#I hope I didn't stray too far from your idea :/

[logaenhowlett]

MY BEATIN’ HEART BELONGS TO YOU - L.H.

Summary: Logan believed he was sentenced to a life of solitude until he found you - an unexpected dawn promising the sunrise of a love he always deemed impossible. But then again, destiny never was merciful to fools like him.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, All aboard the Fluff Train with scheduled stops at Angst Station, Established relationship, Hurt/Comfort, How I Met Your Mother reference (iykyk), Reader can manipulate electricity

A/N: 5.9k - strap in, gang. Would you believe me if I said all this was inspired by a debate I had with a friend about the implications of 'I want you' vs 'I need you'. The mind works in silly, little ways sometimes. Title creds to Green Day. Enjoy, you lovely people!

MASTERLIST

Gone were the days when nightmares would rouse him from the sanctuary of sleep. Logan couldn't remember the last time he'd awoken in a cold sweat, sheets shredded from fighting invisible monsters, alarm clock glaring an angry red amongst the darkness. No, all that disappeared once you'd made a home within his arms.

It had been about three months, verging on four if anyone was keeping count - and he, most definitely, was - since you'd swept him away in a tide of fondness and pure affection. The shadow of a man who once roamed the mansion now nurtured a newfound lightness in his heart. Logan wasn't perfect, far from it, chosen paths that only led to a labyrinth of despair, but he was right about one thing: you.

And that verdict especially rings true every morning. The tangle of limbs, the soft ebb and flow of sleepy murmurs, the stray kisses grazing warm skin, he wonders how he'd survived so long deprived of such tender pleasures. He's never going back, that much he knows.

His lips trace a lazy line along your neck, lingering a second longer beneath your jaw. There's a chuckle aching to break through at the thought of your sleep-induced irritation - it’s too early, you'd whine each time. And each time, his half-hearted apologies would be long-forgotten as you meet his gaze, a tempest of desire swirling within hazel.

It's amidst the following moments of peace when he's most thankful for the thick walls surrounding the room. The aftermath of your intimate exchanges always leaves him mesmerised, heart racing at the reminder of your touch. His mutation didn't allow for the full effects of alcohol to poison his inhibitions, yet as your smile gleams at him, Logan's sure he's never been more drunk.

"Where're you goin'?"

He's shaken from his musings as you roll away from his embrace, huffing in disbelief when you don't seem to stop. But, the string of complaints dies on his tongue as he watches you slip on the shirt he'd discarded the night before, turning around amused, "What? You wanna stay here all day?"

"Got nowhere to be."

"Correction - you have nowhere to be. I, on the other hand, need to grade those assignments or Jean'll actually explode my brain this time."

Logan hmphs. He'd been looking forward to lounging around this weekend, positively thrilled at the idea of letting the hours simply trickle away in the quiet comfort of your company. However, he's also one too familiar with Jean's intolerance for slacking off and lessons were definitely learned.

"Let her try," he counters meekly.

As you circle the bed to part ways with a chaste kiss, Logan seizes the opportunity to pull you down, pinning you beneath him in one effortless move. His lips capture yours with a deliberate, sensual slowness - the urgency from earlier now completely absent. The feeble protests vanish from your mind as he breaks away, a twinkle of mischief playing on his smile.

His fingers trace the curve of your wrist, hovering over the faint crescent moon inked in black. It was the mark of your soulmate. Of him, he hopes. You'd shown him quite early into the relationship, spending many a night whispering theories and speculations about its meaning. At first, he expressed only timid fascination, a question here and there spurred by gentle curiosity while you rambled on and on. But as his heart began to tether itself to yours, the mark took on a new significance. Every time his gaze fell upon it, his thoughts would spiral from longing and self-doubt, wondering if he was the one destined to share a lifetime with you.

Over the decades he'd been alive, Logan had searched every crevice of his body for his own. In his youth, it was a fleeting thought, brushed aside by the assumption that his healing factor wouldn't allow for these scars. Yet as time passed, he was terrified of waking up to a branded promise - a cruel trick that condemned his soulmate to a life with him. After he met you, those fears were soon eclipsed by a yearning, a desperate hope for a sign of his worthiness. Every day, he lingered by the mirror, gaze sweeping across his reflection, praying for an identical crescent moon to mark his skin.

"Logan." Your laugh draws his attention, "I'm never leaving the bed at this rate."

"Darlin', that's the general idea."

He relents anyway, falling onto his back with a soft grunt as you stand up. The dopey grin you're biting has him narrowing his eyes in suspicion, wondering what goddamn joke popped into your mind. Before he can question it, you straighten your posture and salute, "General Idea."

A look of confusion contorts his features, though he doesn't get anything besides a mumbled response as you leave the room, "Never mind, it's from a show."

A mountain of papers sits perched on your desk illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp, the scratching of your pen punctuating the silence of the classroom as you continue grading your students' assignments. It had been a couple of hours since you left Logan amongst the nest of blankets. And that image only seemed more enticing with each word you read.

"Missed ya."

Speak of the devil.

Except this devil was an angel - you could almost see a halo shimmering around his figure, backlit by the sunlight flooding the hallway. Every time you think you've captured the essence of his allure, he defies your expectations, often with just a simple gesture. And despite the countless compliments and declarations of adoration, Logan still seemed surprised by flattery, his lips always seeking yours to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"I just saw you like - "

"In the shower," he interrupts, smirk widening as he approaches. He leans against the chair, nose brushing against your exposed shoulder.

Something in your brain short-circuits at his words and the casual display of affection. You stammer a little, "You… didn't tell me."

"Oh, that would've worked hm?" Logan spins the chair around, chuckling as he catches your flustered expression, "'M sorry, sweetheart... guess I gotta make it up to ya."

You never thought Logan was a romantic. Yet, time and time again you discover the depths of his boundless capacity for love and companionship. It wasn't just the whispered promises and passionate revelations, but the quiet moments, the stolen glances, the tender touches that speak volumes. Neither of you had uttered those three words yet, though they hang heavy in the air, unspoken but deeply felt.

His hand winds up beneath your shirt, bunching the fabric near your waist as he pulls you closer. Heat, courtesy of the shower, wafts off his skin, a tantalizing sensation that makes your breath hitch. His tongue toys with your lower lip, teasing just enough that you find yourself chasing after him, desperate for more. The laugh he produces, though smug, is also contagious, a sound that never fails to swallow your heart.

Again and again, he'd professed his desire to unravel you by his sheer touch, how your craving for him sets his insides ablaze. And judging by the way your eyes darken, mouth parting almost reflexively, he's got you dancing to his tune like a puppet on a string - and you wouldn't have it any other way.

But he backs off all of a sudden.

A crescendo of footsteps echoes down the hallway and the moment is shattered. Three of your students barge in, out of breath and frazzled as they clutch their assignments. A frown creases Logan's brow, annoyance he's certainly putting no effort to hide has them second-guessing their intrusion until you beckon them in with a warm smile. With a hasty apology, they fumble with their papers, eyes darting between the two of you before rushing out, the door swinging shut.

"We gotta find a place," he grumbles, dipping forward into your neck.

"We already live together."

A sharp click of his tongue, a playful nip to your shoulder, seals his disapproval, "Not enough. Lil' brats interrupt every damn time."

He wasn't wrong in the slightest. The kids did seem to have an uncanny ability to sense the most inopportune times to interfere. Sometimes you joked that it was one of their mutant powers and Logan, with an amused roll of his eyes, would just scoff and agree. You can't help but chuckle, "'Least it wasn't Scott... I think we traumatised him last week."

It was indeed last week when the two of you retreated to the Danger Room. Of course, with the sole and noble intention of honing your defensive tactics. However, the moment you strategically knocked him off his feet, the situation had taken a decidedly different turn. Pinned beneath you, Logan held a look of astonishment that soon morphed into something much more eager. He'd uttered all of two words before your lips slammed against his and whatever hopes you had for training immediately became the least of your worries. That was until somebody walked in.

He huffs a laugh, the memory filling him with satisfaction, "Should've used his fuckin' brain with those sounds you were makin'."

"Oh god, poor Scott," you mumble, embarrassed by the thought.

"Quit sayin' his name." The growl that curls his words leaves goosebumps in its wake. Logan grips your chin, tilting your head back slightly, a slow grin unfurling as his gaze bores into yours.

"I said it twice!" you protest, but it's all in vain. His thumb drags across your lip, silencing your words.

"That's two more than I care for."

It's dark outside by the time he's done with you.

Sugar melts on his tongue, the velvety texture of chocolate dancing across his palate. Logan takes a rather indulgent sip, the steaming liquid warming his throat. Nestled on opposite sides of the window seat, the two of you share a quiet moment accompanied by nothing but pale moonlight. A comforting weight settles on your feet, his hand kneading the stress away with care. Outside, a delicate snowfall paints the mansion's grounds, grass slowly fading away, droplets racing down the windowpane.

Dinner had wound down hours ago. The kids gathered around the living room after, wide-eyed with wonder as the first snow of the season began. Charles eventually ushered them off to bed, Logan had planned to follow suit until your gentle tug derailed his desire to sleep altogether. And as always, there's no world where he'd deny you anything.

He sees you stifle a giggle every now and then, your eyes twinkling with amusement each time he lifts his mug. It was nothing fancy - mostly white, adorned with a line of stockings and, cheekily, the words "Well hung".

It was a present from you a few Christmases ago. He remembers you watching him warily unwrap the box, laughing out of giddiness as he blushed when the implication dawned on him. It's just a silly gift, you'd reassured, not pressuring him to even keep it. Yet, since then, it remained a permanent fixture on his bedside table. During restless nights, he'd reach for the familiar mug, seeking solace in the kitchen to drink away the looming shadows of insomnia.

It wasn't until your first night together that you saw it again after all those years, carefully placed and by far, the cleanest thing on his table. Logan ducked his head sheepishly before confessing just how much he treasured the sentiment. In a lifetime of solitude, someone had spared a second to think about him, even for a simple gag gift. And that thought warmed his heart a little on especially hard days.

"You're a child," he chides as you smile, rolling his eyes.

You scoff under your breath, "Oh, just cause you're a hundred years old."

"Hundred and sixty," he corrects, grabbing your foot mid-air before you can nudge his thigh. There's a brief pause as he places the mug aside, a wicked grin splitting his lips. Laughter fills the air as you squirm and wriggle away, quickly understanding the look behind his eyes. But Logan moves faster. His hands trail their way to your sides, drawing squeals of protest as he tickles you.

Seconds later, he backs off, satisfied by your reaction. Shifting his weight, he settles on top of you with a gentle press. As he lays against your chest, humming softly in contentment, the soothing caress of your fingers through his hair lulls him into a state of relaxation. The world simply fades away, replaced by the warmth of your embrace and the quiet flush of domestic bliss. A profound swell of gratitude spreads within his heart. It's during intimate moments like these that he feels especially lucky. A far cry from the man brought into this mansion years ago, times you also reflect on amidst late-night conversations.

The memories remain as vivid as yesterday.

It was late in the afternoon, the setting sun casting long silhouettes across the classroom. You stood by the blackboard, explaining the laws of electromagnetism while scribbling equations in chalk. For months, you'd taken over Charles' role as the physics professor, and what began as a favour soon grew into a passion. However, some days were particularly slow. A palpable sense of boredom washed over your students as their eyes drifted towards the clock in anticipation. Just as you were about to begrudgingly dismiss them, the door flew open - a dishevelled figure clad in gray burst in, wildly panting in fear and confusion.

This must be Logan, you concluded, recalling the latest mission debrief from Scott and Storm. They'd rescued two mutants in Canada, one of whom was particularly banged up and recovering in the med bay. Well, until now. Since their arrival, Charles had emphasised the erratic nature of Logan's mind, even unconscious, a part of him stayed unyielding against the telepath's powers. But as you locked eyes with him, you saw none of that. Instead, he seemed lost and terrified, glancing around the room from one corner to the next as if someone was speaking. Before you could offer a word of reassurance, he was gone, disappearing into the hallway like a fleeting shadow.

Over the following months, he slowly began to emerge from his shell. At first, it was just plain nods of acknowledgement as you passed each other in the mansion. Then, a word here and there, clipped phrases of advice and caution during particularly dangerous missions. Gradually, his presence became more pronounced. Sometimes, after intense training sessions, he'd slip into the back of your classroom, intently listening to your lectures on concepts you presumed were entirely foreign to him.

Except they weren't. It was only later that you discovered his secret: the countless hours spent poring over textbooks he'd discreetly stolen from Charles' bookshelf. The realisation filled your heart with a warm sense of affection. His unspoken interest, the hidden depths, it was all so endearing. Thereafter, Logan consumed your thoughts. And it was during one of those sleepless nights that you found the courage to join him in the kitchen, wordlessly focusing on your own books at either end of the table. Since then, a shared understanding passed between you, a bond forged from mutual appreciation and a hint of something more.

The first time he cracked a smile left you breathless. Jean was furious at Scott, her anger clear as day as she stormed away. And Scott, ever so helpless, turned to anyone for guidance, retracing every misstep, every misplaced word. Logan, watching the scene unfold, sneered to himself, enjoying the man cluelessly suffering. You exchanged a knowing look, a silent agreement on the absurdity of the situation. As you excused yourself, a fit of giggles threatening to overtake you, Logan followed close behind, unable to suppress his own laughter.

From that moment on, things changed. You found yourselves seeking each other, conversations flowed effortlessly, at times even seasoned with playful banter. And as Logan became a steady figure in your life, a strange ache settled in your heart. You were falling for him. Yet, his emotions remained a mystery, a puzzle you were desperate to solve.

One year became another, and another and another. And as your feelings for him increased, hesitation crept in rather unwillingly. You pushed everything away, burying them six feet under, afraid of rejection or something worse. But Logan, with his uncanny perceptiveness, sensed the shift in your behaviour. And one day, in a moment of raw honesty, he confronted you. A heated argument ensued, emotions spilling over, words cutting deep. Then, just as suddenly, the tension dissipated. His lips were on yours, conveying every bit of the love he carried in ways words could never bring justice to.

That was a couple of months ago. Everything was perfect and you'd never felt more complete until you noticed the brief flashes of insecurity whenever he saw the mark on your wrist. You knew he didn't have one. In the beginning, it became a sensitive topic, you started wearing a watch or longer sleeves to stop reminding him. But eventually, his unease was too much to ignore.

And so, you bit the bullet.

The conversation was fraught with discomfort, but as you spoke, his expression softened, a slight weight lifting off his shoulders. He shamefully expressed his worries, the fear of not being enough - not being the one for you. It was a small step, but one that brought you closer than ever before.

Logan couldn't have been more grateful.

"Perhaps the two of you should, what do the kids call it, get a room?"

Charles' voice suddenly cuts across the silence. All eyes, including Logan's and yours, snap up from the blueprints scattered on the table. Scott blinks in confusion, meanwhile Jean, holding back a knowing smirk, can barely contain herself.

"I've had my fair share of lewd daydreams in my youth, but that was quite disturbing," he continues, tone laced with disapproval.

Colour drains from your face. Had your thoughts really been that obvious? Sure, you couldn't stop admiring how the tight leather suit molded to Logan's physique - incredibly distracting, to say the least. But you didn't realise you were projecting your attraction so loudly, especially in a room with two telepaths.

"Sorry, Professor." It seems useless to apologise at this point, but he responds with a curt nod directed at Logan. Turning your attention to the blueprints, you feel a familiar weight against your back. Logan, the sly bastard, leans over your shoulder with feigned nonchalance. And it takes every ounce of your willpower to focus on the serious discussion instead.

A recon mission.

Some old abandoned Hydra facility used for mutant experimentation in the 90s, the remnants of failed trials left to rot and forgotten. Charles had caught wind of it through Cerebro, suspecting that there may be valuable information hidden within its walls, secrets that should very well stay away from the wrong hands.

"What's in there?" Scott asks, tensing a little.

Charles pauses, a scowl twisting his expression, "That is a private matter."

"Private Matter," you mumble without thinking, instinctively reaching for a salute before Logan catches your wrist, halting the motion. He shoots a look, a silent reprimand that very clearly implies "Not now". Fortunately, no one else witnesses your mistimed quip, too engaged in drafting a safe plan for extraction.

The mission seems fairly straightforward, a simple infiltration like many you've done before. Nevertheless, Charles concludes with a stern warning to heed caution, "Now, good luck to all of you." As you filter out the room, he casts a pointed glare, "And Logan, please refrain from defiling my desk at any point in the future."

Shock etches across your face, mouth slightly agape. Once you're out of earshot, you shove Logan’s arm in embarrassment, "It wasn't me then." You breathe in relief only to be reminded of the thoughts he seemed to be entertaining earlier. What surprises you is the fact that you're more intrigued than deterred by the idea.

"My bad, sweetheart. Couldn't help myself," he laughs, dipping in close to whisper, "Suit's makin' it real hard to think straight." And with that, he's off, jogging ahead to Scott and Jean already waiting in the hangar.

Once you're airborne, the atmosphere shifts. Jean pilots the jet, her hands steady on the controls, eyes scanning the horizon. The Hydra facility looms in the distance, a dark and ominous presence in the middle of nowhere. As you approach your destination, a sense of apprehension lingers among the four of you. Scott recounts the plan, outlining the most efficient entry and exit points, his voice low and deliberate, "Logan and I will start from top-down and you two from the opposite."

As you leave the jet, a hand slips into your own, stilling you in place. Logan tugs you into his arms, there's a faint smile playing on his lips, his eyes, however, convey something along the lines of "Be careful, please". You squeeze his hand reassuringly, pressing a quick kiss before breaking away. With a reluctant sigh, he catches up with Scott, splitting off from you and Jean.

Inside, the air is thick with the scent of decay and neglect. Everything is left exactly as it was, except there are signs of a violent struggle - machines overturned, wires strewn across the floor, glass shards crunching under your boots. It's a scene of chaos and destruction. In the center lies an operating table, its restraints snapped in half, broken syringes and discarded medical equipment scattered around.

Electricity crackles beneath your fingertips. Though your powers aren't advanced, Charles has been a patient mentor, overseeing your progress since the day he found you. However, as you keep surveying the area, you notice an odd sensation, a subtle resistance to your abilities. A similar unease grips Jean too, her gaze meeting yours, a shared look of concern exchanged as you continue your search.

A distorted voice breaks through the comms, "Upper level's clear. No sign of anything." It's Scott, barely recognisable over the static.

"Copy. Still sweeping the lower level," you respond, but it's garbled by the interference.

"Stay on alert," Jean warns, straining her telekinetic energy against the strange force permeating the facility. "Defence systems could still be active."

You venture deeper into the hallway, greeted by an eerie silence broken only by the echo of your own footsteps. A series of cells line the corridor, thick metal barricades, scarred and rusted, stand as a testament to the suffering endured by those held captive years before. Peering through the tiny barred windows, you see sterile, empty rooms, not a single bed or mattress to be found - the cold, hard concrete floor offering no comfort.

"Fuckin' hell," you murmur, chills running down your spine. Jean hums quietly in agreement, looking around in horror. The electricity you can usually detect in the background dwindles to a weak buzz. You descend a narrow staircase, the air growing heavier by the second. At the end of the hallway is another metal hatch, this time with a faded Hydra symbol etched onto its surface. With a concentrated effort, Jean manipulates the lock, the door groaning open with a distinct beep.

It's beyond dimly lit - a dark, cavernous space. You focus your powers, fighting against the invisible pressure dampening your strength, current coursing through your veins. With a snap of your wrist, the room erupts in light, fluorescent bulbs flickering awake. A row of computers surrounded by a bundle of wires and archaic machinery stretch towards the ceiling.

"Must be the control room," Jean reaches out to flip a switch, but as her fingers brush the old metal, energy jolts through your body - a warning that something is amiss.

"No - wait!" you shout, but it's too late. The metal door slams shut with a deafening clang. An agonising vibration rattles through the room, a shockwave that reverberates through your body. The two of you sink to the floor, clutching your ears as a rush of debilitating pain burns every nerve ending in your body. And you're left paralysed for what feels like an eternity.

Logan clicks his tongue as static continues pouring through the comms, he catches the tail-end of your broken reply - something something lower level - a pit of dread forming in his stomach, "Place feels off."

"You're right, I can't get a read on anything," Scott mutters, the red hue of his glasses flashing in the darkness.

Logan's eyes dart around the space, landing on a series of grotesque instruments undoubtedly used for torture. A wave of nausea washes over him, flashbacks of his own past spring forward at the sight, reminders of the days when he too was a mere subject in someone else's twisted experiments. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. An imperceptible vibration ripples beneath his feet, "The fuck was that?"

Scott immediately tries the comms again, "Jean? Wha - ", but it goes completely dead.

Logan's already barrelling through the corridors, his instincts taking over without a conscious thought. He calls for you again and again, reckless abandon fueling his every move. Screw the mission, all he wants is for you to be safe. His heart leaps into his throat as static hisses through the comms, Jean's voice muffled through the noise, "We've got... a major problem."

One second passes.

Two.

Three.

"C'mon, darlin'." The silence drags on, panic begins to seize his mind, sweat beading on his forehead. He needs to find you, now. The faint vibrations gradually become intense as he races down the staircase, "Major problem? C'mon, say your stupid joke, sweetheart. Please. Anything." His pleas, wracked with desperation, fall on deaf ears. Fear gnaws at him. He’s itching to hear your voice, even for that little running gag he doesn’t fully understand. Just any goddamn sign that you're still alive.

His senses direct him towards the metal hatch. Lunging forward, his fist connects with the barrier, claws extending at any attempt to tear through the door. Yet it holds firm, its surface barely dented or scratched by his force. Frantic, Logan rams his claws into the small security panel on the side, trying to short-circuit the lock. But the moment it's breached, a chain reaction is triggered, explosives hidden within the walls detonate with a tremendous roar. A torrent of debris and radiation thrusts him backwards, knocking him hard against the concrete.

The world around him seemingly implodes into a bedlam of sound and light, white flashes obscuring his vision. Pain, a searing, all-consuming pain diffuses through every inch of his body. His consciousness wanes, slipping away from his grasp. In the fading moments of awareness, he hears a distant crackle of electricity.

Then, nothing.

The memory of the chaos, the blinding light, the aftermath of the explosion, replay over and over. And then, there was Logan, his body limp and unresponsive, a sight that haunts your every waking moment. You remember the desperate scramble to escape the facility, the weight of his unconscious form in all your arms, the tense journey back to the mansion, Charles and Jean ushering you out of the med bay - their focus solely on stabilising him.

The night stretches on, a relentless march of time that seems to punctuate your helplessness as you pace back and forth. The lack of response from anyone doesn't quell the whirlwind of anxieties in the slightest. Every minute sound, every faint whisper, sends your heart racing. But when they finally emerge hours later, faces etched with exhaustion and relief, you can finally breathe.

For days, you sit by Logan's bedside, hands intertwined with his. The monotonous rhythm signalling his vitals is the only thing grounding you to reality. Though he remains unconscious, Jean had offered words of comfort, pointing to subtle improvements in his healing with her scans. Eventually, warmth returns to his body. His breathing, once laboured, is now full and steady. Leaning forward, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead and hope ignites within you again, just enough to draw a small, weary smile.

But then, you see it.

Glaring at you, painfully so, is a little mark on the back of his shoulder. Except, it isn't the same crescent moon that adorns your wrist. No.

Your heart sinks, breath catching in your throat, paralysis sets in once again. A single, shattering revelation echoes in your mind: Logan is not your soulmate.

He stirs awake, eyelids fluttering open. Everything slowly returns to his senses as the haze of confusion begins to clear. The first thing he notices is the familiar scent of you lingering on his skin, in the air, on the chair pulled by his side. As his vision unblurs, the blue walls of the med bay coming into view, a flood of concern smacks him in the face. Where are you? What happened? He tries to sit up, his body protesting with every movement.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The mechanical hum of a wheelchair grows louder as it approaches. Charles, brimming with sympathy, rolls closer.

Logan groans, his muscles throbbing like never before, "What the hell happened? Is she - "

"She's alright, as are Scott and Jean," he interjects, though a shadow of pity clouds his expression. The unspoken weight behind his words triggers alarms in Logan's head, but before he can question him, a sharp burn shoots up his back. He winces, reaching for the source of the stinging. Beneath his fingertips, a strange, rough texture grates against his skin. He angles back to inspect it, blood running cold.

"It surfaced a week ago," Charles says grimly, "We suspect the radiation from the explosion temporarily impacted your healing, hence, the mark."

Logan can't think straight, a maelstrom of emotions engulfs every single fiber of his being - disbelief, agony and rage. How could this be real? He'd spent night after night, praying for some sort of sign, a reason for his existence. And when he found that in you, it felt like everything finally aligned. But now, destiny had struck him down with a ruthless blow, a cosmic twist of fate far worse than death.

