, y’all, is this some kinda kink you got?” Merle cut in. “Me and the penguin are still here, you perverts.”

“Oh hush, neither of us are actually here. Him and me aren’t doing nothin’, he just got a little aroused,” Y/N countered. “And to answer your question about another baby, Daryl, I reckon you’ll find out when you come back.” She shrugged. “Unless you reach us on a radio? Eugene is diligent about it, especially now.”

That was another thing she wrote in her letter. Eugene and his radio.

The helplessness crashed back down on him. “I’m tryin’ babe.” He didn’t want to start crying. The nun was next to him and he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop crying once he started.

Merle jeered, “Try harder, Darylina.”

He was right, Daryl needed to. He needed to try harder! What kind of washed out fuck-up was he?

“Sweetheart,” his wife called softly. Her hand caressed his cheek. It felt so, so real. “Margaret — a woman who knows the pain of losing a husband — trusted this to you because you survive. And I trusted you to go, because you’ve got the brains, the balls, and the grit. You don’t die or get bit, Daryl, no. You always come home.”

Bullshit. Not this time.

“Not bullshit. Yes, this time.” She looked to the window. “Merle, back me up.”

“Based on your track record, she’s right, little brother.”

“You may not believe you can or will,” she lifted herself up on her hands and leaned forward to kiss him. It had to have been real. It felt so, so real. But he was not about to open his eyes to see if by some miracle it was. “Despite how you feel right now, my bet is you will get that happy ending. It ain’t coincidence that Laurent said so just like our Judith did! How’s that for a reason to hope?”

Shit, he was about to break down. “Y/N, maybe I don’t deserve that. You saw the shit-show what got me here.” And there came the tears. “I left you, that’s all there is to this. I don’t deserve you.”

“Oh, that word.” Y/N wasn’t a fan of the word ‘deserve.’ “On that topic, what an honest prayer you said to bless the food! So many times you used ‘deserve,’ ugh, but,” she paused, “God loves honesty like that. Very, very much.”

She kissed his eyelids where the tears were starting to slip out, kissed the scar that never seemed to fade, then settled back against the side of his chest and curled one leg around him. With her hand, she rubbed comforting circles along his torso. “And He don’t punish or withhold, that’s just our fallen world. His hand is always out for you,” she murmured. “Say, how long do you think you can keep up with imaginin’ my theology?”

“Angel, I’m already at my limit. That’s why part of me thinks you’ve gotta be here somehow, some parts of this feel so real. Smart stuff like this ain’t in my head.”

“TJ and Georgia would call out your self-hate if they could hear you. You’d owe them a lot of quarters. Hm, and euros, seeing as you're here.”

His chest tugged at their names. “How are they?”

TJ, their oldest besides Lydia, had long hair like the little French kid here. Just one other thing that ripped at Daryl’s heartstrings to make him ache so bad for home it shocked him that he wasn’t bleeding out.

“They’re as good as gold and better. Just like their father.” That phrase he knew was from his memory because she’d said it before. “All of us miss you like crazy. Postal level.”

You shouldn’t.

“Daryl.” Her hand gripped his. There’s no way it wasn’t real. It felt so real. “When I was broken after Carl's death, and I claimed the same stuff — that you should leave me and TJ, that you needed someone better, that your life would be better if we weren’t a part of it — how much did it rip you up? ’Cause even if I hadn’t told you this before, you would have to understand how it’s tearing my insides to shreds hearin’ you think the same.”

Calm. He had to stay calm or he’d be alone again.

“I’m right,” he whispered.

“I have to disagree.”

“I —” his voice went up. He switched tactics and spoke to his brother. “Merle, talk some sense into her. I failed. This is it, this is—”

“—You did screw shit up like a royal turd, but your lady would rip my danglers off if I went along with your pretty little pity party.”

Believe it or not, the tough love helped. Felt genuine, as if Merle really was shouting some sense into him. It felt so real.

He caught his wife giving Merle an air high-five. “Thank you, Merle.”

In hindsight, Daryl figured it must’ve be because Merle, in Daryl’s imagination, had to raise his metal arm to return the five. He taunted Y/N, “You’re welcome, peg-leg.”

Dream or not, Daryl was fixing to bark, but his wife playfully kicked her own prosthetic and taunted back, “Love you, gimpy.”

His brother was smug. “Square.”

As if Y/N hadn’t heard that before.“Trailer trash.”

As if Merle hadn’t heard that before. “Goody-two shoes.”

“Two shoes? Ahem,” Y/N drawled as prim and proper as a southern belle. “Did we not just establish how I only require but one shoe these days?”

Merle slapped his thigh and cackled like a hyena and Daryl couldn’t help but do the same. Y/N joked about her missing calf like she got paid for it, pirate jokes to no end.

Daryl hadn’t felt this light in months, not even close to it since leaving home.

…And to think, it was all a lie.

All fake.

They weren’t really there. Not his wife, not his dead brother. It was all in his head.

“Oh, my sweet mangy hick. Enough moping and angst, enjoy the moment! Merle and I really did a fair job on our banter just there. And you never know, Merle could really be here, seein’ as he’s dead.”

“Y/N, I even miss bickering with ya, goddamn,” he breathed.

“It is one of our love languages. That reminds me — you’re doing great with the French, Dare!”

She can’t be serious. Or, rather, he himself can’t be serious. “Babe, I ain’t spoken a word of it. The letters don’t matter half the time. I swear, these people sound drunk.”

Merle snickered, “Hell, even I speak better French than him. Voulez vous coucher av—”

“—Well, I meant like when you used the dictionary to translate that conjugated verb.” Her voice had gone down when she said this and it sounded, well…how it usually sounded when she was turned on. “If I were there, the part where I’d push your suspenders off your shoulders would drive me wild…”

Stay calm or you’ll wake up, Daryl.

And you realllly don’t want to start a sex dream with some other chick in the room. A nun!

“Get a room, horndogs. The word was ‘conjugated,’ not ‘conjugal,’” Merle spat. “This is why you got all them kids.”

His wife made one of her signature huffs, but didn’t say nothing back to Merle. Into Daryl’s ear, she sympathized, “Being horny is so annoyin’.”

Ha. Blushing even in his dreams. Part of him wondered if he was cracking up in his sleep, too, but either way, it felt good. Felt real. It felt so, so real. “I don’t even know what ‘conjugated’ means, Y/N.”

“Yes you do, otherwise I wouldn’t say it. I’m a figment of your imagination, remember?” Aw man, why’d she have to nuzzle him in the crook of his neck? He loved it when she did that. Mmm, hot damn it felt so real… “And you know that you doin’ something like conjugating a verb in another language would be sexy to me.”

“I told y’all jackrabbits to keep your britches on. Now, Daryl: ‘conjugate’ is when you make the verb agree grammatically with the subject. You’ve heard that word before,” Merle explained. Seemed out of character. And the room looked strange, there was—it was another room now?

Daryl’s thoughts turned to when Y/N and Rosita would speak Spanish. Listening as Judith helped TJ and RJ with phonics. Watching Georgia sing to baby Louise that song Siddiq had taught her in, what language was it?

“Hey. Dummy,” Merle scoffed. “You’re driftin’ off, sweet boy. Gotta stay a teensy bit lucid if you want us here.”

So that’s why the room had just looked different. He’d been slipping.

“I still don’t get how this happens, which is why I think you’re actually here,” Daryl said to both of them. “Merle, you’re probably in…somewhere in-between.”

“What, I don’t get to be in heaven yet? Y/N, you hearin’ this uppity sumbitch?”

“He still has trouble believing in such things, Merle, especially lately. I prayed for your soul, so I got hope.”

“Thank you, sister.”

“Anytime.” Y/N looked up at Daryl and smiled. “Then what about me, dude? I ain’t dead, pinky promise. So, how is it that I come to be here?”

Yeah, he’ll be as sappy as he wants with his wife of ten years. “Maybe you’re dreamin’ about me, too.”

Merle’s kissy noises were interrupted by Daryl firmly telling him to get out after which Y/N smooched him harder than she’d had in his imagination since he’d left America. The smell of her, the sounds she made, the way she would lift her head so he could bury his face in her neck, it all felt so real.

It was when she ran her hand lower down his abdomen and almost reached his you-know-what that it all stopped cold. “Sorry! Aw, shoot — Merle! Get back in here, quick, we got carried away! Well, t-technically it was all you, Dare, but — just, please don’t get a stiffy with a nun in the room!”

“Someone should put that on a shirt,” his brother called.

“Ew, no, Merle! Good Moses, maybe I really should ought to be there if you’re startin’ to imagine messed up t-shirt slogans.” She was only teasing. “Ooh, but if I were really there I could meet little Sister Sylvie! So far, I like her.”

“I knew you would.” Daryl grinned. “The way she is with the boy, she reminds me of you.”

If only you were really here, angel.

Wait, no, I don’t want you here because you wouldn’t be safe. I need you safe.

She brought his hand to her lips. “I know what you meant, sugar.”

Unexpectedly, the nun shifted on the bed, nearly jolting him fully awake.

Slow breaths. Keep your eyes shut, do not open them!

He kept them shut tight and pictured where Y/N had been to try and keep her there.

“What am I, chopped pig’s feet?” Merle grunted.

Daryl relaxed. Merle was still there, and he got back the feeling of Y/N beside him.

“You know,” his wife considered. While she was still there, he was having trouble visualizing her. Was he still close to waking up? “That Sister Isabelle is willin’ to risk sharing a room with a strange American says a lot about how much she’ll give to protect the boy and the others here.”

“Still damn weird she didn’t just share a room, the three of ’em.”

“It is. It’s really weird.” Y/N rested her forehead on his chest. He felt the warmth of her breathing against him. If he focused really hard, he could just about imagine the feel her heartbeat, too. “Maybe she’s fixing to be the first line of defense, with all them other kids livin’ here.”

“Still weird,” he grunted. “Hey, where’d my—” He looked around in his imagination at the room. “Where’d my brother go?”

“Maybe he wanted another peach. Or, maybe you're too close to wakin’ up. Be careful, darling.”

He breathed slowly and kept his eyes locked shut. His frustration was growing. It had felt so real, why was it going away?

Calm. Stay calm so she’ll stay.

“It was also unusual,” Y/N thought, “how Sister Izzy—”

“—Sister Izzy?”

He imagined that her mouth would have twisted in embarrassment. “Yes, I’d probably definitely give her that nickname. You sure know how to portray me realistically.” She started again, ���It’s unusual how she didn’t accommodate for your maybe-not-wantin’-to-be-seen-in-the-tub-by-a-nun. By anyone, for that matter. Although,” she reconsidered, “they were nurses who had to change your undies and cauterize your wound, weren’t they?” When he pictured her bottom lip beginning to tremble, he held her closer. “Oh, I hate that they all died but for two! What has this world come to? Why would those men kill them?”

