#air tag holder

[johnnymartyr]

Johnny Martyr's Camera Bag Essentials

By Johnny Martyr We tend to take them for granted but camera bags and what we put in them, besides our actual cameras, can make or break a shoot. Regardless of if you’re a hobbyist or a professional photographer, film or digital, or both, you never know when some small item might just save your ass! Below I want to share some specific product recommendations that have gotten me through…

[sparkles-and-trash]

Clay crafts and embroidery makes me so happy, like making something people actually want and can use is so great and embroidery… is kinda useless but it’s so pretty and fun and I love it!!!

[fabulousmrfrog]

Welcome to Fabulous Mr. Frog, your go-to online store for an eclectic mix of toys, holiday decorations, and everyday essentials that make life a little more fabulous.

[the-kr8tor]

The Morning after

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: you spend a peaceful morning with Hobie.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (reader is mentioned to be smaller than Hobie though) TW food mentions, established relationship, FLUFF , lovestruck Hobie.

A continuation of this fic.

My Masterlist

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*

Hobie wakes up with his right arm aching, he groans from the weight slightly crushing his arm– wait what?

He opens his half asleep eyes with a confused look. Hobie cranes his neck down, he finally sees who the intruder is.

Hobie smiles to himself, Fully waking up, he remembers that he invited you over. He stares at your form, memorizing every bit of detail from how you clutched his jumper with a grip, your lips slightly parted as you exhale, the early morning sun shines at your back, bathing your form in a heavenly glow. Hobie moves you closer to him, as to not let the rays hit your face and disturb your peace.

He tries to move you both farther away from the edge of the bed, but he finds that your legs are intertwined with his, preventing him from moving.

He huffs, a lopsided smile on his lips. Hobie ghosts his thumb over your cheeks, the pattern from the knitted blanket leaves a mark on your skin. A sign that you've slept well, and in his arms no doubt. His forgotten comforter kicked to the foot of the bed.

He gets a whiff of your coconut shampoo, surely leaving its scent on his pillow.

He thinks about buying a proper toothbrush holder, so he could place his and yours together.

He really should invite you more.

Hobie's spidey senses wake him up from his daze– he clutches you closer to his body, carefully cradling your head. A wave from a moving boat rushes towards the houseboat, rocking it harshly. His busted alarm clock drops to the floor in a crash.

Hobie hisses as he sees you twitch. He curses whoever was in that boat.

"Ughh" you groan out, muffled against Hobie's chest. You grip his jumper tighter.

"Shit" his voice deeper than usual, you release his jumper and instead hug his torso. The waves get calmer, rocking you both softly.

"You alright?" He rubs your back just in case you feel sick.

You pop your head away from Hobie's chest, chin resting on his scratchy jumper, you tickle him a bit, but he won't tell you that of course. You open one eye to stare at him, yawning.

"Say that again?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"Are you alright?" He hides his laugh by clearing his throat.

"Hmm" you grin "I like your morning voice"

He chuckles deeply, knowing what it does to you.

"Oh, you did that on purpose, you dork" you softly say.

"Yeah, bet it got you all hot and bothered for it too, huh" Hobie pokes your sides teasingly.

"Don't start" you swat away his hand, noticing his teasing mood this morning, you anticipate his tickling.

"You look pretty in the morning, you didn't wake up early and clean yourself up secretly, right?" He knows you didn't, sleep still sticking on your eyes, your hair looking disheveled.

"Nope, it's au naturel" you quip back. It earns a deep chuckle from Hobie.

He carefully rubs off the gunk from the corner of your eye, you sigh into his touch.

"You like my morning breath too?" He tries to blow air downwards but you're ready, you clasp your hand over his mouth, stopping his teasing.

You laugh victorious, that is until he licks your hand, recoiling your hand away, he laughs loudly.

"Hobie! That's it, I'm not making you breakfast"

"Alright, alright, I'll stop. For now" he grabs the back of your head pushing you back to his chest.

You move to the crooked of his neck instead, in case you're crushing him. You slyly wipe his drool from your hand on his jumper.

"I saw that" Hobie peeks downward.

"No, you didn't"

"This is vintage y'know"

"It's your own drool!" You laugh.

"Yeah! And you slobbered all over it while you used me as your personal pillow" he rubs the exposed skin on your waist, cupping the softness fondly.

"I don't slobber!" You grab his jaw downwards so you could look eye to eye.

"Tell that to my soaked jumper" he whispers, his eyes flickering down to your lips. Your heart skips a beat.

Knowing what he's gonna do next, you cover his lips over your hand, "let me brush my teeth first"

You push away from Hobie, your torso barely off the bed, he grabs you by the waist, pulling you back down. You gasp out.

"Nope" in one swift movement Hobie cups your cheek guiding you towards his lips, your lips crash against each other, you cringe when your forehead hits his a bit too loudly. Insecurity fills you when you remember that you still have morning breath.

He doesn't care though, instead he pokes your sides, making you gasp parting your lips, making him kiss you deeper.

You pull away breathlessly when you hear a rumbling noise underneath you.

"Ah, fuck" Hobie facepalms in embarrassment.

Hobie's stomach grumbles again, mocking him.

You grab his hand, peeking in "aww, my poor baby is hungry" you mockingly coo. "I'll make you breakfast, sunny side up right?" You push off him, finally noticing you're on the wrong side of the bed.

"Yes, please, love" he exhales out the embarrassment.

"How'd I end up on this side?" You point out.

"Huh, I probably dragged you with me"

You imagine what it might've looked like, you fluster. Even asleep he wants you near, you look at him adoringly, swiping away the sheen on his lips before leaving a kiss for good measure.

You leave for the bathroom, he stares at the door you entered in, a lovestruck expression on his face. Once he knows you're decent, he flips away the covers, following towards the sound of the faucet squeak open.

Hobie knocks, you hum while brushing your teeth. He opens the door, then leans against it, his arms relaxed on his sides, his sweatpants hang low on his hips.

He admires you bathe in white fluorescent light, his shirt on your form hanging loose on you. You looked out of place but at the same time fitting right in his tiny bathroom.

He thought you looked like you came out of an oil painting.

"You need to use the bathroom?" You ask as you place your toothbrush down.

"You should leave it"

"Leave what?"

"Your toothbrush, for next time" Hobie crosses his arms, a sudden shyness floods him.

"Of course" you smile, already getting what he's trying to say, "I was already planning on leaving it" you come forward, leaving a minty kiss on his cheek. "Your turn stinky" you pat his bum with a smack.

Hobie hears your laughter echo around the houseboat.

-

After washing up, Hobie opens the bathroom door, the smell of eggs and his favourite tea covers his senses. He chuckles to himself.

He could get used to this.

Hobie enters his modest kitchen, you hum along to the music from the radio, the inside of his houseboat looks a bit different than before, there's more light shining inside, fresh air wafts through the open windows, it seems that there's more life in his home.

He moves towards you, hugging you from behind. You giggle at the contact. He looks over your shoulder, he watches as you expertly flip the pancake over.

"Hello to you too" you crane your neck to look at him "I opened the windows, it's too nice outside. Hope you don't mind"

"I don't mind, we need the fresh air" he snuggles deeper on the crook of your neck. "Where'd you get pancake mix? I know that I don't have any"

"Ah, I brought it with me" you side glance at him, gauging his reaction.

"So, you were planning on making breakfast for me, hmm?"

"I did bring it, but it doesn't mean I was planning on cooking it myself" you turn off the stove, he turns you around, crowding you in between him and the stove.

"So you're making me breakfast out of the goodness of heart then?" He holds onto your hips.

"Yes, you're making the next one by the way"

"You're a cheeky one, aren't you?" He leans towards you, his lips ghosting over yours, but before sealing the deal, he grabs his mug behind you. He sips from it loudly, making eye contact over the mug.

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your disappointment. "You're a menace" you give him a plate of eggs, sunny side up just like how he requested it. "Make yourself useful, and set the table"

Hobie sees his kitchen counter slash dining table, that's not gonna cut it out for you. He looks out of the window, the rare sun shining over the river, fluffy white clouds blanket the sky.

It's a beautiful morning, a shame to waste it.

He pushes the door open, leading to his 'porch'

"Where are you going?" You ask curiously.

"You'll see" Hobie peeks back inside, a smirk on his face.

You shake your head at his shenanigans, you wonder what he's planning.

The water looks calm, the cold morning air nips at his skin, his jumper barely protecting him from the cold. Hobie sees the metal table wet with morning dew, that won't do, so he grabs a nearby cloth to wipe it dry, he carefully puts down the plate of eggs and his tea, to wipe at the mismatched chairs.

Hobie wipes the wooden chair more thoroughly, since the metal one looks more worn down, he's concerned you might poke yourself on it.

He looks at his handiwork, there seems to be something missing, Hobie roams his eyes around the boat, his eyes stop at an empty beer bottle, he places it in the middle of the table acting as a centerpiece.

Then he perches himself near the edge of his boat to pick a single daisy from a neighbouring houseboat's flower pot; he's sure they wouldn't notice one missing. Hobie gingerly puts the small flower inside the bottle.

You open the door with your foot a little too loudly, you squint at the harsh sound. Hobie quickly moves to help you carry out the plates and mug.

"Thanks, Hobie," you grin, your smile gets wider when you see his little set up. The little daisy swaying in the air. "Oh, handsome" you gasp out.

You're finished, your eyes slightly glazing over.

Hobie chuckles at his new nickname, he moves the wooden chair for you to sit, hands on its back, like a gentleman.

" C'mon then, stop gawking, I'm starving" he stares at your dumbstruck face, the cold air leaving goosebumps on your arms.

You sit down, smiling, forgetting the cold air.

"Do you want me to grab a jacket?" He asks as he rubs your arms from behind.

You grab his wrist, you bracelet around it with your fingers, "no, stay, I'm okay" you sniff, revealing your lie.

"Nah, I'm not letting you freeze to death, let me grab it real quick, alright?" Hobie runs inside, eager to come back to you.

Oh, he's absolutely whipped for you, no doubt about it.

You revel in the sun shining on you, closing your eyes, you inhale sharply. Hobie sees you like this, his breath hitches in his throat. You must look heavenly, a slight breeze makes your eyelashes flutter. Opening your eyes, you notice eyes on you, you smile at him.

He's done for.

Waking up from his stupor, he wraps the dark hoodie on your head. A feeble attempt to hide the effect you have on him

"And here I thought you were being sweet on me" you tease him, knowing that he actually is soft for you.

"I've got a reputation, y'know" he sits down with a metal creak.

Hobie notices that you're sitting a little bit too far for his taste. "What are you doing there? C'mere" he grabs your chair, pulling it towards him, the wooden legs scraping against the metal of the boat.

You laugh, despite the harsh sound coming from the scraping.

"There, much better?" He leans on the arms of his chair.

You nod, a permanent smile on your face "much better" you kiss his cheek, your cold lips a contrast to his warm skin, it melts into his skin, etching in like a tattoo.

You intertwine your arm around his, speaking softly, as to not disturb your little peaceful bubble around the both of you, " y'know I thought you would be grumpier in the morning"

"Why's that?" He leans closer.

"I don't know, you seem like the type" you whisper against his lips, "you're a night owl, so I thought you would hate waking up this early"

"Only if I don't sleep well" heat rises in your cheeks at his implication, "Lucky for me I've got my very own koala latching on to me last night"

You raise your eyebrow "Really a koala, that's the best you can do, Hobart?"

"You always resort to calling me by my government name whenever you're flustered, koala works, lovey" he cups your jaw, his thumb brushes past your lips. You close your eyes, leaning in.

Before your lips could meet, you hear a gurgling sound.

You pull away, laughing loudly. Hobie lets out a small goddamnit.

"We should eat, before your stomach starts eating you from the inside" you say in between laughs.

"Yeah, yeah" he grumpily grabs his spoon.

You hide your smile behind your mug.

A/N: thanks for reading! Hope you liked it, as always likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️❤️❤️

*image above is from pinterest*

[joemama-2]

THE BALLERINA

synopsis: Gojo Satoru is a man of power, status, and strength. nowhere in his life does he have time for relationships, let alone love. but he starts to question his boundaries when a pretty ballerina catches his attention.

tags/warnings: gojo x fem reader, minor fluff, angst, major character death, depression, strong language, sexual content, self-harm

word count: 2972

divider credit @cafekitsune

This story begins with a man and a woman. These two are from completely different worlds. They were brought together by nothing more than a simple bump-in occurrence. At least, that’s what the woman thinks. In reality, the man has been watching her for a while now. A man like him shouldn’t be nervous, but the woman makes him feel just that. She doesn’t even know she does it, it’s natural. And that scares the man.

Anywho, there’s a man and a woman. 