Seven days.

That's how long it's been since you last saw him. The weight of the world bore down on you, every breath a struggle. Hours bled into one another as you stayed locked in your room, sobbing uncontrollably, your heart fracturing with each passing moment. Jean's persistent knocking eventually broke through your despair, her calm voice soothing your frayed mental state.

It took all of her gentle persuasion for you to finally eat something, to force you out of the anguish that consumed you. The news that Logan was awake and begging to see you almost crumbled the impenetrable walls you'd built up. But the thought of facing him, of confronting the fragile pieces of your harsh reality, filled you with dread.

And so, you avoided him. Retreating into yourself, a ghost of your own life, you clung to the illusion of distance. Maybe it'll somehow ease the pain, the heartbreak. You couldn't even bear to look at your own wrist, the mark - a cruel reminder of a love that was and a future that can never be. Every second of every day, mocking whispers floated around your mind, "You don't deserve him. You never did."

The moment Logan fully recovers, he immediately rushes through the mansion. Anticipation swells in his chest, there's nothing he wants more than your touch, your laughter - just you. He reaches your room, sensing the warmth from within. Hand hovering in the air, he takes a deep breath before knocking.

"Sweetheart?"

There's no response. He drops his head against the door, breathing ragged. Tears sting his eyes, threatening to spill over, the oxygen in his lungs thinning as he tries to speak, "Please. I know you're in there. Talk to me." The silence, the emptiness, it all becomes too much. He's losing you, and he can't do anything to stop it. "I know you're upset. But, please, just let me in."

Your voice comes muffled, charged with grief and sorrow, "That mark means there's someone out there for you - your real soulmate. Someone who isn't me." The words are piercing, he longs to pull you into his arms, to comfort you, to reassure you. "I am not meant for you, Logan," you choke out.

"Fuck that," he spits back. He can't accept this, that you're conceding to some inexplicable truth, "'M not givin' you up cause of some shit on my body. I choose you. And I will choose you. Every single time." It's all strangled, raw with emotion, cheeks stained with a wetness. He's wound up, a caged animal clawing at the bars. He'll fight for you, even if all the cards are against him, "Darlin', I don't care if there's someone else - they're not you. You're perfect to me. For me. The universe can go fuck itself cause I love you."

Logan goes still. He's never expressed that to you, not in this way, not with such soul-baring honesty. But, nothing has ever been more true, "I love you."

Heavy hangs the air. Then, a soft padding of footsteps, the door clicks open. Before he can react, your hands cup his face, drawing him down to your level, lips meeting in a passionate caress. Logan cradles the back of your head, deepening the kiss. The space between you, both physically and emotionally, fades away. This is all that matters, for now and forever.

His arms tighten as you pull back and tuck into the crook of his neck. The weight of your exhaustion is obvious with the shuddering sigh you let out, his heart aching for you. As you whisper apologies, he trails kisses down your face. "No, no, don't be sorry, darlin'," he says, all soft and gentle. Neither of you move, surrendering to each other, the moment suspended in time. Slowly, your trembling subsides and he smiles, the lines of misery now dimming. With delicate fingers, he brushes your tears away.

"I have a major headache," you murmur, eyes falling shut.

He huffs a laugh, saluting you with a playful grin, "Major Headache." The look of astonishment across your face brings him so much joy. "I asked Kitty, told me to watch the damn show." And Logan did watch the show - all for you - to understand the little references you kept making here and there.

"You know how to use the Internet?" you ask, incredulously.

"Don't push it, sweetheart." There's no malice behind his tone whatsoever. With a smirk, he leans forward, scooping you up in his arms and carries you to the bed. It's a familiar motion, a routine he's done hundreds of times before. But now, it's different, one that’s even more precious.

"Logan?"

"Hm?"

"I love you too."

He knows. He knows because it's written all over you. Every word, every breath, every touch - a testament to your love for him. A love so quiet and profound, a love that has weathered storms, a love that will last until the end of time. And he's eternally grateful for it. For you.

[wwooyology]

SIM JAEYUN HARD THOUGHT

「warning」 : 18+ MINORS DNI!!

「notes」 : this is for all my girlies with an oral fixation and a tongue ring... I am also girlies... I have had this thought stuck in my head for the longest time imaginable so I've finally brought it to life. might make a full fic based off this in the future, idk yet.

「word count」 : 0.7k

you knew jake had an oral fixation, always needing to have something in his mouth, whether that be his lips, yours, or a piece of candy. however, as your relationship grew, he would find any reason to have his lips on your skin.

though during your time with Jake, you, yourself, had started to form an oral fixation. it even got to the point that you had gotten a tongue piercing in hopes of quelling the urge to stick random things in your mouth.

and it did... for a short amount of time.

until you realized the effect it had on your boyfriend whenever you would give him head. the whines and whimpers that would fall from his kiss-swollen lips every time you would press the piece of jewelry against his swollen cock.

"f-fuck baby." he groaned once more, his fingers lacing through your hair, tugging softly as you moved further down his shaft. his eyes rolling to the back of his head when the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat.

when it came to moments like this, when you have him cumming in your mouth within minutes of wrapping your pretty lips around his hard dick, you knew that the piercing was a good idea. just maybe not for the original reason that you had gotten it. if anything, it just made your oral fixation worse because now you wanted to take any chance you could to use your new 'toy' on your sensitive boyfriend.

"c-cummimg. fuck I'm cumming!" jake let out what you would call a mixture of a whine and a groan. his hips buck up into your mouth as he paints the walls of your throat white with his seed.

you hummed at the taste causing his grip to tighten on your hair in hopes of pulling you off of his overestimated dick, but you stayed put for a few moments longer before slowly pulling off. your thighs rubbed together underneath you as whimpers fell from jake's pretty lips.

pulling off of him, you give him a few kitten licks to his tip, making sure to drag your piercing along his slit, relishing in the way his whole body shivered at the feeling.

you continue to tease him with your tongue and hands, licking up all of the cum and spit that coated his length. not stopping until he was rock hard in your hands once more.

"baby, p-please... n- fuck. no more, please." jake hissed through his teeth as you traced along his slit once more, hands tugging at your hair.

with one last lick, you pulled away from jake's throbbing dick resulting in a deep groan to tear from his lungs at the sudden loss of touch. however, you didn't stray too far for too long, kissing up his toned tummy and chest, nipping at his collarbone, neck, and jaw before sealing his lips with yours.

he groaned against your lips at the taste of himself on your tongue, hands finding your hips to pull you into his lap. your tongue runs along the inside of his teeth; a soft rattling comes from how your ring hit his teeth.

pulling away to catch your breath, you watched in amusement as jake chased after your lips, his eyes hooded as they bore into yours. his grip on your hips tight as you shifted to allow his tip to prod at your entrance.

"think you can handle another one, jakey?" you asked teasingly as he leaned forward to latch his lips to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin until dark purple and red splotches were left behind.

he didn't give you any response except for the harsh thrust of his ups upward to fully encase himself in your heat, resulting in a strangled cry to leave your lips at the sudden intrusion.

"f-fuck, jake!" you cried out as he started to piston his hips up into yours, stars dancing across your vision as his tip rammed into your cervix mercilessly.

"wanna be such a fucking tease?" he growled against your skin before biting down harshly, making your body tremble, "then you're gonna have to reap what you sow, princess."

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Sandcastles - Chan

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: nerd! Chan x best friend! reader

summary: it's finally spring break and with final exams in the rearview mirror, it's time for you and your best friend to enjoy a well-deserved beach day.

warnings: inexperienced Chan, experienced reader, angst, insecurities, body issues, (you make Chan feel better about himself!!) light kissing, so much fluff <333

a/n: sorry for the little hiatus but I am officially back with the first story in the Stray College series :') I hope y'all like it!!!

“Hey, wanna eat lunch together?” Chan said with a bright smile as he scooches toward you. As you sit down next to each other, you both reach for the sandwiches splayed on your trays. “So, how has your day been so far?” Chan asks, trying to keep the conversation light and casual, but his heart races slightly at the proximity to you.

“Oh, fine. What about yours?” You ask. You peel back the lid of your pudding before bringing it to your lips.

Chan watches you lick the pudding clean from the flimsy lid, his mind wandering briefly before he snaps back to the conversation. "Mine was okay, just the usual." He swallows hard, trying to ignore the sudden butterflies in his stomach. You turn towards him, noticing the pile of textbooks next to his arm. Chan has always been too hard on himself when it comes to studying.

“How has biology been? I know the test last week was brutal.” you ask.

Chan chuckles softly, running a hand through his hair. “Oh god, don't remind me. I was up all night studying for that thing.” He pauses, glancing at you with a small smile. “You did pretty well on it, right? I remember you aced the practice tests.”

You feel that familiar warmth start to build in your stomach at his words. A feeling that only Chan has seemed to master to create inside of you.

“Ha, yeah. I guess I did alright on it.”

Chan's eyes linger on your flushed cheeks, a faint warmth spreading through his own chest. “That's great to hear. You're really smart, you know that?” He looks away quickly, his face growing hot. “So, um, have you decided what you're doing for spring break yet?”

Spring break. Most of the students had made plans months ago to go on exotic vacations and expensive cruises. But the two of you had been so caught up with finals that it didn't leave much time for planning. You chew the bottom of your lip in thought. Something easy, something fun, and most importantly, something affordable on a student budget. Your eyes suddenly light up with an idea. “Oh! How about a beach day?”

His heart skips a beat at your enthusiasm. “A... a beach day?” His voice cracks slightly. “That... that sounds nice.” He fidgets with his food, trying to hide a nervous smile. “Though... I'm not really the most experienced swimmer…” He lied. Truth was, Chan loved to swim but hadn't done it in years. You give him a warm smile, nudging his arm with yours playfully. “That's okay! We'll just hang out on dry land, make sandcastles and get food and tan!”

Chan blushes deeper at the playful nudge, his stomach fluttering with excitement and nerves. “A tan, huh? I'd really like that. With you.”

Your face turned a brighter shade of red. “Then it's a date! meet me tomorrow at Eagle Crest beach okay? And don't forget your bathing suit!” You give Chan a wink before grabbing your lunch tray and walking away. Chan's jaw nearly drops at your wink, his entire body flushing red as he watches you walk away. He mutters softly to himself, hardly believing what just happened "A-a date? Did... did we just... oh god…”

The next day, Chan arrives at Eagle Crest Beach, his heart pounding like a drum solo as he scans the crowd for you. He's armed with SPF 100 sunscreen, an oversized beach towel (his shield against embarrassment), and a stomach full of butterfly-flavored nerves. He spots your waving arm and makes his way over, trying to act casual despite his racing heart. As he gets closer, he sees the towels and umbrella, realizing you actually meant this to be a real beach day, not just a meet-up. "You... you planned this.”

Your eyes follow his as the two of you take in the set up you've made for the day. Embarrassment washes over you like a cold wave as you realize you may have done too much, been too eager, too excited and now he would feel uncomfortable. “It's nice.” Chan whispers under a smile. You smile back and decide to make yourself comfortable. You lift your shirt to reveal a bright red bathing suit top. Chan's eyes widen as he takes in your red bikini top, his mind blanking for a moment before he quickly averts his gaze, blushing furiously. He swallows hard, trying to act normal as he spreads his beach towel next to yours. He looks down at his baggy white T-shirt, then back at your bikini top, gulping audibly. He hesitantly pulls his T-shirt over his head, revealing a chiseled physique.

Your eyes flicker over to him innocently before they drink in the entire view. He catches you staring at his abdomen as he adjusts his towel, his muscles flexing unintentionally. He's always been shy about his physique, but seeing your reaction makes him feel a strange warmth spreading across his chest, not from the sun. "You... you good?”

Your mouth goes dry at the moment he turns towards you. What a ridiculous fucking question. Your voice is now a strangled and raspy mess. “You're…RIPPED!”

His face turns beet red at your compliment, running a hand through his hair nervously "Oh, um, I... I just workout sometimes. In my room. It started as a way to stay fit and healthy but I just really enjoy it now.”

Your face splits into a wide smile hearing Chan talk about something he genuinely enjoys that isn't school. His eyes seem to glimmer at the mention of it. “Maybe we could workout together sometime?” You push your shoulder into his gently. Chan lets out a chuckle then a deep breath. A breath he didn't know he was holding onto. “I'd like that.” He says softly, his eyes still fixed on the sand at his feet.

The two of you sit together, listening to the waves crashing and breaking into the shore. Soon, most of the people have gone home leaving the two of you and a single umbrella punctured in the shoreline.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice carries over lapping water.

“Sure.”

“You have no idea how hot you are, do you?” You ask, keeping your eyes fixed on the cool blues and greens of the ocean.

Chan coughs into his can of beer. The smell of hops spurts back into his nose as he uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “Excuse me?” His head snaps to you.

“You heard me, bookworm.” You exclamate your words with the sound of your beer can clanking against his.

“I guess, no? I don't really consider myself ‘hot’.” Chan confesses. And it was the truth. He had never been told he was the hot guy before. He was the “nice guy”. The guy that helped you with your homework, the guy that your parents trusted to stay out late with, the guy that followed the rules. “I'm not that guy.” His voice drops to a solemn tone.

You set your empty can of beer down next to you and turn to face Chan, a cheeky smirk growing quickly. “Sorry to be the one to break this to you, but you are that guy. You're the hot guy.”

Chan's eyes lock with yours and for a moment even the waves seem to have slowed themselves to see what would happen next. He knew what the “hot guy” would do in this situation. He would grab the girl and kiss her, right? Right?! He swallows hard, his eyes following yours to his own lips. He feels a sudden urge to close the distance between you, to kiss you and see if the attraction he feels is mutual. But his shyness holds him back, leaving him stuck in place, his lips parted slightly. You let out a soft chuckle and roll your eyes, pulling his face to yours. “Come here, you.”

His eyes widen right before your lips meet his, surprise giving way to pleasure. He melts into the kiss hesitant at first, overwhelmed but eager. After a moment, he timidly begins to reciprocate, his inexperienced lips moving clumsily against yours. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss slightly, trying to mimic what he's seen in movies. He can feel your body pressed against his, making him acutely aware of his own thick frame. He breaks the kiss briefly to whisper, "How's that for the ‘hot guy’?”

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star @minh0scat @kibs-and-bits @minhosgirlposts @firelordtsuki @softkisshyunjin @doyunkang @cocofia143 @nchhuhi @iovecb97 @skzfairyyydreamz @mikeysonlygirl @kwitchabtchn

[lovedrruunk]

'A Fresh Start 𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐[part i]

After choosing to break the cycle, Jinx [now Powder] tries to find her place in the countryside away from everything she once knew, drawn to someone who seems to embody everything she's wanted but never deserved. playlist!!!

The cottage was quiet, almost too quiet. She had chosen this place for that very reason after all. It was far from everything she used to know. Far from people who might recognize her, far from her past, and most importantly, far from the misery she had attracted her whole life.

And yet, the quiet unsettled her.

Her days were simple now. Fixing up the cottage, teaching herself how to cook, tending to the purple and orange flowers she had no idea how to take care of. Simple things.

She only went into town when absolutely necessary, and even then, she kept her head down and her interactions short. People didn’t pry, but she saw the curiosity in their eyes. They looked at her like she was out of place, as if she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

Except for you. You were different. Powder had noticed that right away.

The first time she saw you, she thought she was just seeing things.

You were at the edge of the farmer’s market, the sun shining down on you, your head tilted back, shoulders shaking as you laughed, your body so... unguarded. As if you weren't constantly looking over your shoulder waiting for something bad to happen. And for a moment, Powder forgot how to breathe. It wasn’t just the sound of your laughter or the warmth in your eyes when you spoke to someone who passed by. You had this way of moving like you belonged there, like you were part of the town in a way she couldn’t imagine ever being.

She’d only meant to grab a few supplies, slip in and out before anyone could try to talk to her. But then there you were, and she couldn’t look away.

She didn’t approach you. Told herself it was because she didn’t want to stand out, didn't want to risk anyone noticing her more than they already had. But deep down, she knew the truth. You made her feel small. The type of small you feel when you're around someone you look up to. A person who represents everything you want to be, someone you want to keep in your life forever. She couldn't just walk up to you so casually, not when you reminded her of everything she wasn't.

And yet she couldn't keep her distance. Because even though you left her feeling small, you also made her want to be something more. You made her hopeful. A feeling that had been so rare to come by nowadays. That maybe, just maybe one day she’d be as content as you were in this small warm town.

She wanted to know what it was like to feel so at ease, to be... satisfied. Not perfect, not terrible, but enough. And when she saw you, she saw how.

She started seeing you more often after that. Helping at the market, skipping down the dirt paths, stopping to pet the stray cats that wandered by, you took your time with everything you did, like there was no rush, like you had all the time in the world. It wasn’t long before she found herself looking for you whenever she came into town.

You were always smiling, always patient with everyone you spoke to. She couldn’t help but wonder if this is what being at peace looked like.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you. About the way you seemed to fit so perfectly. It made her heart ache, this longing for something she wasn’t even sure she could have.

Sometimes, she’d catch herself lingering for too long, staring as you handed out fresh flowers to some kids or waved goodbye to one of the older shopkeepers. She’d duck her head, hoping you hadn’t noticed, but part of her wished you would.

Late at night when her little cottage was quiet and cold, she’d let her mind wander. She’d imagine herself laughing like you did, walking through the town with that same easy confidence. She’d picture you waving to her. Not out of politeness, but because you knew her. Because she was someone worth knowing, someone you wanted around.

It was a stupid thought. She knew that much. Someone like you, so open and kind didn’t belong anywhere near someone like her. But the thought still lingered, no matter how much she tried to push it away.

But for now, she stayed at a distance, quietly admiring you from afar. Wondering if one day she’d have the courage to find her own place in this town, preferably next to you.

Today, you were at the bakery, carrying a piece of warm bread to the counter. Powder stood just outside the window, watching as you handed a loaf to the shop owner with that signature smile that never seemed forced. Your hair caught the sunset through the glass, and her heart did this stupid little flip that she hated and loved at the same time.

You were everything. Bright, grounded, kind in a way that felt genuine. It was the way people lit up around you, how even the grumpiest of the townsfolk seemed to soften in your presence. Powder found herself wanting to be one of them.

But not today. Today was coming to an end. So as she watched you place your bread in your basket, she took one last glance at your face before turning on her heel, heading home.

At night, when the world was still, she tried to ignore how much of her thoughts were filled with you. She told herself it didn’t matter, that this small admiration was harmless.

But as the days passed, it grew harder to ignore. Harder to convince herself that watching from afar was enough.

. . .

You were standing near the fountain in the town square, chatting with a small group of neighbors. The market stalls around you were loud, filled with laughter and conversation. Powder stood by one of the lamp posts, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her worn jacket, and her eyes glued to you.

You were smiling, of course, your face lit up with that same warmth that made her heart skip a beat. It was such a simple scene, one she had seen countless of times before. And yet, today, it felt different.

Her eyes darted to the little group you were standing with, chatting like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way you tilted your head, listening to some old guy ramble about whatever. So patient, so... nice. Powder’s chest clenched, hard.

She shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t her place. It was yours, with your calm smiles and easy conversations. Meanwhile, her hands were shaking just thinking about standing that close. People like her didn’t fit in with people like you. She was jagged edges and scrambled thoughts, and you were everything smooth and steady.

But still, her feet wouldn’t move. Not backward, not forward. Just... stuck, staring at the way you chuckled when one of the neighbors cracked some lame joke. She hated how much she wanted to be part of it, part of you.

The thought made her stomach flip in the worst way. She didn’t deserve that kind of peace, not after everything she’d done. Not after all the ways she’d ruined things.

But then you laughed again, and it hit her like a punch to the face. That sound, that easy, genuine laughter, it made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could want something good for herself. Even if she didn’t deserve it. She wanted it more than anything.

She let out a shaky breath, every part of her screaming to go home and hide. She almost did. But then she looked up, and there you were, smiling, like the world wasn’t a mess. Like things could be easy if you let them.

Her feet began to move before she could stop them.

The crowd didn’t even notice her no whispers, no stares, just the usual hum of the town square. She kept walking, her heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

And suddenly, she was right there. Close enough to smell your perfume, closer than she had ever been.

You turned your head towards her, mid-laugh.

She should’ve ran. She should’ve stayed away, kept pretending this wasn’t something she wanted.

But she didn’t.

Her voice was quiet, shaky, but it was hers.

“Hey.”

You blinked, surprised but not unkind, and Powder swore she saw your smile widen ever so slightly.

It wasn’t much. But it was the first step.

. . .

[part ii]

I LOVE SELF-DEPRICATING JINX!!!!! i literally cannot stop writing her like this goly... anyways i loved this idea sm (and am so proud of myself for it like wow im just so smart and amazing) SO I RLLY WANNA WRITE A PART 2 FROM READERS POV WHERE THEY TALK MORE ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- (update they did not in fact talk more)

also lowkey obsessed with the idea of obsessive stalker jinx but like this is supposed to be fluff so maybe ill write something like that another time...

thanks 4 reading as always!!! XOXOXOXOXO

[golden1u5t]

worship you | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: @cosmicblogs

ꨄ genre: smut

ꨄ summary:  spencer takes notice of how you react to being praised so he takes that information and runs with it. 

"what If he's saving them? the body parts." you thought aloud, twirling your pen between your fingers as you looked up at the rest of the team. you were the newest member so when everyone just stared at you, you thought that maybe your ideas was stupid. "nevermind, I- I just thought-"

"no, you're right. that's why we can't find the missing limbs, he's keeping them." spencer spoke up, he turned around to look at you for a second. "thats good. you're good, y/n."

you felt your face heat up at his compliment, suddenly sitting up straight and feeling the need to fix your hair. "oh! thank you, dr. reid."

he turned around to look at you from over his shoulder, a smile on his face before turning back around. you could feel the rest of the teams eyes on you and you could only hope that they hadn't picked up on your sudden nervousness. you excused yourself from the little room you all were gathered in at the police department, you needed to get out of the room with him before you embarrassed yourself.

+++

"you did good today, you thought of things no one else had considered." spencer smiled at you and set his bags on the bed he would be taking for the duration of your stay.

"thank you, dr. reid." you whispered and immediately shoved past him to hide your face but he grabbed your arm and pulled you back before you could. his eyebrows furrowed as he looked over you, he could tell you were flustered but he just couldn't pin point why. he always has been oblivious to his attractiveness.

"you don't have to call me that." he mumbled, his hand loosening on your arm. he moved to take your bags off your shoulder and out of your hand. "do you wanna shower first, pretty?"

your eyes widened by a lot and you literally had a keep yourself from moaning so instead of sticking around you darted into the bathroom, forgetting about the fact your clothes and all of your hygiene products were in the room with spencer but were too flushed to go back in there so the little travel sized products the hotel provided would have to do for the night.

while you were in the shower, spencer sat at the edge of his bed trying to figure out why you were so flustered. it didn't click until he replayed the conversations he had with you throughout the day, that's when he noticed the pattern. you only got flustered after he'd compliment you or after he praised you for your good work. he chuckled to himself and shook his head.

"spencer?" you cracked the bathroom door open and poked your head out, spencer looked up at the sound of your voice. "can you close your eyes? I don't have my clothes, only a towel."

"of course." he stood up and moved to sit on the opposite side of the bed that faced the wall, even though his back was towards you he still closed his eyes like he said he would. you doubled checked that he wasn't looking before unwrapping the towel and quickly put your night clothes on. you let him know that he could open his eyes, you put the rest of your things away and moved your bags to the floor before getting into the bed. "you wanna know something I figured out?"

"sure, is it about the case? if so, we should probably call the team." you started to reach for your phone but Spencer quickly told you that it wasn't about the case. he walked around his bed and sat on the side of yours.

"you like being complimented, praised." he hummed. you dry chuckled and shook your head, starting to deny it and say that you didn't know what he was talking about. "you get all shy and flustered. I think you like it when i praise you. can I do that, can i praise you more?"

you moved off of the bed, you weren't sure where you were going but spencer pulled you back before you could stray too far. he pulled you closer to him until you were standing in between his open legs. 

"spencer, I-"

"tell me if I'm overstepping, y/n. we can go to bed now and pretend it never happened." he whispered, he loosened his grip so you could easily slip out of his hold if you wanted to. you looked at him for a moment, heart beating fast in your chest. your eyes darted down to his lips and back to his eyes. you could've slipped out of his hold and did what he said, go to bed and forget about it, but you didn't; you sat down onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"please?" you breathed against his lips, feeling him wrap his arms around you and pull you impossibly closer to him. spencer brought his hand up to cradle the back of your head and crashed his lips into yours. things escalated almost immediately, you tugging his shirt off while he took yours off. spencer moved you onto your back and pushed your thighs apart to make room for himself. he nudged your jaw with his nose until you tilted your head back, he pressed his lips to your pulse point and smiled when he felt how fast your heart was beating.