That was something.

The dream got easier to maintain. He felt the curve of her waist. The rise and fall of her chest. It felt real again. It felt so, so real.

Relieved, he didn’t know what to say at first other than, “The water was cloudy enough.” When he was getting treated, bathed, doctored, how hard he wished it was Y/N doing it. Another thing that made him ache, watching them nuns give him medical attention when for the past 12 years it’d almost always been his wife.

He breathed out heavily. “Dunno, when she was in there, it wasn’t too uncomfortable.”

“The habit can have that effect on some. The crucifixes and religious artworks hopefully brought some peace, too.”

“Habit?”

“Nun outfit.”

He tried to hold her even tighter. The way it felt more real than before encouraged him, got him nearly falling off his seat with excitement that he got her back!

Except, the excitement turned into panic that he might lose this moment because he was so happy, as fake as it was.

And it sent him over the edge. Just like that, he was awake. Very awake. And alone. No Y/N, no Merle.

He blinked as the room came into focus.

None of it was real. He’d, he'd known that.

And now he was awake. Lying on some flat, shitty, tiny bed, an ocean away, in a country full of people he didn’t understand, that had walkers who burned you when they touched you, and soldiers who shot up a convent full of nuns who patched up strangers and were only trying to keep a little boy safe.

He didn’t even have his ring anymore. All he had was a snippet on a voice recorder that told the world his name and how badly he'd fucked up.

Daryl turned onto his side, the pain from his burned arm screaming at him, but he didn’t give one flying fuck. Y/N wasn’t there anymore because his stupid ass had woken up! He’d earned the pain, he needed it, he deserved it.

Quietly, he thought to hell with it and let himself weep. He was so fucking done with all this bullshit.

He wanted Y/N back. He wanted his kids back. The fuck kind of brainless jackass was he, leaving them for so long, so much? And for what?

To "see what's out there?"

As if he'd find people who had a cure?

To bring Rick and Mich home? If Rick is even alive, if Michonne is alive.

To transport some creepy French boy to a group of weirdos grasping at the hope of some imaginary friend in the sky who damns them if they don’t do all the rules in the world that He’d let go to shit as a punishment or test?

Really, was Daryl that much of a guilt-ridden jerk-off to still say yes to whatever Maggie asks him to do? It’s a hopeless fu—

“Daryl, I love you so much. Please don’t blaspheme.”

“Y/N?” I thought you was gone. No, you were gone, I woke up! “You’re back?” Holy shit, thank you. Thank you! Thank you, Whoever's up there.

That small, shy smile melted all the ice he’d just had in his heart. “Try not to wake all the way again?”

He didn’t waste any more time blubbering like an idiot, he reached for her and held on. It was still a dream, so he had to be careful to not get too excited or do anything too stimulating. And, don’t worry, he wasn’t about to willingly get a hard-on when there was a nun next to him.

He just needed to have Y/N in his arms again so he could make it through the next 5 minutes without going insane!

For 12 years, she’d been there, loving him in one way or another. For 10 years they’d been husband and wife. Without her, without their kids there, in that strange, foreign place, he was losing himself so quick it brought him to his knees with shame.

Her lips pulled away for a moment. “I wouldn’t agree that you’re losing yourself. I watched Shaney lose himself, it looked different. Daryl, I’m serious,” she insisted. “Listen: did you not save that dad and daughter even after they robbed you?”

Big whoop. “You know what those guerrilla shits would’ve done to her." The same thing that got done to you. "And those assholes would prolly have made the old man watch and killed me regardless.”

“Yeah, but you also went back to try and save that gaggle of nuns from those jar-head pieces of shit, that’s got to count for somethin’.” Wait, that was Merle’s voice. He was back, too?

Daryl looked over at the window to see his brother there once more. Merle winked. “My baby brother, the hero. Stay zen if you’re fixing to keep us here, now. Keep hittin’ that sweet spot between dreamland and the real world.”

Y/N beamed at Merle before turning back to Daryl. “And did you not help those children get the medicine, Dare? Heck, now they got access to that whole castle full of supplies and it’s so much more secure. Um, m-minus the moat full of dead ones.”

“I lied to those kids out my ass, Y/N. Lied and didn’t give a damn.”

“And you ensured none of them got hurt, then promptly admitted the lie with what I’d call purity of heart.”

“I cut that boy’s mule loose without a second thought. You see that? He loved that thing.”

“Better than to have failed to back up the cart in time, which would have happened and would have gotten all five of y’all eaten. And it was almost fast enough to escape by the looks of it. One dead mule to the benefit of four living souls is a good outcome.”

“What’d my sister-in-law say earlier?” Merle asked. “Brains, balls, and grit? Not to sound all mushy gushy, but she’s right.”

The memories of falling into that moat of walkers seized him, made him start to panic again. No brains, no balls, he almost died right in there—

“—Baby, shh,” Y/N hushed. Her arms tightly wrapped around him the way she would when his nightmares hit bad. “You survived. No bites. No burns. Not even a broken bone, I don’t know how you managed it again.” Her lips, her chest, her hands pressed against him. It felt so, so real. “But you always seem to.” She kissed him. “You’ve got brains.” Another kiss. “Balls.” A deeper kiss. “And grit. And you’re alive, sweetheart. There’s always hope as long as your heart is still beating.”

“How will I get out of this?”

“You’ll find a way,” she said with confidence. “You simply don’t know what the way is yet.”

“What do I do about the nuns?”

“Help them keep Laurent safe, of course — if you choose to do so.”

I don’t want to.

“You don’t have to,” she assured him.

I want to go home.

“And you will,” she assured him once again.

I don’t want to help them. I don’t want to. I don’t fucking want to!

…God damn it. “But I should.”

“You ain’t obligated,” Y/N responded, but with hesitation that time. “It is up to you.”

Merle was the one to point out, “It’s that conscience of yours, kid. Sometimes you just can’t help but help. I’ve been watchin’ you these past, what is it, 11 years since I got my crusty white ass killed?” He chuckled to himself as he shaved off the final bit of peach before flicking the pit away. “Can’t be too mad at it when it roped you a fine piece of ass to squeeze at night and how many kids because of it?”

“Merle,” Y/N warned.

Daryl could feel his anger rising.

“What, ain’t you relieved I can’t call you ‘sweet little virgin’ no more, son?” Merle kept egging on.

“Daryl, this isn’t really him. Don’t get angry or we’ll both disapp—”

“—So, my thinking is, Daryl, that you just won’t be able to help yourself from bringing that little sissy boy to them nutjobs —”

“Shut up!” Daryl burst out — and opened his eyes in real time. Again? Is he that much of an idiot?

His pulse was pounding. Dread and self-loathing flooded his mind, how stupid could he be?

Immediately, he squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate hope to get his wife and brother back. He focused, focused, focused, prayed, pretended, focused…

“Daryl,” came her voice.

He could hear Y/N, but not see her. It was clear that it was all him forcing the memory of her voice back. It was all in his head.

“Why bother caring that it’s in your head, sugar? Breathe slowly and focus on the feel of my body against yours. I don’t wanna leave you."

“Y/N, I need to get back,” he panted. “I can use their help to do that. Those religious people, the Union of Hope or whoever, Isabelle says they got a good radio. I need that to get back home.”

“Well, there you go! I trust you.”

He reached up to tangle his fingers where her hair would be. His imagination wasn’t letting it happen, so he focused with gratefulness that at least he could still hear her.

“Just don’t abuse their trust, and you’ll be alright,” she softly pleaded.

Don’t break their trust? “Angel, you don’t know what I did to end up in this mess.”

Of all the ways he could have daydreamed her reacting, it was that her laughter filled the room. “For the last time, my mangy hick, I am a figment of your imagination and quite literally know everythin’ inside that brain of yours. And I still love you despite that ‘shit-show’ what landed you here.”

He brought to mind the color of her eyes, wanting, wanting, begging for a miracle that would make her truly there with him so he could stare into them all night. “What would you say if I asked ‘that if I don’t find nothing, what good am I?’”

“Y/N, you can blame our raising for that shit right there,” his brother commented.

“You poor boys. Broken people sometimes make for broken kids.”

Gently, he started to perceive the way she would rub her cheek against his chest when she’d lay down with him. “Daryl? If I were here, I’d say things to try and make it stick in your head that your worth ain’t dependent on what you can offer.”

“What does it depend on, then?”

“Careful, you’re treading into religious waters now, and I ain’t sure you’ve got the bandwidth tonight. But God is involved,” she hinted.

This mess was hopeless, wasn’t it? No winning, no out, no happy ending.

“Angel, I can’t come home empty-handed.” He squeezed his eyes tighter and willed himself to not lose his cool yet again. “I can’t come home with no Rick or Michonne, no cure, no nothin’ but a burn, more nightmares, and more lives on my conscience.”

“You can,” she answered simply. “It ain’t all on you. No — please, don’t get any more upset or you’ll wake up again! Daryl, I’ve already slipped so far away!” He heard his wife begin to cry, but the sound went further and further from him. All he could see were the backs of his eyelids.

Still, he held on as best he could. “Please stay here, angel.”

“I-I would, sweetheart.”

“When I’m back, I won’t even want to leave the walls to hunt if it would mean not being next to you, d’you know that?”

“Let someone else hunt. You’ve done enough to last a lifetime.” Her voice was hoarse the way it had been when she’d said those same words to him about a year and a half ago. “More than enough. Oh Daryl, I’m so sorry we’re going.”

“Not yet, angel, please don’t!”

“Use all those things makin’ you homesick as reasons to hope. Do it for me, sugar. Get yourself home again. Don’t die, don’t get bit.”

“I won’t. I’ll get back to you. Tell the kids I love ’em?”

There was silence.

Stillness.

Daryl lay there, accepting that he couldn’t feel Y/N next to him anymore.

His throat tightened. “Angel?”

He doesn’t know why he bothered. She was gone, he knew it. He ran his finger where his ring should’ve been, if he hadn’t lost it.

“Angel,” he tried again.

Silence.

“Babe, please. Please.”

Silence.

“Y/N, please, one more time, angel.”

Silence.

The pain in him was hollow and cold.

Feeling small and helpless, he lifted his arms above his head and held back a wail of despair. He closed his eyes again and, in his head, he cried out in desperation, “Merle?”

At first, there was no answer. He hadn't expected one. Why should he?

