#and like. i was recently asked at work by someone who was a complete stranger to me if i was related to her

[tjerra14]

Sorting through some stuff and came across this one again. It’s going to be six years in July but I guess it never really stops hurting.

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where YN has a one-night stand, who turns out to be her boss at the hospital where she now works.

author's note: surprise!! doctor!harry is here to surprise you! i know i've been radio silent for a while, and i apologise for that but work has been so busy recently that i've not had a minute to myself. but i've found it, and i've spent it writing this for all of you! thanks for all ya support!

word count: 10K of smut, fluff, angst and everything in between (and also harry being the cutest paediatric doctor anyone has ever seen)

let me know what you think of good omens here! mwah <3

#1

The first time it happened was completely accidental. Well, as accidental as sleeping with a co-worker could be. A co-worker who she didn’t know was a co-worker just yet.

It was YN’s first day as a paediatric surgeon in a new hospital, in a new town and she couldn’t save him. She couldn’t save him. He was twelve years old. It wasn’t the first time that YN had lost someone, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last. But, for a day that was supposed to be filled with new beginnings — ones that were supposed to last — it just didn’t feel like a good omen in YN’s eyes.

That’s how she ended up at the bar, on her third or fourth drink of god-knows-what when she knew that she shouldn’t. YN knew, in the back of her mind that there was no way that she could have saved that boy, no matter what she did. It was too late, and she had done her best but today her best just didn’t seem good enough.

When the handsome stranger sat next to her she didn’t think anything of it at first. He ordered his drink and just sat there. He didn’t look at YN, and YN didn’t look at him. They just sat there. From the sparing glance that YN took of the man he was attractive but that wasn’t on her mind right now — how could it be?

That was until her drink was placed on the bar in front of her, when she had just finished hers and she hadn’t asked for a new one. YN cast her eyes on the bartender, who just motioned in the handsome man’s direction. YN turned to him, and this time instead of facing forward he was looking directly at her. YN’s eyes dropped down to the drink in front of her one last time, before looking at the mystery man again who was smiling, a very pretty smile at that.

“Looked like you needed it,” He shrugged, lifting his own drink to his lips, and taking a sip.

YN scoffed a laugh, “I don’t take drinks from strangers.”

“Smart girl,” The man nodded before turning back to the bartender, “But Benny can vouch for me, can’t you Benny? Went straight from Benny’s hand to in front of you.”

YN sighed again, dropping her eyes down to the glass in front of her before lifting back up to the stranger.

“First name basis with the bartender,” YN lifts an eyebrow at him, “Come here a lot?”

The man shrugs, “Only when I need to.”

YN sighs, contemplating what she was or was not going to do before she just did it. She picked up the glass and took a sip, placing it down with a slight thunk on the counter. The smile on the man’s face was all she needed.

“I’m YN,” She holds out her hand for the man to shake.

He looks at her, then at her hand and drops his into it, “I’m Harry.”

An hour later YN had hardly made it through her front door before his lips were on hers. The door shut with a bang, one that YN would have probably cared about if she wasn’t being hoisted up against it. Harry’s hands slipped down from her waist to her ass until he was gripping her thighs and lifting her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, but the entire time their lips never left each other.

“Bedroom,” Harry mumbled against her lips, before starting an assault down her neck.

“Down the hall,” YN gasped, trying to hold in her moans as his teeth nipped along her neck.

They bumped into a few things along the way, a chest of drawers that was conveniently placed right outside the entrance of her bedroom and then the doorway that neither of them could have moved. When they did make it into the room, it wasn’t long before Harry’s lips were back on hers.

“You sure about this?” Harry murmurs against her lips and YN pulls away.

“I am,” YN runs her hands down through Harry’s hair until it is at the collar of his blazer, “Are you?”

“Hell yes,” Harry reattaches his lips to hers just as her hands slip from the curls at the nape of his neck before they run themselves along the collar of his blazer and help him shrug it off. YN brings her hands around the front to the collar of his shirt now, unbuttoning it from the top down to the bottom until she can pull that off his body also.

Her eyes widen in surprise at the ink across his chest and arms. From what she could see (which wasn’t a lot with his blazer and shirt on) she hadn’t suspected his body to be littered in the dark ink, and she couldn’t help but run her fingers along the ink, following the designs with her fingertips.

“Tattoos?”

Harry chuckles, tapping her chin with his finger so she moves her eyes up from his chest to his eyes. Her body nearly gave out in that exact second.

“What?” He chuckled, a playful smile toying his lips, “You like them?”

YN just sighed, “Ask me again when I can think straight?”

Harry laughed, leaning back down to kiss her again. His fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt, and they separated for the second it took YN to lift her arms up and for Harry to pull the shirt off of her body. YN moved to unbutton her trousers, a giggle escaping her lips as Harry helped her when they got stuck around her calf.