"can I?" he asked, his hand playing with the waistline of your shorts. you nodded you head but quickly voiced your approval when you noticed the look he gave you.

spencer sat up and tugged your shorts and underwear down your legs, tossing them behind his head and leaning down to kiss you again. his hand traveled in between your bodies until he reached your cunt, his slim fingers running through your wet slit and smearing your arousal over your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

"you're beautiful." he looked down at you, looking at how your lips parted to let out some of the most beautifulest sounds he'd ever heard, sounds he would never forget, sounds he would replay in his mind over and over again. he moved his fingers from your clit to prod against your entrance before slowly pushing one finger inside, drinking in the soft moans you let out.

"spencer, please- need more." your hips rutted up into him, his fingers felt great but they weren't enough and he seemed to understand that with just those few words.

even though you knew he needed to take his fingers out in order to give you want you really wanted, you still whined out at the loss. spencer grazed his wet fingers over your hip before leaning back on his legs and unbuckling his pants.

he had to get off of the bed in order to get his pants and boxers off but when he did he got back on the bed. you sat up on your elbows and looked down at his cock that rested over your cunt, eyes widening as you took in his girth. "oh my gosh- i don't-you're big."

you moved your hand and reached down to wrap your hand around him, your lips parted as you realized that your fingers didn't connect. spencer looked down at your hand wrapped around his cock, his hips jerked forward when you swiped your thumb over his red tip.

"you can take it, i know you can." he leaned down and captured your lips in a soft kiss. spencer's hips pushed forward into your hand when you started to move your hand, he caught your wrist and took your hand off of him. he sat up and hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you until they were flush against his abdomen. "ready, pretty?"

"yes, m'ready." you nodded, spencer guided his cock through your folds to smear your slick before he slowly slid into you. your head fell back as you gasped at the intrusion of his cock, the stretch was slightly painful. you hadn't been with anyone in a while, especially not with anyone as big as spencer.

he kept his pace slow for you, steadying himself with his hand resting above your head. he pushed your thighs apart and you wrapped them around his waist, letting out a soft moan as the pain subdued and was replaced with pleasure.

spencer kissed down your jaw and ghosted his lips over your collarbone. you used your legs to pull him further into you, whining when he pushed so much deeper into your cunt. "you want more?"

you nodded your head quickly. spencer sat up and grabbed your hips, snapping his hips into your faster and harder. "you're so pretty, you look so good like this."

you let out a small whimper at his compliment, your face heating up and making you turn away from him to hide your face. spencer chuckled and pulled out of you, hissing as he did so. you quickly looked at him with wide eyes but he laid down and pulled you on top of him before you could protest. you lifted your hips and held his cock as you sank down onto him, you moved your hands to his chest and started to ride him.

spencer let you control your pace but he kept his hands on your waist. his chest rose and fell heavily as he watched your face twist in pleasure, he groaned lowly feeling your cunt squeeze around him.

"m'so close, fuck-" you cried out, hips lifting and dropping quicker. spencer planted his feet onto the bed and started to lift his hips up to help you cum faster. normally, you probably would’ve lasted a bit longer but not tonight, the feeling of his cock against your walls and all the praise he was giving you was starting to get overwhelming.

your body fell forward as your orgasm finally shook you, you whined and moaned spencer's name into his ear. spencer's head tipped back as he felt himself about to cum, he quickly pulled out and started to stroke his cock to get himself off. when he came it was messy, his cum shooting up between you both and landing on his and your chest.

you sat up and huffed, pushing your hair out of your face and smiled down at him. "I think I like being praised by you."

"of course you do." he chuckled and pulled you down to kiss him.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Hey author,

Loved your work! I have a request for a Max Verstappen fiction. Here's the idea:

Max Verstappen and the Reader have been friends since childhood and started dating when they were 15. The Reader is currently the number one ranked tennis player, with 2 Wimbledon titles, 3 French Open titles, and 2 Australian Open titles to her name. She is the best in women's singles and doubles tennis at the moment.

The Reader is a badass, known for her fiery press conferences and domination on the court, much like how Max is in racing. Despite being a power couple in front of the world, they are very vulnerable and weak for each other. They know the struggles both have been through—she understands the impact Max's childhood and his father, Jos, have had on him, and he knows the challenges she faces, including attacks and pressures from the media.

They are incredibly supportive of each other. Max attends all her Grand Slam matches, and she visits his races. They are deeply in love and very open with each other, understanding each other's feelings and experiences.

That's the type of story I have in mind. I hope you like it!

Best regards,

Anon.

Power Couple

Summary: Max Verstappen and the Reader have been friends since childhood and started dating when they were 15. The Reader is currently the number one ranked tennis player, with 2 Wimbledon titles, 3 French Open titles, and 2 Australian Open titles to her name. She is the best in women's singles and doubles tennis at the moment.

Song: Slow Down · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: I hardly had any ideas for this one but I tried my best! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 6.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

It's messy, chaotic, and punctuated by the sharp thwack of a tennis ball and the roar of a finely tuned engine. It’s the story of you and Max, a whirlwind that started when you were both just fifteen, a story that’s still unfolding in the dazzling glare of the spotlight.

You were fifteen and a force of nature on the tennis court, even back then. Your name was already whispered with respect in junior circuits. You carried a racquet like an extension of your arm, and your focus was so intense it was almost palpable.

That summer, your training brought you to a small, dusty tennis club nestled in the Dutch countryside, a far cry from the manicured lawns of Wimbledon, but the perfect place to hone your craft.

He was there too. Not on the court, but lurking near the chain-link fence, a lanky boy with eyes the colour of storm clouds and a mop of unruly brown hair perpetually falling into his face. You'd noticed him, of course.

How could you not? He was the only teenager there whose attention wasn't glued to the endless practice sessions. Instead, he seemed more interested in the growl of the beat-up scooter he’d arrived on.

One day, during a water break, you were staring down at the worn-out grip on your Wilson when he spoke.

"That's a good shot," he said, his voice still cracking with that awkward teen timbre.

You looked up, surprised, and saw him leaning against the fence, an almost shy smile playing on his lips. "You mean the forehand?" you asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a nervous habit you hadn't quite shaken off.

He shrugged, his eyes dancing with something you couldn't quite place. "I don't know. All of them, I guess? You look like you're trying to kill the ball."

A chuckle escaped you. "It's called intensity."

"Yeah, well, I like it." He pushed off the fence and walked a little closer. "I'm Max."

"You know, I've noticed," you teased, a smirk spreading across your face. "Always lurking by the gate."

His grin widened, making him look younger and somehow much more approachable. "Lurking? I prefer… observing." He paused, then gestured towards your racket. “Do you think you could teach me to hit like that?”

And just like that, a friendship was born, as naturally as the changing of seasons. You didn't actually teach him to play tennis, you decided, though, that he was far more enthralled with the intricate mechanics of his racing kart, and you found yourself drawn to the way his eyes lit up whenever he spoke about the feeling of speed and control.

You spent the rest of your summer evenings not on the court, but tinkering with his kart in his garage, or racing against each other on the empty country roads, the roar of engines a stark contrast to the quiet thud of tennis balls you were used to.

You taught him a little about the precision and discipline you carried from your sport while he showed you how to embrace a more reckless, unbridled kind of passion.

As the weeks passed, those shared moments morphed into something deeper. One warm evening, after a long day at the track, you found yourselves lying on the grass, looking up at the stars.

The silence stretched between you, comfortable and charged, until he turned his head, and his hand brushed against yours.

"You know," he said, his voice low, "I can't imagine not having you here. You're… unlike anyone I've ever met."

Your heart hammered against your ribs. You had thought the same thing, again and again. "You're kinda different yourself, Verstappen," you whispered, your gaze fixed on his face.

He picked up your hand, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Are you going to let me kiss you?” he asked, his stormy blue eyes searching yours.

You didn’t hesitate. You tilted your head slightly, and that soft, hesitant kiss was the start of something bigger than either of you could have imagined.

The next few years were a blur of teenage milestones, shared victories, and the quiet comfort of understanding each other. You traveled the world, following your dreams. You were winning Grand Slams.

You mastered the art of the backhand and the perfect serve, while he climbed the ranks in the world of Formula 1, learning the intricacies of high-speed racing and the relentless demands of the professional circuit.

You learned to navigate the complexities of a long-distance relationship, the bittersweet ache of goodbyes followed by the heady joy of reunions.

You’d meet in far-flung corners of the world, a stolen weekend in Monaco, a quick coffee in London, sharing late-night calls across different time zones, finding solace in each other’s voices.

You learned to listen, not just with your ears, but with your heart, understanding the unspoken language of ambition and dedication, of relentless pursuit, from someone who truly understood what was involved.

He was there in the stands when you clinched your first Wimbledon title, his applause echoing louder than the roar of the crowd, his pride radiating across the stadium.

You, in turn, were glued to the screen, every race day a nail-biting affair as you chanted his name like a magic spell. You celebrated his wins with unabashed joy, commiserated over his losses with a fierce loyalty that only a childhood best friend, a lover, could offer.

Your life now is a whirlwind of press conferences, sponsor obligations, and the unwavering pressure to stay at the top.

You glide across the court, a graceful yet powerful force, your focus sharp and unflinching, yet when you catch a glimpse of Max in the crowd, you allow yourself a secret smile, a silent reminder of your shared history, of the kid he was all those years ago. He is a reminder of that simpler time.

There are moments, like now, after another grueling day on the court, when you close your eyes and let the roar of the crowd fade away, replaced by the rumble of his scooter and the memory of his first shy smile.

You might be number one in the world of tennis, a name whispered in awe, but you know, the best title you've ever earned is his girlfriend. And that, you think, is the greatest prize of all.

And, as you’re getting ready for the next press conference, you're thinking of the next time you see him. The thought has you smiling again. . . .

The roar of the crowd is a familiar symphony, a constant hum beneath your focused breath. You adjust the headband, the familiar terry cloth a comfort against the glare of the stadium lights. Wimbledon’s Centre Court is your kingdom, the lush green grass your canvas.

You’re leading 5-3 in the third set against Elena Rybakina, a formidable opponent, your every move calculated, precise. A serve, a blur of motion – ace. The roar erupts, a wave of sound that threatens to lift you off your feet.

You know you've got this, the title within your grasp. You’ve worked for this, bled for this, every single grueling practice session, every sacrifice, all culminate in this moment.

You win the game, the match, and the crowd goes wild. The air crackles with energy, the taste of victory sweet on your tongue. You shake hands with Rybakina, a brief, respectful acknowledgment of the battle fought, then raise your arms in a triumphant arc.

Another Wimbledon title under your belt. You can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the familiar mix of elation and exhaustion. It’s a high like no other, but underneath that surge of victory there's another feeling, a quiet hum of anticipation.

You know who’s waiting for you.

The post-match media scrum is a blur - flashes, questions, microphone in your face. You handle it all with your usual icy grace, your well-honed responses a shield against the endless prodding.

You’re used to it; it comes with the territory of being the best. But you’re itching to escape its glare. You see your agent, Sarah, giving you a quick nod, and you know it's your cue. A few more polite words, another practiced smile, and then you're slipping away, finally free of the spotlight.

You find him in the players' lounge, perched on a sofa, his eyes tracking yours as you walk in. Max. He stands as you approach, a smile playing on his lips that makes your heart do that familiar little flip.

The harsh lines that often harden his face are softened when he looks at you. He gathers you into his arms, his embrace both fierce and gentle.

"You were incredible," he whispers against your hair, his voice roughened with emotion. "An absolute beast out there."

"Thanks, you," you murmur, breathing in his scent, the familiar comfort of it grounding you after the storm of the match. You pull back slightly, your gaze catching his. “Did you watch the whole thing? Even with your schedule?”

He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. You were destroying her. Honestly, you're the most dangerous person I know." You laugh at that, a genuine laugh that’s rare these days, a laugh that only he can draw out of you.

Later, back at the house in Monaco, you sit side-by-side on the balcony, the Mediterranean Sea shimmering under the moonlight. He holds your hand, his thumb tracing patterns on your knuckles.

In this serene space, the world outside fades away. The tension that always seems to cling to you both loosens, the relentless pressure of your careers receding into the background.

"You know," Max begins, his voice quiet, "sometimes I still can't believe it. You, the best there is. Not just in the world, but the best there could ever be.”

You turn to him, your eyes searching his. "And you?" you ask him, “World Champion twice? Sometimes I can't believe you’re not some superhuman entity.”

He squeezes your hand, his gaze unwavering. "We both push ourselves to the edge, and beyond," he says. "It's what makes us who we are, isn’t it?"

"Yeah," you agree, leaning your head against his shoulder. "But it's also why we need each other." The silence that follows is comfortable, a space filled with shared understanding, a knowing that transcends words.

The days that follow are a brief reprieve, stolen moments away from the relentless cycle of competition. You spend them walking along the coast, laughing, rediscovering the simplicity of just being together.

But the respite is always fleeting, the demands of your respective careers always looming on the horizon. You’re due to fly out for a tournament in Washington D.C. in a week, and Max is scheduled for a race in Hungary two weeks after that.

The night before you leave, the atmosphere is thick with a quiet anticipation. You’re curled up on the sofa, your favourite movie playing softly on the TV, but neither of you is paying much attention.

Max pulls you closer, his hand slipping beneath your t-shirt, tracing the curve of your back. His skin is always warm against yours, a familiar comfort.

"I wish you didn't have to go," he murmurs, his voice husky. "I hate being away from you."

You turn to face him, your fingers cupping his cheek. "I wish I didn't either, but we know how this goes. We’re just two very busy, very overachieving maniacs.”

He smiles, a flash of his boyish charm. "Yeah, but that's why I love you. You’re as insane as I am." He leans in, his lips finding yours, and for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist.

The morning you leave, the goodbyes are short, a quick kiss on the lips and a promise to call every day. You watch his car disappear down the driveway, a small ache settling in your chest.

It's the same ache you feel every time you part ways, a reminder of your connection, a reminder of what you have to come back to.

The tournament in D.C. is a brutal battle. You're seeded first, as always, and the pressure is immense. You win the first few rounds with your usual dominance, but then come up against a rising star, a young American player who pushes you to your absolute limit.

The match goes to five sets, each point a war of attrition. You’re exhausted by the end, but you win, the taste of victory bittersweet.

That night, you’re in the hotel room, the city lights twinkling outside your window. You’re on a call with Max, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

He’s telling you about his practice sessions, the improvements he’s made to his car, and you’re listening intently, your mind drifting away from the exhaustion and the pressure.

“You were so close out there,” he says suddenly, “your match was insane, I was so nervous.”

“You always are,” you giggle, picturing his intense face watching your match on the TV. “Just like how I feel every race you’re in.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, the hum of the call a gentle lull. “I’m proud of you,” he says, his voice soft, “you always make me so proud.”

“And I you,” you murmur, a lump forming in your throat.

“I love you,” he whispers, and you feel like you're home again, all the way across the world.

“Love you too, always.”

You fall asleep with his voice still ringing in your ears. The next morning, you wake up to a phone call you weren't expecting. It’s Sarah, your agent, and her voice is strained.

"There's been an accident," she says, her voice barely a whisper, "Max... he was in a crash during practice."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. The room spins, the world blurring at the edges. Your breath catches in your chest, a cold dread gripping your heart.

"How bad?" you manage to ask, your voice shaking.

"We don't know yet," she says, the uncertainty in her voice doing little to assuage the terror that’s now flooding you. "You need to come home, now."

The next few hours are a chaotic blur. You’re on autopilot, racing through airports and boarding planes, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You barely register the faces around you, the sounds of the world muted, as if you're underwater.

All you can think of is Max, his face, his smile, his voice. The thought of losing him is unbearable.

You arrive in Monaco in the dead of night. The house feels cold and empty, the silence deafening. You make your way to the hospital, your every step heavy, the weight of your fear pressing down on you.

You find him in a small, sterile room, his body connected to monitors. He’s pale and still, his face almost hidden by the shadows. You feel like you’ve been ripped open, the pain so sharp it steals your breath.

You rush to his side, your fingers reaching for his hand. His skin is cold, but his grip tightens around yours, a small, reassuring squeeze.

His eyes flutter open, and he looks at you, a flicker of recognition in his gaze. "You’re here," he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Max,” you breathe, a sob catching in your throat. Tears are streaming down your face as you gently cup his face. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He smiles weakly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. “I knew you would be,” he murmurs, his eyes closing again, “always, even when I’m an idiot driving a race car.”

You don’t say anything, you just sit beside him, holding his hand, and watching him breathe, a silent promise passing between you, a bond forged in childhood, strengthened by shared triumphs and endured through deep pain - a love that would always, always persevere. . . .

The scent of burnt rubber and high-octane fuel clings to him even before the door shuts. You hear the familiar click of the lock, and then the heavier thud of his boots hitting the tiles of the hallway.

You’re sprawled on the couch, a worn-out copy of “Open” by Andre Agassi resting on your chest. Jimmy, the ginger behemoth, is purring like a motorboat on your left thigh, while Sassy, the sleek black panther, is curled into a perfect ebony question mark at your feet.

They’ve been your constant companions during the lull before your next tournament.

“Hey,” Max’s voice is low, tired, but a ripple of warmth underlies it. You open your eyes, the intense afternoon sun filtering in through the tall living room windows making the world outside a blur of gold and green.

You push Agassi off your chest, feeling the book’s weight leave a slight indent.

“Hey yourself,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. You watch as he shrugs off his jacket, the Red Bull logo on his polo a vibrant dash of color against the muted tones of the room.

He looks drained, the lines around his eyes slightly more pronounced than you remember from the last time he was home. You know those lines; they’re etched by the relentless pressure of Formula 1, the constant travel, the unending pursuit of milliseconds.

He kneels beside the couch, reaching out a hand to scratch behind Jimmy's ears. The cat pushes his head into Max’s palm, a rumbling purr vibrating through his frame.

“They’ve missed you,” you murmur, running a hand down Sassy’s velvety back.

Max glances up at you, his blue eyes, usually so sharp and focused, are a little softer now, a touch vulnerable and definitely possessive. “Not as much as I missed you,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on your face.

You feel the familiar warmth spread through your chest. It's crazy how after all these years, the simple act of him looking at you like that can still make your heart do somersaults.

He settles onto the couch, his long legs stretching out and nearly touching your feet. He pulls you into his side, and you nestle in, the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby.

The tension in his body is palpable. “Bad race?” you ask softly, tracing small circles on his arm with your fingertip.

He sighs, a gust of air escaping his lips. “Third,” he replies, the single word carrying a weight that you understand completely. “Just… not good enough, you know?”

You nod, because you do know. You've had your share of crushing defeats, the sting of a missed shot, the frustration of an opponent playing out of their skin. You’ve both built entire empires on a foundation of ambition, a constant striving for perfection, despite the inherent impossibility of it.

You know how those ‘not good enough’ days can feel.

“You’ll get ‘em next time,” you say, your head resting against his shoulder. There’s no need for platitudes or empty reassurances. He knows that you know.

A wry smile touches his lips. “Easy for you to say. You’re basically untouchable on the court right now.”

You chuckle, a low, confident sound that ripples through his frame. “Untouchable? Please. I just know how to make my opponents sweat a little.”

You raise your eyebrows, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He is so well aware of the press conferences where you don't mince your words.

He lets out a genuine laugh then, the sound is music to your ears. It’s raw and real. “That's the understatement of the century,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “The way you went off on that reporter after your French Open semi-final was legendary."

You roll your eyes dramatically, though you can't suppress the grin that spreads across your face. “He asked if I was scared of my opponent. Scared. As if. I’d rather face a thousand of those volleys than go through another interview like that.”

He pulls you closer, his arm tightening around you. "You're fierce," he murmurs, burying his face in your hair. "On and off the court. It's... it's one of the things I love about you.”

“And you’re terrifying behind the wheel,” you tease, knowing that a lot of his race opponents are afraid of him on the track.

He chuckles again, a low rumble against your ear. “And you love that too,” he says, the teasing note in his voice back.

You don’t bother denying it. He knows you too well. You know him too well. You’ve built something that is so incredibly strong because it was always built together. You’ve seen each other through the highs and lows, the wins and losses, the triumphs and the heartbreaks.

You’ve navigated the pressures of fame, the relentless scrutiny, the isolating nature of being at the top – together. You were just kids when it started, two teenagers with big dreams and even bigger personalities.

You fell in love navigating the ups and downs of life, and you grew up together, which made things that much stronger.

The silence that follows is comfortable, filled with the unspoken language that only two people who have known each other for so long can share. You can feel the tension slowly leaving him, as if your presence is a balm to his weary soul.

“Tournament soon?” he asks, his voice muffled against your hair.

“Yeah,” you reply, “Dubai. In a week.” You know the time change between Dubai and Europe will be brutal, but you’ve become accustomed to that aspect of your career.

He lifts his head and looks at you, his gaze intense. “You’ll crush them,” he says with absolute certainty.

You smile, the confidence in his voice a tangible thing. “Just like you’re going to leave them all in the dust next race, huh?”

He grins, that familiar flash of competitive fire returning to his eyes. “You know it.”

You trace the line of his jaw, your fingers lingering on the slight stubble. You could spend hours like this, just the two of you, wrapped up in each other’s presence, the noise of the world fading away.

There’s a vulnerability in him that only you get to see, a softness that he hides from the cameras, the reporters, the rivals. And in return, he gets to see a side of you that very few have been privy to, the quiet tenderness that lies beneath the fiery exterior.

“Want to order some takeaway?” you ask, the thought of cooking suddenly feeling like a monumental task.

“Pizza?” he suggests, his eyes already sparkling with the thought.

“Only if it has pineapple,” you tease, knowing that it is the most controversial thing you could possibly say.

Max groans, throwing his head back against the couch. “You are absolutely going to be the death of me,” he says, but the smile on his face belies his words.

You laugh, the sound light and free. You lean in, your lips meeting his in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s the taste of home, a place where you are both just Max and you, where the pressures of the world are just whispers in the distance.

You know that outside this space, you are both world-class athletes with unwavering determination, but in each other’s arms, you are just two people who grew up together. Who fell in love.

Who, despite the relentless demands of your careers, will always find their way back to each other. You are, after all, each other’s constant. You are, and will always be, each other’s home.

The roar of the engine was a familiar lullaby, a sound that had been a constant soundtrack to your life since you were kids, perched on the sidelines of karting tracks, watching Max whiz by in a blur of red and orange.

Now, instead of a flimsy kart, you were strapped into a beast of a car, the smell of hot rubber and high-octane fuel filling your nostrils. You glanced at the familiar, focused profile of Max beside you, the set of his jaw a testament to his concentration.

This was supposed to be a fun exercise, a publicity stunt dreamed up by Red Bull’s marketing department – the world’s number one tennis player, and the reigning Formula One Champion, taking a joyride. Except, this wasn’t a joyride.

This was a terror ride, and you were pretty sure your heart was currently trying to stage a coup and escape from your chest.

“Max,” you started, your voice a little too high pitched, a far cry from the confident, booming voice that usually echoed through stadium press boxes. “You know I’m used to your speed, right? On the track, where it's meant to be, not on some random circuit at 300 km/h.”

He didn’t answer, just a subtle twitch of his lips hinting at a suppressed grin. You gripped the grab handle on your side of the car so hard your knuckles turned white.

It was no secret that Max, much like you on the tennis court, thrived on pushing boundaries. He was a master of controlled chaos on the track, and right now, you weren’t so sure about the "controlled" part.

The car accelerated, forcing you back into your seat. You let out a yell, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through you.

You were used to controlling your own trajectory, predicting your opponent’s next move, the satisfying thump of a perfectly placed serve. This, this was utterly out of your hands, at the mercy of Max’s foot on the accelerator pedal.

“Max! Verdomme! Slow down!” You bellowed, resorting to Dutch as your carefully constructed composure shattered into a million pieces. You could feel the g-force pressing against you, throwing your head against the headrest as he took a corner at an impossible speed.

You braced yourself, bracing your hands against the dashboard, trying to find something solid to cling to.

You could hear him chuckling, the sound muffled but distinct. You could practically see the mischievous glint in his eyes, even though you were looking straight at the dashboard.

“What, is the little tennis star scared?” He teased, his voice laced with amusement.

He downshifted, the revs of the engine screaming higher, and you swore you felt your stomach try to migrate up into your throat.

“Scared?! I’m not scared!” You shouted back, partially for his benefit, mostly for yours. “I’m just… concerned about the structural integrity of this car. And my very delicate internal organs!” You knew you sounded pathetic, not the self-assured athlete the world knew and feared, but you couldn’t help it.