This man is named Gojo Satoru. The woman….is you. 

Now, this is not about how two strangers fell in love. It’s about how time got the best of them. How simple mistakes led to a downfall. Pay close attention because as soon as you think you have him, you don’t. Or maybe…it’s him who doesn’t.

Gojo first sees you while you’re on stage. You look beautiful, stunning, shining (literally). There’s others on stage with you, but his eyes stay on you for some odd reason. The auditorium is large, many of its attendants dressed up for the formal occasion. They watch on in awe, some even recording subtly. There’s others who whisper amongst themselves about the entertainers. 

“Wow, look at that one, her form is excellent.”

“Oh my, I love this part.”

“So beautiful.”  

The last part is muttered by him. He says it to no one, considering he’s alone. But a small part of him hopes you can hear the praise that’s directed at you. Of course you can’t. But he hopes. Hope is something funny to have, isn’t it?

His arms are crossed over his chest, a small smile on his face as he focuses on the way your body twists and twirls, toes pointed high in the air. There’s a smile on your face too, it’s fitting for the setting. The white fabric looks stunning on you, but you know what looks even more stunning?

Your eyes.

Gojo Satoru admitting someone has prettier eyes than him? How comical. But really, he’s right. He almost jumps in his seat as your eyes make the briefest of glances to scan your audience and he swears you saw him. Again, he hope you did. 

Hope will be a recurring theme in this story, you’ll come to find out.

Gojo is the first to stand and clap once the performance finishes, the rest of the attendants following soon after. You and your other girls smile, giving a small bow of appreciation. And just like that, the curtains close and the lights slowly start to turn back on. He wants to rewind time and watch it from the beginning, watch you from the beginning. If only being the holder of the Six Eyes and Limitless allowed him to time travel, that would’ve been very helpful in this story. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Here you are.” Gojo’s arm reaches up to grab the canned pineapples the employees just had to put on the highest shelf. 

You’re a little shocked by the presence of this strange man, but ultimately smile politely. “Oh, thank you so much.” with a nod, you grab the can from his hand and place it in your basket. “Don’t know why they do that, it’s a bit of an inconvenience.”

He chuckles, head tilting. “I bet. Luckily I was around, huh?”

Your laugh almost puts him in a daze. “Yeah, luckily.”

You thought that would be the last time you would ever see the man, you were wrong, of course. At first, it was creepy. You remember calling him out on it.

“How come you’re everywhere I turn?”

“I’m a magician, that’s why?”

“Or a creepy stalker?”

“More like a curious one.”

After that conversation, it didn’t help your suspicions. But he never went further than talking. Your optimistic, or maybe naive, side took over. So eventually, you let it be. If Gojo was there, that would mean you weren’t too far away. Days turned into weeks, then months, then a year.

A whole year since you met him. It’s almost baffling how time moves so quick. Just like Gojo, you wish you could go back. He never misses a recital, practice, anything. Gojo is always there to support you whether that’s on the sidelines or helping you stretch. 

His hands feel too warm for you, like it’s a familiar sensation that you haven’t yet recgonized where from. That thought throws you off a little bit but you’ve been pushing it away for a while now. Within the year you’ve known each other,you’ve come to learn that not only is he incredibly handsome, but he’s incredibly secretive. You don’t like secrets. You never have and never will. Secrets for what? What is that other person hiding? The uncertainty draws you away and the fact that he’s not even comfortable telling you. When in all honesty, you’ve told him too much.

He’s only told you he’s an only child and that he’s loaded. Well, he didn’t exactly tell you the first part. But the second he pulled out his black card when buying you a new pair of slippers after you others ones have been used for too many years, that was when it clicked. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gojo and you became close, maybe even too close. Labels and boundaries have been lost anf thrown to the wind. Maybe you’re friends. Maybe you’re more than that? I mean, do friends really touch each other like you guys do? Say the things you guys say? Well scratch that, there’s one boundary Gojo has set in place.

He doesn’t do relationships.

You were okay with that, really. Because at the same time, you weren’t looking for a boyfriend. You were too focused on yourself, learning the new dance for each upcoming recital, making sure you’re form was the best of the best. You were a perfectionist. So essentially, you agreed to his terms.

But can you really blame yourself? Who wouldn’t begin to feel a shift with the way he held you and fucked you like you were his lover, his wife, his soulmate? Never did you voice your opinions because you were conflicted. He was the first man who showed you everything, he was your first. You tell yourself it’s normal and that if you get involved with others, these weird feelings will fade.

However, you should’ve thought twice about saying this to Gojo while he was balls deep in your sweet cunt.

“I…I have a date tomorrow night.”

He freezes mid thrust, muscles automatically tensing. When he pulls his head back from the crook of your neck, the looks in his eyes in different, unrecognizable. Theres a frown on his face, a stark contrast to what it was before and he almost seems angry.

“You what?”

With hazy eyes, it’s hard to focus on him as his face hovers above your own. His hand holds your jaw, titling it up. The silence is tense. You suddenly get the feeling that you made a big mistake because although there’s anger in his eyes, you can see a hint of betrayal hidden underneath. Your lips part but words fail you.

“What did you just say?”

“What’s….what’s wrong?” you ask back, wincing as he pulls out completely. Immediately, you clock in on the fact that he’s turning around, reaching down for his boxers and pants he discarded on the floor. Panic sets in and you sit up hastily, using the duvet to cover your bare form. “Satoru, why–what are you doing?”

“Getting dressed.”

“But why? I thought we were–”

“Have some things to take care of.”

His response scares you and you almost want to cry with how things have changed so quickly. Your hand reaches out for his arm. “Are you mad at me? Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Gojo hates how your voice can make his expression falter, but he pushes through, gently removing his arm back as he stands. “It’s not you, I just realized something.”

“Satoru–” you stand with him, tears threatening to fall down. He doesnt turn around to face you, even while buttoning his shirt back up, grabbing the dark glasses he left on the bedside table. You don’t even realize you’re trembling before a broken sniffle leaves your lips.

He hates the sound, hates when you’re like this. He hates that he caused this. For a moment, he closes his eyes and he turns around, forcing his casual smile back on his face. You see right through it, he knows you do. So why is he still faking? “Don’t worry, okay? I’ll see you around.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was weeks until you saw him again. And when you did, you knew things weren’t the same. His touch never lingered longer than it should, no more stupid flirty remarks, no more winks, no more sex. It was strictly…..friendly. 

You didn’t know if you hated it.

You fall to the ground with a frustrated huff, shaky hands clenching into fists at yet another failed attempt of a cabriole. The recital is in five days and you can’t get this part right. It doesn’t help when the others have moved way past this point, sometimes regarding you with looks of concern and impatience. You were disgusted with that, but you were even more disgusted with yourself. You force yourself back on your feet and walk back to the starting position.

“Maybe you should take a break. You’re obviously frustrated and you won’t be able to–”

“I will.” your sharp voice cuts off his, gulping down the lump that has formed in your throat. 

Satoru knows better than to try you when you’re like this, so he swallows down his words and keeps off to the side, a water bottle in hand. His glasses are still on and when you give him a glance, your irritation skyrockets. Did he really not even want to look at you? Has he become that repulsed by you? He has some nerve, blowing you off and treating you like a stranger. You didn’t even do anything and he’s being a complete asshole about everything for no rea–

Your thoughts are cut off by a sharp pain shooting through your ankle. You hadn’t even felt your body move, it was as if it had a mind of its own. While your thoughts were filled with vile insults, you failed yet again. Why are you failing so much all of a sudden?

Your form crumples down to the floor with a shriek, instantly holding the injured limb. Satoru’s body moves on its own too, within the second he’s by your side with wide concerned eyes.

“Shit, are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

His words don’t do anything. You can’t even offer a response because you’re too preoccupied with pain and anger. You can’t do something that you’ve been spent years dedicating yourself to. Sleepless nights and injury upon injury, this should be a slice of cake. It should be easy. But just like with Satoru, you feel different. Forcing yourself to dance, forcing yourself to a blind devotion, forcing yourself to be unhappy. But, since when has ballet made you unhappy? You didn’t know.

“Get away.” you mutter quietly.

His brows furrow and he leans closer. “Wha–”

“I said get the hell away from me.”

Using your upper body strength, you push him away. You wished you hadn’t. But he pushed you away that night, so why can’t you return the favor? “Get out and don’t come back. You’re making me mess up.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. Gojo Satoru speechless is a funny sight, if this were a different situation, you would’ve laughed. But you don’t, you can’t. He finally finds his voice. “You’re not serious.”

That pushes you even more, gritting your teeth as you look up at him. “I’m dead serious. Get the hell out. Don’t touch me and don’t even talk to me. Your entire presence is a distraction and I hate you for it.”

You knew what you were saying was wrong and hurtful. You were aware of that fact. But they still tumbled out. You still cried in front of him once more. And he still turned his back on you.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Working with an injured ankle isn’t for the weak. It isn’t for anyone. Your teacher and doctor would’ve advised you not to, but they didn’t know. You didn’t even remember the last time you slept or ate properly. Everything disgusted you and you intentionally avoided the mirrors in your apartment, covering them with blankets. 

However the pain of forcing yourself to use your ankle, the pain of starving yourself, the pain of just existing is something you started to savor. You would laugh to yourself wondering what went wrong. How long have you been feeling like this? Was meeting Satoru just the catalyst to your inevitable destruction? 

As you stand on stage in front of the suddenly blinding lights in a suddenly uncomfortable attire, you pray in your head to whatever god that’s listening to save you. To take you away from whatever hell you were being subjected to. You’re holding your tears in so it won;t ruin the makeup you spent hours on. Your movements feel stiff and forced, hands tembling while you can barely even present a smile on your face.

You just had to have a solo segment. You just had  to say yes to it. You’re people pleasing even to the end.

Gojo Satoru just had to be in the crowd. 

You two just had to make eye contact.

And you just had to fall in front of everyone. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A sudden call too late at night alerts Satoru while he’s sitting at is dining table that’s too big for one person. He almost doesn’t want to answer, but as soon as he sees the familiar name, he’s answering on instinct.

It’s silent on the other end for a second and he begins to think you buttdialed him. That’s until he hears your voice for the first time in who knows how long. And God, you don’t sound like yourself at all. “Satoru?”

His heart is cracking while listening to you. You sound defeated, almost scared. But why? “Y/n.”

There’s a breathy chuckle on the other end. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Of course not.” he wants to say it’s because he can barely sleep at a regular time, but he holds back. “I’ve been up.”

More silence. 

“Ah, I see.” he can hear the contemplation in your voice. “I didn’t mean to call so suddenly, I’m just….thinking.”

“About what?”

“You.”

Satoru’s heart clenches and twist in an ugly manner. “Funny, I was just thinking about you too.”

And you laugh again, so does he. For once, it felt nice. For once, it felt like how it did before.

“Are you busy right now?”

“No.” is his automatic response. 

“Okay, I’m glad. Can you…come over?”

Come over? He hasn’t been over since that dreadful night. Anxiety porus through his veins and he gulps, hesitating for a small second before nodding. “Of course I can.”

“I’ve just….I’ve missed you. Wanted to hear your voice.”

He’s already grabbing his keys and heading out. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His long legs lead him to his car quickly, getting in and balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear. “I’ve missed you too.”

You smiled and you wish he could’ve saw it. 

“I’ll see you then.”

“...See you.” 

Three words are on the tip of you guys’ tongues. Three words. But even three words can be hard to admit. So, you hung up on him.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your apartment is empty when he walks in, confused using the spare key you know he knows about to get in. For some reason you always left it there. It’s like you wanted him to come and see you even when you said you didn’t.

After some wandering, he goes into your bedroom. Flashbacks and nostalgia hits him like cold water. His legs feel shaky all of a sudden and his breath hitches. There’s a small box on your bed that draws his attention. It’s white and wrapped with a red ribbon. Carefully he unwraps it, dread filling his stomach and heart pounding fast. Static is the only thing he hears.

As he opens the box, a pair of ballet shoes greet him.

Yours. 

Not just that, but a small letter.

He opens it with too much force, hands shaking. 

“I’m sorry. I really hope you don’t stay mad at me.

I had so much fun meeting you and giving you everything I had.

Please, live on for me.”

His feet are moving before he can fully register it, calling you as he searches through the apartment for you. Tears fill his pretty eyes and short labored breaths are emitted from his mouth.

His world stops spinning when he hears your phone ring in the barely open bathroom door. In truth, Satoru had a feeling he knew what he was going to find once he entered. His mind knew, but his soul didn’t want to.

Because before him is a sight he can never erase from his memories. 

A bathtub filled with dark water. A bathtub he would bathe with you in sometimes, rubbing your back and combing shampoo through you hair while you giggled.