But then he heard a quiet, low, “I’m still here.”

Merle spoke slowly and heavily, almost as if it hurt him to admit it. “I don’t think she’s gonna come back tonight, Daryl. You’ve already fallen out a few times. I ain’t gonna be here much longer, neither. You know that.”

Any strength he had left seeped out like a stab wound, leaving him crying like a child. “I can’t see you anymore.”

“I know, little brother.”

“It felt so real.”

“It sure as hell did. I think you needed it, even if it hurts like a bitch now.”

It had felt so, so real!

But it wasn’t. “I’m alone,” he choked out.

“Nothin’ you can’t handle.” For a moment Daryl could make out his brother’s face again. “You’re a tough sumbitch, so I’d advise you act like it. Quit blubberin’ like a baby and wipe the snot out your nose.”

Daryl sniffed and tried to get a grip.

“Good.” Merle’s voice began to echo. He was almost gone, too. “Now listen here: don’t die, don’t get bit. Get your ass back where you belong.”

The room came into view.

The echoing stopped.

The hollow, cold pain he’d felt at knowing they were gone there turned sharp and hot. Turns out, it was actually the throbbing in his arm. Daryl really had turned onto his side, which positioned his burned arm underneath him. He strained to get off it and flip onto his back.

You know what? The pain from his burned arm didn’t hold a candle to the ache in his chest.

Were those tears on his face, too? Guess he must’ve started crying for real in his sleep. Made sense considering how real it all felt. It all felt so real.

If only his pulse would stop racing, he felt sick.

He was getting damned old.

Instinctively, he tried to fiddle with his wedding band, which is when he recalled yet again how he’d lost it. Only a faint tan line remained.

He closed his eyes, exhausted, and chewed at his lip. Another tear or two escaped and ran hot down his cheek.

A strange part of him wished he hadn’t lied to Laurent about having a wife and family back home. At the time he said it so it wouldn't hurt as much, but…

“You deserve a happy ending, too,” the kid had told him. Just like his Judith had, when she saw how low and unworthy he begun to feel. She told her auntie Y/N, too, of course, not that his wife wasn’t unaware of how twisted his head had gotten into thinking he was no good. It didn’t feel twisted to him, it felt honest. He didn’t deserve them. They were too good.

His wife’s words to him played again in his mind. He may have just been making all that shit up in his brain, but he was only remembering a mix of real things that she’d told him before, over and over in the hopes his stupid ass would accept it one day.

“Despite how you feel right now, my vote is you will get that happy ending. It ain’t coincidence that Laurent said so just like our Judith did! How’s that for a reason to hope?”

He did need a reason. It was getting harder and harder to hold onto hope. Any hope.

So, maybe, a weird kid with long hair like TJ’s who drew a picture of some washed-up bum on a beach three weeks before Daryl showed up was reason enough to hope. He could grasp onto that.

If it would get him home, hell yeah, he could do that.

How the same weird kid told him what his niece had and what his wife had could be reason enough, too. He could grasp onto that as well, if it would get him home. He could do that for them.

Daryl ran his hand in slow, gentle circles along his stomach like Y/N would. Maybe he’d been doing this in his dream, which is why it felt so real.

It had all felt so, so real.

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[sixosix]

YOU GOTTA LEAVE BEFORE YOU GET LEFT | LYNEY

warnings profanity, angsty fighting (violence but it’s not descriptive), 3.7k words!

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The House of the Hearth is quiet around this hour, save for the soft snores coming from the rooms, or the clink-clink-clink of your polearm when hitting your arms. Lynette has already crashed somewhere, but Lyney can’t sleep a wink. At least, if you asked him what he’s doing in the training room alone watching you, that’s what he would say.

Thankfully, you haven’t asked; didn’t even acknowledge when he slipped into the room.

Lyney hasn’t been able to stop thinking about a few nights ago when he saw a glimpse of something real from you. Your smile and his newfound determination to defeat you to see more of it.

Sweat rolls off your temple, your breath visible in a silhouette of a misty cloud. You strike the air as if it’s insulted you greatly. With one final swing, you pause, turning to look at him.

Lyney can tell something is wrong. Your eyes are heavier; your movements are more sluggish than usual. This is the first time he’s seen you in a few days, with him going out for missions and coming back to hear that you’ve been cooped up in the training room day and night, frustration rolling off of you in waves.

Lyney smiles instead. “Would you like to spar?”

Your gaze is intense. Lyney could see a flame sparking in them when he asked you. But it fades when you ask, “Lyney, ‘Father’ has just returned yesterday, right? Has she talked to you at all?”

Lyney blinks. “Oh, um. No, I haven't really seen ‘Father’.”

Your shoulders loosen. “Alright.”

Then, you stand before him—all Lyney needs as an answer.

He’s gotten better with a bow, his only form of weapon during missions when they get a little more dangerous than prying information. But he only gets to feel the thrill of it when he’s facing you, who’s always one step ahead.

He bows. “It is an honor.”

Something of a smile flickers on your face when he looks back up. “You always say that whenever we do this.”

Lyney beams, pleased to hear you speak to him beyond anything related to training. “It’s no lie.”

“Then,” you twirl your polearm around in a hypnotizing circle, and Lyney feels a near-maniacal grin creep up his face, “overcome me.”

Lyney takes the first shot, no longer surprised when you barely flinch as you swerve. You move as swiftly as his arrows. He fires another shot, then another, and another at a rapid pace. As expected, you dodge and deflect all of them with ease. Even when not at your full best, you can easily conquer everyone.

But Lyney’s been watching closely. His eyes follow every shift, catching each minuscule movement of how you favor one side more than the other or how your eyes are fixed on his weapon and nothing else.

You start drawing closer, your steps so fluid that anyone else wouldn’t have noticed it. Lyney conceals a smile.

Your eyes widen when Lyney disappears into a twirl of cards, fading out of view, disappearing into nothingness, just like that.

You pant, looking around warily, “How did you—” only for your breath to hitch when Lyney materializes right behind you, kicking your weapon off your staggered grip and aiming his arrow right at your head.

His eyes are narrowed as if facing a real enemy—as if preparing to actually shoot with one wrong move. But that’s not right, because how could Lyney ever bring himself to hurt you when you smile at him like that?

“That was…new,” you say, breathing heavily. Your exhaustion is getting to you now.

Lyney’s lungs are doing just as bad. “Thank you,” he manages to say, sensing a compliment when he hears one. “It’s only right for a magician to have tricks up his sleeves, right?”

He doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s taken advantage of your state. Had you not been visibly tired, you never would’ve fallen for his trick. It’s victory, but he doesn’t feel as if he’s really won.

Now that you admit defeat, Lyney says, “Let’s take a break.”

To his delight, you murmur a yes. Now that’s victory.

The orphanage has become used to the sight of the magician twins tailing after you, with Lyney grinning smugly and Lynette close behind because, really, her brother was just tagging along. And some other times, they’ve become used to the sight of Lynette curled up on the couch with Freminet resting his head on her lap while you yell at Lyney to piss off, and he doesn’t piss off.

You’ve even come to admit them as friends. Mostly Lynette, though. Lyney’s just there because they’re twins.

Lyney pouts. “I mean, we’re basically friends now, right?”

You send him a strange look. “What are you talking about? No, we’re not.”

“Whaaat?”

You push his face away when he’s decided to come up all over your personal space. “I like your sister better.”

“Lynette and I are twins!” he whines.

“Completely different people, still.”

Lynette does a mischievous half-smile, blinking slowly. “Don’t tease him too much,” she said. “He’ll cry when it comes to you.”

Lyney splutters. “Lynette!”

Thankfully, the Archons are on his side. You don’t look too deeply into Lynette’s words, simply laughing and returning back to your food, chatting comfortably with his sister and Freminet. Despite all the bickering, Lyney feels warm inside.

“Lyney,” you say, catching his gaze. “Do you want to spar later?”

Lyney’s heart soars. “Yes, of course.”

In the comfort of their own room, Lynette strikes.

“Y/N is really nice,” Lynette says when Lyney is practicing tricks with his hat. “You think so, too, right?”

Lyney doesn’t know where this is going. He fumbles with the rose. “Mhm. Yeah.”

Tonight is particularly cold; the old-fashioned fireplace is barely doing anything. Lyney wants to check on the training room—it’s always much warmer there.

Lynette shifts beside him, and Lyney can feel the weight of her infinitely keen stare. “And you also think that you should tell me who you’re practicing those flowers for, right?”

“I—what—” Lyney’s face goes hot. “It’s for my tricks, Lynette! What are you trying to imply?”

His sister sniffs, as if Lyney is just an insignificant little thing. “I don’t know what you and Y/N have been doing lately, but I'm happy to see you happy.”

Lynette smiles at him. “I haven’t seen you like this for so long. I’ll do my best to not let anything take this away from you.”

Speechless, Lyney could only utter: “Lynette…”

In all honesty, Lyney doesn’t know what changed—doesn’t know how it shifted into something else he can’t quite put a finger on. Maybe it’s the fact that he and his sister have a home now, despite the fact that it’s an intelligence source for the Harbingers. Or maybe it’s…something deeper than that, something to do with you.

“It’s really nothing,” Lyney says softly. “You don’t have to do anything, okay? I promise you.”

Lynette nods, trusting her brother easily. “Okay. I just don’t want you to lose this.”

Ha, as if he could even bring himself to do that.

“Hey, is Lyney in this room?” someone yells, rapping on the door frantically. “Father’s looking for Lyney. Is Lynette here?”

“What…?” Lyney mumbles, turning to the window and belatedly noticing sunlight peeking through from the sides of the curtains. “Oh no. I didn’t get any sleep.”

“And ‘Father’ is looking for you,” Lynette says, amused. “Go, Lyney. Shoo.”

Lyney scurries off and nods politely at the person who had summoned him. He pads over to the dining table, where ‘Father’ is always waiting, desserts laid before her.

“Lyney,” she greets. Lyney felt the hair rise on the back of his neck, but also warmth spread throughout his chest, happy to see the person who had changed his and his sister’s life. “Come. Would you like a plate?”

Eating something sugary while he lacks sleep is not the brightest idea. “No, thank you, ‘Father’.”

“Alright,” she says lightly, taking a bite and indulging in her cake for a long pause. “You’ve been training hard, haven’t you?”

“Yes, ‘Father’.” He sits somewhere that’s a chair away from her, too nervous to sit close and too afraid to sit too far. He still doesn’t know what ‘Father’ thinks of him, or what to think of ‘Father’.

“And you’ve gotten stronger since receiving your Vision.” It sounds like a question, but that’s not right. ‘Father’ always knows what’s happening in the House of the Hearth.