This was Max Verstappen, after all. He had a unique way of bringing out your most ridiculous, human side.

He laughed again, a full, genuine laugh this time, the kind that made your heart flutter even while your stomach was performing gymnastics.

He glanced over at you, a grin playing on his face. “Relax, schatje. I have it under control.”

And maybe, just maybe, you did believe him, for a split second anyway. Then he slammed on the gas and you screamed again, a string of Dutch curses pouring out of your lips as you gripped the headrest with an iron fist.

Each turn was a rollercoaster, each acceleration a punch to your gut. You found yourself cursing in Dutch, English, and even a little bit of French, a linguistic mashup fuelled by sheer terror.

You caught glimpses of the blur outside, the landscape a streaks of green and brown. You tried to focus on breathing, trying to regain a semblance of control over your runaway emotions, but every time he hit the accelerator, you lost it again.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, or perhaps just a few minutes of extreme adrenaline, the car slowed, and pulled into a stop. You were slumped back in your seat, a sweaty, disheveled mess.

“That was… an experience,” you managed, your voice still a bit shaky.

He turned to you, his eyes sparkling as he gave you a wide, triumphant grin. “Fun, right?”

You almost laughed, a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. “Fun? Max, I think I aged at least five years in that car.” You reached up and felt your pulse, which was still trying to break free.

He tilted his head, the playful gleam still dancing in his eyes. “But you said you're used to my speed."

You threw your hands up. “Yes, but I didn’t know you’d be trying to scare me, you… absolute menace.”

He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated in your chest, and then reached over and undid your seatbelt. As he did, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Maybe just a little.”

You felt yourself blush, despite the fact that you were also on the verge of throttling him. As he stepped out of the car, you took a moment to collect yourself, smoothing your clothes and trying to appear somewhat pulled together.

As you reached up, your fingers brushed something small and hard attached to the car’s dashboard. It was a camera, aimed directly at you.

Your eyes widened, and then everything clicked into place. The teasing laughter, the exaggerated acceleration, the playful comments – it had all been an elaborate, incredibly mischievous ploy.

You burst out laughing, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that echoed around the open space. You couldn't help it. It was absurd, ridiculous, and completely, utterly Max.

You covered your face with your hands, still laughing. He watched you, his eyes sparkling, a smile playing on his lips.

“Did you get all of that?” you exclaimed, still chuckling. “The screaming in multiple languages? The death grips on the dashboard?"

He shrugged, pretending to look innocent, but the smirk on his face told another story. “Maybe.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “You’re unbelievable,” you said, your voice laced with amusement rather than anger.

“Only for you,” he replied, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes.

You lowered your hands, a smile now playing on your lips. “I should have known, shouldn’t I? That you would never just do a normal lap with me.”

He took a step closer, his eyes meeting yours. “Where’s the fun in normal, liefje?”

You knew he was right. Normal was boring. And as much as the terror of the hot lap had made you want to wring his neck, you also wouldn't trade it for anything.

It was another reminder of the chaotic dance you and Max had always been in, a dance of adrenaline, teasing, and a love that ran as deep as the engine roar that had been the background to your lives.

This was your Max, and despite your near-death experience, you wouldn't have him any other way. You stepped out of the car, ready to face the world, and whatever else he decided to throw your way. The camera might have captured your terrified screams, but it had missed the grin that was now plastered across your face.

You were ready for your next match but you were also ready for whatever chaos Max decided to unleash next.

Life with him was never boring, and you wouldn't have it any other way. . . .

The crisp December air nips at your cheeks as you step out of the car, the familiar rumble of Max's engine fading behind you. You pull your coat tighter, adjusting your beanie, a small smile playing on your lips.

The holidays. A welcome respite from the relentless pressure of the tennis circuit. A chance to breathe, to ground yourself before the Australian Open looms. And, most importantly, time with Max.

He's already by the padel court, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he bounces a ball. Lando and Charles are there too, bickering about something trivial, their usual competitive energy already buzzing.

“Took you long enough, slowpoke,” Max teases, tossing the ball to you.

“Traffic,” you retort, catching it easily. “Besides, someone had to pack the snacks, didn’t they?”

Lando groans dramatically. ��Snacks? You brought snacks? This is serious competition, woman!”

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of your on-court persona flickering through. “Oh, I thought this was just a friendly get-together. Unless you’re scared, Lando?”

He splutters, Charles chuckling beside him. “Scared? Of you? Please. Just wait until I unleash my padel prowess.”

Max wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Don’t listen to him, liefje. We’ll crush them.”

That Dutch endearment always makes you melt, and a genuine smile spreads across your face. He knows exactly how to disarm you.

The game starts, and the air is filled with the thwack of the ball, playful taunts, and the occasional groan of exertion. You and Max move with a practiced synchronicity, years of playing (and bickering) together evident in your easy communication.

Max is surprisingly good at padel, his reflexes honed by years of racing, and you find yourself relying on his power, setting him up for winning shots.

“That’s cheating! You have your wife on your team,” Lando grumbles, wiping sweat from his brow after another point you and Max win.

“Jealous, are we?” you retort, grinning. “Maybe you should find yourself a tennis champion girlfriend.”

Charles snorts. “Good luck with that. Finding someone who can keep up with you is a challenge.”

You playfully shove Charles’ shoulder. “I’m not that intimidating.”

Max squeezes your hand. “Oh, you are. Especially when you give those death stares on court.”

He's right, of course. You can be ruthless. You have to be. The pressure to stay on top is immense, the media constantly scrutinizing every move, every word. The expectation is suffocating sometimes.

Later, as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the court, you’re sitting on the bench, catching your breath.

The score is ridiculously lopsided in yours and Max’s favor. Lando and Charles have conceded defeat, blaming everything from the altitude to the snack selection.

Max sits beside you, his arm draped around your shoulders. “You were amazing out there,” he says, his voice soft. “Like always.”

“So were you,” you reply, leaning into him. “You know, for a race car driver.”

He laughs, a warm, comforting sound. “It's all about reflexes, liefje. And a killer instinct.”

He understands that killer instinct in you, the drive to win, the unwavering focus. He sees it because he possesses it too.

It binds you together, this shared understanding of the relentless pursuit of excellence, the sacrifices required, the price you both pay.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his eyes searching yours. “With everything… the media, the pressure. Are you okay?”

It's a question he asks often, a constant check-in, a reminder that he’s there, always. It's a tenderness he rarely shows the world, a vulnerability reserved only for you.

You sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “It’s tough. The whispers, the judgment… sometimes it feels like I'm living under a microscope.”

“I know,” he says, his voice laced with empathy. “They’re brutal. They try to tear you down because they’re jealous of what you’ve achieved.”

He knows what it’s like to be under that kind of scrutiny, to have every mistake magnified, every victory questioned. He lived it his entire life, his father's relentless expectations and the constant pressure to perform.

You trace a pattern on his jeans with your finger. “It’s different for you, though. You have the car, the team… you’re surrounded by people who support you, who believe in you.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm. “And you don’t?”

You look up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Of course, I do. But it’s… lonely at the top. Everyone wants something from you. It’s hard to know who to trust.”

He understands that too. The isolation that comes with success, the constant questioning of motives.

“You have me,” he says, his voice unwavering. “You always have me. And I know it’s not the same, but Lando and Charles… they care about you too. We all see how hard you work, how much you dedicate yourself to your sport.”

He pulls you closer, his warmth enveloping you. “Don’t let them break you, liefje. You’re stronger than they think. Stronger than you even give yourself credit for.”

His words are like a balm to your soul, a reminder of your strength, your resilience. He sees you, truly sees you, the fierce competitor and the vulnerable woman beneath.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s just… sometimes it gets overwhelming.”

He kisses your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Then let me carry some of the weight. That’s what I’m here for.”

The sun has almost completely disappeared, and the air is getting colder. Lando and Charles are packing up their things, their boisterous energy subdued.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Lando calls out. “We’re heading back. You coming?”

You look at Max, a silent question in your eyes.

He squeezes your hand again. “Go. I’ll stay a little longer. I want to watch the stars.”

You nod, knowing he needs the quiet, the solitude. He finds peace in the vastness of the night sky, a reminder that his problems, his pressures, are small in the grand scheme of things.

You stand up, giving Max one last kiss. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

As you walk away, you glance back at him. He’s sitting on the bench, his head tilted back, gazing at the stars. In that moment, he looks so young, so vulnerable.

The weight of the world, the expectations of millions, seem to melt away, leaving only a man searching for solace in the vastness of the universe.

You know you would do anything for him, fight anyone who dared to hurt him. You are his anchor, just as he is yours.

Later that night, you find him on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket, still staring at the stars. You join him, slipping under the blanket, pressing close to his side.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask, your voice soft.

He lets out a long sigh. “Just… everything. The season, the pressure, the expectations.”

You reach out and take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “You’re going to be okay, Max. You’re the best. You always have been.”

He turns to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and tenderness. “And you? Are you going to be okay?”

You smile, a genuine, heartfelt smile. “With you by my side? Always.”

You lean in and kiss him, a long, slow kiss that speaks of years of shared history, of unspoken understanding, of unwavering love.

In that moment, under the vast expanse of the starry sky, you are just two people, connected by a bond that transcends the pressures of fame and the demands of the world.

You are simply Max and you, a team, a partnership, a love that has endured the test of time and the scrutiny of the world. And that, you realize, is all that truly matters. . .

[thehusbandoden]

You Flinch During an Argument -Bakugo Katsuki

I finished this yesterday but forced myself to wait to post it due to my one part a day pattern I've had going on.

Anyways~ as I said in Shoto's part, I did make this one a bit angstier, but I hope I didn't stray too far away from the original prompt :'). It's kinda bittersweet lol but I kinda like it.

Angst to fluff/Comfort | Kinda bittersweet~ | 993 words | female reader

Warnings!: arguing, yelling, being scared of your partner, parents arguing (the kids were not present), kids being left at school (not for very long), caps, excuses, self hatred, and insulting themselves (Bakugo). Please let me know if I miss any <33

Dabi | Hawks | Todoroki Shoto | Bakugo Katsuki | Midoriya Izuku | Shigaraki Tomura | Aizawa Shota | Amajiki Tamaki | Kirishima Eijiro | Shinso Hitoshi

You both had been fighting for at least half an hour, screaming at one another for this and that. It started with Bakugo 'forgetting' to pick up your sons from school, and has now escalated into you screaming at him for not 'caring about this family' and his yelling about how hard he works for your family.