You’re in it still.

Laying upright with no life in your eyes, a knife in your hand that has toppled over the rim.

If you asked Satoru what he thought in that moment, this would be it.

He wished he died with you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And so that’s it. The story of the man and the woman. Happy endings are something neither were familiar with. 

The man now only has a memory that he’ll keep burned into his brain forever, of the woman.

The memory of,

The beautiful ballerina.

a/n: this story was loosely based off the korean film "ballerina". i loved it so much and it was just SO beautiful to watch. anyways, thank you all for reading! much love!

[https-furina]

okay okay so, since im already on the angst train and i want to hurt myself today, hear me out:

you and your lover are out doing wtv and you're ambushed and then, naturally, you guys fight the enemies right?

okay so you get hurt and youre losing a lot of blood and your lover realizes this and is completely heartbroken bc you dont have much time, the wound is deep

so um yeah the reader dies in their lover's arms basically, with albedo, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao and kaeya

theres so many characters im curious abt so please take your time mwah

(ps: i will not pay anyone's therapy okay i need it myself, my condolaences for hurting you)

✎ i wasn't ready to say goodbye [various men - part one]

ft. albedo, aether, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao & kaeya x fem!reader

content: do i need to say angst? i'm so sorry. major death + blood warnings. implied that reader can handle a weapon in most of them - unspecified if reader is a vision holder. hurt with absolutely no comfort. semi-spoilers for scaramouche/wanderer's story (end of the sumeru archon quests.)

notes: we added aether last second in the discord bc we summoned aki ( @kazumist - aly wanted you tagged ) some of them are awful and ooc i'm so sorry - officially managed this in just over 24 hours!

albedo treasures you more than he cares to admit verbally. it shows in all of his acts of love through physical means, lingering touches and making sure you're warm whenever you visit him on dragonspine. he hates you visiting him as much as he loves you - it's merely because it puts you in extreme danger every time. there's the temperatures, the wildlife, the lack of oxygen and of course, there's the monsters lurking around every corner of the inhabited mountain.

as the chief alchemist for the knights of favonius, there's always a warrant for albedo's life one way or another. the fatui are eager to stop his research - or steal it, maybe both.

there's a silence except for the howling winds that circle the snowy mountain. you're struggling to breathe, to get the sharp air into your lungs as you lowered your sword slowly. not far away, your boyfriend is finishing off the final fatui soldier, blood splattering onto his sleeve before he turns to face you. is it just you or does albedo look even more beautiful right now? you furrow your brows in confusion. albedo looks like he's seen a ghost, colour flushing from his face when he rushes forward. your knees give way under you and he barely manages to catch you in his arms, kneeling as he lets you lay against him. "bedo, love?" you mumble, unsure as to what's happening. you can hear the roar of your blood in your ears, your heart is beating whilst the adrenaline still pumps through your body. albedo hushes you softly, pupils dilated when he looks at your wound. "h-how do you feel?" his voice cracks when he asks the question, a gloved hand applying pressure to your side. you wince, the adrenaline is starting to fade and you feel faint. there's a cold sweat glistening on your forehead when you look down at where albedo's hand is, seeing the blood seep through your clothing. it's albedo's turn to watch your expression drop, your world starting to spin and mix together when the adrenaline is gone and you're aware of what happened. it feels as if there's a lump in your throat but when you try to cough it up, only blood spills in a small trickle out of your mouth. "love-" there's another cough, the blood is running down your jaw as albedo's hands start to shake. he has no means of saving you out here, you're nowhere near camp and he can't leave you here while he gets help, "i want to go home..." your voice is weak, trailing off and albedo isn't sure if he should let the tears brinking his ocean coloured eyes fall as your breaths become raspy. chapped lips open and close, trying to find the words to reply to you but all he can muster is a weak "we're going home, dear" when your chest ceases to rise again. his breathing is jagged, clutching you close to him as if you’ll disappear for good when he lets go.

aether clings to you like ivy to a brick building. you give him hope in this search for his twin sister - one he's beginning to think is failing, day by day. you reassure him, that bright smile and sparkling eyes setting him on the right path. he's certain he would have gave up ages ago if it wasn't for you. but aether realises that he is constantly in danger. you love to adventure with, crossing the rolling hills of mondstadt and gawking at the grand mountain peaks of liyue that pierce through clouds.

it was only so long before he faced the repercussions for so willingly letting you travel with him, tearing his hope away in the blink of an eye.

"a-aether?" your voice is wavering, aether is confused. you've been travelling with him for so long now, what could possibly have scared you about some hilichurls? but he turns to face you, blade at the ready - ready to protect you. his eyes fall on the arrow lodged in your chest, your eyes wide in fear as you stare at him in panic. it was already too late to protect you, he'd failed himself. aether drops the sword in his hand, paying no mind to how it clutters on the gravel below you both when he's rushing forward to ease you to the ground. you're stable - awake but for how long? you're in shock, it's going to fade and you'll succumb to the blood reddening your attire. aether swears lightly under his breath, unable to look you in the eyes out of pure guilt; this was his fault, he hadn't protected you. now not only had he lost his sister, he'd lost his partner too. "it hurts to breathe," you mumble, your eyelashes are fluttering gently. the sun behind aether is starting to burn at your eyes, "aether why are you crying?" the blond isn't even aware of the salty tears that glisten in the sunlight when they roll down his cheeks, dripping off his jaw and onto your shoulder where aether has laid your head onto his lap. it's comfortable, just as it always is. on days where you needed a break from walking, aether would often let you lay like this under a nearby tree. the thought makes aether choke out a sob. you smile sadly. "you can't leave me too," your hand cups his cheek, thumb weakly stroking at the tearstained skin when he hiccups, "no, this isn't fair." there isn't civilisation for days and he can't keep the arrow lodged in your chest nor does he have the means of stopping the blood if he pulls it out. aether is at a loss, unable to do anything while he watches the damage done to you internally take you from him beneath his own hands. "hey, you'll find her." you sound so certain, just as you always do and aether watches that positive spark die from your eyes when your breaths turn to rasps and he finds himself yelling at your body - at the sky, at anybody! he yells and yells, hoping someone listens to his cries for you to wake up. wake up, please.

heizou believes that of all the cases he's cracked, you're his favourite. he's read every line written into your skin as you age, the blemishes that litter your body and tell tales untold. you were his favourite mystery but now he had you like a stained glass window, beautiful and on display. although as a detective, heizou has destroyed many more lives than he is keen to admit. his suspects have families - lives, presumably before he has them in jail or worse, life sentence.

their families are hurt, angrily in denial that their own blood could commit such vile atrocities. heizou took something precious from them, what was stopping them from doing the same to him in an act of revenge?

heizou is more than used to his routine of coming home to you, being able to drown in the comfort of your arms after a long day of work. he's disturbed by the front door being open but albeit it's the peak of summer in inazuma, the humidity is drowning you, especially if you're not native to the islands. you're not quick to greet them when he steps in however, in fact he can't even see you. the house is untouched but the silence is deafening. "i'm home," heizou calls out, brows knitting together when he doesn't hear you chime his name back excitedly, "love?" the silence is killing heizou, it's unlike you at all but then he hears it, the meek sound of you calling his name out back. it sounds like you're in the bedroom and with a relieved smile, heizou finds himself heading to find you. but verdant eyes fall on the red smeared on the walls, staining the bedsheets and pooling around you. the relief is gone and his body is tense with dread as he drops the case files he'd been holding, quick to kneel with you and hug you close when you reach for him. "what happened?" his voice is panicked, he's barely breathing when he feels your blood soak through his clothes. he's searching you for your wound, shaking, "love, answer me." your chapped lips open but nothing seems to come out, you feel cold to the touch and all you can do is stare up at heizou. you knew the moment you was attacked that this was it for you but your biggest fear wasn't death, it was heizou. it was your witty detective, keen and full of intuition that he prides himself in; it was whether you'd see him one last time before your heart put in its final beat. heizou doesn't take your inability to speak lightly, letting out a flurry of curses that makes your brows furrow in distaste. you wasn't fond of him swearing when he got stressed but as you watch a tear fall down his cheek, you know you can't argue about his tongue anymore. he has every right to be mad when your bloody hand reaches up for him, the warm palm of his hand quick to grab your hand and coat his fingers. "i love you," you mumble, raspy and heizou is quick to shake his head - conserve your energy, "don't cry please." "you're not allowed to leave me," he chokes out, his lower lip tugged between his lips as his spare hand presses on your wound to try stop the bleeding. you wince but heizou doesn't lighten the pressure in fear, "i'll find who did this." your lips curl up at his words and heizou leans to press a kiss to your forehead, which is clammy and covered in a light sheen. by the time he pulls away, he's the only one left breathing in the room. heizou's shaking hands cup your cheeks, eyes darting around the room when he doesn't quite know what to do. he's used to this - the blood, the smell, the touch of a lifeless body but not when it's you. not when it's the love of his life. he wails in anguish, the taste in his mouth bitter when he swears revenge on whoever took you from him.

kazuha took his time warming up to you when you first met. you didn't blame him, you'd heard the tale of his late friend from captain beidou when you first came onboard the alcor. but your patience with him warmed his heart quicker than expected, leaving you inseparable as you travelled with the crew. even on land, kazuha was joined to your hip. he claimed he was there to protect you and that excuse expanded tenfold when you started dating.

he should have never taken his eyes off you, simply searching for firewood shouldn't have consequences like this.

when the last treasure hoarder falls limp to the dusty ground, kazuha finds himself enveloping you in his arms, eyes frantically scanning your face for signs of pain. you're unresponsive, eyelashes shut but your breathing is shallow while your body fights the unexpected blood loss. "fuck," he whispers, much out of his comfort zone when he's trying to find exactly where your wound is. your blood is staining his skin, getting under his nails where it'll haunt and remind him of what happened for weeks, "y/n? love?" your brows knit as if you can hear him but he's unsure if you're just reacting to the pain. your body is most likely in shock and kazuha is running out of time before the shock fades and you're left in excruciating pain until your last breath. the thought makes kazuha feel sick. he was gone for at least ten minutes, how did he lose you so quickly? he shouldn't have told you to stay at camp by yourself. you'd offered to go with him but kazuha trusted you'd be safe without him, even just for a few minutes. his face turns sour at his own thoughts. how foolish had he been to think you'd have been safe without him? "i-i love you," he stutters out, voice cracking as he presses a kiss to your head, burying his nose in your hair when he tries to blanket himself in your scent - begging to the archons that he'll wake up in bed, "come on, let's go back to the alcor, beidou will get help." he's speaking to you in the softest of tones, his voice hushed as to not disturb the silence of the countryside - or attract more unwanted attention. carefully, kazuha raises himself to his feet with you in his arms. he sees tomo in you for a moment, forcing himself to swallow when there's a suffocating lump in his throat. by the time kazuha has stumbled back to the alcor, beidou rushing over with her face void of colour, your heart is no longer thudding against your ribcage. kazuha will never again hear your heartbeat when he lays his head on your chest or feel your pulse in your wrist when he grabs hold of you.

wanderer figured it was foolish to fall in love after all he'd gone through. what was love when you've been betrayed so many times before? when the archons have so harshly ripped the ones you love away from you? he likes to scowl and shun the premise of love until he met you, an adventurer from the guild assisting in vahumana darshan commissions. you would stubbornly strike conversations up with him, following him as he walked away until he finally caved and would reply.

was it foolish to fall in love or rather was it foolish to place his fragile trust back in the hands of the archons?

his ears are ringing, was mawtiyima forest always this loud? no, it's not even loud - it's silent. the silence is buzzing in his ears, driving him insane as he watches you cough blood onto the dirt. you'd been tasked with clearing out the treasure hoarder camp within the glowing forest - but wanderer isn't stupid. to let you do that alone? he'd be a mad man. but now he isn't too sure if he should have tagged along. would it have hurt him less to find out you'd passed away out on a commission through the guild? or is it hurting less to watch as you splatter that precious red that you humans rely on all over the ground? wanderer finds himself barely able to utter a word. that's rare, he usually has something to say in that stark, rude tone he never explicitly dropped. it made him cold, it stopped people approaching and getting close. why didn't it work against you? "w-why are you looking at me like that?" you croak out, pupils dilated and staring at him in concern. he's as pale as the snow on dragonspine but the tip of his nose is a pink hue as tears well up and sting at his widened eyes. he's not crying, he refuses to cry - he puts it down to not having blinked for a while. so he blinks but you're still hunched over, impaled by a polearm before him. he finally moves forward, kneeling carefully to the side of you as you let out a choked sob, your hands gripping his cold ones tight in yours. he's confused, what did he do to deserve it this time? he didn't ask for this existence in the first place. cursing under his breath, his eyes land on your sword on the floor. it's worn, getting dull and wanderer questions if you was unable to protect yourself properly. no. he didn't protect you properly and the archons saw an opportunity, another jab at his curse of an existence. his eyes dart between you and the blade, then the polearm that isn't welcome where it is. you wince, hiccuping as you wail into the silence of mawtiyima forest. your vision is falling hazy in between the blur of your tears and you're struggling to keep your eyes on your boyfriend's familiar face. "no, no, no - don't go," wanderer panics. it's the first thing he's said since he offered to join you on this commission, "don't leave me, not you too." you let out a sad laugh, coughing blood once more as your breaths get shorter with every one you take. wanderer feels sick, the tears are falling down his cheeks and he can't deny them anymore. there's a last breath, raspy and suffocating before your body falls forward into his arms, limp like a doll. wanderer screams out into the night, hands clutching at the guild's uniform you would proudly wear. how many more times was he going to witness someone getting hastily robbed from him?