“…Yes,” Lyney says slowly, unsure where this is heading.

Arlecchino leans back, pleased. “Hm. Good.”

Lyney isn’t quite sure what’s happening, but she asks about how he and his sister are doing, and they get involved in an almost-something-of-a casual conversation. Lyney’s nerves are on high alert the entire time, as if suspecting that this is a test. But after that, ‘Father’ dismisses him before Lyney can start being suspicious.

He doesn’t think too much of it. He leaves the room and feels as if he could melt on the floor from exhaustion.

Someone sees him and claps him on the back, startling him enough to wake him up. She glances at the door he just came out of and hums lowly. “Did ‘Father’ call for you?”

“Yes.”

“Ha,” she snorts. “Guess that’ll happen a lot when you're the next successor, huh? Lucky you.”

“Yeah,” Lyney agrees, though he doesn’t really know what it means. He doesn’t really care because at least ‘Father’ still wants to keep them around.

Most importantly of all, in this orphanage, Lyney has been having the time of his life. His sparring with you has led him to a tentative friendship of sorts. He can confidently say he knows you as well as he knows Lynette and Freminet. He’s been living in bliss, always pleased to have a home and a family to come back to, no matter how gruesome the mission they’re sent to.

He and Lynette have been seeing the House off with missions successfully fulfilled, and ‘Father’ has acknowledged their loyalty. Their worth. Whispers about successors get louder. Lyney pays them no mind—this is only them acknowledging his worth.

Days would pass. Lyney would perform tricks for his fellow orphans. Lynette would tell him that she’d rather not be in the spotlight. Days would pass. You would keep on overworking yourself, and Lyney would try to pull you away from it.

“Y/N,” Lyney announces his presence with just your name, standing by the doorway.

You don’t flinch nor even waver from your moves, nearly dancing with how swiftly you move across the grassy field. It’s easier to talk over the slash over your weapon this time, at least, with the sounds spreading across the evening air. Lyney can shout and he doesn’t have to fear waking up anyone.

He has to wake you up first, though.

“Y/N,” he tries again, his fingertips beginning to burn underneath the steaming plate. Despite his connection with fire, his skin is beginning to feel irritated—or perhaps it’s proof of how long he’s been carrying your dinner. “Your food’s gonna get cold.”

“Leave it there,” you finally answer, slowing to a halt. Your back is facing him, posture perfect, and Lyney’s star-struck even in moments like this.

“And you’re going to eat it?”

“I will.”

That’s what you said last time, and Lyney came back to a full plate, untouched even by ants. Lyney decides to stay, content with watching over you until you tire and give in. He’s been hearing that you’re relentless, not even sparing a single glance to anyone.

“Why have you been practicing so hard recently? Is ‘Father’ punishing you? Did you sneak out again?”

You deign to face him with a fierceness that could match the fire of his Vision. “As if ‘Father’ has even looked at me.”

Lyney blinks slowly. “...What?”

Then—it was that moment that Lyney realized this was more serious than he realized—you school your expression into something blank. He was asking the wrong questions. He feels like there’s an invisible wall between the two of you, even when he’s already far away.

“You all have something I don’t,” you say, lowering your weapon. “Tell me, Lyney, if I start slacking off, will she even look at me the way she does to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Your expression grows colder. “You wouldn’t understand. Who am I kidding? Just leave the food; I’ll eat it.”

“How do I know that?” he asks weakly.

“Take the hint, Lyney. I want to be alone right now.”

Days would pass. Lyney gets busier—his life gets more hectic. He starts performing on stages, small ones, but stages with props galore nonetheless. Lynette starts to feel more confident joining him, but she still has to work on her expressions. Days would pass. Lyney sees you less often. Your thread is snapping.

He enters the training room, where it’s been eerily silent. Not even Freminet nor Lynette tried to train today as if sensing danger from inside. But all he sees inside is you, staring silently at the wall, heaving.

Lyney sees your state and winces, your shoulder hiked to your ears and your expression unpleasant. “Y/N,” he calls out softly, “Are you okay?”

You’re really not, and it’s obvious, but how else does Lyney approach this?

You take a too-long moment to respond, eyes distant. “I’m…fine.”

Lyney hesitates, wildly looking around the room for something to distract you with. “Do you want to spar?”

“No.”

He should’ve known the moment he noticed you were acting strange: there’s something bothering you enough to leave you trapped in the training room. He tries to think hard about it, looking back at the first moment you were acting off. He comes up with nothing.

“Lyney,” you say, “you should leave.”

“No,” he says firmly. “I’m not leaving if you’re going to keep this up.”

“Lyney,” you say, facing him fully with a scowl. “That was not a question. Leave.”

“Y/N, I…” Lyney thinks and thinks. What has been happening recently? He’s been sent off for missions far too often that he hasn’t been able to notice this sooner. How long has this been happening? Why is this happening?

If anything, you’re far too prideful to show your weakness. To break down like this so suddenly… How will ‘Father’ react to this? Surely, she would put a stop to it if you were always next to her. But he hasn’t seen you next to ‘Father’ in so long. In fact, he’s…

Lyney stares cautiously. “Are their words bothering you?”

“They’re always talking.” That’s not a yes, but Lyney feels like he should take it as one. “Lately, they’ve been talking much louder than before.”

“That’s it, isn’t it? It’s about ‘Father’’s successor?”

Your mouth curls up in a snarl. “Don’t rub it in my face. You, of all people, shouldn’t ask that to me.”

Lyney’s heart sinks. So it was him who was causing this. “Whatever you’re hearing isn’t true.”

“What? Don’t make me out to be so stupid. You spar with me to gauge my weaknesses. You want to become the next successor.”

“I don’t want to become the next anything,” he pleads, instinctively taking a step back when you inch closer.

“That’s what it is, right? You see me as a challenge? So that’s what you meant?” Something is terribly wrong. You’re looking in his direction, but he doesn’t feel the weight of your gaze—like you’re only seeing through him.

Lyney frowns. He’s being cornered. “No, what—”

“I changed my mind,” you say, your shoulders tensing and the grip on your weapon tightening until your knuckles turn white. “You don’t want to leave? Fight me. Now. Prove that you’re worth more than me.”

“Y/N,” Lyney says lowly. “You’re not thinking straight right now. I don’t want to—”

You strike at his side. Lyney only manages to block it because of his experience with close combat from you, but this one is different. His eyes widen. That one hurt bad, leaving a buzzing ache on his skin. That’ll leave a bruise that won’t leave for weeks.

“Fight me,” you whisper, desperate, crazed. “Fight me.”

You demand it, but you don’t give Lyney a chance to react, attacking once again. Lyney blocks it off with his body and bites down a whimper of pain at the impact; at what sounded like the crack of bones.

“Y/N, stop—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl. “Bring out your weapon. Fight me. You’re the next successor, aren’t you?”

“Y/N,” Lyney says, trying to get a hold of your wrists. “Y/N, you’re crying.”

“I’m—” You inhale sharply, a sob wracking through your shoulders. “Shut up. Stop talking. You don’t know what’s happening. Fight me—just fight me. Why aren’t you fighting back?”

Lyney hates that you’re right—he doesn’t know what’s happening. He feels entirely useless. The person he looks up to, who has made him the better version of himself, and made him want to excel in everything he does for praise, is losing her mind right in front of him—he can’t even give you what you want.

“Why aren’t you fighting back? Isn’t this what you wanted?!”

“I didn’t want this!” Lyney shouts, moving swiftly to dodge the swing of your polearm. It misses him by a hair's breadth. Your fervid cries are making him lose composure. He doesn’t know what to do—doesn’t know how to make you stop.

“Pathetic,” you say, knocking him down. “This is who they’re calling the next successor? Beaten by someone who doesn’t have a Vision.”

Visions. Lyney learned that oftentimes, they dictate the fate and the potential of the orphans here. Those with Visions are sent off on more dangerous missions, drastically stretching their capabilities. And it’s true—Lyney wasn’t allowed to join Lynette on missions when she was the first to get one out of the two of them.

“You are still weak.”

“Shut up,” Lyney says, forcing bile down his throat. He doesn’t want to believe it. He wants to convince himself that you don’t mean that, but that means nothing if he thinks it, too. “Visions mean nothing.”

“To you, they don’t!”

Then, to Lyney’s horror, you swerve your entire body and strike to attack him with your everything. The bruises all over his skin sting, and his brain chants danger, danger. He panics, forcing a wave of fire to crash over and protect himself, but blue washes over his vision for a split second, and then he’s face to face with a tsunami of ice.

Ice.

Lyney blinks once, then looks down at his arm and realizes it’s been frozen over. It’s covered in ice, extinguishing the fire that’s enveloped his skin.

“What…?” he says dumbly, more confused than anything.

He turns back to you and sees you shaking uncontrollably, clutching a Cryo Vision to your chest. You’re looking at it as if it’ll bite you.

“No, no…” You look back at Lyney, eyes round. “Lyney—”

His eyes widened. “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I attacked you—you were just defending yourself—”

“Don’t console me, you idiot! I don’t know how to—get it off—” You cry out, roughly wiping away tears that are trickling down. The frost is creeping up on your face, turning your lips to blue. “Get away from me…!”

The numbness is getting to his arm, and he’ll probably get hypothermia if he keeps on ignoring it, but he can’t bring himself to do anything when you’re wailing and terrified of your own self.

Lyney’s hands hover around you, unsure if he should touch you and risk it. “It’s okay, I promise, just—just breathe—”

You slap his hand away, crumbling even more at the sight of his frozen arm.

“Y/N,” he breathes.

Then, your face is carefully blank, shutting him off—worse than any wall of ice. Then, you snatch your polearm from the ground and scramble away. Lyney rushes to follow after, but you’ve flicked your hand, and the door is blocked off by a thick wall of ice. Great. Just great.

Desperately, Lyney melts them away, but your footsteps have already gone out of earshot. It’s an answer in itself: Don’t bother. Take the hint, Lyney; you already messed it up.

“Fuck!” Lyney hisses, throwing his bow to the ground, causing it to crack and splinter against the cold tiles.

“Calm down,” he says to himself, thawing his arm with his Pyro. The sudden change in temperature hurts, but that doesn’t compare to what he’s feeling right now. “Y/N will be back. Calm down. Patience.”

It’s pouring uncontrollably outside. You shiver, shaking with each desperate step you take to get far, far away from the orphanage—from Lyney. The rain has melted the ice that’s crawling all over your face and fingers, but you can still feel it humming under your skin as if one wrong move and you’d kill something.

How ironic. Goading Lyney into using his Vision led to you getting yours. What a fucking joke.