When YN had dressed for the day, she hadn’t factored this happening at all, and her mismatched bralette and panties (both a soft cotton instead of anything fancy for comfort reasons) weren’t the sexiest and she knew that. But, when her eyes met Harry’s again, and she saw his eyes flicker up and down her body, none of that mattered anymore.

Harry placed a few chaste kisses onto her lips once again before moving down her neck, down to the exposed skin of her breast above her bralette. A shiver ran down her spine when his hands moved around her back, his fingertips dancing across her skin before skilfully unclasping her bra and allowing it to fall from her body, exposing her breasts to him. The material was discarded on the floor, and YN swore she saw his eyes widen at the sight of her chest exposed to him.

He dropped back down to the top of her breasts, kissing and every once in a while nipping slightly. Once he wrapped his lips around her nipple, YN’s entire body lurched forward. Her thighs tried to tighten, just to relieve some of the pressure that was building within her. Instead, YN found herself pulling Harry closer to her by her thighs, the thing cotton of her panties not creating much of a barrier between her and Harry’s crotch. YN bites her lip in hopes of suppressing the moan that was attempting to slip from her lips.

YN can’t help but grind her hips forward towards his, shivering slightly when Harry’s teeth nip over her nipple.

“Harry,” YN almost mewls, her hips bucking up again, “Please.”

“Please what, darling?” Harry taunts, releasing her nipple with a slight ‘pop’.

YN just rolls her hips towards his once more, and Harry seems to get the hint. From there he moves downwards, littering kisses down her ribs and towards the top of her panties.

“Can I?” Harry asks, his fingers moving to the hem of her panties, slipping them just underneath upon her skin. YN shivered, her hips involuntarily bucking up towards Harry’s touch.

“Yes,” YN gasped, the cool air of the room hit the heat between her legs as Harry tucked his thumbs into the sides of her panties, “Please… Harry.”

YN sighed into the feeling of Harry’s lips pressing into her thigh as he pulled her panties completely off. Even though this man was a complete stranger to her – the way that he was looking at her. The way that his eyes danced down her body, the way they looked into hers as he placed kisses on the inside of her thighs, itching closer and closer to the heat inside of her legs – her judgement was clouded as to whether they were actual strangers.

“Am I getting warmer?” Harry jokes, his fingers coming to rest on YN’s stomach, trying to stop the way that she was lifting her hips upwards.

“You’re such a tease,” YN sighed, her body withering once more as he pressed a kiss right on her pubic bone.

Harry just grinned up at her, a playful smirk toying on his lips once more, “Have I found it?”

“You’re there. Bingo. Please.”

One last pleasing look to Harry, and it was as though he dived in. He didn’t even hesitate, his mouth dropped down and his lips attached to YN’s clit. Her entire body lurched forward, and without even thinking her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip to conceal the sounds that were threatening to escape. His lips applied just enough pressure, changing every so often to bring her closer and closer. When his hands reached forward and rolled her nipples between his fingers, she was gone.

“Wanna hear you,” He mumbles against her, the vibrations of his words transferring to her skin, “Need to hear I’m making you feel good.”

“You’re making me feel so good,” YN reassured him, a gasp leaving her lips as he started to flick his tongue against her. YN’s hands dropped down and slipped through his curls, allowing herself to grind against his face. The hand that was rolling her nipple moved to slip down between their bodies. He pulled away for a second, just to rub his pointer finger across her clit before dipping it inside her. YN mewled, her hands reaching out to grasp the duvet beneath her, “Don’t stop, so fucking good.”

The way his fingers and tongue worked simultaneously brought her closer and closer with every movement. YN had never in her entire life had a one-night stand where the first thing the man did was eat her out. It was not only unheard of, but it was divine. The mewls and groans that left her lips were only heightened by his quickening pace, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Harry,” Her thighs attempted to close, only for Harry’s hand (the one not currently inside of her) to push them back open. There was something about him not only bringing her closer and closer to orgasm with his tongue and fingers but also the way he was manhandling her that YN couldn’t handle, “I’m so close.”

He brought his lips away from her clit, only to immediately start rubbing it up and down with his thumb.

“You going to come for me?” He asked, a boyish smile crossing his lips, ones that were glistening with her juices, “Come on. Come for me, baby.”

That one pet name was all that she needed. Her hips were rising from the bed, and her legs started to shake from over his shoulder. She could feel the orgasm from the tip of her toes right up to her head. Small gasps left her body, but Harry worked her through it.