xiao keeps his distance, even as your beloved boyfriend that you struggle to be away from for extended periods. you were stubborn, believing he didn't have to succumb to his karma as an adeptus. no matter how much he would shuffle away, he could guarantee you would shuffle after him until he no longer moved away. you still gave him his space - you knew you could find him at wangshu inn.

or if you really needed him, in the midst of the night for a multitude of reasons, you could say his name.

there's a lump in xiao's throat, what the fuck happened? one moment he knows he hears your hurried screams of his name, there's a shrill panic in your tone and he's alert in seconds. he thought you was perhaps in danger but when golden eyes see how you're leaning back on a tree, blood soaking your shirt - and your blade, he realises the danger is gone. and in all of your stubbornness, you had defeated the danger alone but put your life on the line as a result. you smile at him weakly, his footsteps silent as he rushes over to your side. "i got it, don't worry, love." you sigh, tilting your head back on the bark. xiao scowls, you're losing consciousness from the blood now, it's starting to pool beneath you and run down the cracks of the bark behind you. this isn't a minor injury and yet you hadn't called for him sooner? "we need to get you out of here - morax- zhongli- he can help," he barely breathes in between his words, swallowing at the tight feeling in his throat when your eyes are closing, "keep your eyes open, please." his beg falls short of no one's ears other than his own and the stars above. xiao stops breathing himself, holding his breath when he hurries to press the pads of his fingers to your neck, your wrist, anywhere he can try find a pulse. but there's nothing, your body is still warm and xiao pulls you flush to his chest when tears begin to fall down his cheeks. "keep.. them open. please." he repeats in a whisper, nudging his nose against your head as he buries his face into your hair. he's begging in hushed whispers, words disappearing into the strands of your hair in silent prayers.

kaeya was the one who chased you first, lisa's darling library assistant. he'd never spent so much time in the library in his life, other than crepus' own library at the winery but he wasn't much fond of that collection. he isn't much fond of the knights' collection either, reading the same book every day. jean occasionally entrusts you to handle matters in the valleys of mondstadt, to which kaeya is quick to always interfere and say that he'll go with you.

history will always repeat itself until the lesson is learned and an innocent soul has to face the reality.

thunder booms over head, followed by a distant crack of lightning that illuminates the dark sky above mondstadt. kaeya is stood, motionless as he looks at you. his eyes are distant, there's a vacant look about him when the blood is running down your bare legs and mixing with the rain. you're both soaked but your clothes are staining red where a mitachurl's axe caught you in the side. the blood is coming quick and heavy, there isn't time for kaeya to get you back to the city. this scene is familiar when you fall to your knees in the mud, hands holding at your side for pressure. suddenly, your hair is a bright shade of red. is kaeya about to stand and do nothing for a second time, when history is repeating himself right in front of his very own eyes? he swallows but it's difficult, rushing to your side. you're losing consciousness but your eyes are scanning his face. the sun kissed skin, the worn leather eyepatch and his messy blue ponytail that now looks like waterfalls cascading around his face. you smile at the thought. you should visit the waterfalls of mondstadt when the weather picks up so you can gawk at them. "baby?" it comes out of his mouth, barely audible above the rain, "say something - are you okay?" you almost throw back a playful retort but your vision is darkening around the edges and you're grasping to what sight you have left to look at kaeya. your vision blurs when tears threaten to spill - are you scared? you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. kaeya's gloved hands cup your face, pressing his forehead against yours. "stay with me, love, i can't lose you," kaeya's frantic and his words are jumbling when he panics, "we'll stop the bleeding and take you to sister barbara-" kaeya pauses when he notices you haven't blinked despite the rain falling onto your face when he pulls his forehead away. there's a distant look in your eyes, the light has faded and he can't feel the hot, struggled breaths you was taking against his skin anymore. a flurry of angered swears leave his lips and he's careful when he carries you bridal style to the dawn winery. it's the first place he thinks to take you, back to his brother who can't bear to see kaeya stood in the rain again with blood drenching his clothes from the long walk to the winery's front door.

© https-heizou 2023.

[zeroses-world]

First Kisses With SVT OT13

S. Coups

Jaw holder

This man is confident, he knows you want it and will make it known he wants it just as bad, he’s super sweet about it, hands placed on your jaw and your waist and pulling you as tight to him as possible. After the kiss he’s left wanting more, might even whine as you pull away for air and chase your lips

Jeonghan

 Menace

This man will find a way to tease, especially if you’re shy. He doesn’t make the first move, he leans in but keeps pulling away until you get frustrated and kiss him yourself! But he’s just as nervous secretly

Joshua

Romantic 

He planned it out to a T, everything was so soft and sweet,and it all went smoothly, even if he had to threaten some of his members to make it happen.

Jun

Hypocrite!!

This man kissed you, and of course you’re gonna blush! Of course you are! But he had the audacity to tease as if he wasn’t blushing tenfold, but don’t comment on it or he’ll deny and make it worse on you

Hoshi

Passionate

Hoshi is a passionate lover, he’ll try to convey his emotions in a kiss just like he does when he dances, so be prepared to haventhe wind knocked out of you.

Wonwoo

Accident

You were just trying to see what he was doing it wasn’t your fault he tried seeing what you were doing at the same time, he was utterly shocked feeling your lips against his, but that did not stop him from pulling you back in 

Woozi

Distraction

Trying to distract him with a kiss is how youre first kiss happened, you had been thinking about it for a while and decided to try and use the shock value to your advantage. However that didn’t happen, he stayed perfectly composed with just a little tinge of red on his cheeks, you were offended, until a week of the silent treatment later when he confessed he had to hold his breath until you left so he wouldn’t lose control and not stop

DK

A for Effort

He tried so hard to plan everything out and make it romantic, it was so cute, until he took in how your eyes sparkled when you gazed at him, oh boy he couldn’t help himself, pouts and demands to remake it the way he planned, refusing to acknowledge the first kiss.

Mingyu

Clumsy

The whole situation is a mess, there's no way the clumsy giant doesn’t have a messy first kiss, maybe cooking and you're covered in ingredients but he finds the domesticicty of it all so endearing that he just grabs you into a kiss.

The8

Thief!

He tried to have it all planned out and perfect and it would’ve been, had you not kissed him first, is utterly offended for a moment and pouts until he works up the courage to explain why he’s upset, blushes as you coo at him for being so cute.

Seungkwan

The Chased

He doesn’t chase, he wants it, but he wants to know you want it just as bad, will hint at it and hint at it until you say fuck it and grab him in for a kiss, will stutter and blush afterwards mentioning how he didn’t expect that only to earn an eye roll

Vernon

Slow

He takes his time admiring you before he kisses you, full confession beforehand so sweet and thoughtful.

Dino

Shy

At first I thought he might be cocky about it however i believe he’d be so shy and awkward, not really knowing how to react, you’d kiss him first, he’d think it was a prank at first honestly, but quickly warms up to the notion and won’t stop kissing you after that

Picked by: @hwasdollie tagging: @glitterjay

[the-faceless-bride]

Pretty piggy in a cage...

Summary➡ Being Asa's newest and precious little butterfly, he feels the need to show his good friend Jesse... Only things quickly backfire as Jesse takes interest in his friend's little piggy...

Tags: @gothmothsiren @frostbitefae @wallywaffle @brwnicons

Warnings: Dark Content, sexual implications, Objectification, infantilization, marking, forced touching, forced kissing, body horror, some violence to reader, kidnapping, name calling, mentions of cannibalism, attempts of escape, Starvation, reader is described as having long hair at least shoulder length

You put yourself in his box. You had nothing left, nothing but the money you had saved, the clothes on your back, and those sweet eyes the strange Masked man seemed to enjoy so much.

You have never seen his face, and you honestly didn't care. All you knew was when he saw you he held your face in such a gentle manner, his gloved hand was gentle and held you softer than anyone ever had. His blacked-out eyes just stared into yours with such an enamored and curious look like you were the only thing in this world he wanted.

So when he picked you up and tried to lower you into the red box you didn't struggle, you tucked yourself into the box curling into yourself as much as you could to fit as comfortably as you could.

He seemed to enjoy that, he patted your head before stroking down to your cheek before slowly closing the box.

And once the box reopened, he held your shoulder moving you around the broken-down building that looked like it used to be a hotel.

The art around the building was... Interesting, the more you looked at it the more the stranger rubbed your shoulder. And once he lead you through a hall full of pounding locked doors, yelling, and people in cages the stranger held you to his chest.

He brought you into a bathroom and sat you on the plush pink stool. He picked up a soft-bristled brush and carefully brushed your hair, you sat there for a long time before he stopped and moved to open a wooden box painted with butterflies and lined with gems, pulling out pink and blue ribbons, sectioning your hair before trying the ribbons, looking at you in the mirror before reaching back into the wooden box and pulling out a gloss; squishing your cheeks making your lips pucker before smearing the glittery pink gloss across your lips.

He admired you for a moment before pulling a knife from a holder on his waist and using it to slice down your clothes, your shirt was first; he pulled the shirt off your shoulders from your front your best exposed to the cold air, you closed your eyes feeling the strangers gloved hands felt below your chest and felt around your ribs before moving to your hips and ripping your pants.

The strange man put you in a soft white dress, it fell to your knees in layers, a silk ribbon in the middle of your chest, soft long puffed sleeves felt smooth along your arms.

You hang your head as he presses what you think is a kiss you the side of your temple, putting a gloved hand on the small of your back and leading you through the building, he had to guide you around to not step in a trap or get glass stuck in your bare foot.

He picked you up, carrying you up the long flights of stairs before opening a heavily bolted metal door that had hanging flowers around the door; some were dead, and others seemed fake.

Upon entering the room, a large bed covered in ruffled sheets and fluffy pillows, a sheer curtain of some kind hung around the tall wooden frames around the bed. A pink fluffy carpet was placed on the oddly clean floor, the vanity mirror had a single crack running through it, and the large dresser doors were open exposing the hanging frilly dresses similar to the one you were currently wearing.

You're his butterfly; the pretty little thing he likes to observe and touches with such soft hands, showed off to the others who could only wish not to be in chains like you, to be able to wander around, to be able to speak without being beaten.

One day he seemed extra touchy with you, he put in extra effort to make you look the way he wanted perfect you didn't know what you had done to deserve the extra treatment but it was better than what anyone else was getting in this depressing hotel.

He braided your hair; intricately placing flowers in it, he put you in a bodysuit made of silk that showed more of your chest, around your waist he tied a wispy skirt that reached the floor; it was slightly sheer and also had flowers embroidered giving it a very whimsical look, finally, he actually put you in shoes; they seemed like warn down ballerina shoes, elegant and gold the flowers were delicate.

After giving you one last look before running a hand down your neck moving in close and pressing his masked nose to your hair taking a long breath.

He placed you back in your room, sitting you down on the fluffy rug and making a 'stay' motion before leaving the room; you didn't know how long he was gone for, but when he came back he wasn't alone...

A man walked in with him, he was tall very tall...strong and wore a sharp black suit, and a chrome skull mask.

The chrome stranger looked to the man who kept you in this room, getting a single nod from your kidnapper and he started moving towards you; you whimpered and slightly moved back, but when the black-masked man hushed you and the chrome stranger reached out to you, his hand ghosting over your braided hair moving to brush a finger under your eyelids and moving to your neck giving a small squeeze before continuing his journey, gloved hand moving down your chest across your stomach to your legs squeezing your inner thigh.

He was inspecting you...

He caught you by surprise when he lifted his finger to your nose and gave it a little flick before teasingly pitching your cheek.

What a pretty little piggy. What a Fine Catch Asa Found; Jesse thought. Looking up at him with those sweet pretty eyes of yours. Almost tempted to think of you as less of a piggy and more of a doe... A sweet fawn. Jesse stopped squeezing your cheek and moved behind you leaning to push his mask against your soft hair. What a sweet thing.