No one was totally to blame, both parties had some points that were right, and some that were wrong. But it should have never reached that point.

~~~

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD I WORK TO PROVIDE FOR THIS FAMILY! I TOLD YOU WHEN YOU BEGGED FOR KIDS THAT I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO HELP OUT MUCH! WHAT ELSE DO YOU EXPECT FROM ME!"

"I UNDERSTAND THAT- BUT YOU'VE HAD THREE DAYS OFF! YOU'RE FULLY RESTED- AND SHOULD'VE PICKED UP THE KIDS NO PROBLEM WHILE I WAS HELPING OUT YOUR MOM!"

"WELL WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO! I FORGOT ABOUT IT, OKAY! AND YOU DIDN'T CALL TO REMIND ME EITHER!"

"I EXPECTED YOU TO HAVE ENOUGH BRAINS TO REMEMBER, BUT I GUESS THAT WAS IDIOTIC OF ME!"

"I HAVE SO MUCH TO DEAL WITH BESIDES THIS BULL CRAP THAT'S YOUR RESPONSIBILITY! I WORK, YOU TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS!"

"KATSUKI I CANNOT WATCH THE KIDS 24-7 WITHOUT YOUR HELP! I NEED BREAKS TOO! YOU HAVE TWO DAYS OFF A WEEK TO RELAX, AND CATCH UP ON SLEEP! WHILE I HAVE NIGHT TIME, BATHROOM BREAKS, RUNNING ERANDS, AND NAP TIMES TO CATCH A BREAK! I SHOULD BE ABLE TO RELY ON MY HUSBAND TO HELP OUT WHEN HE HAS TIME OFF!"

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WANTED THE KIDS IN THE FIRST PLACE- WHY ARE YOU WHINING TO ME ABOUT HAVING TO TAKE CARE OF 'EM!"

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE THEY AREN'T YOURS!? WE BOTH AGREED ON DOING THE BEST WE COULD FOR OUR KIDS, AND YOU SAID THAT YOU'D HELP OUT WHENEVER YOU COULD!"

"Y/N IT WAS THIS ONE TIME- I WAS BUSY, I FORGOT!"

"YOU WERE PLAYING GAMES ALL DAY WITH YOUR FRIENDS! THAT IS NOT BUSY!"

Blazing anger filled Bakugo as he stepped towards you, planning on simply getting closer to you to somehow try and make you see his side of things. He didn't mean to forget about picking up his kids, he loves his kids, he was simply engrossed in talking about them to his friends as he gamed, totally forgetting about the time and the fact that they were at school, waiting for someone to pick them up.

In truth, Bakugo felt bad. Really bad. But you wouldn't stop, so he continued, his unwavering pride making it near impossible to simply apologize and leave the argument behind.

Storming towards you, Bakugo stopped dead in his tracks as you flinched from him, eyes holding a certain terror. Wait- did you- did you think he was going to hurt you?!

Apologies and 'are you okay's were caught in Bakugo's throat as he opened his mouth, too terrified to speak.

Y/n.. his y/n was scared..of him. HIs y/n- the person that tore him out of his 'I don't care about anything or anyone' stage. She brought him out of his dark pit of self loathing, hating himself for how weak he was, how he couldn't do anything compared to that idiot Deku. She brought light into his world, she is his light. His first and last love, his wife, his center, his other half, his partner, his reason for life, the mother of his children, his one and only lover, his queen, his everything.

And he scared her.

Screamed at her for something that was his fault.

Treated her so badly that she flinched away from him- terror filling her eyes.

Her gorgeous e/c eyes. The same eyes that his sons had inherited. Now he's brought tears to three sets of those goregous eyes. What a scum bag.

Pain seared through Bakguo as he embraced his y/n, knowing if he left now she would entirely break, thinking that he was giving up on her. On their love. When in reality, he would't be. He would never dream of leaving her, or their beautiful children.

Because no matter how much of an a-hole Bakugo may be, he would never stoop that low. Never. And so he held her, and continued to hold her as she tearfully cussed him out, telling him how much she loved him and how much of an a-hole he was for treating her like that, their kids like that.

He just held her, telling her that he was sorry, that he knew, that he would make it up to her -and their seven year old twins- somehow.

And for now, that was enough. His love, and comfort was enough as you clung to him, insulting him while telling him that you loved his idiotic self in the same sentence, telling him that you loved him too much to not be able to forgive him.

And that if he was serious about making things right, that you would help him.

Because you were Bakugo y/n*. You chose to take his name and become his wife. Bakugo has helped you through so many up and downs, so you would do the same for him. Because he truly loved you, and you truly loved him.

*Japanese last names go in front of the first name to pay respect to the family name, and that's why Kirishima and Bakugo's other classmates call him Bakugo instead of Katsuki -to pay respect to his family name-. So you would be (in Japan anyway) Bakugo y/n (if you choose to take his last name) and strangers/aquaintnesses/not so close friends and co-workers would call you Bakugo instead of y/n. Annd due to me not liking Bakugo a whole lot I call him Bakugo or Baka/Bakuhoe instead of Katuski and call Todoroki and Midoriya, Shoto and Izuku- do you get what I'm saying?? I hope you do <33

Series' masterlist | Bakahoe's Bakugou's masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated<33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

[nick-writes-stuff]

One-sided Estrangement

Hwang In-ho x gn!reader

summary: You had been friends with In-ho as long as you can remember, up until he suddenly disappeared without a word. You end up participating in the games and win. On your ride back to the mainland, In-ho tries to reconcile with you. It doesn't go well. (part 1 on my page)

! warnings: hurt/no comfort, childhood friends to strangers speedrun, discussing canon-typical violence, considerable amount of cursing

a/n: after the feedback on the last fic, i've decided to make two different endings for my last fic. this one can be read stand-alone, but there is some context you'd be missing. hope you enjoy!

The attempted mutiny of the games organized by Gi-hun was a rather short-lived one. It wasn't hard for In-ho to fake Young-il's death and retake his position as the Front Man. The fact that any of the players thought they had a fighting chance was laughable. A few hungry, injured, and sleep deprived players with a limited supply of ammo had no chance against the military sized forces at the game's disposal. While there were some casualties, there was hardly a scratch on the operation.

Ever since he had decided to pull you out of the games, he finally felt a shred of humanity that he thought he had lost long ago. There was something to look forward to for the first time since long before the games.

He found himself watching you far more than he would have for other players. It was like his eyes immediately scanned for your form on the cameras. Every time he entered the control room, his eyes darted to the tile in the floor where your picture remained lit. He didn't know what he would do if he came back to find it darkened.

He had to wait for an opportunity. It wasn't like he could just have the workers escort you out of the dormitory. If he was going to do it, it had to be during a game. It would be easiest to do if you were supposed to be eliminated. They'd done this before with Il-nam. All it took was a stray gunshot and an announcement with your number. They also would have had the chance to do so if you were somehow not picked during a game. He thought he remembered something like that happening in the 2021 games, but it wasn't a common occurrence at all.

He had been preparing everything in order to pull you out, but he hadn't even considered the fact that you would win. He wasn't doubting your capabilities, not in the slightest. He knew you could hold your own in a fight, and you had a clever wit. He just never thought you would be able to dish out the sort of violence needed to actually make it to the end. But here you were in the back of the limo blindfolded and bound, of course. It was the typical procedure. The driver had just left the ferry when he noticed you started to stir.

In-ho sat across from you in the back of the limo, mask off with a glass in his hand. He took a swig before beginning to speak.

"Congratulations, Player 284." He said, monotone with little enthusiasm.

Your eyes fluttered against the cloth of the blindfold, and your vision remained dark. You didn't react for a moment before mumbling, "You're the guy that Gi-hun mentioned." It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.

He chuckled softly. "An astute observation." He said.

"Why am I awake?" You asked. This seemed odd. They could easily have just shoved you out of the car while you were unconscious. It also didn't make sense to have the man in charge of the operation here during the drop-off, although you knew that he would be from Gi-hun's story. Seemed like too many risks.

He took another sip of his drink. "I like to ask the winner a few questions before they go. They always give insight and constructive criticism that I couldn't get elsewhere." He said. It wasn't a lie, but you were definitely set to be awake far longer than other winners.

You scoffed. The idea of anyone giving constructive criticism was laughable, although you did think he was likely being sarcastic. "You wanna know what you can do next time?" You asked, your tone definitely seeming more stern than before.

"Precisely."

"Next time you can go fuck yourself." You spat.

He had to stop himself from chuckling. There's the spitfire attitude he remembered.

"Now, now Player 284. Do you want to go back to sleep? I can arrange that." He said. His tone was sharp, but his face remained neutral. He just wanted to get on with the conversation. Ever since he had begun to plan your reunion, he felt a spark of anticipation and excitement that he hadn't felt for a long time. The last time he did was when his wife first told him she was pregnant. Since then, there wasn't much of anything he looked forward to until now.

You stayed quiet for a few moments. You were weighing your options here. Did you want the drug induced peace and quiet, or did you want to stay alert but listen to his rhetoric? It was hard to choose, but you decided you wanted to take in as much info as you could. Maybe you could finish what Gi-hun started.

"What do you want?" You said, your tone almost defeated.

He never really did this before, but he figured out some basic questions about the experience to move the conversation toward his end goal. Simple stuff like your favorite game, the food quality, and the voting process. You gave short answers, never saying more than you needed to.

The final two questions were more focused on leading you toward the reveal. After your response to the first one, he didn't think you would take these questions well.

"Which elimination would you say affected you the most?" He asked, still monotonous thought he was intently engaged in the conversation.

The parts of your face not covered by the blindfold recoiled into a disgusted shock at his words. You wanted to give him a piece of your mind. You wanted to scream and say all 455 of them and that he's a monster for thinking this question wasn't horrific. But you didn't. You sat silently for a moment, long enough that he actually started to think you wouldn't answer him.

You had 455 to choose from, and while there were definitely some others in the running, your answer was obvious to you.

"Player 1."

He hummed in acknowledgment but didn't give off any verbal cues regarding his emotional state. His lips did curl into a smile, however. It was intriguing to him that despite the confrontation that occurred that day, his 'death' was the most effective. "Why's that?" He asked, pressing you for insight to your reasoning.

You tried not to look disgusted by his question. This was just another way to torture a player for more enjoyment. Why does he need to keep reminding you that everyone who was close to you was gone now?

You muttered, "He reminded me of someone I knew back home." You didn't want to elaborate further.

He waited a few moments to see if you would continue, but you stayed quiet. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" He probed.

"Why does it matter?" You said.

You weren't making this easy on him. "I was just looking for insight on emotional connections formed in the games." He said.

You had to take a deep breath to avoid losing your temper on him. As much as you wanted to give him a piece of your mind, you wanted to get as much information from this interaction as possible. "A good thing, I suppose." You murmured.

"Player 1 is one of the very few players who were eliminated outside of a game. This set of games had a lot of those." He said, trying to lead you towards explaining how you felt after he had 'been eliminated.' He almost wished he could have stayed in after the players' attempt at a coup. He could only imagine what they were thinking once they realized their mutiny failed.

You bit your tongue to stop words from flying out of your mouth. How could he act like that's an honorable distinction? He was really thinking of all of the players as statistics now. It made you sick. You paused for a moment to think of something to say that wouldn't get the tranquilizer gas turned on. "Probably for the best." you said.

That piqued his interest. "And why is that?"

"So I didn't have to see him die." You said, feeling your eyes tear up at the thought. Seeing Young-il die would have made you think about In-ho being dead. You hated thinking about the fact that he may be dead right now and you didn't even know. You tried to forget the fact that In-ho's situation even existed. Thinking about the circumstances tore you apart because he was either dead and gone or out there living life happily without you. You didn't know which was worse.

He couldn't help but smirk at the irony of your statement. You never saw him die because he didn't, obviously.

In-ho actually felt his heart skip a beat as he prepared to ask you his last question. Emotions of excitement and anticipation and anxiety were all breaking through his impenetrable facade he had maintained for years now. All of these emotions were bubbling up inside him, and the strangest part is that he kind of enjoyed it. He felt lighter and happier than he had been for a long time.

"I have one more question for you, Player 284." He began. Your posture relaxed somewhat. You were glad that this was finally almost over, and you wouldn't have to think about the most traumatic thing you experienced for much longer.

"Would you ever be able to forgive me for running the games?"

You tensed up. You were immediately on guard again. You were sick of this. You didn't want to deal with his bullshit. Is he really trying to get you to feel sorry for him? You went through hell just for the man in charge to dare to ask for forgiveness. He didn't even attempt to explain himself or his reasoning or even give a single apology. He just wants you to stroke his ego and tell him that his games work to indoctrinate people into his fucked-up perspective of the world.

The second he saw your body go rigid, he knew this wasn't going to end well.

"Why would I when you haven't even shown a single ounce of remorse?" You said through gritted teeth. Your shoulders shook as you took shaky breaths to try to keep your composure.

In-ho sighed softly. "If I did show remorse, would you forgive me?"

"It wouldn't be genuine, and you know that. If you felt a shred of remorse, you wouldn't be here running the games." You retorted. He could feel your glare pierce him through the blindfold.

He felt his mouth dry up as he realized that this may not go the way he planned. He finished the rest of the liquid in his glass before sitting it in one of the cup holders.

"You know, we're more alike than you think." He said, a slight chuckle escaping his lips as he realized the double meaning to that statement.

You scoffed at him. "Go to hell." You spat.

He continued to chuckle. "No, I'm serious." He continued before you could interject. "I played in the games and won. Eventually, I found my way back here and worked my way to my current position."

Your jaw dropped as you started to comprehend what he was saying. He went through this and decided it was a good thing to continue? He saw hundreds of people get murdered and decided to perpetuate the violence? You didn't care what his reasoning was; there was no way to justify that. The thought alone made you sick. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" You asked incredulously. You started to get paranoid about not being able to see. You pushed yourself as far back in your seat as you could in order to create some form of distance between you.

"You're asking the wrong questions." He said matter-of-factly. "The question is: what is wrong with the world?"

You only shook your head in response. You tried to control your breathing, closing your eyes even though the blindfold was obstructing your view anyway.

He continued on with a phrase that definitely made him sound preachy, but the motives behind his actions are important for the road to forgiveness you are starting down.

"Can you imagine how bad the outside world had to be for me to be okay with accepting the fact that all the bloodshed and violence in the games is better than what's outside? We're giving them a chance to-"

"You're killing them!" You interrupted, raising your voice.

"And what would happen to them outside of here? They were being hunted down by loan sharks and hardly living as they were. We gave them their chance to change their circumstances and lessen their suffering."

You scoffed. "Lessen their suffering?! You tormented them and used them as entertainment, and when you decided you were done playing with them, you killed them!" You couldn't believe how depraved he was. How could he believe that this was mercy?

His anticipation was starting to turn into anxiety. He wanted this to go well. He wanted to be able to connect with you again and have some sense of normalcy. He didn't think that his idealistic hope was going to be realized. "The same thing that happened here would happen out there. Here they were treated like equals. They all had a fair chance to succeed here regardless of their past mistakes. You of all people would-"

"Don't. Don't you dare imply you know anything about me because you don't." You spat.

In-ho chuckled. You went quiet at his reaction. You were still angry, but there was a growing fear that he was going to retaliate in some way.

"You know, it's funny you say that. Because I do know you." He couldn't help but smirk as he said that.

You swallowed hard. Your uneasiness only grew as you heard the leather seat creak underneath him. When you first felt the blindfold move, you flinched and instinctively moved away from him. He stopped you with a gentle hand on your cheek to hold you in place.

As the blindfold was pulled off, you turned your head slightly and closed your eyes due to the bright lights. You blinked a few times as your eyes got used to taking in light. You were almost scared to look at him. Typically, when the victim sees the perpetrator of a crime, they usually don't intend for the witness to make it out alive.

But you also knew that most likely any attempt to track him down would be futile. Gi-hun had been trying to find these guys for years, and he had just found the guy who recruits players. You probably wouldn't be able to do anything to stop the operation.

Words could not describe how you felt as you met his eyes. You first recognized him as Young-il, and you felt betrayed. He really had to drag this out and made you describe how you felt after you thought he died just to stroke his own ego.

But then you remembered the conversation you had with Young-il. He was so insistent on talking about who he reminded you of. His reactions just didn't make sense. Why did he care so much when you spoke about a man he never met?

You studied his face. You knew who he was, but he seemed almost unrecognizable. He didn't look like how you remembered In-ho looking when you saw him last, and he had definitely had time to care for his appearance after he stopped his role as a player. But his demeanor was also completely different than either man you remember. You would give anything for him to be some separate man who just happens to look like the others, but deep down, you knew the truth. In-ho was the Front Man. And the Front Man used the alias Young-il as a Player. And he played you. He played with your emotions just to get you to tell him how much you missed him. Then, just like the other players, he decided he was done playing and got rid of them.

Your breathing quickened as you started to comprehend what was happening. You were confused and angry and scared and sad and a million other emotions as your mind raced. How could he do this? How did the man who had risked his life in order to save his brother turn into this? A man who took countless of other's lives to fulfill his own messed-up view of the world. A man who saves through a slaughter.

As In-ho watched you, he quickly realized that this wasn't going to go the way he hoped.

When you finally regained control of your breathing, you were quiet. You didn't look him in the eye. You couldn't.

"Let me get this straight," you started. You were clearly angry, but your words were carefully chosen. "You chose to abandon everyone who loved you in order to run death games for rich assholes. You went through the same thing I just did, and afterward, you decided you enjoyed it and stayed to kill innocent people."

"I wouldn't say I enjoy it. I see the societal value in holding these games. It is really a way to offer a chance to those in need and better the world by taking out the trash, as my predecessor would say. After I won, I wanted to help people get the same chance I did." He said. His face remained neutral, and that only made you angrier.

You ignored the phrasing of 'taking out the trash' to focus on the bigger picture here. You couldn't help but chuckle. "See, this shows how different we are. Because I just won, but I just feel overwhelming guilt for the lives lost, and I want to go home to my family. Unlike you." You spat back. Then your face dropped as you realized something else.

"Oh my god, what will I tell your mother? I can't lie to her but I can't tell her this. I can't." You said, breathing quickening again. "And Jun-ho too. How will I..." You trailed off.

Jun-ho.

Jun-ho had went out on some investigation and came back half-dead with a bullet in his chest. He refused to talk about it, but he was clearly shaken up. You know he's been working with the captain who found him to find the island where it happened.

In-ho could see the pieces of the puzzle fit together in your mind. "No. No, no, no. You didn't. Tell me you didn't. You didn't shoot him. You didn't."

He didn't say anything. Why the fuck won't he say anything?

When did you start crying? You hadn't realized it until the tears dropped onto your still bound hands.

"I did what had to be done." He said, voice notably softer than he was speaking before.

That sentence broke something in you. "I wish you would have come to me." You murmured. You took a deep breath, shoulders shaking slightly as you tried not to break down. "But I also don't think I could have done enough to prevent this. I wasn't even enough for you to tell me where you went."

"But I'm here now. I'll admit it. I was avoiding you, my mother, and Jun-ho because I was a coward. I didn't want to admit I was struggling and when I fucked up I didn't want to tell you. It was easier to run off, and after she died, I didn't feel like I had any other purpose in life. But the games gave me that purpose. Gave me something to live for."

Your face quickly changed to a look of disgust. The spark of anger rekindled in your heart. "Something to live for, huh? Your friends and family weren't enough for you?" You snapped.

"I told you, I was a coward. Leaving was easier than explaining everything that happened. Even before I was a player, I didn't have intentions of coming back." He said, raising his voice somewhat.

Your jaw dropped into a look of surprise. You finally met his eyes with a gaze that perfectly captured the whirlwind of emotions you were dealing with.

"And then after the games, I knew I couldn't explain any of this. You'd all be horrified on where I got the money from, and you would never understand the hell I went through to get it." He paused for a moment, realizing the next words he was about to say would likely be a turning point in the encounter.

"But that won't be a problem for us anymore."

He was right. This was a turning point in the encounter.

"Are you really trying to recruit me right now?" You asked, words dripping with venom.

"That's not the word I would use. I'm saying that we can have an understanding-"

You scoffed. "An understanding?!"

He rolled his eyes, an action you clearly disliked according to your facial expressions. "Since we both have been through the games and won, there is no longer that rift in between us."

"Yeah, I wouldn't call it a rift. Right now, it's probably the size of the Grand Canyon." You muttered.

He sighed annoyedly. Why won't you just listen to him? You have to be trying to antagonize him at this point. His patience was quickly running thin. "I'm not asking you to participate in running the games. Hell, you can forget they exist for all that I care. All I'm saying is that we can give our relationship another chance now."

You chuckled in disbelief. "You're being serious?" You asked, the question only partially meant as a joke. When he didn't react, you knew he was being genuine. "You just put me through a fucking death game. You stood back and let that happen."

"I gave you a chance to change your life. You can live the life you wanted now without needing to worry about your father's loan sharks." He said quickly. Why couldn't you understand how he changed your life? He did you a favor. He was trying to make amends, but you were refusing to cooperate.

You laughed. "Do you really expect me to thank you?" You shook your head. "Whether you want to admit it or not, you purposefully put my life on the line." You took a deep breath as you made the hardest decision of your life. "If you can't accept responsibility or feel any shred of remorse, this is going to be the last time we speak. I won't say anything to your mother or your brother, but I can't do this." You said, voice wavering as you realized the finality of this encounter.

"What happened to you saying that you would do anything to get me back in your life? What happened to you saying you loved me?" Once the words left his mouth, he knew this was doomed. You were right. He was manipulating you. He just tried to use your emotions against you for his own gain. But ultimately, he wouldn't have done it differently if given the chance.

You opened your mouth in shock. It took you a moment to be able to speak. "I don't love you. Not anymore. The man I loved is gone." You said. You met his gaze for the last time. "I don't even know who you are anymore. You..."

You stopped talking as he rushed to put on his polygonal mask, scared of what that could mean for you. Was this it? Was he gonna kill you?

"What the hell are you-" You were interrupted by the loud hiss of the containers of gas leaking into the cab. In-ho's hand was hovering over a remote on one of the arm rests. You assumed his mask had a respirator in it. That's why he put it on. You started to get tired from breathing it in, just like when you started the games.

He was still a coward. He couldn't admit to what he did wrong, so he's shutting you out. You wanted to be angry at him. You wanted to tell him how much he ruined your life, both before and during the games. You haven't been the same person since he left, and knowing that he was making a conscious choice to leave again should piss you off to no end.

But you didn't. You stayed calm. Deep down, you only wanted one thing.

"You know, I still hope you'll be happy."

His eyes widened at your statement as your eyes started to close. But you didn't see him react at all. It wasn't much longer until you drifted into unconsciousness.

When the gas stopped flowing, the silence he was left in was deafening. He tried to stop his eyes from tearing up under the mask. He wasn't going to take it off regardless. He's not sure he ever would.

In a few hours, you would be waking up somewhere on the outskirts of Seoul. You would wake up with the debit card in your mouth, holding the 45 billion won you earned through your victory. Once the limo started driving off, the last piece of Hwang In-ho would be left behind. That man was gone, dead to all who knew him. Maybe it's for the best.

[theoutcastwrites]

Try Again - Il Dottore x Reader

This is a vent fic. Let's just get that out of the way. I wrote this because I needed Dottore to do The Thing™. Don't read too much into this. The feelings will pass

"You've been staring at that journal for the past fifteen minutes," said Zandik, "what's the matter?"

You weren't sure it could be put into words - all the self-doubt that tormented you as of late, the thoughts that circled your mind every waking hour. Attempts had been made, in vain, to prepare a small speech in your head in case Zandik ever caught on. That, of course, he did, but you had nothing to say; not a single eloquent monologue to convey your insecurities in a way that would provoke understanding and not bewilderment.

I feel inadequate as of late. I don't feel like I'm wanted anywhere. Nothing I do matters anymore.

All miserable words that would have been met with a stern look, a simple "you are wanted by me; thus all that you do matters to me".

You tapped your pen against the empty page of your journal. You were desperate to say something, yet whatever it was that would eventually come out of your mouth already felt lacking. Nothing was enough.

"Talk to me," he urged, "you know there is nothing in this world that can't be solved. Tell me what bothers you."

You swallowed. "I feel as if I've lost all my skills. For writing, I mean. I can't come up with anything new and whatever ideas I have feel mediocre at best; uninteresting and aimless. I don't know, I..."

I think I should just give up.

The thought had crossed your mind countless times before. Wouldn't it be so much easier to abandon your work altogether? Why continue hurting yourself with this when you could simply let it all go?

You were tempted. Still, there was something that forced you to keep trying; something strange and incomprehensible that begged you not to give up this one thing that you knew.

Zandik pulled you out of your thoughts, "as far as I can tell - from what little I've seen of your scribbles - you've been writing the same themes over and over. What about trying something new?"

"I have tried. Nothing feels fitting."

"Then take a break. If I hit a dead end in my research I find something else to occupy my mind. Surely reading someone else's works will help you view your ideas from different perspectives?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. It all sounded so simple in theory - this issue should have been so easy to solve - yet nothing had worked. You felt as though you were stuck between four brick walls with no tools to break them down; nothing but your own fingernails to scrape them in hopes that someone would hear you from the other side.

"It doesn't feel so simple," you said softly.

"Why?"

"If I take a break now, I feel as if I'll only get worse." There came the first half of your horrifyingly vulnerable confession, and with it - a lump in your throat that came to embarrass you even further. You whispered the second half with enough shame to drown an entire nation: "If I don't push something out now, I'm afraid people will stop caring about me."

Zandik didn't spare you enough time to hide the tears that already clouded your vision; for he was by your side in the blink of an eye, gently pulling the journal out of your hands and hiding it behind his back.

"Why would you let such a thought become your truth?"

He laced his fingers with yours, wiped at the stray tears on your cheeks with the other hand. His glove rubbed against your skin in a way that was more uncomfortable than soothing but you made no move to stop him. Zandik continued to soothe you in the way he knew best.

"There's no race to run, do you understand? If you keep telling yourself that you'll become spoiled lest you write now, you'll never be able to see your brilliance as I do."

Zandik's eyes softened when you weakly squeezed his hand in acknowledgement. Thank you, you wanted to say, for seeing in me everything that I do not.

"Everything comes and goes; just as dusk turns to dawn without waiting for you to keep up." Zandik placed a tender kiss on your knuckles, "so don't let one difficult moment define you, my dear."

[peonysgreenhouse]

-`♡´- the day you and the stars disappeared.

summary: the discovery and aftermath of your disappearance. what do your beloveds do in your absence?

tags: obey me characters (lucifer, mammon, levi, asmo, satan, beel, belphie, diavolo, barbatos, solomon, simeon, and thirteen) x gn!reader, angst, spoilers for the first chapter of obey me! nightbringer.

When Lucifer wakes up, the left side of his bed is cold.

It's not the most unusual thing. Lucifer was much less of a morning person that you were. He glaces to his bedside table. 8:30; it was too early for you to be out of bed on the weekend. Even if you woke up early, you'd still be tucked into his arms, or scrolling through Devilgram on your D.D.D.

Lucifer sits up, a pout on his face. You couldn't have strayed too far in such a short time.

"Beloved?" He calls, hoping you could hear him if you were in the bathroom. Lucifer says your name, this time a little louder, but again gets no response.

It wasn't your turn to be on breakfast duty... Perhaps you had a bad dream? You did tend to hide those things from him.

He closes his eyes and thinks of you. Usually, he would feel a faint warmth, like the fluttering of a moth's wings underneath his skin; it was the feeling of your soul connected to his through your pact. But now, even with all his focus, the feeling of your soul connection is nothing but a cold static.

Lucifer swallows the panic welling up in his chest and stands, quickly throwing on his clothes and rushing from his room. He starts in the basement, looking in any place a human could possibly squeeze into, desperately calling out your name. The ever-composed Lucifer, reduced to tearing the house apart when his human isn't in his sights.

He hopes that he is overreacting. He hopes that he'll find you curled up with Mammon, or on a walk outside the house.

He hopes that you are still somewhere that he can reach.

"Oy, Lucifer, what's going on?" Mammon. Lucifer takes a deep breath and tries to collect himself. If he let himself be emotional, his brothers would take that as a sign that something is very, very wrong. He would have to hold himself together, for now. "You're waking everyone up."

"Mammon, have you seen MC?" Calm enough.

"I haven't seen 'em since last night, they were with you, right?" You and Lucifer stayed up late to finish paperwork for your new student council role. "You didn't make 'em angry, did you?"