You navigate through the crowd, hiding your Vision and speeding through. The gods have perceived you and blessed you because you’re worthy. Why only now? Why is it that it’s only when you’ve accepted you’re not worthy compared to Lyney?

You are still weak. You said it aloud, but you know more than anyone that it was not meant for Lyney.

A door swing opens, and you nearly slam onto it, if not for you skidding to a halt a second off.

The woman with brown locks and bright eyes who opened the door blinked curiously. “Hey, kid. What are you doing out here in this thunderstorm?”

You must look like a sight. Bruised and freezing, as flighty as a frightened animal. “I—U-Uhm…”

You’re given no script to follow this time. What should you say? What do you do?

You can feel all your limbs trembling. No—you can barely feel at all. “I’m fine. Miss. I was just… playing. I mean, running back home.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, taking it upon herself to ruin her dry dress and usher you inside. “Don’t worry. Come. Seek shelter here while waiting for it to die down.”

“I’m fine,” you try to say, but the inviting warmth inside has your next words dying. “You don’t have to do this, miss… I’m…”

Dangerous. Nearly killed the person that warmed his way through your heart. You frightened him. You frighten yourself.

“None of that.” She pokes your forehead, making you blink up at her in bewilderment. “You think too hard for your age. Come, I have tea and spare clothes.”

You obediently sit. Perhaps tea will help. With how tight you’re clutching your Vision, its frost is beginning to crawl up your arms.

i found it rly interesting lyney doesn’t wanna become the next successor, so i used it for plot! >:) ty for reading!!! if u reached all the way here im giving u a kiss on ur forehead

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz 

[stairain]

Make Hate to You.

Spencer’s convinced you like him a little more than you’re letting on, but you’re set on showing him just how wrong he is. 

Warnings: Sub Spencer, enemies to lovers, arguing, teasing, degradation, degrading names, blowjob, first orgasm, handjob, slapping, cocky Spencer, mean reader, reader talks a lot at the end but it’s because Spencer can literally not talk. 

WC: 5.7K

“Hey, Pretty boy.”

You said as you walked into his office and leaned against his desk with your arms crossed. You had a smug smile on your face as you looked at him.

Spencer’s lip twitches slightly in annoyance, but he suppresses it with a small smile. He leans back in his chair, hands behind his head, and looks up at you.

"Good morning. Is there something you need?"

You could sense the irritation in his voice, and had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Need you to double check over these files for me.. Think you can do that?” Your tone is almost mocking as you drop a stack of folders on his desk in front of him.

He gives you a blank look for a moment, then gives you a subtle half-smile before he picks up the folders and begins leafing through them. 

“Certainly. Anything to help, you know." It's subtle, but he just gave you a little bit of a dig there– just the way you hated.

"Anything else I can help you with?"

You cross your arms once more now that your hands are empty, and suck on your teeth as you look over his body.

“Yeah, maybe get yourself a new wardrobe.. Looks like you went to a library lost and found and called it a day.”

He chuckles a little bit and gives you a dry look. He takes the time to look over what you're wearing, and gives you a knowing smile while he looks you up and down.

"You aren't exactly in the position to call out anyone else's wardrobe choices," he says, but the amusement in his voice indicates this is all good fun for him. "Now, do you need something else, or do you just enjoy my company?" 

Your eyes squint at him with a look full of resentment, and you don’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes this time.

“Trust me, I’d rather be anywhere else right now than around you..” As you finish speaking, you turn around to walk back to your office.

He shakes his head a little, chuckling to himself, but doesn't stop you from leaving. You can feel his gaze on your back for an intense moment, before you hear him speak again, his voice dripping with amusement.

"Oh, I bet you would," He says, his voice lowering. He gives your back a little wave before he goes back to reading the files, not looking up again.

When you hear him muttering under your breath, you stop in your tracks and slowly turn to look at him.

���Excuse me?”

The man looks up from the files, and gives you a smug half-grin from over the tops of his spectacles. He takes a little time to look you over, then takes a little more extra time before he responds, as if he's deciding what to say.

"Oh,"

He replies, drawing out the beginning of the sentence for dramatic effect. He pauses for a beat, and then gives you a knowing look.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." He seems to find that answer quite humorous, because he chuckles a little bit, giving you a wink.

You slowly walk back over to him with an unamused look on your face. It was annoying how much he was enjoying this.

“Humor me, Reid.”

He gives you a mock-innocent look, but he smiles at your stern expression, and speaks in the same even, soft tone he always uses.

"Why, what happened to me getting on your nerves just a few moments ago?" The playful tease behind his words is more obvious this time, and his smile spreads a little. "Are you perhaps enjoying my company as well - even if you wouldn't admit it?"

You scoff and roll your eyes.

“Why would I enjoy your company? You’re nothing but a pain in my ass.”

He raises an eyebrow. He doesn't respond right away, though; he just studies you, thinking. He's good at reading people, and you know that, and you feel a little bit of that insecurity start to slip underneath the surface of your mask of confidence. You feel a little bit nervous now, because you think his eyes on you feel a little bit more serious than before, and you don't know where it's coming from or why.

"Really?"

“Yes, really. Do you need me to spell it out for you?” You cross your arms over your chest as you look down at him, your anger boiling over now. “I do not like you.”

His eyebrows arch a little at that, and you see the amusement in his eyes fade away. He seems to be looking at you in a new light, as his attention goes from soft-spoken and mild-mannered to slightly sharp with an intensity you don't often see. He looks at you for a beat before he speaks again, but this time his voice is different, a little lower. 

"Tell me why."

You froze as you tried to wrack your brain for something.. Why did you hate him so much? You’ve never had to think about it before, and the way you’re silent in response says far too much. Your mind has gone completely blank.

Spencer leans forward, hands on his desk, his gaze still intensely focused on you. If he noticed your discomfort, he didn't show it. He just kept looking at you with that serious intensity, waiting for you to say something. It goes on for just a few seconds too long, then, because you've never felt anything like that from him before.

"Let me rephrase that," he says softly. "Tell me what I have done to make you hate me." His voice is soft, but there's an edge of steel underneath it.

You take a deep breath before answering, and you can feel the anger seeping back into your system.

“Y-You’re just so.. you. Always so cocky over everything, thinking you’ve got everyone and everything figured out.. You don’t know shit, Reid.”

Your tone is pure venom now, and he doesn't seem to mind that, because he keeps looking at you with that same calm intensity. When you finish speaking, he's still and quiet for a moment, and then he starts to smile slowly, looking at you intently. He leans back in his chair, and his expression is smug again.

"You know what's funny?" he says nonchalantly. "This might be the most honest you've ever been."

With a groan, you throw your hands in the air in frustration.

“See this, this is what I’m talking about.. You think you’re so insightful, god it’s like your ego is inflated 100 times more than it should be.”

He laughs lightly and leans forward in his chair, opening a folder as you speak. He gives you an amused little smile.

"And now we've circled back around to you enjoying my company."

That smug comment seems to be for the specific purpose of irritating you. The look in his eyes is mocking you, and he seems to be trying to hide the mirth in his voice. You know you won't be able to back down from a challenge, though. You just can’t.

“God.. How many times do I have to say it before you understand? I do not enjoy your company, and I do not like you. Got that?”

He gives you a slow, confident smile. It's almost infuriating to you, seeing that smug look on his face when you’re so worked up over this, and he seems to know it. He speaks softly in that same even tone, but now there's a little playfulness in it. 

“You can tell yourself that," he replies, "but we both know it isn't true."

He pauses for a moment, closing the folder before leaning back in his chair, then looks at you directly.

"You're more fun when you're mad, anyway."

You dig your tongue into your cheek in fury and you shake your head to ground yourself for a moment. “Why are you doing this?”

Reid raises both eyebrows in surprise, and his smile grows a little bit - the look of smug cockiness on his face now very visible. He seems genuinely amused by that question.

"Doing what?" he asks bluntly. "Having a pleasant conversation with a charming co-worker like yourself?"

A roll of your eyes is all you give him in response to his comment. “You’re a so-called genius but can’t figure out what I’m talking about, really?”

Reid laughs softly and shakes his head at that, letting out a little chuckle.

"I was being facetious," he says, "but I take it you figured that out already. Your sarcasm detector must be very well tuned."

He's still smiling, but the amusement is fading again.

"What am I 'doing'? Really, lay it out clearly for me."

“The way you’re talking to me.. It’s like you’re talking to a child, like I’m some kind of idiot that you don’t take seriously.”

Why did you really care if he talked to you like this? You hated him, it’s not like you’re around him enough anyways for it to bother you as much as you’re letting it get to you now.

Spencer lets out a huff through his nose at that, and gives you an amused, cocky little smile. His tone is gentle, but there's also the hint of mockery behind it, and you know he's teasing you on purpose. He doesn't seem to be taking this seriously, but that only makes you feel more annoyed.

"And what about how you're talking to me?" he replies, his tone even more calm now, the smile a little bit more mocking and smug. "Does that not also describe how you're talking to me? Or is this just an instance where the rules don't apply to you?"

You take a heavy breath out of your nose and before you can stop yourself, you’re stepping towards him and striking your hand across his cheek, trying to shut him up and ruin that ego of his.

He takes the impact of your hand across his cheek and doesn't move a muscle. There's a red mark on his face where you've hit him, but he doesn't make a sound, and his face remains blank and emotionless. For a moment his eyes narrow in slight pain; then, he just smiles again, and the look of smugness returns, stronger than before.

"Is that all you have?" he asks, his voice still tempting you. "I expected a little more from you."

It’s just the two of you now in his office, and you quickly turn around to lock the door. When you turn back to him, you’re looming over his sat figure and grabbing him by the collar of his dress shirt.

“I am sick and fucking tired of the way you act so high and mighty, Spencer. You’re nothing but an ego inflated asshole.” Your free hand raises and slaps him once more, and you relish in the way his head jerks to the side.

Once again, he doesn't even protest when you slap him, and just looks at you with that same smug, condescending expression, letting you vent. It's enough to make you even more furious, and there's a part of you that's getting more and more frustrated by his calm, collected response.

In that way, it feels like he's winning. He smirks, as if reading your mind, and responds in that same calm and collected tone.

"Keep going," he says, not moving an inch even though you're gripping him tightly. "Get it out of your system." 

You’re too clouded by anger to notice the slight tilt of desperation in his tone, and you listen to him, raising your hand and smacking his cheek as hard as you possibly can.