Asa and Jesse both take one of your hands and take you out into a separate area you've never been to before. The room had two comfy-looking chairs, plane walls, and a small fluffy 'rug' just to the right of one of the chairs, the room also had something you found interesting. It had camera monitors, and you really wish you could just look away.

The horrors of what you saw.

You knew to some degree that there were poor souls in this place and that something terrible was happening to them. But you couldn't imagine what was on the screens. Rows and rows of people that... Weren't even people anymore... Monsters. Real-life horror movie monsters. Body's mutilated some with multiple limbs, some blind, some with jaws broken and modified to be long and odd-shaped, some of them seemed to be in a room with other monsters and they were... Eating each other.. God. What is this place? Why? Why was this something that never crossed your mind before.? Was... Was this going to happen to you?... Was this his plan? Will this happen to you when he gets bored of you?!

You slowly sat on the small rug where you were told, your eyes never leaving the monsters on the screen.

The two masked men were signing at each other, communicating about something. You couldn't understand them, but you truly couldn't care.

And you felt an itch. An itch to run. An itch to get away. Not wanting to be the next monster...

You would've been fine... You could've ignored the itch... If it wasn't for that one moment. Where one of the monsters that was cannibalizing the other turned. And look right into the camera.... Right.

At.

You.

And you ran. And you seemed to catch both men off guard. As they had yet to catch you.

That monster... That thing...

The blood fell from its odd crooked mouth. It's red bloodshot eyes staring at you.

And it only got worse.

Along the walls of the hotel, bodies ripped open. Displayed like art. No. No. No. Please. You don't want this. You just wanted to be taken away from the mean world. And now you were stuck in an even crueler one.

Loud footsteps could be heard down the halls, you look and your eyes meet the ones of the masked man. The one who took you... The Master...

You started hyperventilating as you tripped over your own feet. One of your feet getting locked in a trap. You let out a yelp of pain. Almost sounding like a kicked puppy, as you fell to the hard cold ground.

You try and yank your foot out, but that only makes the trap worse. Making you cry out. The skull masked on being the tallest and taking the longest strides gets to you first. Shaking his head and wagging his finger at you in a moving way, before giving you a little tap, bad.

You shink in on yourself. "please. Don't let the monsters get me. Don't let me be one of them..." You whimper into his shoulder. he brushes your hair from your face. And uses his loose hand to unlock the trap.

Asa truly was a lucky man. A lucky man indeed... He wouldn't mind if he... Borrowed you... For a while would he? Of course not. What else are friends for? Right?

[pucksandpower]

Max Verstappen x Miss Universe!Reader - Social Media AU

maxverstappen1

Liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, and 938,524 others

maxverstappen1 y/n is the kindest, smartest, most beautiful, and most compassionate person i know. there is no one more deserving of being Miss Universe. i am so proud of you, schatje. the crown pales in comparison to the way you shine each and every day

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yourusername there is no greater gift than experiencing all of this with you by my side. love you forever

danielricciardo never a doubt from the second she got on the stage

yourusername thank you dany 💕

landonorris does that make you mister universe?

madmaxstan asking the real questions

f1fan8 i’m actually so obsessed with you guys

yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and 1,758,214 others

yourusername tonight we learned that i’m the better driver in this relationship

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maxverstappen1 identity theft isn’t a joke

redbullracing where should we send the contract?

missuniverse if you’re taking our title holder does that mean we get to take your driver?

yourusername i’ll drive in barcelona and max can fill in for my photoshoot next weekend. he just has to learn how to walk in heels and we’re all set

yourfan5 what can’t y/n do??? a true queen

f1wagupdates

Liked by orangearmygirl, gridgossip, and 53,810 others

f1wagupdates Reigning Miss Universe Y/N Y/L/N joined boyfriend Max Verstappen and sponsor TAG Heuer at the Monaco Grand Prix

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pageantgirl the fact that y/n was invited in her own capacity because Miss Universe is partnered with TAG Heuer … it’s fate

f1wagupdates and how proud they look of each other in every pic I’ve seen 🫠

orangearmygirl i remember them walking in together for max’s debut race. they’ve come so far 🥺

yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1, missuniverse, and 1,863,429 others

yourusername there’s something about the monaco air

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maxverstappen1 my date planning abilities have improved

yourusername it’s true. 10/10, no notes

landonorris pretty sure that something is just called max living there

yourusername yeah that certainly helps

missuniverse absolutely gorgeous 👑

maxandy/nfan the way max makes y/n laugh. i want that one day

f1fan3 they singlehandedly made me believe in love. they’ve been together for years and still look at each other like they’re the only person in the world

[sparkles-and-trash]

I’ve made so much fun stuff out of clay now, and tomorrow I’m finally gonna start painting them!

I’m def gonna buy more clay before going to my parents’ next week, I’m gonna bring my acrylics too and maaaybe find the courage to start dad’s gift for when he turns 70 in feb!

[atmostories]

Terry Silver x Reader

Tags: NSFW, Female Reader, Exhibitionism A gift for @terrence-silver 🖤🖤🖤 An Evening At The Opera

You were out like a light. Was the opera really that boring? Terry sniggered to himself as he possessively caressed your hair, fingers twirling and wrapping around the strands. You were napping on his lap while Reginald drove the limo back home to the hills. The lights of LA streamed past him in an unintelligible blur, the events of the evening still rushing through his body like two fresh hits of ketamine in his bloodstream. He could do with a cigar right now, but didn't want to disturb you with any movement. The celebration could wait. There was a growing urge to take you the moment you entered the mansion's threshold, or hell he could even fuck you right on the entranceway, smear his come and yours on the front door to mark this home as both his and yours forever. Like two king cobras marking the entrance to their den, a declaration of their mated nature, a warning to strangers to stay clear or face the consequences. Love and death all intertwined as one. However, his beloved needed to rest. He'd have you again first thing in the morning, wake you up to the sensations of his body desperately rubbing against yours. "We missed over an hour of the opera, my dear, we'll simply have to go again." He'd whisper and giggle into your ear, no doubt thinking of what transpired.

/ / / La Bohème was completely sold out. So of course, Terry had purchased the biggest box of the theatre, best seat in the house. The previous holder of the box had been outbid, much to their distress Margaret had assured him. Well, if you wanted something, you took it. Why was that so hard for people to understand? Just like he took you. Somehow you were both easier and harder to take than he thought it would be. Easier because your feelings for him were so potent even from early on. That made his toes curl just at the thought, how much you wanted him, how your devotion shone through you like a reflection of his own, more blinding than the sun itself. And it was harder because he needed to earn your trust. Trust had never been something he'd needed to foster when he was seducing someone. Usually all he'd need to do was give the right look, mutter an innuendo here or there, and his body would do the rest of the work. He never had to chase someone before. Whoever peeked Terry's interest, already wanted him. There was never any hesitation involved. He never realised how exciting the thrill of the hunt would be. Forever being thrown prey into his cage, fat and lazy from the endless offerings, until the day he spotted you beyond the threshold of his contained dominion. He couldn't just take your body, that was too easy. He needed your mind, your heart, your fucking soul cradled against him to keep for all eternity. When you both arrived at the theatre, Terry ensured you went through the staff only entrance. You simply looked too ravishing tonight, he couldn't allow the paparazzi to have up close shots of you. He guided you through the back area like he owned the place, which he of course did now, past the stage hands and technicians, past the dressing rooms of the performers. They cooed and greeted you like you were both the star lovers of the show, wishing that you enjoyed the evening.

"Break a leg." Terry announced to them. He smirked at you then, enjoying the amused but almost reprimanding expression on your face. His heart panged with desire, fuck he wanted you so badly. The waiting area was buzzing with guests and conversation, the excitement palpable in the air, but the noise noticeably quietened when the two of you came in. Many faces turned to you, Terry subconsciously tightened his grip around your white faux fur capelet-covered shoulder. Your capelet matched the white ribbon adorned on his ponytail, which you had tied yourself. Your blood red tailored dress matched his cravat and waistcoat underneath his jacket. He ensured that it was the exact shade of your blood from the cut he most definitely didn't purposefully cause by prodding your finger against a rose thorn in the east wing greenhouse almost a month ago. His mind was filled with the image of sucking your finger for almost half an hour, the heady metallic taste of you ripe in his memory. Heading to the box, he led you up the stairs, hand in hand. An announcement was made over the speakers that the performance would start shortly. Right on cue. You were shown into box by a personal butler who he immediately dismissed after you'd taken your seat. He wanted the two of you alone, undisturbed. After all, he wasn't here for the damn opera. The box was extremely luxurious, it had its own bar in the corner, its own bathroom. Rather than two separate seats, the two of you sat on an eighteenth century Chesterfield that he'd had specially procured for the evening. He asked whether you liked the box and you were gushing out compliments to him, eyes wide with excitement as you took in view of the theatre, the perfect central location with the best view of the stage and the orchestra in front of it. "Have I told you how beautiful you look, my dear?" Your cheeks reddened like he was summoning your blood to the surface like a satanic blood ritual, your skin almost splitting open upon a rose thorn. “Yes you have, Terry, thank you. And you look very handsome.” "Do I?" He feigned, his hand reaching up to rest on your neck. The lights of the theatre dimmed, his thumb rubbing along your throat. It was his explicit gesture to you that he was hard and desperately needed to be inside of you. A gasp escaped your mouth before you stuttered out a yes. His eyes flicked down to his lap, his silent command for you to place a hand on his cock, to feel how much he needed you, for you to dare question his desire for his beloved. Your motion was slow, delayed, you weren't entirely comfortable doing this here, but you obeyed, you always did. You were so good to him. You gasped again, feeling how hard he was over his slacks. You never could exactly grasp the depths of his want for you, the hardness of his cock physical proof that words couldn't quite place. La Bohème began its opening act with its star lovers rather too preoccupied, he mused before shifting his body like he was paying attention to the performance. You followed suit, though your soft, gentle hand kept up its teasing motions, fingers rubbing against his length.

His hips lazily kept raising slightly to meet your touch, the music and singing mere noise in the background. He slid an arm around your shoulder, his thumb rubbing up and down your throat, I want you, I need you, I want you, I need you, he conveyed to you over and over and over. Branding his desire onto your body. Were you wet yet? Were your thighs aching? Were you finding it impossible to take in a deep breath? Was your clit twitching? His other hand rested on your thigh, and your free hand shot out to his with surprising speed as you began urgently rubbing his inner wrist. Now this was your explicit gesture to him. I want you, I need you, I want you, I need you, you begged him, you screamed at him with your wordless gesture. He shot up from the Chesterfield, wrenching the privacy curtains closed as far as they would go. Climbing on top of you, his mouth devoured yours, his lips pressing against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth to meet your own before he began to suck on your own tongue. He growled at the way you groaned in surprise at the sensation. He pulled away. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all, would it? He hurried you to your feet, ready to carry you out of the box and down the theatre stairs if you weren't fast enough. But you were up and being pulled by him out through the door like the box had been set on fire. “Mr. and Mrs. Silver?” The butler called out, concern heavy in his voice. Terry knew you'd want to satiate this complete stranger, purely out of the goodness of your heart. He sighed internally. "Pressing business!" Terry shouted back, pulling you around the corner. He looked back at you, inflamed by the smile on your face for him knowing just what you wanted. He immediately stopped at the top of the stairs, out of sight from any of the staff. His hand slid under your dress, cupped your cunt and squeezed, forcing a squeal out of your hot, wet mouth. "Pressing indeed." He murmured, capturing your lips for a brief moment before forcing himself to take you down the stairs. Otherwise he'd be fucking you right there and then. He told hold of your waist, taking some of your weight to keep you balanced, how could you not be weak at the knees for him? He came to a halt in the waiting area, head flicking side to side as he took in his options, body shaking in need, cock straining against his underwear, hand gripping onto yours like a lifeline, it was too far to the limo, the back area was busy with people, hmm. . .coat closet? Practically shoving a wad of cash at the attendants, he ordered for them to leave and slammed the door shut behind them. With no time to waste, he stripped off the fur capelet that was covering your bare shoulders and ripped the top part of your dress down, the sound of tearing material made his balls ache. As you stood frozen in shock, his mouth immediately attacked your nipples, he manoeuvred you against one of the coat racks, your back cushioned by real fur coats. He nipped and sucked and nibbled at you without breaking away, you were more out of breath than he was. Something had to be done about those real fur coats, he thought to himself, letting out a chuckle as he pulled back, giving you a second to take in oxygen. Taking to his knee, he wrenched up the dress to your hips, knocked apart your legs and shoved his mouth into your wet cunt like a man dying of thirst and god he felt like it. You squealed and desperately grabbed onto his shoulders for support. He played with your clit with his tongue, incensed by your constant stream of moans and cries. Working a finger inside of you, he began a relentless pace, rubbing your clit side to side, fucking you deep with one finger before working in another, and then a third. Your legs were shaking by then, your eyes kept rolling back, your hand mindlessly gripping onto his hair, undoing the meticulously neat ponytail you'd tied back earlier that evening. His white ribbon fell onto the floor.