Lucifer's pout deepens. He's sure he'll age a millennia faster with how much he worries over you. "No, nothing like that. We finished up the assignments and then went to bed." Lucifer sighs, "and then when I woke up this morning, they weren't there. It's unlike them."

"You sure they just didn't go for a walk or something?" Mammon checks his phone to see if there were any messages from you.

"Mammon... try to connect to them with your pact."

Mammon closes his eyes, and repeats the same action Lucifer did only a few minutes prior.

Nothing.

Mammon instantly shifts into his demon form, fear evident in his eyes.

"I'm gonna go drag Solomon over here. He'll be able to track 'em if they're nearby, right?"

"He should be. Bring Simeon too, if he's there.". Lucifer straightens himself out. "I'll wake Leviathan and then go get Diavolo and Barbatos. Maybe they'll know more about what's going on."

Mammon nods, out the door before Lucifer can even finish his sentence.

Lucifer doesn't allow himself any more moments alone, he rushes upstairs to shake Leviathan awake.

-`♡´-

"No need to pound on the door, Mammon." Simeon smiles, but Mammon can tell he's annoyed. Giving Simeon a minute to open the door was Mammon's idea of being patient, he had half a mind to knock the damn thing off its hinges. "Is there anything—".

"Where's Solomon?" Mammon cuts him off, pushing past him and into Purgatory Hall's living room. The smell of fresh coffee fills the air; just how early did these guys wake up?

"He's still sleeping, I believe. Why are you in such a rush?" Simeon asks.

"MC's missing. Need him to find them. He in his room?"

"What?"

"You heard me!" Mammon can hardly keep it together. He didn't want to talk about it, he knew that if he started talking he wouldn't be able to stop.

He hadn't felt your soul connection so cold since... since...

"What's going on?" Solomon steps out of the hallway, still in his pajamas. "I heard Mammon yelling. What happened to MC?"

Of course he'd have been listening in. "Lucifer woke up this morning and they weren't there. Can't hardly feel their soul at all, it's like they're—".

"What do you mean?" Solomon's eyebrows quirk up, clearly not expecting to hear that. "What does it feel like?"

"Damn it, Solomon, it feels like it did when Belphie... y'know." Mammon can't bring himself to say it. It was too awful, what he did to you. "Enough talking, do your magic thing and find 'em!"

Solomon and Simeon exchange worried looks. "Alright, let me get dressed. Then we'll head off. But Mammon...".

"What?" Mammon huffs, already heading towards the door.

"I'm sure they're fine. You know how capable they are. Perhaps they just wanted some alone time."

"Yes, MC has survived a lot. I'm sure they just popped back up to the Human World or something... We'll probably be laughing about this with them at the end of the day."

Simeon smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Mammon tries not to let the thought that they might be trying to placate him bother him.

-`♡´-

"You want me to watch over our brothers? Why? What's happening?" Levi sits up in his bathtub bed, disoriented from being shaken awake so suddenly.

He had heard the commotion earlier, but assumed that Mammon had done something to warrant Lucifer's ire. Lucifer searching through Levi's room while he was sleeping wasn't the strangest occurrence. Mammon did hide things in here from time to time.

"Levi, don't worry over this right now. I'll fill you in once we figure out what's going on."

"No, Lucifer, tell me now!" Levi stands, suddenly very awake. "You're worried over something, and you're never worried, not like this."

Even standing up straight, Lucifer was still looking down at Leviathan.

"Telling you would only make the situation worse." Levi hates how patronizing Lucifer sounds. He hated it when they first fell and he hated it now. "Make sure the others stay put, I'll be back soon."

Levi moves quickly to stop him from leaving. "If you don't tell me, I'll... I'll summon Lotan!" Lucifer steps forward, but Leviathan doesn't budge. "I'll really do it, Lucifer! I'm serious about this!"

It would probably take Levi a few hundred years to muster up the courage to stand up to Lucifer like this again. But watching the cold pity fade from his brother's eyes and turn into something more akin to pride was worth it.

"MC is gone, and I'm going to the Demon Lord's Castle to seek Diavolo and Barbatos's help." Lucifer says it with such a barely-maintained calmness that Leviathan knows this is serious. That you weren't sucked into a silly game or hiding out in Purgatory Hall for the weekend.

Levi feels his heart sink.

"Now, can you do as you're told and stay put? I'll be back soon." Lucifer squeezes Levi's shoulder, forcing Levi to listen. "If anything happens, call me."

He nods, but once Lucifer turns to leave, he quietly falls back into bed. Levi watches Henry swim around in his goldfish tank; you had just fed him yesterday, how did things change so much in just a few hours?

No, he can't shut down here. If something happened to you and he wasn't there to help he would never forgive himself.

You had saved him so many times before, it was time for him to be your Knight. (God, he sounded like a normie).

-`♡´-

When Mammon arrives back to the House of Lamentation with Simeon, Solomon, and Thirteen (Solomon had called her for help), the front door is blown off its hinges. Levi peeks through sheepishly at the four of them, waving for them to come in.

"What the hell happened here?" Thirteen tries to shut the door behind them, but it slowly starts to creak back open as soon as its closed.

"I told Satan what happened." Levi sighs, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves. "He went out to calm himself down. Said he'll be back by the time Lucifer gets home."

"Have you guys found anything here?" Simeon asks Leviathan. Just past Levi in the living room was Asmodeus, who was anxiously staring down at his phone.

Beel descends the stairs at the same time Belphie comes up from the basement: "I checked all the rooms upstairs, they're not up there."

Belphie shakes his head: "They're nowhere in the basement, either."

"I've been texting anyone that knows them from R.A.D. No one has seen them yet." Asmodeus blinks back tears. "This is crazy, you know! Why does this kind of thing always happen to them?"

"Well, they're not dead. So stop acting so sad!" Thirteen chimes in, sprawling herself out on the living room couch. "I checked their candle this morning myself. I can check again but trust me, I would know if they died. I'm a reaper, y'know?"

"You checked their candle this morning? Isn't that quite a walk from where you sleep?" Despite the situation, Solomon just can't help himself. Thirteen sits up and throws a pillow at the sorcerer, cheeks flushed.

"I just had some business over there, that's all." Thirteen huffs, sinking back into the sofa so she doesn't have to see Solomon's smug face. "Anyways, aren't you supposed to be doing your thing?"

"Yeah, get to it, Solomon." Mammon tugs on the back of Solomon's cape, pointing him towards Lucifer's room. "They were last seen in there. See if you can find anything."

-`♡´-

Simeon stands near the doorway to Lucifer's room with Mammon, watching as Solomon searches for traces of anything that might give them a clue as to your whereabouts.

Simeon had thought that he had accepted being human. He thought the feeling of powerlessness that was so overwhelming to him at first had finally settled; there was nothing he could do to gain his grace back after what he had done, after all.

But now? He knew even as an angel there wasn't much more he could do to find you. If he had become your Guardian Angel like he had teased so many times, he could at least feel out if you were in danger.

Cautious Simeon, always so scared to make that final jump.

He says a prayer for you, quietly. Simeon hopes that his Father would still lend his ear to his own child, no matter how far he had strayed.

"There's one strong concentration here." Solomon frowns, gesturing to an area a little above shoulder height, right beside the left side of Lucifer's bed. "but that's all I can sense right now."

"Yeah, there's gotta be something else you missed." Mammon anxiously looks around the room, checking to see for himself if anything was out of place. "Keep looking."

They both follow Solomon as he does just that. He checks Lucifer's bathroom, in the closets, in the halls by his door... Nothing.

"I just don't get it." Solomon says, eyes closed in thought. He leans against the low table in the hallways. "If someone went through all this trouble to kidnap MC, why would they leave such an obvious trace behind?"

"Who gives a shit their motive right now. Tell us that you found something that can lead us to them, Solomon." Desperation drips from Mammon's voice. Mammon needs some hope to hold on to; Simeon empathizes with that feeling.

If Thirteen hadn't assured everyone you were still alive Simeon is sure he'd be snapping at Solomon too. Solomon was a good friend, but there's something about how casual he is with everything that makes Simeon angry. Did he not love you too?

"I did, don't worry, Mammon." Solomon pats Mammon's shoulder, "Once everyone gets back, I'll explain what I found."

-`♡´-

Diavolo, Barbatos, and Lucifer arrive shortly after Solomon is done with his search.

The anxiety in the room is palpable; any news at all could set them alight. Especially Satan, who seemed to be trying to remember old breathing exercises to keep back his demon form.

"Solomon, they're here!" Asmodeus announces, and Simeon, Solomon, and Mammon come out from Lucifer's room to join everyone in the living room.

Lucifer doesn't comment on the broken door, he doesn't much care if the house itself was destroyed in the process of finding you.

"Tell us what you've found." Diavolo asks; Lucifer had informed him and Barbatos about what had happened on the way back from the castle. It had been a long while since Diavolo had seen his old friend look so grave.

Solomon comes around the couch and takes a seat by Thirteen. She scoots away.

"Well, there wasn't much left behind to find.... Which is good in its own way." Solomon crosses his legs. "Time magic was used sometime in Lucifer's bedroom last night. It appears MC has been taken to another point in this timeline."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, all eyes go to Barbatos. Even Barbatos looks stunned, eyes widening in shock.

"Time magic?" Satan stands, hands clenching at his sides. "I would like an explanation then, Barbatos. Now."

"I... am afraid I am as in the dark as you all are." The hesitation in Barbatos's voice does little to persuade the brothers. Beel stands and keeps a watchful eye on Satan. If you were here, you wouldn't want anyone to get hurt for your sake.

Diavolo stands in front of Barbatos. "Now, you all know Barbatos isn't the only being capable of time magic."

"Is it possible that someone else used your portals?" Thirteen asks. "You leave those things wide open, don'tcha? Seems like an easy target."

"I would know if anyone other than myself used them, yes. But I did not feel any abnormalities last night."

Belphie turns to Solomon. "Wait, you said time magic, what time period did they get sent to?"

"Ah, well that's a little tricky." Solomon answers with a sheepish smile. "The residual magic was strong, but you would expect more to be left behind if they went to the future. Future magic is highly unstable, anyways. It's more likely they were sent somewhere into the past, probably around the time of the Celestial War based on my analysis."

Belphie shakes his head. "You can't say 'probably', you have to be certain about this."

"Then, yes, I am certain that is where they are." Solomon answers smoothly.

The second the words leave Solomon's mouth, Mammon speaks up:

"Okay, so how do we get them back?!"

-`♡´-

With lots of loud disagreements, and a few almost-fights, they come to terms that it has to be Solomon that goes after you.

No one particularly likes that idea, but he was the only one who wouldn't completely disrupt the timeline. His past self wouldn't be in the Devildom, so he could avoid paradoxes, and he was more than strong enough to protect himself if need be.

That same day, Barbatos prepares the portal for Solomon to go through after you. But not before one last warning from Diavolo:

Diavolo's eyes are stern, hand gripping Solomon's shoulder tight enough to where it would be painful. Solomon takes a step back, but Diavolo's body follows him.

"You bring them back safe." A warning, "And bring them back swiftly. Whatever you must do to get them back... do it."

Solomon, frankly, had had enough warnings from the demon brothers, and from his old friend Thirteen to understand that his life was forfeit if he came back without you.

He supposed he couldn't fault their protectiveness, however. If your safety was left alone in the hands of any other, he's sure he'd do worse to guarantee you came back alive and well.

"Of course," Solomon rolls his shoulder, shrugging off the Prince's hold. "You know I want them back just as much as you do. Perhaps even more."

Diavolo pats his back, his usual genial smile returning to his face, and he laughs. "Oh, I doubt that."

Barbatos gestures to the two, indicating that everything is ready for Solomon to step through. Solomon doesn't feel anything but calm, for what did he have to be anxious about? He was getting to see you again.

Was it selfish of him to be happy that he would be in a time period where the one you would rely on the most would be him?

"Bring them back to us," Is the last thing he hears before he steps through the portal, and into the past.

-`♡´- Lucifer

Lucifer busies himself with his work. If he fills his schedule enough, he doesn't have time to worry about you constantly, doesn't have time for his mind to cycle through the worst of what could happen with you out of his reach.

He volunteers to take on all of your duties that you were newly appointed as R.A.D.'s newest student council officer. Lucifer doesn't want anything to get in the way of you spending time with him again once you get back.

When he isn't working, he takes care of his brothers. The House of Lamentation always becomes a little quieter when you're not around, but the silence this time is more somber.

Lucifer doesn't scold them as much, gives them more leeway when they skip classes or forget to turn in assignments. He knows they're struggling and he doesn't want to add to that burden.

He hardly sleeps unless he passes out from exhaustion. When he does, his dreams are of blame. Why didn't he just wake up when you were taken? You were right there.

-`♡´- Mammon

Mammon had to be held back by Levi and Beel to keep him from going into the portal after Solomon.

It wasn't fair that that guy got to go and he had to stay behind. He was your first man! Mammon wasn't even sure that Solomon didn't play a role in helping you disappear. He never trusted that guy.

But all he could do now was hope that he would bring you back, right? It didn't matter anymore who saved you, just the fact that you were alive and safe and in his arms would be enough for him.

Mammon misses you ardently.

He texts you about his day every day. He knows the messages won't deliver, but he doesn't have anyone else to send them too. Sometimes he'll even call your phone so he can hear your voice in the voicemail. It helps him sleep.

-`♡´- Leviathan

He's just so tired of this. He thought once your trials at R.A.D. were over, you could settle down in the House of Lamentation forever.

If anyone deserved a life full of peace, it was you. You had endured way too much hardship on their account to keep having these things happen to you.

Levi tries to maintain a normalcy for you to return to. He buys games that you had on your radar for you to play with him once you got back.

He likes looking at the pictures you both had taken together. Cosplay pics, photobooth strips, candid polaroids... precious memories that could never be replaced.

And, when he really misses you, he takes one of your school uniforms, hanging up neatly in your closet and takes it to bed with him. It still smells like you, and if he closes his eyes, he can picture you're there with him.

Though, waking up and seeing you weren't there is like losing you all over again.

-`♡´- Satan

Satan worries.

He knew what he was like right after the Celestial War. He knew what monstrous things he did when he couldn't control his anger; before he made a conscious decision to crawl his way out of his emotional stagnation and to be more than he was created to be.

He gets into a habit of hanging out with Thirteen. Satan never really cared much for her attitude, but she's the only one who would know if you were still alive.

She's tolerable, in that when they get together they always end up talking about you. Satan doesn't tell her the best stories about you, no, those were reserved only for himself.

When he is alone, he often drifts towards your room. He knows his brothers often sleep there when you're gone, so he washes your sheets and makes your bed back up when they're not there.

Satan even tidies his own room just enough so that you would have room to sleep in his bed with him when you returned.

-`♡´- Asmodeus

To have both you and Solomon taken away from him in the same day, it seems a bit cruel, doesn't it?

He's thankful for all the consolations from his friends and his fans; the well wishes are nice, but it isn't the same as hearing it from your voice.

Asmo tells anyone who will listen about what happened to you in hopes that they'll spin stories back at him. Even if most were lies conjured to make him feel better, there always are some true stories in the mix. He hears a few rumors of ancient, powerful demons that he hands over to Satan and Belphie to look more into. He was glad he could do something.

Asmodeus starts collecting things that remind him of you. Flowers that never wilt, lamb plushies, silk pajamas — there's a box in his room of gifts to give you once you get back home.

He writes down everything that you've missed since you disappeared, he has so much to catch you up on, after all! And if there's a lot of 'I love you's' and things he misses about you in between topics, he's sure you won't mind hearing them, too.

-`♡´- Beelzebub

Beel feels a little lost without you there.

You were so ingrained in his daily schedule that he doesn't know what to do with a lot of his time. You, Mammon, him, and Belphie would always hang out after school, since the four of you had the same last period.

There was no sun in the Devildom, but he didn't need any to feel warm sitting next to you three. Mammon would bring cards, and you would take turns picking out games to play.

You would usually win; he loved seeing your smile as you asked for praise for winning. Belphie and Mammon would pout, but Beel was always happy to tell you you did a good job. He keeps an ongoing score sheet somewhere in his backpack:

MC - 102, Mammon - 16, Belphie - 59, Beel - 20. He didn't care much for winning as long as everyone was happy.

He makes his way to the gardens and finds your usual spot empty. Beel waits there for a long while, but only Belphie shows up.

Beel thinks that maybe in the past, you were waiting for him in the same spot too. The thought makes him feel a little less lonely.

-`♡´- Belphegor

Belphie misses you, of course, but he really finds this whole situation odd.

Time magic. Diavolo had said that other beings were capable of it, but Belphie had never heard of anyone, besides Barbatos, that had mastered it enough to send someone back that far. Belphie wasn't the most well-connected person, but he thinks he would've heard about them by now.

Satan thinks the same thing, and so the 'Anti-Lucifer League' is postponed, and in its place the 'MC's Detective Agency' forms. Beel sits in on most meetings, and the rest of the brothers join in occasionally.

But with so few leads there was only so much they could do. But still, Belphie is determined not to give up. If you were in his shoes, he knows you would do the same thing.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he wants to hear you say that you're proud of his work. To feel you pet his head and tell him he did good, to kiss him on the cheeks for working so hard.

...And, of course, making whoever did this pay for what they did would be good, too.

-`♡´- Diavolo

The last note you left him is still taped to his desk:

A chibi of you fist-pumping is drawn on the side of the yellow sticky. There's a big speech bubble that reads: "You can do it, Dia! Knock out that paperwork!" He can't help but smile every time he sees it.

It's silly, but when he looks down and reads those words of encouragement he feels your loss even more strongly. He's sure Solomon will be back with you soon, but as the weeks roll on, he starts getting impatient.

He sends all his best men to search for whoever did this to you. Without any solid leads, it was like chasing the wind, but it helped settle his mind, if only a little.

He supposes you did spoil him too much. He forgot what it was like to be so lonely when you were around. And unlike the brothers, he couldn't just curl up in your bed whenever he wanted to be reminded of you.

Would it be so improper to move you into the castle once you got back? At least here, he would know you were safe. Nothing like this would ever happen to you again on his watch.

-`♡´- Barbatos

Barbatos knows that all eyes are on him.

It isn't hard to figure out that the brothers are suspicious of him. Mammon's crows perch outside his bedroom, Satan takes extra trips to the library in the castle, Belphie "gets lost" wandering the halls after dinner... Even Lucifer asks him pointed questions about that night.

He understands that it comes with the territory of his powers, but when has he ever done anything to jeopardize the exchange program? If he wanted to send you away would he not have done it when you first arrived? Would he not have let you die at the hands of Belphegor?

The him of today would never think of such a thing. Barbatos cared too much about your safety to let you wander too far from his sights.

He knows it is an indulgence that only he is afforded, but he can't help but steal looks into your life back in time as you try to find your way back to them.

Perhaps the others would like to hear about how you are doing, but Barbatos thinks these things are best kept to himself. He was never a fan of sharing, anyways.

-`♡´- Simeon

Luke cries and cries and cries when Simeon tells him what happened to you. Simeon holds the boy in his arms tight, rocking him back and forth to soothe his troubled heart.

He had done this many nights in the past, and he's sure he'd do it for many nights in the future.

The last time it had happened it had been when Simeon had told Luke about losing his powers. You had been there, then, and had cried as soon as you saw tears well up in Luke's eyes. Luke was less sad and more angry at Simeon for not telling him sooner. He had held you both in his arms that night, and before long the three of you fell asleep together.

Simeon wishes you were here now to hold him. To tell him it was going to be alright. But he supposed if you were here the both of them wouldn't have anything to cry about.

Michael allows Luke to stay in Purgatory Hall for as long as it would take to get you back. Simeon is thankful for the company; with Raphael and Solomon gone, and the Hall silent, it was easy for Simeon to start blaming himself.

He hears Luke pray every night for your safety, and Simeon slips back into the habit as well.

-`♡´- Thirteen

Thirteen spends a lot more time in her cave when you're not around.

What's the point of going to R.A.D. if you weren't there? It's not like she cared much about anyone else that went there. And to hear the brothers cry about missing you... She couldn't take it.

She cared about you too, but you didn't see her moping around about it!

But even worse was the fact Solomon got to go back in time to save you. Just thinking about you spending all that alone time with that shitty Sorcerer makes her blood boil; he could live a thousand lifetimes and never once deserve you.

She goes and checks your candle every morning to see if the flame is going strong. Thirteen breathes easy when she sees the bright orange flame light up the darkness.

Reapers weren't supposed to interfere directly with mortal's lifespans, but she supposed it wouldn't hurt if she poured some of Solomon's melted wax onto your candle. It's not like he would need it anyways.

Besides, this was her making up for lost time. Every day you were away shouldn't count! You didn't choose to go back in time, after all!

[kiyo-cant-write]

hi hi! jade req again, kinda toxic this time

can we get jade with a reader who’s really easy to manipulate and they know it? idk if it makes sense but like jade realizing reader isn’t oblivious to his manipulation, just kinda self-destructive and hopelessly into him

jade thought he was being slick because reader wasn’t calling him out on anything, but he overhears their conversation and finds out that they’re fully aware jade is a ton of red flags but is still staying anyway, and his reaction to that

i really hope this makes sense! idk how to word it

jade w/ an easily manipulated reader ✧･ﾟ

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Aw! Thank you for another request! I love Jade and Octavinelle so much! I hope that I did your idea justice. Please let me know if you'd like another request in the future! Onwards to the story! ^^

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Summary: Jade Leech has been stringing [Name] along for fun and due to the instruction of Octavinelle's Housewarden. He thought he was doing well... but it seems [Name] may have had ulterior motives.

TW/CW: Toxicity but the standard Fish Mafia kind

Notes: established "relationship", they/them pronouns for the reader, the reader is Yuu/Ramshackle Prefect, the reader is described as human and younger than Jade/frosh, ADeuce if you squint, implied to be post-Azul OB

Guest Stars: Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola, Grim, Azul Ashengrotto & Floyd Leech (referenced)

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

Jade Leech

As much of a sadist as Jade can be, he's not exceptionally cruel outside of what he deems as the necessity for his purposes.

He is a bit smug when he thinks he has [Name] under control.

Jade is pretending to be "honor student Jade Leech."

He acts as their friend and support albeit for the Lounge.

He pretends to care, to do everything to help them.

He smiles at them, speaks politely, and even "affectionately."

They trust him and they tell him things they shouldn't.

He will use those bits of information when the time comes.

Every time they have an inkling of doubt, he squashes it.

His surprise is evident when Floyd points out that it might not be the case this time, but Floyd is Floyd and doesn't explain.

Wanting to make sense of this discovery, Jade observes [Name].

He watches to see if [Name] really has caught onto him.

Jade is intrigued and what he finds does not disappoint.

He is surprised to find that they caught on long ago.

But they stayed? Why?

Because they "love" him?

Why would they love the guy trying to string them along?

It didn't make sense to him. He felt a tug at his heartstrings.

Did he feel bad about this?

He didn't know what to do.

Jade starts to avoid [Name] after realizing their feelings.

He retracts further into his honor student persona.

[Name] will not win this fight. He will not be bested by a freshman.

The battle has just begun and Jade needs to bury this sinking feeling in his chest. What does it mean anyway?

Floyd serves as a live studio audience to Jade's struggles.

Jade is an observer. That had been his role for so long, that he wasn't sure when it began. Ever since he was young, he would watch and calculate while Floyd was the type to rush into things, be impulsive, and just a tad stupid at times, at least when they were young. Jade never intended to make his observations a skill, but sooner or later, everything becomes an asset.

That's what his father had always said.

His mother worried about the sadistic streak in her son, but she couldn't do anything to prevent its development. Jade was, after all, a member of the Leech family. He and Floyd would join the family business sooner or later unless they wholly refused its offer.

"[Full Name]," Jade mused to himself, "How interesting."

Azul had been the one to ask him to pay extra close attention to Ramshackle's Prefect in case they strayed too far from things, or got into any trouble. The magicless human that had saved others from themselves, they interested the owner of Mostro Lounge. Jade had simply agreed with Azul's request, observation was his skill, after all.

It had never been meant to evolve, and certainly not into this.

Jade watched as this person fell for his polite words hook, line, and sinker. It was almost too easy. They were shockingly trusting, telling him all sorts of things he could use to be downright evil if he wanted to be. It wasn't time for that, not yet, but one should always guard their secrets (perhaps not as much as Azul, but at least a bit).

He didn't need to do anything unless the moment called for it.

At the time, it had not been necessary.

That was weeks ago.

Azul hadn't given further instructions and, to be fair about it, Jade didn't want to earn that octomer's ire. Not today, anyway. He and Floyd were troublesome, yes, but not stupid.

So, as Azul had instructed, he was trailing the Prefect until told otherwise (or until it became boring, whichever arose first). Though their reactions had been predictable, he could argue that things were getting boring now.

Floyd would have given up ages ago, he was sure of it.

[Full Name] was currently spending their time with their classmates, Ace Trappola (easily swayed by competition and bets) and Deuce Spade (note: gullible as a child). Jade had kept an eye on the three of them (and Grim) because of their closeness. It was rather irritating how buddy-buddy they were. He had worked a bit to get [Name] alone those few times they had spoken privately.

Standing away from the trio, Jade listened in on their conversation.

"[Name], I don't think that this is good," Deuce told them, clearly worried for their friend's mental state, "You need to be more careful. Don't you remember what happened to me and Ace?"

"I fucking remember!" Ace chimed in, "It sucked. Don't trust fish."

"Nya! Fish are food, not friends," Grim told them, "Especially eels!"

"Ah... You guys..."

Jade almost wanted to chuckle at Grim's words of "wisdom" but he withheld it, knowing that he mustn't give away his position. Not yet.

"You shouldn't trust Leech-senpai," Deuce continued, "Do you not remember how he and his twin brother acted before?"

"THEY TRIED TO KILL US, [NICKNAME]!!" Ace interrupted Deuce, earning him a glare from the navy-haired boy, "Sorry, Deuce-chan."

"Don't call me that."

What Deuce was doing could only be described as glowering.

"Lighten up and help me convince [Nickname] not to get themselves murdered by a shady eel and a shadier octopus!" Ace told him, slapping Deuce on the shoulder, "Just because they're better doesn't mean they're changed fish! Fish are suspicious!"

"Ace, do you have some fish-related trauma outside of campus that I should know about?" Deuce asked him, "It's starting to seem—"

"FOCUS ON [NICKNAME], DEUCE."

Ace's reddened face was a sign that Deuce was on to something with that fishy nonsense. Jade Leech would remember that fact.

Fish trauma. Noted.

"....Okay," Deuce agreed, turning back to [Name], "Do you want to tell us what you've been doing with Leech-senpai? We're worried..."

Deuce trailed off for a moment before he added a Deuce-typical offer.

"I can fight him if you want me to. They're messing with my friend."

"N-no thanks, Deuce... I don't think I need that," [Name] said, laughing at the antics of her friends and roommate, "Honestly, I know he's not being honest with me... But I don't really... care?"

The words surprised Jade but he refused to give himself away. There was more information to be gathered, for his own needs and Azul's.

They don't mind my dishonesty? Heh...

"I have never been more concerned for you than I am right now," Ace said, tone lacking its usual goofy undertone, "Do you want me to tell Mom and Dad about anything? They would help..."

Ace wasn't sure what to do but this was a worry. So frantic to say his sentence Ace neglected to register his misnomer for Vice Housewarden Trey Clover and everyone's favorite senpai Cater Diamond. He could lay awake and think about that later.

Deuce clearly felt similarly as he reached out to put a hand on [Name]'s. He wasn't good at solving problems of the emotional variety but he could be a support. Or, he would try to be one.

"Even if we can't say anything helpful... We can be here to listen."

"I appreciate it, but I'm fine," [Name] tried to assure them (but it wasn't working), "I just... I like Jade-senpai... and if this is how... he will talk to me... then I am okay with it. I've just been going along with all... that."

Jade felt time stop for a millisecond as he processed the words. They had been "playing along"? They didn't fall for every trick? Perhaps this was more interesting than he had thought. Still. He didn't like being bested, perhaps he needed to up his game...

"[Name], that's not good... I don't think..." Deuce managed.

"I wish Mom and Dad were here..." Ace mumbled.

"[Name], don't leave me for a fish! It's not even tuna!"

Grim clung to his human with small paws, tail swishing.

Jade was baffled not by those that Azul had previously controlled but by [Name] themself. They were something odd amongst the students of Night Raven College. They didn't shy away from his... methods.

But they said they liked him. He wondered if that made him feel something. He wasn't one to like other people, stay around them long... especially these landfolk.

It was a foreign concept.

Oh dear. [Full Name], you've managed to intrigue me now.

To the concern of Deuce, Ace, and Grim, Jade Leech wouldn't be letting his human prey go any time soon. Not for Azul, or his brother... This was something he was pursuing now. For better or worse.

I hope they're prepared to best me once more.

What would they say if I said I "loved" them? ♪

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Imagine the rest for yourself~

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

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || You're Pregnant [Mafia Edition]

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

Fem!Reader

CHAN:

You struggled against the cable ties that were wrapped around your wrists and bit down on your lip as you thought back to your morning with Chan. The two of you had gotten into an argument over babies, you were ready to have one and he told you it wasn't the time yet...but it was too late for that since you already knew you were pregnant. It had been an accident, a happy accident for you at least and you'd been trying to get an idea about what Chan could possibly think about it all when it turned into a huge argument. You'd stormed out and now you were sitting trapped inside of a jewellery store being held hostage while two idiots decided that they were going to try and rob the place. The silent alarm had been sounded judging by the amount of cop cars outside but you knew that they weren't exactly great at their job and you desperately wanted Chan here.

"What are you doing? They'll catch you," Kat hissed out as you continued to wriggle your hands around in the cable ties, slipping one hand free and smirking at her,

"Just shut up and tell me if they're coming," You mumbled at her carefully sliding the phone from your pocket and dialling Chan's number, You didn't even need to speak you just needed him to pick up the phone.

"AYE! We got a free one!" A voice cried out, within seconds you were dragged onto your feet and you kicked your phone to Kat who was quick to hide it.

"You just made yourself the token hostage, baby, you're going to be famous." The slimeball who was holding you whispered in your ear, biting down on your earlobe as you resisted the urge to fight back against him. Fighting someone who had a gun, as well as four friends with guns probably wasn't the best idea in the world.

"Open the doors, I want everyone to see us." He ordered two of his men before dragging you to the main entrance, a gun pressed against your temple as you did your best not to cry. 

"We want a clear passage out of here, no cops, we also want 50,000 in cash that's not inked or traceable!" He boomed, your eyes finding a camera as you stared into it. If Chan was watching he would come for you, he'd come and save you and everyone else inside.

"If I do not get what we asked for in the next hour, I'll start taking them out one by one, starting with this one." He yelled before dragging you back inside and throwing you down onto the floor beside Kat.

"He answered, he heard...These bastards won't know what hit them," Kat told you before you nodded weakly, hoping Chan had a plan to save everyone inside of this store.

[X]

"It's been 56 minutes, If they were going to give us what we wanted they would have done it by now," JP - one of the robbers said, They'd all begun to take off their masks clearly no longer bothered showing their names or faces anymore. 

"Then we'll show them I meant business," Lawson said as he pulled you up by your wrist, pushing you toward the door while you begged for him not to do this but before you could reach the doors they opened and Chan stood there.

"What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?" Lawson quizzed, his gun now pointed at your head as Chan looked at you,

"You okay baby? I came as soon as I could," He was far too calm about this and you didn't know if that scared you or excited you because it was easy to underestimate the men holding you hostage right now.

"I asked you a question!"Lawson screamed out making you flinch when you heard him cock the gun back,

"I suggest you let go of my wife, or you'll be down one man at a time,"

"Yeah like-" The shot rang out before Lawson could finish his sentence and people screamed as JP hit the ground.

"You have two seconds to let everyone go before I take you out as well," Chan suggested, still far too calm for your liking. 

"I don't answer to you!" He boomed before another shot rang out and you already knew Felix was somewhere doing these long-distance shots, there was no one else Chan would trust with it. Lawson's grip on you only tightened though,

"You have no one left," Chan moved closer to you and your eyes watered as you felt the gun slowly dropping toward your stomach.

"You took everything from me, so it's only fair I take her," Lawson growled out,

"HE CAN'T SHE'S PREGNANT!" Kat screamed out, it was enough time for a shot to ring out and hit Lawson in the shoulder, you scrambled away from him and over to Kat as Chan stared at you both in utter confusion. Cops rushed in taking Lawson while you stared at your husband, 

"Surprise?" You stuttered out as he held onto your waist, he'd always wanted kids but was it even time? You were still in danger, anything could have happened to you.

"We need to get you somewhere safe, somewhere no one can hurt you or our baby," You stared at him as you nodded,

"Sure, but...aren't you mad? Excited? Anything?" You were terrified this was going to ruin everything between you, it wasn't how you wanted to tell him you were pregnant but here you were.

"Of course I'm excited...Starting a family with you?!" His eyes were starting to tear up and he whimpered a little,

"But we need to figure things out, more protection, everything...Let's go home," He told you, wrapping you in his arms as you cuddled into him a little.

MINHO:

Ever since Minho had found out that you were pregnant he had been going above and beyond for you and your unborn child. The two of you attended every single scan together, as well as every class...Every...Class. Any class that was available it appeared as though Minho was right there signing you up for it and you couldn't get away from them all.

"What is this?" You questioned, staring down at the one-eyed baby doll that was screaming loudly like someone had dropped it in front of you while your husband smiled proudly. The baby was still continuing to scream out as its one eye opened and shut every now and again, it was starting to freak you out a little.

"They're like little robots, We take care of them during this lesson to see what kind of parents we'll be and then at the end, they'll tell us what we can improve on." You blinked at your husband, when he took you out of the house today it was with a promise of mint chocolate chip ice cream, something you'd been craving desperately all morning long.

"I was promised ice cream," You reminded him of what he'd told you that you'd come out of the house for. It was the only reason you were dressed in dirty sweatpants and a shirt covered in stains because you were told Ice cream and home.

"After the lesson, we need this." He told you with a slight stutter to his voice.

"Do you think I'm going to be a bad mum? Is that why you keep bringing me to lessons?" You whimpered a little, tears rolling down your cheeks as you realised what all of this was about. It was the only explanation for all of the classes he'd been signing you up for, he thought you were going to be a bad mum.

"No! No...No baby," He put both his hands on your shoulders trying to make you look at him but you refused to, instead, you chose to move away from the table and whine at him. 

"Clearly you think that. That's why you're so insistent on every class you see," You sniffled, using the sleeves of your shirt to wipe your cheeks before Minho let out a low sigh.

"It's not you that I think is going to be a bad parent." And that was when it hit you. All of the classes had mostly male parents that were in attendance and you remembered one of them asking Minho why he was there and Minho had been really shady about it.

"Minnie..." You cooed out, running your hand over his cheek in a soothing manner.

"You're going to be a fantastic father," You whispered but he scoffed at you.

"I'll barely be home and when I am, what if I do something wrong? What if I don't know the temperature I need the bath water at? What if they grow up and hate me." Tears were now dripping down his face and you smiled a little to see your tough husband showing his vulnerable side.

"First of all, they could never hate you and secondly baby, you can't get it wrong but if you get confused I am right there to help," You told him as he nodded at you, slowly looking you in the eyes.

"Let's go get ice cream and go home?" you suggested before he nodded once again taking your hand in his and heading out of the room.

CHANGBIN:

You'd known that you were pregnant for a while but you'd been doing everything within your power to hide it from your husband which was getting consistently harder to do. It wasn't that you didn't want him to know but you already knew what was going to happen as soon as he found out. You could kiss your freedom goodbye, there was no way you were going to be able to go out shopping with your friends anymore, Changbin was going to turn into that overprotective man and as much as you loved him, you wanted your freedom as well.

"I'm calling the doctor," He told you as he watched you from the bathroom door, you were hunched over the toilet bowl throwing up and it was starting to worry your husband. For the last four days, you'd been throwing up and it was starting to scare him but whenever he asked you about it you told him that it was nothing. 

"I'm fine," You groaned, flushing the toilet and sitting up straight leaning against the bathtub and looking at your husband who was looking a little pale. 

"You're being sick a lot, you can't be fine." He knelt down on the floor in front of you, reaching for the bottle of water and handing it to you. You could tell how much this was worrying him and you let out a small sigh, it was obvious that you were going to have to tell him the truth.

"I'll be fine because I know what's wrong with me," You mumbled, using the edge of the bath to help yourself stand up and move out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where you could sit down and talk.

"You're scaring me," He admitted once you sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand into yours, You squeezed it softly while looking up at him.

"Binnie, I have to be honest with you." You swallowed the lump that was in your throat and tried to think of the best way to tell him this. You knew he would be excited about it but maybe a little angry that you'd kept it a secret for two months now.

"I'm pregnant." You said it quickly enough that Changbin was almost sure he hadn't heard you correctly, his eyes staring into your face.

"What?" He stuttered a little, he'd been wanting to have a baby for a long time, The two of you had been trying for a very long time and he was worried it was something wrong with him that you weren't able to conceive.

"I'm two months pregnant and I didn't tell you because I was scared if I did you weren't going to let me leave the house," He stared at you still in a complete state of shock as he thought about what you'd just said to him.

"Babe...Say something, please?" You begged as he nodded his head a little acknowledging that he'd heard what you said but that he was still processing everything.

"A baby? Our little baby?" He ran his hand over to your stomach, your bump wasn't even there yet but you smiled placing your hand on top of his on your stomach.

"Our baby. You're not mad at me, for hiding it?"He shook his head at you quickly kissing your temple

"I could never be mad at you, but you are right about one thing." He told you as he chuckled a little.

"You're not leaving the house without extra protection," You laughed a little and nodded your head. At least if there was more protection around you, you could still go out into the world. A few more bodyguards weren't going to hurt you.

HYUNJIN:

From the moment that Hyunjin found out about your pregnancy, it was like something switched inside of him. He'd turned into a slight control freak when it came to your safety and you'd suddenly been ripped away from your world.

"Are you going to let me out anytime soon?" You quizzed your husband as you stared at him, he'd just come home from a supply run and smiled at you.

"Once our son or daughter is born, yes." You sighed at him, you knew he was just doing this to protect you but you were going insane. Seven months of the same walls and you were beginning to question your sanity at this point.

"Hyunjin...I'm going to go crazy if you keep me locked up." You wanted him to realise how bad it was for you to be trapped here for so long. He'd hidden you from everyone, only those who NEEDED to know about the pregnancy did, your family, some of the staff in the house and your guards. Other than that it was hidden from the world, Hyunjin didn't want to risk someone trying to hurt him or his child.

"You get to go out." He reminded you as you stared at him. Going to your scans and classes didn't exactly give you the kind of freedom you were after. You missed going shopping for yourself, going out and doing things during the day instead you were stuck inside.

"To appointments and then it's back here. I miss the outdoors," You mumbled at him, looking at the painting supplies he'd just bought back for you. Ever since you'd been locked inside of the house you'd found more and more time to paint out your feelings and you'd eventually run out of paint. 

"I'm seven months pregnant, please, I need fresh air." You begged with him but he stared at you, nothing was going to change his mind on this.

"You have the back garden." He grumbled, sitting on the sofa as you stared down at him, Maybe it was the hormones making you extra crabby today but you weren't in the mood for his games.

"I could kill you in your sleep." You reminded him as he smirked up at you,

"Cute, but we both know you wouldn't. You love me too much," He winked at you but you continued to glare at him, folding your arms across your chest and shaking your head.

"Not if you don't let me go out. I'll leave you."

"Yn." He said in a warning tone, putting down the book he'd picked up but you shook your head at him, if that was what it was going to take for him to take you seriously then so be it.

"Seriously, Hyunjin. I need to get out. I need to get away, just somewhere please." It was beneath you to beg your husband for something and his heart shattered a little.

"I'll organise something," He told you with a small smile on his face, he was sure he could take you to the beach house for a few days without someone seeing.

"More than an hour." You warned him and he smirked at you.

"How does three nights sound? At the beach house, just us..." You screamed before practically throwing yourself on your husband's lap and pampering his face with kisses.

JISUNG:

"You look bored," Jisung whispered in your ear, the two of you were attending Jeongin's wives' event tonight and you were a little bored, to say the least. Everyone else was drinking and having fun while you were drinking orange juice or water trying not to seem suspicious about it. You'd known you were pregnant for about six weeks now and it was getting harder and harder to hide it from your husband. Just last week he'd been trying to get you to have some sushi as well as trying to take you to a new deli that was opening and you'd done everything you could to get out of it.

"You're not drinking, that's why." He chuckled before handing you a glass of champagne and waiting for you to drink from it but you just stared at it.

"I can't," You lied putting it down onto the table in front of you and smiling warmly at him. You hoped he'd drop the subject, the last thing you wanted was to announce your pregnancy at a party, No, you wanted to do it privately with him. You'd even ordered some items to help you tell him that you were pregnant, you were going to put a small bag together with baby growth inside as well as a mug that read "best daddy ever" on it so he could take it to work with him.

"Why? Are you sick again?" Concern seeped through his voice as he placed his own glass down and held onto your hands. He'd heard you throwing up the other week and ever since he'd been calling every day to check up on you and make sure you were okay.

"No, I'm fine. I'm just not in the mood for it," You smiled trying to seem as convincing as possible but it was clear your husband wasn't going to drop the subject.

"I'm going to use the little girl's room." You told him, placing your hand on his shoulder as you slowly got up and left him alone with his thoughts. You were sick, refusing alcohol and even some foods and that was when it hit him. 

"Oh my god," He hissed out, rushing after you as he tried to follow you into the toilets.

[x]

"Jisung!" You cried out as he shoved out the last remaining women that were inside the hotel bathrooms with you. There was a guard manning the door on the outside to make sure no one else came in while he spoke to you.

"You're pregnant!" Your eyes widened as you stared at him. How did he even know? You'd done everything within your power to make sure no one else knew except for you.

"Jisung?"

"It makes sense, you wouldn't eat certain foods, you keep peeing more frequently, you won't drink and you've been sick." You hated him in that moment, you hated that he found out and this was how he was talking to you about it.

"You weren't supposed to find out this way." You pouted out your bottom lip and he chuckled bringing you into a tight hug.

"How would you have told me?" He quizzed, and you stared up at him before explaining the details of your plan.

FELIX:

You hadn't been trying for a baby which was why it was surprising to you when you suddenly found out that you were expecting your first child with Felix. You hadn't told him yet, you were waiting for the right time but you'd been buying some things for your son or daughter and keeping them locked in the spare bedroom. You'd bought lots of shoes and clothes whenever you were out and saw something you wanted.

"What are you doing?" Felix questioned as he walked into the spare bedroom to find you crying on the floor over a box of stuff. You'd been acting weird for weeks now and he was starting to worry that you were going to leave him. You were quick to shut the box and wipe your eyes,

"Nothing, I was just looking at old photos." You lied and Felix could already tell you were lying to him, he'd been with you long enough now to know when you were lying to him.

"Are you packing things up to leave me?" You stared at him and frowned,

"What?" Leave him? Why would you ever leave him? The man was the love of your life, the two of you would fight and bicker but that was like every couple.

"You've been acting weird for weeks...I-If you want to leave, I won't stop you but...But please, tell me what I can do to make things better." He knelt down beside you and you stared at him, whimpering a little at the thought of him thinking you could ever leave.

"Lix, I could never leave you." You whispered, placing your hand on his cheek making him look at you with a saddened expression on his face.

"Then...Why are you being so secretive and weird?" You shifted away from him a little and pushed the box between you, you were going to have to tell him sooner or later and since you didn't know how to begin you figured this was the best way.

"I'm pregnant and I didn't know how to tell you." You explained as he slowly lifted the box open and his eyes landed on everything you had inside. There were so many pieces of clothes and shoes, the box was too full now and you'd been crying over it which seemed silly looking at it now.

"We're going to have a baby?" Felix couldn't hide the excitement in his voice as he turned to look at you, his eyes filled with so much joy.

"Y-Yeah and I know we weren't trying but this is a good thing...We're going to have a family," You sniffled as the tears began to stream down your face once again, this time Felix wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to sit on his lap.

"We're going to have a baby," He breathed out, smiling brightly as he began to think of all the things you needed to do together to get ready for your little bundle of joy to be here.

SEUNGMIN:

"Mr and Mrs Kim, it's so lovely to see you." The car salesman said as you and Seungmin walked through the building. The two of you were on the hunt for a new car and you had both been extra picky with what you were looking for. It wasn't as though you had none back home but this was an anniversary gift, according to your husband at least. You didn't want to spend too much but it appeared as though he wanted to go above and beyond for you. 

"It's lovely to see you too, can we go and talk in your office?" Seungmin asked as one of the ladies who worked inside made her way over to you. Elsie, she'd been working here for years and you knew her thanks to your husband who liked to shop for cars.

"Here," She handed you a small mug of hot chocolate and you smiled, the two of you leaving the men to talk as you walked around all of the cars together.

"We got the new Mustang in, do you want to sit in it?" She giggled holding up the keys, your eyes lit up as you rushed with her to go and find it. You'd never really been into cars but you knew when one was pretty and you liked to see them but as you opened the door you let out a small groan. The smell of the leather seats made you feel sick instantly and you backed away from the door holding your hand over your nose,

"You doing okay?" Elsie questioned nervously, she knew the car was cleaned since she'd just finished cleaning it the night before.

"Yeah, just smells are getting to me a lot lately." You mumbled, shutting the car door not being able to stand the smell of the leather.

"Oh? Are your boobs a little sore...And does your back hurt?" You stared at her as she listed off everything you'd been feeling for the last few weeks and you nodded

"Yeah, I thought it was a bug so I've been trying to rest a lot." Elsie could see straight through it though, it wasn't just some bug or the flu you were clearly pregnant. 

"Oh gosh, no...Follow me," The two of you joined hands as you ran toward her office where she began rooting through the bottom of her drawer.

"Take this to the bathroom and I'll call Mr. Kim in for you." She placed the package in your hand before you had time to question her on it and you frowned glancing down at the blue package.

[X]

Two minutes were passing by slower and slower and you were beginning to freak out a little with how calm Seungmin was being about all of this.

"How can you be so calm?!" You freaked out, pacing around inside the bathroom as you waited for your timer to sound and let you know that the two of you could look. Seungmin was sitting on top of the bathroom counters watching you closely, the car dealership had shut down this bathroom so that the two of you could do this privately with one another.

"I want a baby," He shrugged, it had been his dream to have a family with you and now it was finally coming true. Sure, the two of you hadn't exactly been trying but it was obvious that if it was meant to be then it was going to be.

"I do too...B-But are we ready?"

"We'll have to be," He chuckled snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you to stand between his legs your breathing calming down almost instantly as you stared at him. Seungmin moved his hands to your face and cupped your cheeks,

"We're going to be amazing parents," He promised you as the timer sounded, both of you letting out a deep sigh before looking at the test. A smiley face displayed on the screen with the words "pregnant" making your heart race as you looked at him.

JEONGIN: 

"I want this place spotless!" You called out to the event hall of your hotel, everyone inside was rushing around at the last second to make sure everything was perfect for you. You placed your hand on your stomach and watched as one of your guards - Carlos - made his way over to you with some snacks,

"You're going to make it obvious," You mumbled to him as you took the crisps from him and started to eat from the packet. It seemed as though ever since you'd hit the 6-week mark of your pregnancy you'd been craving crisps or anything that was savoury and Carlos had been the man to help you. Mostly because he was the only other person who knew about it and he only knew because he found you crying in your office whilst holding the stick.

"I think it should be obvious. Too much stress isn't good for the baby and have you told Mr Yang yet?" Carlos was far too comfortable with you, you thought maybe it was time to switch him for another guard but you'd grown comfortable with him also and you enjoyed your talks together.

"No." You mumbled with a mouthful of crisps, shaking your head at him. All week long he'd been trying to get you to tell Jeongin about the pregnancy but you were nervous about it. You knew if he found out he was only going to stop you from working the event that your hotel was hosting and that was the last thing you wanted

"Don't you think you should?" He raised his brow at you but you mumbled what he said back to him in a mocking tone and walked toward your office. You opened the door and stared at Carlos with a weak smile,

"I'll tell him when the time is right after the event is over." You shrugged not realising that Jeongin was standing inside of your office and Carlos held back the smirk. He'd known about Jeongin coming to visit you and it was his intention to try to get him to overhear everything,

"Tell who what when the time is right?" You cringed as you heard Jeongin and you glared at Carlos.

"You're a betrayer and I hate you." You mumbled slamming the door in his face and making your way toward the chair behind your desk.

"Is there something I should know?"

"No. It's nothing, it's just Carlos worrying for nothing." You hated the fact that you were lying to your husband but you needed to make sure you worked this event. You'd been planning it for months now and you weren't going to let Jeongin or anyone else take it away from you.

"Is it about your pregnancy?" Your hand paused midway to your mouth and the crisps fell from your grasp,

"How-" Your heart sank as you thought about him finding out through someone else but you. The last thing you ever wanted was for him to be upset but he didn't seem it in the slightest, in fact, he seemed rather happy.

"Please, you've been eating crisps non-stop, you're throwing up and not to mention some of the maids were gossiping about it when they found the test in your trash." Jeongin had known for weeks and at first, he was a little upset that you hadn't come to him but he could understand why.

"Those little rats," You mumbled to yourself, sighing and looking at him, suddenly feeling the guilt take over you as you whimpered a little.

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd stop me working."

"Did I?" He smirked, raising a brow at you. Sure, at first he wanted to stop you from doing everything but he knew that would only make you worse and neither of you wanted that.

"Well, no, but-"

"I won't stop you working but as soon as I see you stressing that's when I'll put a stop to things." He reached his hand over the desk and squeezed yours softly, 

"Thank you," You whispered, smiling a little as you thought about it.

"We can go shopping this weekend...I have my first scan in a week, after the event." You told him as he nodded at you, this he already knew since he'd called doctors to get things ready for you.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @hanasonmi @sw33tnight @taestannie @acciocriativity @scarletemeterio @halesandy @aerastus @laylasbunbunny @critssq @lenfilms @btsiguess-kpop @meowmeowisdaname @imafivestarkpopstan @lost-leopard-beanie @djeniryuu @backintomykpopphaseagain @choisoorin

[wingedjellyfishflight]

The Couch

Your official job is as a psychiatrist, but not a single one of the men who visit you care about that. They don't care about you at all. They just want... your cozy damn couch. Every time you walk in the room, there is a big burly man sleeping or lounging on it. Rarely, it is a woman. This time, there are three of them fighting over it. You sigh and submit a request for three more couches. When the supply officer asks why, you claim it is for group sessions. He sends one couch over. It is almost as comfortable as the original, and they take to it quickly.

You stop in your tracks the day you spot a KorTac man sitting nervously on the couch. So far, only Price's team and his associated strays have taken advantage of the open couch. You smile briefly before moving to sit at your desk.

"I'm here if you want to talk, but the couch is open to whomever wants a nap or to relax. No talking required." He nods, slightly more relaxed, and you focus on your computer. When you look up later, you see he has laid down and fallen asleep, his soft snores filling the room. After that, you send in another request and another for more couches and a couple of reclining chairs. You are denied. They tell you to just bring in folding chairs. You decide to use your paycheck and bring in something more comfortable than folding chairs.

The next week, you are struggling to get a reclining chair down the hall as silently as possible when you freeze, a chill running down your back. Turning, you see Ghost standing only a foot away, silently watching with his arms crossed.

"I got a new chair." Your bright smile seems to just bounce off his broad chest, but you pay no mind to him, turning back to the task at hand. You get a few feet further and glance back to say something witty, but Ghost is gone. Another few feet, and you are bodily lifted by a set of strong arms before Ghost and König pick up the chair and carry it to your office with no effort. You thank them and ask if they would be willing to help you with one more thing since they are here. Rolling their eyes, they follow you.

Proudly, you show them the three large boxes that you bought. The men are not amused. Their body language switches from annoyed to almost angry when you pick up one of the boxes. König nearly tears it from your hands, and Ghost swiftly grabs the second box. Holding up your hands, you wait until they storm inside to pick up the third box and follow them.

It takes most of the day for the stuffing in the giant floor pillows to fluff up from being vacuum packed in the boxes, so you take the time to rearrange the room. The next day, opening the door after lunch, you spot no less than ten men and one woman lounging in various spots around the room.

A few weeks later and Soap asks if you can requisition another chair because he is annoyed that Captain Price is constantly snoring away in the only one. You shake your head sadly.

"Sorry, bud. I can't get another one for a while. Too expensive." He nods but puzzles over your wording for the next few days before filing it in the back of his mind.

It takes another couple months for you to save up, but you do bring in a second chair. Soap nearly dances when he sees it.

"I tried to ask supply for one of these for my office, but they had no idea what I was talking about."

"Oh, they wouldn't. They deem my request too frivolous every time." You tap away at the computer, only half paying attention to Soap.

"Then, how did you convince them?"

"Didn't. Had to go get it myself." The silence that falls over the room is far more tense than usual.

"You, you bought these for us? Like with your own money?" You sigh. Here is the conversation you were hoping to avoid. Turning to Soap, you see every person in the room staring at you, trying to work out what is happening.

"Yes, of course. Nothing but the best for my patients. I am the psychiatrist for KorTac and 141, after all."

"What?! We just, we thought you were just an officer with a comfortable couch. But you're a god damn psychiatrist?!" You can see several edging toward the door, nervously.

"Yep. Ghost, please wait just a moment." He hesitates with his hand on the doorknob. "Think about how long you've been napping in here. Have I ever overstepped? Four years I have been assigned to the 141, and not once have I updated your files. Luckily, I can claim patient-doctor confidentiality, or I would be out of a job."

"So, you haven't been doing your job at all?" This comes from Captain Price, who looks confused.

"Oh, I have been. If you don't mind sharing, what is the thing your last psychiatrist kept trying to force you to do, Captain?"

"Fuckin golf. Claimed it would be a good stress relief like I want to be a lazy damn officer."

You nod and glance around. "Ghost, what was your recommendation?"

"God damn yoga." You hear Soap snort and give him a small smile.

"Mmhmm, not something I imagine you would ever be interested in. And you König, if you don't mind?"

His voice is quiet but strong, "Guided meditation."

"Every one of those is rooted in the idea that you need to rest. My job was to find a way to make it happen, and I wasn't keen on being stonewalled and hated by the people I work with. So, I left the door open and passed a rumor around that there was a mythical comfortable couch. Sort of a build it and they will come." You pause and gather your courage. "As I have said from the beginning, talking is optional. Naps and resting are welcome. That's the way it will stay as long as I am here."

Turning back to your computer, you submit another supply request, worded slightly different from the last. A bigger office for more group sessions so both teams can be present. The silence in the room is less tense, but you don't look up from your screen, not wanting to see how many left, knowing who you are now. To your surprise, when you stand up to stretch, every spot is still occupied.

The next week, you get your denial and an inspection scheduled as you haven't been logging apppointments since posted there, and your constant requests have been noticed. The stress shows in the tenseness of your jaw and the furrow between your eyes, but you don't say a word to anyone.

The day of your inspection comes, and you brace yourself for invasive questions and the likely anger from whomever shows up when you refuse to answer those questions. You hint three time and then outright tell the lounging men to leave just minutes before the scheduled appointment, frantically trying to tidy up and make it look like you have adults as patients instead of sleep away camp.

"What is goin' on, lass?" Soap asks lazily from the floor pillow he refuses to vacate.

"I- I have an inspection, like right now." That gets their attention.

"Och aye! We will clear ou-" A knock at the door interrupts him. You take a deep breath, forcing your emotions under a smile.

"Enter." A man confidently walks in, faltering when he sees so many eyes on him.

"I am here to inspect your work, Captain. You were informed as to the time?" Standing, you salute him, then motion him to one of the seats.

"Yes, my apologies, Lieutenant Colonel. This group session ran a little late. If you could excuse us, everyone. We can pick this back up tomorrow. Hopefully." They all stand and salute the Lieutenant Colonel before walking out. He stalks to the chair in front of your desk.

"You will be lucky to make it to the end of the day if I have anything to say about it. You have clearly squandered resources buying all of this furniture, and there isn't a single update to any personnel files. Your explanation better be damn good, Captain."

You meet his gaze squarely before answering. "I am assigned to a unit whose work is often above top secret. I do not take notes on what is said in this room. I have found that doing so makes patients uncomfortable and, therefore, less likely to relax."

"That doesn't explain why you are not charting recommendations." You lean back and pull out a paper from a drawer.

"These are the recommendations previously listed in the files of various patients who are now under my command. Almost all of them fall into the same category: relax. So when I reviewed the files, I notated in the general team file for The 141 that relaxing activities would be undertaken as needed. The KorTac file gained the same note when they were switched to my purvue. There is no need to update individual files when I do my utmost to only hold group sessions, again for comfort to the patients."