His head jerks to the side again with the force of your slap, but once again, he doesn't move or try to stop you. You might start to think he's enjoying this, if it wasn't for the slightly pained expression on his face whenever you hit him. You're tempted to just keep going, because it feels like you're at least getting your revenge out. There's no one else around, no one to stop you - you could do whatever you wanted.

Before he can let another obnoxious word out of that smug mouth of his, you let go of his shirt and push him back into the chair. The hand that was holding him strikes him in the opposite direction, and you can feel the sting in your hand with how hard you slapped him. You felt like your heart was beating out of your chest, and your lungs would give out with how hard you were breathing.

Reid's head flies to the side, and he lets out a tiny yelp of surprise as you push him back into his chair and slap him again. His glasses slightly fall down his nose, and he pushes them back up as he tries to get himself under control. You can see anger flickering underneath that mask of calm again, and that urge to keep going starts to bubble back up.

You roll your eyes as you cross your arms and look down at him with the same smug expression he’s been sporting for the past 30 minutes.

“What happened? No shitty comment to make about me? No condescending words? You were so talkative before.” Your voice is absolutely dripping with rage, and you can feel yourself getting angrier and angrier as you speak.

His eyes narrow just a little, but he still doesn't move or try to speak. Instead, he just regards you with that same condescending look as before, as if waiting for you to be done. You feel no remorse or sympathy for the way you've just treated him.

Do you feel proud? He certainly deserves it, and he knew that better than anyone.

Finally, Spencer speaks - he lets out a deep, tired sigh as he looks up at you. His voice is still quiet, and his expression is neutral. "You done throwing your tantrum?"

You let out an angry laugh at the audacity he has and look away from him before pointing at him in an accusatory way.

“You can just never get enough, huh? Always teasing me, pushing me over the edge, and still, you want more.. What is your problem?”

You had really thought those slaps would break him, make him shut up, but you were severely wrong.

He leans back in this chair, one eyebrow raised in an expression of disbelief. He looks at you for a solid moment, studying you with that same arrogant, superior look. When he finally speaks, you can feel the disdain in his voice.

"Me?"

He says, raising both eyebrows.

"What kind of person asks what someone else's problem is, right after they physically assault them multiple times?" The irony in his tone is thick; you know it, and he knows it, and he's daring you to respond to it. 

“The same person who knows just how much they enjoyed it.” You dryly say, and stare down at him with a knowing look. It had taken you a while, but you realized he wasn’t just egging you on for no reason.. No. He was enjoying the way you hurt him.

That smug expression on his face falters just a little bit when you speak. His eyes go wide with surprise, and he tilts his head to the side, not expecting that at all. He clears his throat, trying to collect himself again. It takes him a moment, and he doesn't respond right away..

"And why do you think I enjoy it?" His voice is lower now, and quiet, barely louder than a whisper. It's a different kind of intensity than before. He really wants to know, and he'll stop at nothing to get that answer.

You raise your chin to gesture towards himself, and your eyes flicker down to the blatant show of arousal in his pants. The poor fabric of his slacks was being pushed beyond capacity, and you wouldn’t be surprised if any minute now the threads would start ripping over that bulge of his. 

“Tight dress pants really aren’t your friend, Reid.”

Spencer’s eyes shoot wide, and his breath hitches. He looks down at himself for a moment, then he looks back at you, his eyes wide and his face suddenly, deeply red. He's a little bit flustered, and he seems to be at a loss for words for a moment..

Then he regains his composure, giving you a little wink and tilting his head a little bit as he speaks. The smugness is back in his voice, that self-assuredness like he had forgotten his embarrassment all together.

"You could just say you enjoy it too, you know?"

You scoff.

“Of course I do, why wouldn't I enjoy taking my anger out on you. You deserve it.”

He gives you a little grin in response and lets out a little laugh, clearly amused at that. "Well, at least you're honest." He leans forward in his chair again. 

"Now, I have an idea. You keep saying I deserve it, right? So, why'd you stop? I deserve some more, don't you think?" He smirks again, and you can practically see the smugness building up under the surface. It wasn't just smugness, no, it was arousal. He was tempting you, and it was working. 

It pissed you off to see him enjoying this so much, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but like it. After taking a few moments to think to yourself, you nod.

“Stand up.”

Spencer gets up from his chair, standing over you, and he looks down at you, still with that complacent expression. He crosses his arms over his chest, waiting patiently for you to do something next. Your heart starts to throb in your chest again. Something about the way he's waiting for you to act, and the anticipation in the air, brings that same excitement back in you.. But it's a little bit more intense this time. You're not sure why yet, though.

You can see him open his mouth to say something, but you’re quick to slap him to shut him up before he can even think of speaking again.

“Shut the fuck up.”

His ghost of words are cut short by your slap, and he grunts slightly from the force of your blow. His head flies to the side again, before he just regards you once more with that same cocky expression. The arrogance in his energy and the tension between you two is thick in the air now - more so than before. You can feel it building up between the two of you, like the tension is almost too much to handle.

"More," he begs simply. "Harder."

Your face twists in a wicked smirk at his words, and you shake your head in disbelief.

“Spencer Reid, renowned genius who thinks he knows everything.. Is nothing but a fucking slut.” 

You accentuate your words with another blow to his cheek with your hand.

You strike him again, and you can see his smile grow as his head reels to the side again and his breath hitches. There's a hint of pink on his cheek where you've hit him, as his face heats up with the sudden excitement. He lets out a quiet laugh at your words, then shakes his head. 

"Keep talking like that.." He moves closer to you, his smile growing, that amused gleam in his eyes. "You're just getting me worked up."

You can practically feel your heart stop at his words, and despite knowing exactly how he is, you were surprised with how forward his comment was.

“That’s why you enjoy our fights so much, isn’t it?” Your voice is low as you look up at him with narrowed eyes. “It gets you off that I’m so mean to you, doesn’t it?”

Spencer’s smile shifts a little bit, now an obvious, hungry grin spreading across his face. He moves in ever closer to you, not moving his hands from where they are. He looks back at you, his dark eyes piercing and insistent with that same smug look, an obvious tease and taunt, his ego starting to take over again.

He lets out another soft laugh, his breath heavy– and he speaks just as low as you did, "And what if it does?"

You can feel his breath between the two of you because of how close he was to you now, and you huff through your nose in amusement.

“Then I’d say you’re nothing but a whore.”

Your taunt only makes his grin grow wider, and his eyes light up with excitement. Then, with one swift movement, he moves his hands up from behind his back. He grabs you before you can even react, pulling you in even closer to him, so that your faces are so close you could kiss.

His eyes are lit up, his face flushed with excitement as he looks down at you - and the self-assured grin of confidence he has is practically all you can see.

"Say it again."

Your eyes flicker don’t to his lip, and you can’t conceal the way you nervously swallow at how close he is to you now. 

“You, are nothing but a fucking whore, Spencer.”

Your voice is slightly shaky, but he doesn’t seem to notice. When you repeat your taunt, his grin grows even wider. His eyes flit back up to yours, and you can see that satisfaction in them– the sense of pride that he's gotten one up on you. He leans in just enough that your faces are practically touching - and then, he grabs you with both hands, and pulls you in close by your jaw. Before you can even register what's happening, he kisses you, his lips pressing against yours– and it's not gentle, and it's not soft, but hard and possessive.

Your eyes immediately flutter shut as his lips collide into yours in an aggressive, passion filled kiss. Anger and arousal was seeping into your veins as you kissed him back with just as much force as he was.

His arms tighten around you when you kiss him back, and his lips press against yours more aggressively as you respond, returning your kiss. He breathes hard and presses himself into you– the two of you are so close you feel like you could mold into each other. Despite everything, there's no denying how intimate this is, how intense.. Even the feelings of anger and hurt are overshadowed by the pure adrenaline and need of this moment.

As you push him back against a wall, your frantic hands blindly find the buckle of his belt, and you make quick work to take it off of him, and Spencer pulls himself even closer to you, leaning in hard as he kisses you passionately.

The belt falls down to the floor with a clatter, your hands getting tangled up in it a little before you take it off, and then you two are locked into each other, the only sounds to be heard are his heavy breathing and the steady beating of your hearts. It's intense; they're pounding in your chest so hard you feel like it's physically pushing you closer to him.

When your hands find the waist of his pants, you’re undoing the zipper as quickly as possible and pushing them down his thighs. You sigh into his mouth as you slot your tongue between his lips.

Spencer breaks the kiss, but doesn't pull back entirely– you still see that desperate, needful look in his eyes as he watches you do that.

"Need something?" He smirks, a teasing timbre in his voice, and he shifts his arms so that his hands are firmly on your hips - the same arrogant, teasing look he's been giving you the whole time. He knows what you're trying to do. 

“You.”

Is all you say before you’re practically ripping his underwear down his body.

He seems to be caught off guard by your sudden forwardness. You manage to pull his underwear down easily enough, and he lets out a soft gasp when you do, a little bit of color flushing on his cheeks.

Then, for the first time all night, that smugness vanishes. He seems.. speechless, for just a second. The look in his eyes is still one of desperation, but you can see genuine surprise there too. He swallows hard, and then he speaks quietly.

"Okay."

You lower yourself to your knees in front of him with a smirk. The carpeted floor of his office scrapes against the fabric of your pants, but it only serves as a reminder just how painful this entire situation is.

“Got nothing else to say, Reid? That’s a first.”

He watches you, his breath hitches again as his eyes go wide.

"No.." he says, his voice a little breathless all the sudden. His face is flustered, his whole body tensing as your smirk grows. But before you can say anything else, he's speaking again.

"What are you waiting for?"

You lean in closer to him, and your breath ghosts over his already hard and dripping cock.

“For you to shut that smart mouth of yours..”

Spencer lets out a deep, shaky breath as you say that, and you can almost feel it when your breath touches him. He shivers a little bit at your touch, and his breath catches for a moment, before his eyes close and he leans his head back.

He's silent for a moment– and then, as if he couldn't help himself, he opens his eyes and lets that stupid grin take over his features again.

"Make me."

It's a taunt, a dare that he knows you won't be able to resist. 

You don’t entertain his words, but instead you just lean your head forward and encompass his entire length in your mouth, hoping it would serve as enough of a warning.

He makes a strangled sound when you do that, and he then lets out a soft, breathless moan. You can feel the urgency in him suddenly build, as the smugness disappears and he tenses up. He's barely breathing, the whole universe narrowing to the two of you at this moment. His eyes are shut tight, as if he can't even look at you at all.

Your mouth is warm and wet–so so wet around him, and you wouldn’t be surprised to find out if he’s never experienced this feeling before. Your smile through your mouthful, and close your eyes as you slowly pull your lips up his shaft, moving over the tip and licking over the precum he’s been gushing ever since you pulled down those briefs of his. 