He was too selfish to let you come first, he wanted to come with you. Pulling his mouth and fingers away from you, he rose off the floor to stand. You looked like you'd been fucked out of your mind and his cock hadn't even been inside of you yet. As he scrambled to release his cock, he lifted up one of your legs and you cried out together when he sunk into you. He growled at the wet, tight, hot sensation, relishing it for a fleeting moment before he began to move. Leaning down, his forehead pressed against yours, his tongue licking up the side of your face, his lips laying kisses on your cheeks. He could taste your come, your sweat, your skin. He fucked you hard and fast, your bodies laced together, the mated king cobras deep in the throws of heat. The two of you as one, like it was always meant to be. His hips kept thrusting into you. He knew you were close, he was close to. Weeks and weeks had been spent tuning himself to your rhythms, learning how to delay his pleasure and the effort had paid off tenfold. He upped his paced, feeling that you were about come, his body clinging onto yours. Falling silent as you climaxed together, the sound of you orgasming was music to his ears. He slowed his pace after you reached the peek, emptying himself inside of you. He looked at you then, his thumb coming up to rub against your throat. The touch made you come back to reality, you looked back at him, mouth open, expression spent, someone needed a nap, rest her head right up against his cock. Pulling out of you, he took to his knees again to admire some of his come drip down your thighs. He wiped it off your skin with his hand and wiped it on the fur coats behind you. "My dear doesn't like fur." He commented casually as you stared at him quizzically. After collecting more come leaking from you, he wiped it on another coat, and another. He was doing his part after all, ruining these horrible people's coats. The curiosity on your expression was replaced by concern, your eyebrows furrowing when he took to his feet. “Angel, your hair,” you muttered, regret on your expression, hand reaching out to tuck some of it behind his ear. He snatched onto your hand, staring at you for ten long seconds before sniggering and falling into a fit of laughter.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Endurance 1

Warnings: this fic will include obsessive behaviour, possible non/ducbon, bullying, and other elements which may not be specifically triggered. Please be cautious in continuing on to the story.

Character: Walter Marshall

Summary: A fellow gym go makes your workouts even more taxing.

Please reblog and leave some feedback, preferably in a reblog but you can always drop by my asks. I always love working in y'alls ideas with these AUs so I am so excited to hear from you.

As always, take care of yourself <3 be kind and be patient. Love you.

No tag lists. Please review my pinned and bio for guidelines.

You come out of the changing room and peek at the wall mirror as you pass. You admire your new bubblegum pink leggings and polka dot top. It’s a bit out there but you’ve seen neons in this place that make your retinas burn. Besides, you’ve never been shy when it comes to fashion. It’s not just your passion, it’s your job. 

It’s late enough that the bodies there are far and few between. You prefer the nights when the gym feels like a ghost town. The air is quiet but not stagnant.  

Your water bottle swings on its handle from your hand as your bouncy steps keep in time with the boppy music thrumming in your earbuds. Your workout mix is a nice blend of retro and contemporary bass hits. You catch yourself humming and stamp it down. Sometimes, you forget other people can perceive you, not that there’s many around to so.  

You find an empty mat. They all are. You put your bottle down and start your stretches. Your late night sessions help clear your mind though it never really stops. In your mind, you’re seeing pleats, seams, and ruffles. 

Your body moves without thinking. It’s all muscle memory. You’re no gym rat, you don’t go that hard, just enough to loosen up your muscles. Your note overly swoll as the young ones call it. You’re fit enough for a light jog and the stairs don’t leave you winded like they used to. 

After your stretches, you slurp loudly from the straw of your water bottle, walking with it still between your lips as you head for an elliptical. You can just let the repetitive motion take over. You pop your lips off the tub and slip the bottle into the little plastic holder on the side of the machine. 

As you climb up, you see another figure across the floor. The man sits on the end of a weight bench. For a moment, it looks, even feels, like he’s watching you. From there, you can’t see very well. You don’t wear your glasses in the gym since you lost a pair to a hungry leg press. 

You can make out dark hair and his burly form. Hazy but wide enough to clock. Most people around here are stacked. You’re too casual for all that. And you like a piece of tiramisu with your Friday lattes. 

You pick your speed and start to climb. You cling to the machine and rock your head to the music. Once more, your throat vibrates and you have to remind yourself to stop. You can’t help it, you love Destiny’s child. Does that date you? For someone working in fashion, you can’t ever risk that. 

You zone out, vision blurring as you let your body do the work. The sweat speckles and slicks across your skin. Damn, you might just be bootylicious after this work out. 

Your fitbit rumbles and you look down. You’re in the zone. You keep going until you hit thirty minutes and slow down. You cool off for ten minutes and swipe up your bottle, sucking on it greedily as you head back to the mats. 

You swing out your arms and stretch your legs in slowly lunges. You bend forward, touching each toe with opposite hand, lingering with your ass up as you brace your hips. A sudden clang has you standing straight so fast you nearly topple onto your butt. 

You throw out your arms to catch your balance as you let out a pathetic, ‘woah-oh-oh'. You look over at the man as begins reps with the heavy dumbbells. You’ve never gotten above the tens. His blue eyes flash in your direction and you give a sheepish smile. 

You don’t want to seem weird so you return to your stretches. Arms up, lean to one side, then the other. You hear a strange rumble, like thunder, and look over at the man as he continues to work his traps, staring at you. You could even call it a glare. 

You tap your ear bud as you face him, “sorry?” 

“Do you have to make that noise?” He snarls. 

Your brows pop up. We’re you humming again? Oops. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I was,” you smile and before you can tap play, he scoffs.  

“Typical,” he grumbles as alternates to biceps. 

He’s built. He’s arms are bigger than your head. Probably. You don’t think he’d let you compare for scale. You drop your hand without tapping. 

You get down and extend your legs in front of you. His breaths underline your movement as you bend one leg over the other and push your straight arm against it as you twist. As you do the other side, facing him, his gaze flicks over again. 

“You put more time into choosing that outfit than you do working out,” he shakes his head. 

You blanch. Oh wow. You must have been really out of tune if he’s that grumpy. You give a tight-lipped smile and keep going. He’s not the first grouch you’ve dealt with. Your editor is a chronic miser. 

You straight arms and legs and bend to touch your toes. You then pull your arms back and plant your hands. You lift your pelvis and torso and lean your head back, raising yourself in a straight line as you hang your head back. 

“Form is off,” he mutters. 

You lower back down and look at him again. 

“Oh, uh, do you have any tips?” You ask curiously. He grimaces. You push your shoulders up and tilt your head, “well, if you think of any, I'd be happy to work on it. I’d hate to hurt myself.” 

You get to your knees and groan as you push yourself to your feet. He tuts as gets down to plank, still gripping the weights. He lifts the left and puts it back down, then the right. You watch him for a minute, impressed by his strength. Your wary of lifting too much, you don’t trust yourself. 

“You think your cute,” he sneers under his breath. 

“Um, sometimes,” you hover across from him, “I just thought you might know more than me--” 

“Of course I do,” he puffs between lifts. 

“Mm, okay, well, I’d love to learn--” 

“They got trainers for that,” he snips as he finishes his reps and puts his knees down. 

“Right, um, sorry to bother then. I was only... asking,” you turn and grab your bottle. 

You flip the top up again and slurp. You get to the bottom, sucking air loudly up before giving up. He huffs and stands with the weights, slamming them back on the rack. 

“Do you have to make so much goddamn noise?” He stands straight and turns to you, crossing his thick arms. You stop short and part your lips. 

“It’s empty, I didn’t--” 

“It’s not the only thing’s that empty,” he taps his skull, “go back to the mall, girl.” 

You scrunch your nose, “you don’t have to be rude, mister.” 

“Honesty is a gift,” he snorts. 

You pull your chin back. You didn’t mean to annoy him and you apologised already. You’re a nice person but you don’t appreciate his tone. 

“Well, if I’m being honest,” you put your hands on your hips, “you’re not very nice.” 

He chortles as a crease forms in his forehead, “and you’re not as cute as you think.” 

“What does it matter what I think I am?” You challenge, “I didn’t ask you.” 

“No, you just float around like some airhead and disturb everyone else,” he accuses. 

You peer around, “there’s no one here.” 

He drops his arms and lifts his chin. He steps forward and you waver, just a bit, put off by his size.  

“I’m here,” he says. 

You blink. What does that mean? 

He takes another step and you stare at him, necks and cheek burning. His words strike an epiphany. It’s just you and him. He’s a lot stronger than you. 

Another step and you put your hands up, “mister, you better not come any closer.” 

He scoffs again, “or what? Are you going to cry?” 

You pout and shake your head, “no, but I... I could scream. Or bite.” 

He shakes his head, “what do you think I’m gonna do, girl? That’s what you do, isn’t it? Make yourself the victim. You need the attention to make you feel special.” 

He’s getting closer. 

“I said stay away,” you project your voice as best you can, “I’m not afraid of you, mister.” 

He chuckles and tilts his head. He stops, just a step away from you, “aren’t you?’ 

Your eyes meet his and you stand trapped in the snare of his glower. His blue eyes are deep and fiery, his chiseled face is framed by dark curls and a thick beard, and his chin is cleft handsomely. He’s fearsome, a bear in man’s flesh. You’re no more than helpless hare. 

You back away and his mouth slants in triumph. He’s won. You turn and gulp, gripping tight your bottle as your sneaker squeaks loudly. You scurry away, buzzing with adrenaline. 

“That’s right, you run away, girl, run as fast as you can,” he calls after you, “not very, I’m sure.” 

You keep a brisk walk as you hurry towards the locker room and push inside. Your heart is hammering and your breathless as you reach your locker. You put the bottle on the bench and clutch the sides of your head. You’re dizzy as you try to get a rein on your frazzled nerves. 

You thought you left the bullies behind in high school, over a decade ago. In that second, you’re right back in your teenage years. Your eyes sting with tears and your stomach churns with humiliation. That glimmer of insecurity creeps back into you. 

No, no. You’re an adult. You’re a grown woman. You have a job and a life you love. You’re nothing they said you were. You proved them all wrong and you will prove that butthead wrong too. 

[dalsofile]

dinner date night

You and Nayeon enjoy a romantic dinner at a quaint Italian restaurant, then continue the evening with playful homemade pasta-making and conversations at home.

tags :: romance, date night, candle lit dinner, cooking together

wc :: 1,859

cast :: y/n, nayeon

song :: someday i'll find my way home - carol & tuesday

You and Nayeon had been eagerly anticipating this dinner date night for weeks. The excitement had been building ever since you decided to spend a special evening together at a quaint, candle-lit Italian restaurant nestled away in a quiet corner of the city. You both wanted a setting that was intimate and romantic, a place where you could unwind and enjoy each other’s company without the distractions of everyday life.

As you approached the restaurant, the soft glow from the flickering candles in the window promised an inviting ambiance. The air was filled with the rich aroma of freshly baked bread and simmering pasta sauces, mingling with the subtle scent of herbs and spices. It felt like the restaurant was already setting the stage for a perfect evening.

The host greeted you warmly and led you to a cozy table near the window. The table was adorned with a delicate lace tablecloth and a single candle in a polished brass holder, its light dancing softly across the surface. Nayeon, ever the gentleman, pulled out a chair for you, and you smiled appreciatively as you took your seat.

“This place is even more charming than I imagined,” you said, looking around at the cozy, romantic setting.

Nayeon smiled, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “I’m glad you think so. I wanted this night to be special for us.”

You both perused the menu with a sense of anticipation. After a brief but pleasant deliberation, you decided on a bottle of the finest red wine – a choice that seemed fitting for the occasion.

“To us,” Nayeon said, raising her glass in a toast.

“To us,” you echoed, clinking your glasses together. The deep ruby red of the wine caught the candlelight and cast a warm glow over your faces.

The night unfolded with a sense of ease and joy. You shared stories, your laughter intertwining with the soft strains of music playing in the background. Every now and then, your fingers brushed across the table, and you exchanged sweet, lingering kisses that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

“This is the perfect evening,” you said, gazing into Nayeon’s eyes.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nayeon replied, a smile playing on her lips. “Everything about tonight feels right.”