He sits back, clearly not convinced, but at least pondering it a moment. "Why did you have KorTac transferred to your care? They were previously under another, frankly more competent, psychiatrist."

"Was that psychiatrist able to get them to open up? Honestly, I am curious if the team even showed up to their sessions by how sparse their files are. Colonel König has been here for six years, and his entire file is less than a dozen pages. The same could be said for nearly all of the KorTac team. There are notations in most of these files that KorTac and The 141 can not be in the same room for more than five minutes at a time without fighting. Yet nearly every day members of both teams are here for upwards of an hour a day, and they haven't had any fights outside of here in months." You snap your jaw shut, noticing the slightest of movement behind the Lieutenant Colonel. You stand and salute.

"Corporal, you've already saluted me. Sit down."

"She is saluting me, not you, Lieutenant Colonel." Colonel König salutes you back as the Lieutenant Colonel grouses about being interrupted before he turns and pales. He hurriedly stands and renders his own salute, which is returned with deliberate slowness.

"Colonel, if I may?" At his nod, you continue. "I did not mean to speak so flippantly of your records. I should have guarded their contents more closely. You have my deepest apologies." His eyes lock with yours, and you could swear he is either smirking or smiling.

"It is of no consequence. I am glad to know that you feel such concern, despite the public nature that such personnel files often suffer during inquests such as these." He pulls up another chair from who knows where and sits just behind the Lieutenant Corporal. "I will monitor to ensure sensitive information about need to know operations is not disclosed."

You nod, "Yes, Colonel. Understood."

The Lieutenant Colonel shifts uncomfortably with the gaze at his back. "Circling back to my first concern. The wasting of British coffers on unnecessary seating is clear gross misconduct. You will need to return all except for the standard single couch immediately."

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel. When can you send supply over to fetch the other couch?" He looks surprised, as though he expected more of a fight.

"I will have to confer with them to see when they will be able to take so many large items."

"Hmm? Oh no, only the two couches, desk, computer, and the chair you sit in were issued. The rest I brought in at my own expense to better facilitate having over a dozen soldiers and officers in here at the same time. I do ask to keep the original couch. It is the only one long enough to fit many of the men I treat." He looks shocked.

"You furnished the rest?" You can see him fighting not to look around at the room, hand fidgeting on the desk.

"Of course. Patients come first in my care. Every request I have put in has been denied since the second couch. The number of patients I see has more than doubled with the strays that Captain Price and Colonel König have dragged with them into my office. We are running out of time today. Would you like to meet again next week, or do you have the information needed to close out this inquiry?" The Lieutenant Colonel seems shocked.

"But I have more questions. And you need to answer them."

"I understand that, which is why I am offering another meeting. But you scheduled just one time block for this, and I have others coming in right after. The noise he made was pure frustration, and he let loose without thinking.

"Listen here you cunt! You will not get out of this by claiming an appointment. You will answer my questions until I am satisfied and have enough to properly fuck you over the way you deserve! I-!" A hand claps onto his shoulder, making him wince in pain.

"Lieutenant Colonel Riggs. That is not conduct becoming an officer. You will cease your screaming and see yourself out. Your lack of preparation and knowledge does not permit you to abuse officers of a lower rank. You will join me in my office while we discuss this further." The icy tone has you wincing in sympathy. When the door shuts behind them, you nearly collapse on your desk in relief. After a long moment of fighting the urge to cry, you jolt when a hand rubs your back.

"Ghost, why are you still in my office?"

"Support?" You grunt before looking up at him.

"Thank you. Now, I'm going to have a good cry, so if you need to leave to avoid it, now is a good time." Instead of leaving, he makes you stand and walk to the couch where he tugs you to his chest.

"Cry all you want, Luv. I'm here for you, just like you were for me all those times these past few years."

[jasmineoolongtea]

geto suguru isn't exactly sure how he got here.

there are a lot of other things he probably should be doing on a thursday afternoon after school and waiting here in an abandoned classroom for you, like some kind of lovesick puppy, is definitely not on that list of things to do.

he entertains the thought of leaving for a second but that idea goes straight out of the window when he sees your face appear in the doorway.

"sorry for being late. i hope i didn't make you wait for too long." you apologise with a bashful smile as you stumble into the empty classroom.

you're slightly out of breath to the point where you have to take a second before speaking, your cheeks are flushed with colour and suguru thinks you've never looked more beautiful than now.

"no, it's fine. i don't mind waiting for you."

he's pretty sure that he could wait forever if he knew you were there on the other side though you don't need to know that.

when you place your hand in his and he rests his against your waist, he can't help but think about how well you fit into him like it was moulded just for him and he wonders for a split second if there's even a chance that you share a fraction of what's going through his mind right now.

your moves are awkward and unsure, 'all because of your two left feet' (in your own words, not his), and while even the most patient of people would have been on their last straw with how many times you've accidentally stepped on his feet, to suguru, they just add to your unique charm that he's certain he'll spend lifetimes searching for anything that might come close to it.

as much as he wants to pull away because you have this strange effect on him where you can render him breathless in the blink of an eye with a single touch or stray glance, he also hates each and every second he can't be in your presence and this is one of the few moments he's afforded some respite from the enormity of his feelings.

suguru isn't a masochist (as far as he's aware) however you're making him reconsider a lot of things about himself.

truth be told, he doesn't even know why he agreed to this in the first place, he damn well knows that he is probably the furthest thing from a professional dancer and there's a part of him that feels bad for lying straight to your face but when he sees how relieved you are when he agrees to your request, he's sure that lying can't be that bad in the grand scheme of things.

"you should..." he trails off, fall for me instead.

"hmm? what did you say suguru?"

you're looking at him so expectantly like you truly want to know what he's going to say next and he wishes that you would always look at him like that for if that was the case, he might just have the courage to spill the thoughts that plague his every waking moment.

"oh, no i was just saying that you should not worry so much. i'm sure you'll be fine." actually, he's sure you'll do more than fine but once again, he bites his tongue.

maybe if he was more brazen and cared less about him, he would curse out satoru for being such a lucky bastard, so lucky in fact, that he gets to be the one who can hold you in his arms. unfortunately for him, he's not that type of person, and even worse for him, he doesn't live in a world where he's the one who has your stomach in knots.

the sun is setting below the horizon and soon, the world will be plunged into a familiar darkness there's an uncomfortable feeling pooling within his gut that tells him that this moment can't last forever and you'll go running back into the arms of someone you truly belong with (no matter how much he tries to will it into existence).

nevertheless, he'll take one night of slow dancing with you in the dark over nothing and foolishly pretend that this is something that it isn't.

[sweatyracoon]

Touch Me Up

Summary: Your a new employee to JYP studios, and have been assigned to the group of Stray Kids; a makeup artist. What happens when one of the members catch interest in you?

Warnings: None?

Genre: Fluff

You watched as each of the boys took their turns for their photoshoot, barely making it in time to replace the other makeup artist. Her shift just ended, meaning yours will start in another five minutes.

It was difficult knowing when you were needed due to constant changes in schedules, for both the idols and the employees that support them.

You had only been with them a month, still learning about Korea itself and it's language.

You moved from America a little over five months ago hoping for a new start. And you were lucky to have landed yourself where you were job wise.

You saw the shades the boys were wearing, and intrigued by the theme. What was the theme? You couldn't tell, honestly.

But they did, however, look hot.

They are still in their ATE era, and their ideas have been pretty successful so far, so you weren't worried.

STAY have really enjoyed all that they had released. Including you.

You would never say it out loud to the boys, but you were probably one of their biggest fans.

"Y/n! We need you over here!" You heard someone say, making you snap out of your thoughts.

"Coming!" You responded, walking towards the man, your bag of makeup slung loosely around your shoulder.

When you stopped where you were needed, you saw a flash of green in your peripheral, making you turn.

You caught eyes with Seungmins, making your breath hitch. His hair was still quite long. You thought he was going to cut it, but I guess not yet.

It was fluffier than usual, making it look as soft as a cloud, and it was still his natural black hue, light bouncing off, shining to your eyes.

"What do you need, Minnie?" You asked him, digging through your bag.

"Touch me up," He said, looking at you without expression.

Your face turned red. You knew what he meant, but your mind can't help but take what he said out of proportion.

When you had the gloss in hand, you turned back, only to see him grinning.

"Touch up my makeup," He repeats, making it clear what he wants.

"I know what you meant," You mutter before twisting the cap, hearing a loud pop as you pulled the brush from the cap.

His smile closed, leaving his dimples on display while you brush it gently against his lips, not wanting the color to be too strong.

As you pushed it against his plump flesh, you saw the indent from the brush moving with you, making them appear larger than they are for a short while.

Moving from the bottom lip to the top, you watched as the same thing happened, focusing on the way his breath feels on your working hand.

You didn't dare look at his eyes, knowing that they were focused on you, staring deeply into your own.

His nose twitched slightly, making you halt your motions.

"Now press them together, please," You say, pushing the brush back into the tube before twisting it the opposite direction, sealing it shut.

He does as you request, but insanely slow, teasing you with amusement. All you could do was watch.

"Like what you see?" He grins, grabbing his hat on the chair next to him.

"Wha-wait what? No I'm just making sure it looks okay," You say flustered.

To make it look like you were telling the truth, you bring your hand up to his face, your fingers targeting his lips. You gently caress his bottom lip with your finger, swiping the under part to get the excess gloss.

His breath hitches along with yours, but before you could take your hand from him, he grabbed your wrist with his slender one, holding it in place.

"Am I good now?" He asks quietly, staring at you.

"Yes," You breathe back, not looking away.

His smile is small, but it's there.

He turns his head and nuzzles into your open palm, making your thoughts and heart race.

He places a light kiss to your hand, finally letting go.

"I'll see you later, y/n," He says with a wink, slowly walking backwards. "Don't leave,"

Your eyes widened, processing what he's saying incredibly slow. But once you understood, you nodded.

"See you,"

[kaliforniahigh]

Fic request idea? You and Noah have happily been together for a few years. Your next anniversary happens while he's on tour so you secretly coordinate a plan with Matt to surprise Noah in whatever city they're in. After you get to the hotel, you look for Noah. You find him outside by the pool area talking to a pretty girl in a bikini. The girl puts her arm around him and takes a selfie. She keeps her hand on him way too long and gets a flirty look on her face. You've seen other fans interact with Noah and are always unbothered but now you've never felt so jealous and sick to your stomach, so you go back to your room. What you didn't see was Noah politely remove the girl's hand and turn her down. After a brief nap, you still feel really sick and emotional (more so than usual) and Noah doesn't know you're there yet so you debate if you should just go home. You can fill in the next parts but include lots of angst, avoiding each other, avoiding calls/texts, reader still feeling sick, talking about that misunderstanding. It all ends with you telling Noah "I'm pregnant".

I love dad omens :((( Thank you the request. I hope you like it! Hopefully I didn't stray too much from what you wanted.

Warnings: pregnancy, vomiting, reader is insecure, jealousy, a little bit of angst, happy ending. I think that's it. Noah is ecstatic about being a dad.

WC: 4k (I haven't proofread this yet!)

Requests are closed for now.

Eight years was a big milestone. It's been eight years since you've been dating the love of your life. Spending anniversaries apart wasn't anything unsual for you two. Noah was on tour for the most part of the year, and chances are he would be somewhere far away when the day of your anniversary arrived.

This year was no different, he was all the way on the east coast, while you stayed in your California home. But something felt different this time around.

It was no secret you and Noah had a very active sex life, that became even more active whenever he was about to leave for tour. However, you were both very careful every time. He always wore a condom, since you couldn't be on the pill due to health reasons.

A few weeks after he left, you started to feel the first symptoms. At work, you noticed you needed to use the bathroom so frequently, you sworn you were in the bathroom every fifteen minutes to pee.

You felt more tired than usual, almost being late for work a couple of times, since you couldn't open your eyes long enough to get up from the bed.

At first, you thought your immunity might be too low or that you needed to take some vitamins. But when the nausea and vomiting started, it got you more concerned. You decided to check your app to see when was the last time you have gotten your period.

You suspicions were confirmed when you saw that you didn't get your period at all this month. Running to the pharmacy, you thought that buying a pregnancy test was your best option until you could get a consult with your doctor.

While you were cruising the isles, you thought about Noah and how he would feel about this - if the test came out positive. You've been together for a long time, and you've discussed having a family many times over the years. Getting married and having kids were on your agenda, but not for right now.

You were both under 30 and he was so busy with the band, you could see the problem in trying to raise a baby when he was so far away for months on end.

You lived in a different state than the rest of your family, so having a support system here in California would be so difficult. You would be on maternity leave, sure, but at some point you would have to go back to work, and who would take care of your baby then? You didn't want to put them in daycare so early.

Your mind was running with a million thoughts, as you grabbed two Clearblue tests and ran to the checkout line. The cashier noticed your uneasiness and didn't attempt to make any small talk.

Now, you were sat on the toilet as you eyed both tests, gathering the courage to take them, because once you did, the situation would become very real.

You wished Noah was here with you. You didn't care if would freak out or stay calm, you just needed someone to do this with you. You debated calling him, but decided against it. You wouldn't tell him a life-altering information with him on the other side of the country.

You had no other choice, so you took your pants and underwear off to pee on the stick that would probably change your life forever. You watched the countdown on the stick with a bated breath. You looked away, not being able to look at it as it did it's thing.

You gnawed at your nails, biting them and even drawing some blood in the process, legs bouncing incessantly. After a few minutes, you grabbed the test again and looked at the little display.

Pregnant.

Tears welled in your eyes as you put the test back on the counter. Crying was the best response you could conjure up right now, so that's what you did. You sat on the bathroom toilet and cried your eyes out, sobs racking through your body as it became difficult for you to breath.

After minutes of this, your body began to feel exhausted and you seemed to be running out of tears. You tried to breath more evenly now, standing up from the toilet, you washed you face and blew your nose. Not being able to do much else with how emotionally exhausted you were, you decided to just go to bed and sleep this off. Tomorrow was Saturday, so you had the whole day to think about this.

You went under the covers and grabbed your phone, looking at some pictures of baby Noah that he has sent you over the years, a little smile playing on your lips at the sight of him so cute and so small.

You wished for your baby to have his eyes, his beautiful voice and kind heart. You wondered if they would have his dark, straight hair or your light and slightly wavy one. You wanted them to inherit his height so you could get them in some kind of sport, maybe basketball or volleyball. Or maybe their dad would teach them how to play an instrument and they would be in a band as well.

Your heart felt a little lighter at all the scenarios you were conjuring up in your mind. Your eyes felt heavy from all the crying and soon you were plugging your phone to charge on the bed side table, cuddling up to Noah's blanket, drifting off to sleep thinking about the little human you were growing inside of you.

The next day, you texted Matt and started to organize a surprise for Noah on tour. You knew they had a two day break next week, so you would use those days to surprise him and tell the - hopefully good - news.

You spent the week getting your bags ready and the house organized before you left. You even took the time to run to the store and pick up a baby onesie that said "rad like dad" on the front, along with a box for you to put it inside with the pregnancy test you kept.

You thought about scheduling a doctor's appointment before traveling, but you wanted Noah to be there with you, and since tour was wrapping up not too long after you visited, you decided to wait.

Even though you felt like he would be happy with the fact that you were going to have a baby, you still needed to be prepared to talk about your options if needed.

As you sat on the plane, thousands of feet up in the air, you willed the discomfort in your stomach away. You knew that the possibility of you feeling sick on the flight was real, but you would avoid it as much as you could. You rubbed your still flat belly, a silent way to tell your baby to settle down, as you closed your eyes and tried to nap.

The next time you opened your eyes, there was only an hour until you touched down. You coordinated everything with Matt. You had your room you would be staying in to get everything ready for your surprise. It wasn't much, you just planned on leaving the box with the onesie and pregnancy test inside on the bed for him to see when he came into the room.

It was a nice hotel, with a big pool according to what you saw online, and you totally intended on taking advantage of that, soaking in the sun and playing in the water.

After you landed, there was an Uber waiting to take you back to the hotel, Matt assured you they all went out for lunch, so there was no chance of you running into Noah in the middle of the hotel lobby.

Checking in, you took your bags up to your room, taking a few clothes out and hanging them inside the closet. You put your toiletries in the bathroom and took your airplane clothes off in order to take a warm shower and change into some new clothes.

You were drying your hair when your phone pinged with a succesion of text messages.

Noah: Hi, my sweet love. The boys and I went out for lunch and now we're sitting by the pool.

This is the life.

Wish you were here with me. I love you so much.

You smiled the biggest smile of probably the entire week. He had that effect on you every time.

You: Hi, baby! Enjoy the pool for me. Can't wait to see you again! I love you more <3

You replied and decided that a trip downstairs to the pool was in order.

You grabbed the box, onesie and pregnancy test you brought with you and set everything on the bed. You were glad you haven't messed up the bed yet by yanking the covers off, this way everything looked more put together.

You put on your bikini and before you put on one of Noah's shirts over your body, you looked at yourself in the mirror. The thought of having a baby didn't terrify you as much anymore, and you actually pictured yourself sporting a beautiful baby bump, a sign of the love you and Noah shared.

Snapping out of your reverie, you grabbed some sunscreen and your sunglasses and made your way to the pool area. You staked the place out first, trying to sneak up on him.

You saw him in the distance, along with Jolly and Folio. He was taking pictures with a couple of fans and you didn't think much of it, until you observed a little and saw that he seemed awfully comfortable with these barely clothed girls.

You were never jealous, you actually thought the pictures he took with fans were cute most of the time, and he was always respectful, mindful of his hand placement and avoiding getting too close. There were actually a few pictures out there of him doing the hover hand, not wanting to touch another girl's waist.

But this time, not only was his arm wrapped around her middle, his hand was clutching her waist, her body sticking to his, boobs - covered only by the thin cloth of her bikini top - smushed on his chest. You looked at his face for any sign of discomfort, but he was sporting a grin on his lips.

The girl wraps her arm around his torso as the other girl behind the cellphone snaps the picture. As they were separating, she took the opportunity to take his hand in hers, and you saw a look on her face that only another girl would recognize.

It was a look of hunger and she was blatantly flirting with him. His grin never faltered and you were left wondering why in the hell were his hand still holding hers.

You didn't stay to see the rest of their interation, a wave of nausea hitting you and you were sure if you didn't run back to the elevator you would throw up all over the place.

As soon as you entered your hotel room, you barely had the time to close the door behind you and ran to the bathroom, spilling all of the contents in your stomach into the toilet. You threw up until there was nothing left to come out, and you wondered if it was the pregnancy making you feel sick or if it was what you just witnessed.

Either way, you sat on the bathroom floor, all the energy and excitement leaving your body, as well as the confidence you build up about having this baby.

Noah was young, he toured the entire world and met so many new faces. What if one day he decided you weren't enough for him anymore and he needed someone new, someone more exciting. You didn't want to ruin the rest of his life by tying him to you because of your baby. You knew relationships like that always became bitter and hateful.

Your phone buzzed next to you on the bathroom counter and you saw it was a text from Matt.

Matty: We're by the pool. Noah went up to his room, do you want to surprise him there?

You sighed. That was your plan, but it all completely fell apart just minutes ago.

You: I don't feel so good. I think it was the flight.

Matty: I have some medicine in my room, do you want me to drop it off at yours?

You debated on what to tell him. It all felt so painful having to deal with all of this on your own. Maybe talking to someone would do you some good. Matt was always good at giving advice, and he knew Noah as well as you did, maybe he could shine some light in your situation.

You: ok, I need to talk to you, though, it's kind of serious.

Matty: oh shit, I'll be there in 5.

You only had time to brush your teeth before there was a knock on your door. You left the bathroom to answer it and sure enough, Matt was standing on the other side,

"I realized I didn't ask what you were feeling, so I grabbed the whole medicine bag", he held up a bag with a red cross on the front. You could always trust Matt with medicine, he always carried all sorts of things with him.

"It's ok, come on in", you stepped inside and he followed after you. You weren't actually gonna take anything, since you didn't know what you could and couldn't take due to your pregnancy.

"Hmmm", you heard Matt hesitate, before saying "Y/N, am I meant to see this?", you looked over at him and saw him poiting to the surprise on the bed. You have completely forgotten you placed it there before leaving to go to the pool.

"I was about to tell you about that, actually", you sat down on the bed and put your face in your hands.

"This is good, right? We're happy about this?", he questioned as he dragged one of the chairs in the room to sit in front of you.

"We were happy about this, until maybe fifteen minutes ago"

"What happened fifteen minutes ago?", he asked you, noticing the crestfallen look on your face.

"I went down to the pool area to surprise Noah, and I saw him taking pictures with those girls, and I don't know, I felt this monster grow inside of me and I just couldn't take it", you gave him the short version.

"Those girls were very pushy. What did you see?"

"I saw him very happy to be touching the body of a woman who is almost half naked beside him. His face wasn't exactly sad", you rolled your eyes, the images flashing back in your mind.

"Y/N, you only saw half of it, I swear that is not what happened", he told you and you gave him a look for him to keep going. "Ok, so we were sitting on the chairs by the pool, when these two girls approached us and asked for pictures. We said ok, because this happens all the time. They took pictures with everyone and Noah was the last one. He was standing next to her, both of his arms were placed in front of him, and he wasn't touching her at all", he really looked at you when saying this, and you nodded to show him you understood.

"But I guess she wasn't good with that, she grabbed his hand out of nowhere, and forcefully placed it on her waist. He was so shocked, he didn't know what to do. Her friend snapped the first picture and I guess she wasn't happy with that either, because she told him he needed to smile. So she told her friend to take another one. He didn't even share a word with her, because he honestly didn't know what to say or how to act in that situation"

You thought of every other fan interation you've seen him have. He was an introvert and sometimes didn't know how to react to things, specially when fans are involved. You suddently felt angry, not at him, but at the girl coming at him like that.

Was she even a fan? Or did she only want a picture to boast about meeting Noah? And the nerve she had, telling him to smile?

"He went up to his room after the interation, he was very overwhelmed", Matt finished his explanation.

"He must be feeling so bad", you thought out loud.

"He was just uncomfortable, you know how he is about his privacy and personal space", he observed.

"I know. I feel so bad for jumping to conclusions", you sighed out loud.

"Hey, don't feel sorry. You have a whole other thing going on here", he pointed to the pregnancy test.

"About that, I might need your help once again", you told him, a little nervous tilt on your voice.

"Sure, just tell me what to do"

So you told him to text Noah, telling him to come to room 305 - your room - and meet him there.

Matt left with a hug and a good luck, and you paced around the room, thinking about how these next minutes would play out.

A knock on the door came not too long after, you looked in the mirror, realizing you haven't changed out of Noah's shirt from earlier. But you hurried to answer the door anyways.

"Did you change your...", his voice trailed as soon as he saw you standing on the other side of the door. Jaw going slack and eyes widening in surprise.

"Surprise?", you said, opening your arms for him.

"Are you real?" he said in disbelief.

"Hug me and find out", it took him a few seconds for him to snap into action, crashing into your arms and hugging you tight.

"I can't believe you're here, oh my god", he said, hands roaming everywhere and touching every piece of you he could. You parted for a second and looked him in the eye.

"Yeah, I am", you giggled at little at his shocked expression.

"How did you do this?" he asked, taking your face in his hands. Neither one of you caring you were still standing on your door.

"I had a little help from Matt"

"Remind me to thank him later", he gave you a peck on the lips, both of you smiling into the kiss. "Get in that room, I have nothing to do for the rest of the day"

You stopped him from trying to walk you backward into the room.

"I actually have a surprise for you. I need you to close your eyes", you told him, a sheepish look taking over your face.

"Hmm, a surprise? I love that", he wiggled his eyebrows. You laughed and slapped him lightly in the chest.

"It's nothing like that, silly. Now close your eyes", he did as he was told, a smile still lingering on his face. You closed the door behind you and led him to stand in front of the bed.

You stood to his side, wanting to see his every reaction to this information, as you told him to open his eyes.

A million thoughts raced on his head, the first thing he saw was the onesie, "rad like dad" written on it, next was the pregnancy test and he has to lean a little closer to read "pregnant" written on the little display.

"You're pregnant?", he asked, looking at you. His mouth was agape and his eyes were even wider than before.

"Yeah"

"We're having a baby?"

"Yeah"

His hand flew to his mouth, attempting to cover his shocked expression, muttering "oh my god" to himself over and over again. You wouldn't lie, you were starting to freak out a little bit. A few seconds passed before something snapped in him. He gathered you up in his arms, your feet almost lifting from the floor.

"I'm going to be a dad? You're gonna make me a dad?" he asked, face buried in your hair.

"Yeah, you're gonna be a dad", you said, stroking his hair. His body shook a little and you could tell he was crying. You let him have his moment, so you just hugged him and stroked his hair softly. After a few minutes, he parted from you, with eyes glossy and cheeks wet with tears, but his smile was so big, it could light up a whole room.

"You make me the happiest man on this planet, I can't even believe this is real", he still held you close to his body. You suddently felt crazy for ever overthinking this.

"I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty nervous when I found out", you admitted, his smile fell a little at this.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. I can imagine finding out you're pregnant by yourself was pretty scary", his hand stroked your cheeks.

"It's ok, you're here now, that's all that matters"

"Take your shirt off", he told you, taking hold of the bottom of your - his - shirt.

"Noah, I don't know about this. I haven't been to a doctor's appointment yet" you said, unsure if you should be doing this.

"I don't mean it like that. Just take your shirt off, please?", you did like he wanted, as he kneeled in front of you.

He splayed both of his hands on your belly and started talking to your baby.

"Hi, sweet girl, this is your dada", he started, and you could die happily in this moment. "I'm so excited to meet you, but it's gonna take a while until we get to do that. Until then, you'll stay warm and healthy in your mommy's belly", he tapped your belly twice to get his point across. Tears welled in your eyes at the sight before you. You have everything you could have possibly wanted in the world.

"Daddy loves you so much already, you're going to be a spoiled little girl when you come to the other side. And you're gonna have the most amazing and beautiful mommy in the world", he looked up at you, to see tears streaming down your face. He got up to kiss them away. "How do you feel about getting married with a baby bump?", he asked you, and you sobbed even harder.

"It sounds really nice", you crashed on his arms, and he moved the both of you to lay on the bed, carefully placing the onesie and pregnancy test on the bed side table.

He cuddled you closer, hand stroking your belly nonstop, a habit he would develop during your pregancy, along with talking and singing to your bump. When you calmed down a little, he got up to turn off the lights and grab the remote, turning the TV on and getting back on the bed, pulling the cover over the both of you.

"Thank you for being the most amazing man on the planet. I honestly wouldn't know what to do without you", you told him, he thanked you with a kiss on the lips.

"The band is taking a break after this tour, and there is no questioning about it. I wanna be there for you through everything. I wanna help decorate her nursery and go to every doctor's appointment", he told with determination.

"You keeping calling the baby a girl", you giggled as you pointed it out.

"I just know it's a girl", he started to draw swirls with his finger over your belly.

"Well, she's gonna be the biggest daddy's girl", you laid your head down on his chest, his soothing movements making you sleepy.

"Damn right she is"

You were about to fall asleep when you felt his body tighten underneath you.

"Oh my god, baby, I had the weirdest fan interation today, I need to tell you about it", you could hear the frustration and annoyance in his voice. You laughed at it.

"Tell me all about it"