You pull back and off of him, then look up at him with wide teasing eyes.

“You know..” Wrapping your hands around him, you start to slowly, teasingly, drag them up and down his rock hard member. 

“You’re a lot more attractive when you’re not talking..” And you don’t give him another moment to think of responding before your hands leave him and your jaw goes slack as you take him into your mouth again.

Spencer slaps a hand over his mouth at the feeling, attempting to conceal the pathetic whimpers he was letting out right now. He was more concerned with not letting you know how much he was enjoying this, rather than being caught by anyone still in the building. 

His eyes roll back in his head before he can think about it any longer. Shaky moans push themselves through trembling fingers, and he can almost feel his legs giving out under him. 

One of your hands is holding him steady at the base of his cock, and each time you push your head forward to take him down your throat, you can feel your spit and his arousal sticking to your fingers. 

He’s big, which was a shocker to say the least. He felt heavy against your tongue, and filled your mouth like no problem. Usually guys like him that were all talk, that felt the need to use their large ego to overcompensate, sported less than impressive dicks. 

But Spencer, Spencer.. You’d let the way you could feel his cock in your neck each time you throated him do the talking. You could barely move your tongue to swirl around the veins that lined his length, and you could feel the back of your throat already bruising with how big he was. 

The sloppiness of it all is disgusting, and god do neither of you care. You can’t find it in you to care that your lipstick was smearing all over your lips and flesh of his cock, and he can’t find it in him to care that every time you swallowed him whole, pools of spit dripped down onto his leather shoes. 

“F-Fuck me..” 

The man above you all but whined out. You couldn’t tell if it was an expression of the pure euphoria coursing through his body, or if it was simply a request. You took it as the latter, knowing your response would annoy him either way. 

Pulling back from his shaft, you bring a hand up to wipe your mouth. A useless task, really, you know it’d only be a few more moments before you’d be covered in your own drool again. 

“Don’t think you deserve that yet, thought you hated me, pretty boy? What happened?” 

Your hand at his base starts to pull up his length, and back down, you repeated this same torturous pattern as your voice dripped with faux interest, you didn’t care what he had to say, you just enjoyed teasing him far too much. 

Spencer removes the hand that was draped over his mouth and practically slams it down against the wall behind him, scratching at it as if it would bring him any strength right now. 

“O-Oh.. B-But you th–think I deserve this? Thought you hated me..” 

You clicked your tongue in response, he was right, and you were finally fine with admitting it. The makeshift hole you’ve made with your fingers comes up the tip of his cock, and you tighten your fist around it. There’s a grotesque squelching noise as you squeeze a mix of your spit and his precum under your grip. 

“You do deserve this.. Not because I think you’re overdue for something like this.. Or because I have a little crush on you..”

Your grip only tightens with each taunting word that leaves your lips. His knees buckle underneath him at the sensation and you watch as his pupils are suddenly disappearing under those pleasure ridden eyelids of his. 

“Because, I bet that brain of yours is full of nothing but mush right now, isn’t that right?” 

Spencer reluctantly nods as he whimpers and you can feel the warm spurt of precum he shoots out at your words. 

“You deserve this, because I want nothing more to prove to you that you are nothing but a desperate, worthless, stupid, slut.” 

With each insult that shot into him, you paired it with an equally harsh stroke of his sensitive head. Wet noises filled the room and your ears as your fist moved over him faster than you’ve ever seen anything move. 

“I-I’m.. Oh–Oh my–fuck..” 

The feeling against the sensitive underside of his cock has him almost keeling over your body in pleasure, and he lets out the most desperate, pathetic whine you’ve ever heard. 

“Isn’t that right, Reid?”

And to your surprise, his head is frantically nodding before you can even finish your sentence. He tries to babble something out, but his words are unintelligible as he’s battling with his moans and whimpers for a place to be heard. 

His body is folded over at this point, but you’re determined to break him as much as you can for the time being, so you lean in closer to him when he tries to pull his hips away. You’re not even touching the rest of his length, you’re just solely focusing on abusing the soaked head as he cries and tries to beg for mercy.

“Please, please, please..” 

Is all you can make out through his noises before you can feel his hips stutter and still as you feel your fist fill with his piping hot release. You let out a small moan of surprise of your own at the feeling of him quickly pumping his cum into your grip, and look up at him. 

You’re met with wide eyes looking down at you, and shaking fingers covering his mouth the best he could. His glasses were fogged over slightly from how sweaty and hot his skin was. He was trembling above you, barely able to hold himself up at this point anymore. It was like he was just as surprised as you were to see his cum spurting out of his cock and spilling from your hands. 

And surely, after months of pent up anger and hatred between the two of you, also brings pent up, everything. You feel like it’s an eternity before his hips finally stop stuttering and his cock stops pulsing and shooting out webs of cum like he’s getting paid for it. 

Pulling back from his spent length, you can’t help but laugh at how much of the thick fluid there was. It was coating your palm and dripping off of his tip, almost weighing down his cock with how much there was. 

“Jesus.. look at you, Reid. You always make this much of a mess?”

Your words seem to make him all the redder, and as realization hits you the longer he stays quiet, both your eyebrow and your lips quirk up. 

“Don’t tell me..”

Spencer’s chest heaved up and down as he closed his eyes shut and pursed his lips. He shook his head and his mouth went dry as he spoke.

“Alright, then I won’t.” 

Before you can stop yourself, you’re laughing in his face in disbelief. Your head bows down in amusement. 

“You’re just on a roll today with how pathetic you can get, huh?” 

He just stays silent and lets you tease him, hoping that you’d be done soon and you can go back to hating each other like you always do. With one last chuckle, you stand up off your knees and look at him in his blissed out eyes, motioning towards your soiled hands. 

“Make yourself useful for once and help me clean up, would you?”

[kangaracha]

love trending

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pairing changbin x reader

genre romance, meet cute, love at first sight, humor, fluff

summary somehow, someway, seo changbin finds and likes a TikTok of yours, and you think that single like is the end of your fleeting encounter. but fate has other plans...

a/n hi, hello, hope everyone is doing well! so how many times do we think i can sneak post on roo's tumblr before she removes my access. lol anyway. this is her birthday present that i totally didn't write in literally two nights on a whim. and misled her about the plot (but not really). i hope everyone enjoys, and happy birthday roo :)

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---

You'll be honest - most of the time you hate your job. 

It's not about the people, or the place, but mainly because you would much rather spend your time doing anything else. Singing, drawing. The puzzle books your aunt got you last year that you never found the time to glance in. Dancing, above all else. Moving to the music, dropping on beat, and matching that rhythm perfectly...the views on TikTok didn't really matter to you at the end of the day, because at least you were able to do something that you loved. 

Performing on your own time, doing your own thing. It was freeing, and exciting, and made your chest swell up in pride when you looked in the mirror and were happy with what looked back at you. You weren't someone held down by the push and go of life, when you danced, or after. 

You were exactly who you wanted to be.

"You know I think your break was up like, five minutes ago," Seulji whispers as she slides into the booth next to you, shoulder bumping with yours. "Do you think anyone noticed?" 

"Aren't you supposed to be serving customers?" you say without looking up from your phone, flicking to the next social media post. Your lips curve in a smile when one of your favorite groups pops up, starting a live. You click into it, and send a few hearts as soon as you're able to. Your chest fills - something small to help get you through the day. It was nice having silly little things like this to look forward to from a music group you enjoyed listening to. 

"Only when they ask," Seulji quips, sliding closer, tone playful. She's been your co-worker for ages, and you got along better than most, sarcasm your second language. The customers always left gleaming reviews about the two of you, so the manager was lenient. You really couldn't complain. 

Until Seulji glances at your phone screen and the teasing begins. 

"Your boyfriend's doing a live again?" she questions with a knowing curve to her lips. 

You blush, stomach twisting with an emotion you don't know how to name. Sure, you were a little too interested at times, but what was wrong with that? You weren't over the top, or crazy, or...anything you wouldn't want to admit. You were just up to date on their next shows, the newest album, the cutest member of the group...

"Stop that," you chide quietly, pulling your phone closer. "And this isn't even the right one." 

At the end of the day, Seulji was just playing around, and you knew that. She had even gone the extra mile to try and learn some of their names, though she was still confusing one or two. But still - 

"Oh right, sorry. Wrong arms," she groans, though she's still smiling wide. "Is this one...Hyunjin?"

You're happily shocked. Had she finally dived into the video folder you'd left sitting open for her a few weeks ago? You knew it was a slippery slope; it was easy to sink in once you were hooked. Maybe she finally took the bait. "Yes, actually," you say, turning to give her a look, "how did you know?" 

Seulji shrugs, busy fiddling away on her own phone. 

She's probably texting her boyfriend. It was all she ever did these days, and the thought didn't make you all that jealous. Or maybe it did? You weren't sure. All you knew was that they got together one Friday evening through a cupcake prom ask, and it was all Seulji did since. It was maybe the one thing she did that left a bad taste in your mouth, but what did you know? Maybe you would act the same if you ever got a boyfriend of your own, though the ten cats and barn idea was still something you were starting to prefer after every failed attempt at a date. 

The bell above the front door rings a few times then, and you lift your head once you notice that the chatter around your hidden corner booth has grown. The line for coffee and pastries has grown enough that the two left behind the counter have grown frantic, rushing around each other. The manager is busy dealing with a very not nice-looking customer at the end, going over their receipt line by line. 

You exhale and drag yourself out of the booth, throwing your phone in your pocket and fixing your apron as you go, strapping your hat around your messy bun. "Wish me luck," you tell Seulji, who gives a wave of her hand and a few words of encouragement in response before turning back to her phone.  

The sudden crowd is easy to manage once you get back into the swing of things, and the noise of the small cafe has died down considerably as you turn back around to help the next customer in line, who was hiding behind the rest of the line in a baseball cap and a dark sweatshirt and baggy pants. A face mask covers the bottom half of his face as he greets you, eyes crinkling with his hello.  

And something about his eyes, the tone of his voice, the rough edge - you swear you've heard it before. 

For a long moment, you just look at him, lost in thought. Why did he seem familiar? You don't think you've met him before, because you were usually good with faces, but this was throwing you off. It was a nice day out too, why would someone be so keen to be hidden when -

"I might sound absolutely crazy but do I know you, somehow?" The words are flying out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you are mortified, but then to your surprise, he simply laughs and ducks his head, fingers fumbling around the crumpled money he holds in his hands. 