The food arrived, and it was nothing short of divine. You began with a fresh Caprese salad, the tomatoes and mozzarella perfectly complemented by a drizzle of balsamic glaze. Each bite was a burst of flavor.

“This salad is amazing,” you said, savoring another bite. “It’s like a taste of summer.”

Nayeon nodded in agreement. “I’m glad you like it. The tomatoes are so fresh; I think that’s what makes it so delicious.”

For the main course, you decided to share a creamy risotto and a perfectly cooked steak. The risotto was rich and buttery, with just the right amount of seasoning, while the steak was tender and juicy, melting in your mouth with every bite.

“This steak is cooked to perfection,” Nayeon said, cutting a piece of the steak and offering it to you on her fork.

You took a bite and moaned in delight. “I couldn’t agree more. It’s like heaven.”

Dessert was a highlight of the meal – a decadent tiramisu that was as beautiful as it was delicious. The layers of coffee-soaked ladyfingers and mascarpone cream created a symphony of flavors.

“This tiramisu is out of this world,” you said, your eyes widening in amazement.

Nayeon grinned. “I’m glad you think so. I was hoping it would be a perfect end to the meal.”

As you left the restaurant, the effects of the wine were beginning to make themselves known. Your steps were a bit wobbly, and your laughter rang out freely in the quiet streets. The city lights twinkled above, casting a magical glow over the surroundings.

“This night has been incredible,” Nayeon said, slipping her hand into yours.

“I know,” you replied, squeezing her hand gently. “I’ve had such a great time.”

When you arrived back at your cozy apartment, the night was still young, and the fun was far from over. Nayeon, with her cheeks flushed from the wine, suggested continuing the evening by cooking something together. The idea of making homemade pasta seemed both romantic and practical, and you agreed wholeheartedly.

“Homemade pasta sounds perfect,” you said, your eyes lighting up with excitement. “It’ll be fun.”

“I thought you might like that,” Nayeon replied with a wink. “Let’s get to it!”

You made your way to the kitchen, your movements slightly unsteady but filled with excitement. As you rummaged through the cabinets and drawers, pulling out ingredients with clumsy hands, it was clear that this would be no ordinary cooking session.

“Where did I put the rolling pin?” you wondered aloud, digging through a drawer.

“Here, let me help,” Nayeon said, reaching over and finding it for you. “I think we’ve got this, even if it gets a little messy.”

The kitchen soon filled with your laughter and playful banter. Nayeon, attempting to knead the pasta dough, ended up with flour on her nose and a bit of dough stuck to her hands.

“You look like a pastry chef from a cartoon,” you said, laughing as you saw Nayeon’s comical appearance.

“Hey, I’m just getting into character,” Nayeon replied with a playful grin. “At least the dough’s turning out well.”

As you prepared the pasta, Nayeon leaned in close to you, her breath warm against your ear. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her words slightly slurred but filled with genuine affection.

You blushed and turned to meet Nayeon’s gaze. “You’re making me blush,” you said with a smile. Your lips met in a sweet, lingering kiss, the warmth of your love mingling with the warmth of the kitchen.

Your playful antics continued as you cooked. Nayeon accidentally dropped a bit of pasta dough on the counter, causing both of you to burst into fits of giggles.

“Oops! That was a bit of a mess,” Nayeon said, chuckling as she tried to clean up the dough.

“You’re doing great,” you reassured her, grabbing a cloth to help clean up. “And besides, the mess just means we’re having fun.”

You playfully floured Nayeon’s hair, and soon, you were both covered in a comical mix of flour and dough, your kitchen resembling a chaotic, joyful mess.

“Now we’re truly pasta chefs,” Nayeon said, grinning as she looked at your flour-covered faces.

Despite the disarray, you managed to prepare a delicious homemade pasta dish. You cooked the pasta to perfection, and Nayeon made a rich, savory tomato sauce with a touch of garlic and basil. The kitchen smelled amazing, and you couldn’t wait to taste the fruits of your labor.

“This pasta is incredible,” you said, taking a bite of the dish. “I think we’ve outdone ourselves.”

“I have to agree,” Nayeon said, savoring a forkful of the pasta. “It tastes even better because we made it together.”

You sat down at the kitchen table, your fingers sticky with sauce, and fed each other bites of the warm, comforting pasta. Each bite was accompanied by a kiss, a giggle, or a whispered sweet nothing, making the simple act of eating homemade pasta a cherished part of your evening.

“This is my favorite part of the night,” Nayeon said, looking into your eyes. “Just being here with you.”

“I feel the same way,” you replied, your heart swelling with affection. “It’s perfect.”

As the night wore on, you found yourselves sitting on the kitchen floor, leaning against each other, your hands intertwined. Nayeon looked at you, her eyes filled with love and contentment.

“This has been the best night ever,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion.

You smiled and kissed her gently. “I couldn’t agree more,” you replied. You stayed there for a while, savoring the moment, knowing that no matter what, you had each other. The warmth of your connection was palpable, and the love you felt for each other was a comforting presence in your lives.

After some time, you got up to start cleaning the kitchen, still giggling as you glanced over at Nayeon, who was attempting to help but mostly just getting in the way.

“I’m trying to be useful,” Nayeon said with a mock-serious tone as she handed you a sponge. “But I think I’m just making more of a mess.”

“You’re doing great,” you said with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t want to be cleaning up this mess without you.”

Nayeon, determined to be useful, decided to make some hot chocolate. She carefully heated the milk on the stove, adding cocoa powder and sugar, and stirred it slowly. The rich aroma of the hot chocolate filled the kitchen, adding to the cozy atmosphere of the evening.

“Hot chocolate should help us unwind after all this cooking,” Nayeon said, pouring the steaming drink into mugs.

“Perfect idea,” you said, taking a sip of the rich, comforting beverage. “This is just what we need.”

Once the hot chocolate was ready, you sat back down at the table, sipping the warm drink. Nayeon reached out and took your hand, your fingers intertwining. “I love you,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion.

Your eyes sparkled as you looked at Nayeon. “I love you too,” you replied, your voice equally tender. You sat there in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence and the peacefulness of the moment.

Eventually, you decided to move to the living room, where you cuddled up on the couch under a soft blanket. Nayeon rested her head on your shoulder, feeling completely content.

“This has been the perfect end to a perfect night,” Nayeon said, her voice soft and content.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you said, wrapping your arms around her. “I’m so happy we had this time together.”

You talked about your dreams and plans for the future, your words filled with hope and love. Each conversation brought you closer, deepening your connection and reinforcing your commitment to each other.

As the night drew to a close, you found yourselves growing sleepy. You made your way to the bedroom, where you changed into your pajamas and climbed into bed. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a gentle light over the room, creating a serene and intimate atmosphere.

Nayeon wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close. “Goodnight, my love,” she whispered, her voice filled with warmth and tenderness.

You snuggled closer, your heart full of love. “Goodnight,” you replied softly, your voice carrying a promise of affection and devotion.

You fell asleep in each other’s arms, your breaths falling into a synchronized rhythm as you drifted off to dreamland. The night was filled with the soft sound of your breathing and the occasional rustle of the blankets, a comforting reminder of the love you shared and the joy of spending such a perfect evening together.

In your dreams, you danced through a world of endless possibilities, your hearts forever intertwined. The night you had spent together was a beautiful chapter in your love story, a memory you would cherish and hold close as you continued to build your future together.

[fizzyxcustard]

For Her Or My Country?

Fandom: Spooks

Pairing: Lucas North x OC (Amy Holland)

Warning: Non-graphic smut, insecurity, language

Word count: 3731

Summary: Lucas has been given an assignment which means potentially sleeping with a subject who is linked to a Russian subject of interest. After discussing with Amy, will he put his relationship or duty to country first? 

Notes: As always, if you wish to be added to my Forever Tag list, let me know. Or you can request to be added to a list for a specific character/fandom. Please contact me if you wish to be added or removed.

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. :) Any comment at all.

Read on AO3 here

Masha Petrova. Beautiful. Elegant. Rich. Holder of intelligence that MI5 needed. And Lucas had been assigned to the case. Being able to speak Russian himself and having a vast knowledge of the culture and risks that were posed to the United Kingdom, it was only natural that Lucas be placed on this case. 

The team of Section D were all seated in the main briefing room, watching as photos appeared on the screen, flipping every few seconds. Harry described each one and gave background to all the subjects and contexts of them. 

Lucas was to go undercover in two days’ time, posing as a potential client for Masha Petrova’s prestigious art gallery. She would be hosting an auction, where paintings worth millions of pounds were to be sold, and the money then transferred to her ex-husband, Konstantin Sidorov. But the man had disappeared three years earlier. He was a ghost, with his last movement being on a flight back to Moscow and then nothing. Her motives behind keeping in such close contact with her ex-husband were being questioned. 

“Jo will be on standby,” Harry began. He turned to the bleach blonde woman who sat two seats down from him. Her large blue eyes were locked on him, waiting for her instruction. “We’ll need you to mingle with the men, stroke their egos.” That normally meant sleep with them if necessary. “Lucas, Masha is known to always have a string of attractive men on her arm who wish to warm her bed…” 

That was it. Amy, desk-based intelligence officer, and also Lucas’ girlfriend of ten months, felt bile rise in her throat. She looked at the photo of Masha Petrova and felt that stab of intense self-hatred rise. This was the kind of woman that Lucas should have been with, not her. He deserved beauty and elegance, not someone like Amy who rarely wore make up and dressed constantly in jeans. 

Now Amy knew why she had been kept off the case for as long as she had. With Ruth Evershed on long-term sick leave, the team were bursting at the seams with workload and needed another pair of hands. Amy was the only person available. 

Harry gave both Jo and Lucas a briefing pack, outlining their identities which they would need to learn over the next forty eight hours. 

Lucas looked down the table at Amy and could see the bright red flush of her cheeks, paired with her inability to keep her eyes out of her lap. He could see her hands moving beneath the table, a sign of her fidgeting, which she always did when nervous. Every expression and movement was something that Lucas had become intimately acquainted with. 

Once the meeting had concluded, Harry requested that Lucas stay behind. Everyone else got to their feet, stretching due to the length of time they had all been sitting. Amy dashed out of the room first, being closest to the door. Tears were prickling her eyes. For most of the meeting her imagination had been running wild, churning over a vivid vision of Lucas and Masha Petrova in an erotic position. Amy’s chest tightened, causing her to flap her arms to try and get more air. 

“Are you alright?” Jo asked, approaching Amy. 

Amy smiled weakly at Jo, knowing that it had always been impossible for her to lie about her feelings. She was transparent, unable to mask any negative feelings. She couldn’t answer. 

“I’ll make us a coffee and we can pop outside for some fresh air, yeah?” Jo proposed.

Amy nodded, feeling as if her friend’s kindness was about to open the floodgates and the tears would never stop. But she swallowed hard, feeling the pain in her throat. That damn floodgate would remain closed, even if it killed her. 

Outside a few minutes later and Jo lit a cigarette and the two of them stood on the balcony, which gave them a view of London. It was grey and overcast. The colour of the sky was threatening rain. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jo asked. 

Amy’s green eyes darted this way and that, anywhere so they didn’t have to focus on Jo. “I don’t know,” she said softly. Then she sighed, and looked out over the Thames. “I just….I always knew this was something that would probably come, but I hoped it wouldn’t.” 

“Believe me, Amy, Harry wouldn’t have asked Lucas to do this unless absolutely necessary. He knows the moral dilemma and risks all of us face when we’re asked to go into situations like this.” 

Amy took a sip of her coffee. “Why is it always our morals and lives that we have to sacrifice?” Amy knew all this when taking the position, but now that she was here, facing the prospect of her boyfriend having to essentially cheat on her, it was worse than she could have ever imagined. 

Those words caused tears to slip down Amy’s cheeks, which she rubbed away angrily with the sleeve of her cardigan. “Lucas loves his job so much, and I should have always known that I would never be truly first.” 

“Amy, it’s not that, and you know it isn’t. He loves you. But the world we live and work in is a dark one, so much darker than people on the outside ever realise.”

“I’m still human, Jo, and I think I’m allowed to feel betrayed and heartbroken when my boyfriend has been told to sleep with someone else.” 

Jo watched Amy hang her head in shame and defeat. She knew that Amy had incredibly low self-esteem and had been living in constant shock for the last ten months that Lucas would even be interested in her. But Jo could see the chemistry between her two colleagues; Amy’s kindness towards Lucas, and his ability to make Amy feel seen and heard. Even before their relationship had begun, and Jo knew that they would be a perfect couple, despite Amy always having voiced how little she thought of herself. The two of them may not have looked as though they would date, when considering the way they carried themselves, but their interactions cemented the fact they complimented each other perfectly. 

Back in the office a short while later and Amy took a seat at her desk. She pulled out her drawer and picked out a Mars bar from the multipack. It was the only thing that could distract her from the fact that Lucas was sitting a few feet away from her, watching. She knew that he knew she was feeling emotional turmoil. If she had to look at him then she would break down. 

Tariq’s desk was behind Amy’s and he could see Lucas’ blue gaze studying her. Tariq watched in fascination for a minute and then turned his attention back to making minor amendments to Jo’s briefing pack. For once, he could see that Amy wasn’t smiling at Lucas or gazing at him, but instead keeping her gaze away. In his mind, anyone who didn’t notice Amy’s reactions must have been blind. 

For the next hour and Amy took up her time in a meeting with Ros, discussing the ANPR data results for a subject they had been investigating. At least for now, Amy could put her mind elsewhere. 

Meanwhile, Lucas remained quiet at his desk, feeling Tariq’s gaze burning into the back of his head. It had been common knowledge amongst all of the staff at Section D, that Tariq had a crush on Amy. All except Amy herself. 

Once Amy had emerged from the side room with Ros, Lucas got up and approached her. He stood with his back to everyone else and Amy with her back to the wall, looking down at her, almost shielding her from prying eyes. “Do you want to head out for something to eat?” he asked. Then he pulled his hands from his jeans pocket and picked up her hand, feeling her warm skin against his for a couple of seconds. But he frowned when he saw her look at the floor; he could see her throat quivering. He dropped her hand. 

Amy swallowed hard and looked up at him, feeling the overwhelming emotion wash over her. It was painful, so painful. Her beautiful, perfect Lucas. He was Amy’s everything and for some unknown reason, he also wanted her. 

“Come on,” Lucas whispered, holding his hand out to her to take. 

Amy knew she couldn’t deny him and took his large hand in her small one. 

Together, they walked out of the office, and into the mid-day air. It was drizzling, forming a mist in their hair as they walked the two streets to their usual café. They were both quiet for the duration of their walk, with the hustle and bustle of the busy London streets washing around them. 

Lucas grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and didn’t even have to ask Amy what she wanted. She’d already made up her mind and was on her way to grab a table. “A strawberry smoothie and a cheese and onion toastie, please,” her voice drifted back over her shoulder.  

Lucas sighed and placed their order. Every now and again he would glance towards her, noticing how she still wouldn’t look at him. Instead, she grabbed her sketchbook from her handbag and began to touch up one of her latest drawings. 

Suddenly Amy was taken aback as her sketchbook was pulled away from under her face, just as she rested her pencil tip against the paper. 

Lucas sat down. “Look at me,” he said sharply. 

“Give me my book back.” 

“No, you’ll talk to me. Your drawings can wait.” 

“What do you want me to say, Lucas?” Amy said, her tone low and her words to the point. “If you had to watch me go and sleep with a man as part of an operation, I’m sure you wouldn’t be particularly happy about it.” 

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Lucas hissed. “But this is our job. You know what’s at stake if I don’t do it.” 

“Keeping the country safe and all that crap. Yes, I know,” Amy scoffed. “I’m reminded of that every day. Funny how you’re always paired with the beautiful, elegant women.” 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Lucas snapped. 

Amy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. 

A young woman with blonde hair tied back into a ponytail came and set Amy’s food down on the table, along with hers and Lucas’ drink. She offered a quick smile, immediately recognising the familiar signs of a lover’s tiff. 

“No food?” Amy asked. 

“Can’t say I’ve got an appetite.” 

“Just fatten me up like a pig, then.” 

Lucas grit his teeth and closed his eyes, clasping his hands together on the table. He knew her defensive attitude all too well when she became overwhelmed by self-consciousness. Passive-aggression and sarcasm tainted her words as she tried to fling painful darts back at him. 

“Not here, please,” Lucas begged. His voice was quiet, full of defeat. 

Amy at least silently acquiesced to his request and slipped back into her seat, nibbling on the edge of her toasted sandwich. She adored the very breath of the man sat in front of her, and she was sure he knew that. But she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye, and instead let her gaze trace the crisscross stitch of the red and white tablecloth. 

Lucas sipped his coffee and watched Amy for a few seconds before sighing, resigning his gaze toward the framed quote behind her on the wall. It was some cliché shit that seemed to belong on every mantlepiece in the UK, apart from his and Amy’s. Instead, Amy had a line of Disney character figurines across hers, and the thought of it made a smile emerge on his face. This woman he had committed himself to had no idea how amazing and beautiful she was. Curious. Quirky. The kindest person he had ever met. Unbelievably strong of mind and spirit. Underestimated herself. Broken by the arseholes who had taken advantage of her introverted and generous nature. 

One way or the other, he would repair her. No ifs, buts or maybes. He would repair her. 

***

The flat was dark as Amy stepped back inside. Lucas was required for a further meeting regarding the new operation with Masha Petrova, so wouldn’t be home for a further hour or two yet. 

The isolation enveloped her along with the dark. 

Tears flowed down Amy’s cheeks as she finally allowed the locked floodgates to open. She dropped back into a chair in the dining room and sobbed. Amy would never be good enough for Lucas, always sitting in the shadow of other women. Everything that they were reflected what Amy wasn’t. These women reminded her of the dark shadow of lack which lived in her chest. 

Tension soon began to press down behind Amy’s eyes as she prepared hers and Lucas’ dinner. It felt like a huge weight was crushing Amy from above, pressing her down into the ground as her whole body became weak. 

Cheesy 80’s music played on the radio in the small box kitchen, and not even that could lift Amy out of her prison of darkness. All she could think of was Lucas with Masha Petrova. No doubt he would enjoy it. Of course he would. Being ridden by a blonde supermodel of a woman, with the confidence to fully express her sexuality. 

It had taken Amy a few months to become more confident in bed with Lucas. It wasn’t until they’d been together for six months that Amy could finally make love to him without the light turned off and not feel the need to shrink back at his touch. Now she openly enjoyed his touch, reciprocating it. But those whispers would still creep up on her when they lay together afterwards, telling her how unworthy she was of such a beautiful man’s love. 

Amy loved Lucas with her whole heart, having never felt so drawn to anyone else. Lucas, to her, was incredibly handsome, charming, intelligent, gentle and kind. He was perfection. Even when he woke in the middle of the night, sweating and shouting out, gripped by the horror of his memories of Lushanka, eventually waking her up, it only helped her to love him more. The vulnerability he shared with her helped her move closer to him, bridging the gap which her insecurity had always created. 

The closing of the front door suddenly echoed from down the hall. And Amy heard Lucas’ slow footsteps coming towards the kitchen. She felt her hands begin to shake and a painful lump rise in her throat. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she said.

“Dinner can wait,” Lucas instructed. It wasn’t often that Lucas was demanding, but when it came to digging into Amy’s insecurity and bad moods, it was the only way he could defend himself and fight for her. 

Amy sighed and placed her hands on the edge of the sink and looked out into the murky evening. She could see fog beginning to descend on the world and the brightness of the streetlamps lighting up the rooftops, showing the gleam of an earlier shower. 

Lucas stood beside Amy and curled his arm around her waist, then took her hand in his, kissing it. “The only thing I can say is that I love you, Aim.” 

Amy felt everything crumble and she couldn’t help but break down again, becoming a sobbing mess in his arms. 

Lucas held her tight, his right hand tangled in her hair and his lips kissing her forehead. “I love you more than anything.” That was all he could say, and he meant every single word, the emotion so overwhelming as he uttered them.  

“I should support you, Lucas,” Amy said, sniffing as she pulled from the embrace to look up at him. “I’m so proud of everything you do, but I…”

“I know,” Lucas whispered. “Don’t you think I know? I don’t want to do this.” His eyes were locked on hers, tears swimming in them, making them look even brighter a blue. 

“You’re being paid to sleep with someone. Perk of the job, I guess,” Amy said wryly. 

“Don’t you dare say that,” Lucas hissed. His eyes became alight with frustration, his frown casting a shadow across his brow. “Why do you always have to turn to sarcasm and pettiness when you’re hurt?” 

Amy pulled from Lucas’ grasp and stormed out of the room, casting him an expression of disgust mixed with hurt. Of course he was right; Amy knew it. Sarcasm and pettiness become her defence mechanism when hurt or cornered. 

“What do you want me to say, Aim?” Lucas shouted. “Do you want me to leave my job, get down on my knees?” 

“Just fuck off!” Amy hissed back. “Leave me alone.” 

The room felt as if it were becoming so much smaller as Amy stood facing the wall, sobbing, with breath almost coming in gasps. More than anything, in that moment, she wanted to disappear. 

“You don’t mean that, Aim. You never do,” Lucas said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I know you enough by now. When you tell someone to leave you alone, it means ‘hold me tight’. You want people to get closer when you’re hurting, even though you push them away.” 

Amy felt Lucas’ arms wrap around her middle, and she sighed, feeling that all too familiar wave of arousal spiral down her body and the butterflies swarm in her belly. She couldn’t fight off the way he made her feel. All of the attraction and love was far too strong to keep her away. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. Lucas kissed her cheek, taking in the scent of her. It was strawberries mixed with the faintest hint of her perfume from that morning, Olympea. 

Slowly, Amy turned around and looked up at Lucas, sniffing over her blocked nose. Her eyes were sore and red. “It always comes back to this feeling of me not being good enough.” 

“And that’s what it is, just a feeling. There is no truth whatsoever in it. It’s a dark voice, nothing more. I chose you, Amy. Above everyone else, I choose you.” 

Amy threw her arms around Lucas and they held each other tight, remaining silent. The only sound was the patter of rain against the window, which gradually got louder and heavier. 

Heat spread through Amy as she felt his arms encase her, protecting her from the outside world and everything evil that was in it. 

The two of them kissed, the heat mounting, until Amy’s hands slipped up Lucas’ chest and she began popping the buttons of his shirt. She pushed the fabric aside to see his chest exposed, which was tattooed with William Blake’s Ancient of Days.

“You could have anyone,” Amy began, “absolutely anyone in this world. And yet you choose me.” 

“Why did you choose me?” Lucas whispered. “You don’t see your beauty, and your light. Any man you choose would be blessed beyond anything he could ever imagine, and you don’t see any of that.” His finger brushed a stray hair from her brow, and then the tips of his fingers trailed down her cheek and his thumb brushed her plump lips. “You made me feel again, and I owe you everything.” 

They kissed again and began to remove each other’s clothing, slowly. 

As Lucas stood before Amy in only his underwear, she traced the tattoos on his chest and stomach. “I thought about getting one, to match yours.” 

“Don’t,” Lucas demanded, his tone quiet but stern and saddened. “All they serve is a reminder of the darkness in the world, and I never want to taint you with that. Your skin is perfect as it is, untouched and unblemished.” 

“And I want to share everything with you. The good and the bad.” 

Lucas lowered Amy to the bed, her arms locked around his neck. And they kissed again, hard and hungry for every fibre of each other. 

Amy gasped as Lucas slipped inside her. 

A groan fell off his lips as he felt a wave of that beautiful euphoria. This was where he belonged. It was the only place on this Earth he would ever be safe: inside her, one with her, vulnerable and bare. Gradually he moved, rocking his hips against her as his hand gripped her thigh. 

Amy pulled him in closer, needing him against her, the closest in physical proximity that was possible. “I love you,” she whispered. 

Lucas’ blue gaze locked on hers and he stopped his movement, remaining still. He smiled. It was a content, peaceful smile. The first he had smiled since he was a child. “This is where I belong. It’ll never be anywhere else. I promise.” 

A while later and they both lay on their sides, facing each other. Lucas’ arm was draped idly over Amy’s hip. He was smiling at her again. Innocence, kindness, compassion and love had always shone through Amy’s face and been left on anything she touched, a golden light lingering behind from her fingertips. 

He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her snub nose. 

The happiness in Amy’s face drained and a serious expression rose. “I’m sorry about earlier. I know you need to do this.” A sadness began to wash over her green eyes. Then she forced a smile. 

Lucas never answered, but in his mind, he knew what needed to be done. He moved over her and drew her into another embrace, followed by more love making. 

***

The next morning, Lucas stood at Harry’s office door. His heart was racing in his chest, something that rarely happened when on the job. 

With one last backwards glance to Amy, Lucas knocked on Harry’s door. She looked up from her desk and smiled at him from across the room, those beautiful eyes sparkling so brightly. Lucas knew that he had made the right decision. 

For her or my country? Always for her. 

“Come in!” Harry’s voice came. 

Lucas took a deep breath and slipped inside the office, bracing the inevitable storm.

“Lucas? What can I do for you?” Harry asked, leaning back in his seat. 

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to stand down from tomorrow’s deployment, Harry.” 

***

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