When he lifts his head again, he's looking right at you, searching for something. After a minute that feels as though it lasts for eternity, it seems he finds whatever it was he was looking for, and leans in, one arm against the counter. He lifts a hand up to tug his mask down, and you're meant with the softest smile you've ever seen, and a face you would never forget. 

Your heart jumps, and you wonder if you gasp out loud by accident. 

"Oh my god," you whisper, barely able to contain yourself. But there's still a good amount of people in the shop, and he obviously left the house in the best disguise he could muster, so the last thing you want to do is be the cause of him being recognized by anyone else, especially if he seemed to trust you enough to reveal who he was in the first place. "What are you doing here?"

You're so dumb, you think a second after the words have left you, and you're preparing yourself for him to say it right back to you, but he simply chuckles and gives a small wave of his hand. "I'm hungry," he replies easily, grinning, an echo of a long-lost moment you swear you've watched on a few too many times. "Where else would I go?" 

You're absolutely freaking out. 

You can't believe this is happening right now, let alone to you. Oh gosh, what if someone sees? What if you say something too loud? You want to say his name but then you're too afraid you'll draw too much attention, and what with phones and cameras everywhere these days, but oh good god it's Seo Changbin in front of you and you have never felt more like a fangirl until this very moment. 

"I'm - oh my," you stumble and stutter for a moment, and your face is burning hot, and your stomach is fluttering and your chest is tight, and all too suddenly you don't understand what is happening as your next breath falters in your throat -

And then a warm hand is gently gripping at your wrist. 

"Hey," he says. Kind. Far too kind. "Take a deep breath for me." He pauses, and gives a tiny squeeze to your skin. "Can you do that for me?" 

You nod, and then blink, once, twice. Your eyes lock with his, tracing his every feature. The concerned turn to the corner of his lips, the look in his eyes. The unruly curls that have fought their way from under his cap. The warmth of his palm pressed against your arm. 

An idol is standing in front of you, and you've gone and made yourself out to be a complete fool. You're definitely someone special alright.

Eventually, you're able to push some air through your lungs. Your chest shudders with one breath, and then another, and another, until you're able to properly breathe again, and you exhale, shaking your head as soon as you're able to. 

"I'm so sorry," you mumble, feeling ashamed. You're wasting his time, and there's customers still waiting, and you can feel your manager looking over at you like you've done something wrong. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean - I don't know what came over me." 

Changbin's hand slips from your wrist. You miss the contact more than you'd like to admit. 

"Please don't apologize," he rebukes, leaning back. He doesn't bother to put his mask back. "Are you feeling better?" 

"Yes," you're quick to say, moving back over to the register. "Thank you. Sorry again." He looks happier now, eyes locked on you. His hand lingers on the counter, money nearly forgotten. If you had no restraint, you'd reach down and hold his hand. Something tells you to just say what you want to say. You decide to listen to it. "Thank you for the music that you guys make. You're amazing, and you probably don't remember but you - you liked a dance of mine a few weeks ago. I just wanted to say that it meant a lot to me. Sorry for the cringey caption."

Changbin shifts, and then...is he...blushing? You must be going crazy, or seeing things. 

"I remember, actually. You were amazing." 

He moves again, and you glance down, trying to avoid his gaze. You feel like some giddy schoolgirl, and you needed to reel it in. A few minutes longer and your manager would be over asking what was wrong. Be thankful and move on, right? He said he was hungry, maybe he'd like a coffee too. You could do that at the very least. Maybe he'd - 

"Can I..." he stops and sighs, holding his phone out now, looking over to the left. His cheeks are dark enough for you to not be imagining anything. "Can I have your number?" 

You look over at him, and then down at his phone. 

You take it. 

And then you put in your number, and pretend you don't see the smile he tucks into his shoulder.

---

---

Logically, you know this is the worst way to go about this. You know you'll come to regret this in the morning, mortified and blushing. And yet, as he pushes you back against the wall, and kisses you like no one else ever has, you find that you can't really bring yourself to care about what you might think of yourself in the morning. 

This isn't just some random guy kissing you - this is Seo Changbin. The Changbin. The one who sought you out of millions, billions even, of users and took it upon himself to like your TikTok. And not just any TikTok, but the one of you dancing silly and stupid, a cheesy caption dazzled with hearts and arrows around his name below it. 

God, the embarrassment. 

(God, the thought of him seeing you out of trillions - )

"Y/N," he breathes, hot breath fanning across an exposed collarbone, shivers racing down your spine. You hadn't even noticed him pulling away, so lost in...in all of this, speechless and dumb and flushed, and then he presses a kiss to the cusp of your shoulder, and you positively melt. 

You want to say something, anything, but it's hard to talk when all you can focus on is the feel of his lips, and the warmth of his chest pressing against yours, and the curve of his arms your fingers can barely wrap around - 

He bites down, and your cheeks burn at the sound that escapes you, pleasant shock coursing through your body. You feel his smirk pressing against your skin, before he makes sure to take care of you, and then he's back to kissing your lips, and you wondered how you even made it through the concert. 

He's gentle. Kind. It almost annoys you how careful he's being, pushing close to the limit, and then backing away before he breaks it. He's a tease like this, and you're not sure if he's doing this on purpose or waiting for you to make the first move, so you decide to make things clear. He's kind, but you know there must be something else hiding beneath, ready to take control and leave you gasping for breath. 

"I won't break," you whisper, pulling away just enough that your lips brush his in the intermittent. "Just so you know." He breathes heavily against you for a long moment, one of your fingers trailing along his arm before coming to a stop on his chest, resting your palm flat against it, right where his heart is. 

You swear you feel it skip a beat, and wonder how your own doesn't stop beating.

The next moment is a blur of movement as Changbin wraps his arms around your middle and lifts you up, kissing you madly as he carries you towards the couch that sits on the other side of the room, your heart racing. He holds you above it for a long moment, and then tosses you down, enough that your back bounces against the springs, but he's climbing on top of you before you can worry that you'll tumble to the ground, thick arms boxing you in. 

You look up at him as he stares down at you, getting lost easily in his eyes so close to your own. He's beautiful really, up close like this, flawless honey skin and an easy smile. Saying he's handsome doesn't do him justice when he's close like this, and you find yourself at a loss for words again. 

How could anyone not like him? 

"I like you," he says, leaning in close. "A lot more than I should." 

A feeling you can't put a name to erupts in your stomach, leaving room for nothing else. You don't know how it's possible for somebody to be this charming, on and off the screen, and you don't know how someone like this decides on you when he could have anyone else in the world. 

You don't know how that makes you feel, really, when he looks at you like you are the very world itself. 

"I - I like you too," you whisper, though you nearly stumble your way through, his eyes crinkling at the corners as laughs, the sound encompassing the room. "A lot." 

He closes the distance, his lips brushing against your own. "I noticed," he teases, and you wonder if your cheeks can get any more red. "Is this okay?" 

You nearly laugh out loud at the question, though it warms your heart that he even asked in the first place. How would this ever not be okay? Your past self would be screaming, and your future self probably still is. "Yes," you say, eyes flickering between his own and his lips, "A million times yes." 

He kisses you rough then, pushing closer, arms closing you in. 

You kiss back and tell yourself that you won't regret one single thing.

[sen-ya]

Life After Info Post

[Click here to access the Life After Digital Comic Book]

Summary: Two years ago, a viral outbreak rose the dead. Considering how his life had gone up to this point, surgeon Trafalgar Law figured this might as well happen too. When a supply run into the nearby city gets intercepted by a seemingly reckless and impulsive former patient, the dependable routine Law had settled into in this new life shatters. He finds himself exposed — his body out in the infected landscape, his conscious clawing to define what he believes is right, his heart begrudgingly deciding to find a new home on his sleeve. Maybe there’s more than a virus roaming the new world that can bring a dead man back to life.

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence, zombies/body horror (but lbr I am not good at making scary things look scary)

Relationships: Luffy x Law

Update Schedule: New page every Monday/Wednesday/Friday

Page Count: [37 posted | 55 drawn]

Latest Update: [7/21/24] WOWEE did I get myself carried away this morning. I just spent 5 hours organizing my comics and creating the digital comic book pages. I could have spent that time drawing or idk not doing what I do for my job, but I cannot be stopped. Anyway I blocked out 30 pages of this comic last week and they include the most intense action sequence I've ever done in my gotdang life. Wish me luck because I am nervous about tying down all my drawings lmao.

OLD UPDATES:

[6/29/24] HULLO! I'm doing so bad at keeping my masterposts updated lately I am sorry. All pages of life after are tagged life after if you're ever looking between masterpost updates! Also exciting update, I finally have figured out all the different plot points i'm gonna be hitting (yay!). I got hung up on something for awhile that made me not wanna work on this project, but I'm back at it. I think we'll end up with 6-7 parts! I have probably another 80-100 pages to draw lol. Also i got the app Magic Poser and it's AWESOME and I immediately used it to block out sets cuz MAN I hate backgrounds.

[6/10/24] HELLO. I'm sorry I've been shit at updating my masterposts lately. It's easiest to do from my computer, which I rarely use, and life has been happening. I also can't believe I bungled the queue and posted pg19 before pg18 i am very sorry 🤦 Eventually I'll have to turn this into an airtable base I'm sure, but until that day comes where I have like 100 pages of this comic we're stickin to the regular post lmao

[5/26/23] I got real caught up in doing summer of lawlu comics this week and this is the first week since the first week of April I haven't drawn new Life After pages and it feels weird 🙊

[5/19/24] More Luffy backstory comin' this week! :^)

[5/12/24] Updating now so get myself on schedule to update on Sundays like I had been with my other comic master post!

[5/8/24] Thank you to everyone who's liked/reblogged/comment on the first few pages!! It means the world to me that anyone's reading my silly little comics.

[4/28/24] HULLO. It’s happeninnng. I’ve spent the last few weeks working on this comic, and I gotta make this post so I can start queuing pages & link this in them! This is the most like….legit? Comic endeavor I’ve undertaken perhaps….ever. I’m very nervous about committing to how long it will need to be lol. This story is dear to my heart — zombie content is kind of my very favorite. I’ve always found it to be a great backdrop for exploring themes like grief, coping with change, community, and learning to live again. It’ll be a long haul but I hope you’ll ride it out with me!! Tomorrow I’ll be posting the first two pages. After that a page will post every Monday/Wednesday/Friday. As of this post I’ve completed over 20 pages so that I have a good lead on what’s posting and continuing to write, so I’m hopeful that’s a cadence I’ll be able to maintain. I’ll update this post weekly to include the most recent pages the way I do with my main comics master post. All pages will be tagged 'Life After' and I'll tag any pages with zombies in them with 'zombie' for blacklisting etc.