Once the initial wave had stopped, YN dropped her body back on the bed and tried to gain control of her breathing. Harry didn’t wait a single second before he was climbing up her body, so he was hovering over her again, leaning down to capture her lips with hers. She could feel his cock pressing into her leg, and by the slight movement in his hips she knew that he was waiting for his time, and she was more than happy to oblige him.

Her hands snaked down his body, from his shoulders down to his stomach before they toyed with the button on his trousers.

Harry pulled away, only for a second to drop his eyes to where her hands were on his trousers, “You want to do this?”

YN nodded, “Wanna feel you. Need to feel you.”

Harry chuckled, helping her to push his trousers down along with his underwear until his cock sprung out at her.

“Then who am I not to oblige?”

The next morning YN woke up with a slight pounding in her head. It wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be, but she guessed the fully drunk bottle of water that was on her bedside table had done the trick. Her alarm had been set for seven, and that sound was the only thing she could hear in her room.

Just as YN was about to peel the covers back off her body and start getting ready for the day — she felt it. It was light, but she could feel it. A leg, presumably belonging to the person that she had just realised was sleeping next to her, just skimming the side of her leg. They weren’t facing each other, but the second that YN turned her head and saw that face looking at her, all the meme flies of the previous night came flooding back to her — work, the drinks, the sex.

Without even thinking she reached her arm out to tap Harry, lifting him from his slumber in a less-than-calming way. His eyes opened for a second before a groan left his lips and he immediately closed them, dropping his head back down to the pillow.

“Harry,” YN mumbled, slipping out of the bed, and clutching a blanket to her body to preserve at least a smudge of the dignity she had left, “I need to go to work, and you need to leave.”

He sighed, turning his head on the pillow to face her again, “What time is it?”

“It’s seven,” She responded, “I need to shower and get ready and I’m going to be late to work.”

Before she could even finish her sentence he was jumping out of bed, leaning down to grab his discarded clothes, and starting to pull them on his body. YN just stood there watching him, still clutching the blanket to her body.

“You’re not the only one that’s going to be late for work,” He sighed, throwing his shirt back on his body and taking quick steps towards her. He stops, leans down, and presses a kiss to her cheek, “I’ll let myself out.”

“Okay,” She nods, not completely trusting herself with her words, but she has no idea why, “Bye.”

“Bye!” He called out and just like that he was out of her room and a few seconds later she heard the front door slam, and he was out of her apartment.

It wasn’t as though she expected anything else — this was a one-night stand after all. However, there was a part of her that wished she had the balls to ask for his number or something. There was a part of her that was disappointed that the man who had given her the best sex she’d ever had didn’t seem interested in wanting her number or rushing out the way he had.

YN’s shock was short-lived, especially when her alarm clock beeped from the side of her, and she had no choice but to get on with her day. Dropping the blanket she made her way into the bathroom, sighing when she saw the state of herself in the mirror.

Despite the lack of headache, her body looked as though it had been through the wringer. Her hair was a mess, knotted and tangled all over the top of her head — just from looking at the front she dreaded to think what the back looked like.

Once her eyes had left her head, they fell to her neck and drew a line down to her breasts. From around her collar gone down she was covered in marks, some of them small and some of them bigger. The ones around her breasts were the biggest, and just the sight of them sent YN’s mind back. She ran her fingertips along the tender skin, reminding herself of the kisses and the touches that they had shared. With a shake of her head, YN pushed all of the thoughts of Harry out, turned her shower on and waited for the water to heat up.

It was her second day. Her second day. Her thoughts weren’t supposed to be clouded by the man she had met in the bar whilst trying to get drunk, trying to forget what a disaster her first day had been. Instead, she wasn’t thinking about everything she needed to do today, or what could potentially come through the door of the hospital that she would need to focus her strength on, she was reliving the night she had just had as she ran her loofah across her skin, tracing the pattern that Harry had taken.

As she stood with the warm water running over her body, she scolded herself for not doing something. She could have said something, anything to ask him, or followed him before he left the flat. But she didn’t, and she would probably never see him again — and she would have to live with that.

Shampooing her scalp helped remove the stress that was starting to build up in her body. Whilst the irrational side of her brain was telling her all of things that she could have done, the more rational side of her brain was letting her know that it was just a one-night stand. That it was just a one-night stand that she was never going to see again, and that was fine. That was fine.

The more YN thought about it, and the more that she scrubbed her scalp (it was starting to potentially hurt at this point) she brushed (scratched) all of these thoughts out of her head. She had to focus on the most important thing here, and that was her second day of work.

Once she was scrubbed and sparkling and fresh from the night before, she dressed and made her way to work. There was something that made YN feel powerful about her line of work. Maybe it was the fact that she got to save lives every day, or maybe it was the fact that those lives were children, but she felt powerful. Yesterday was just a slip-up, and everything will be fixed today she knew it was.

Once she had pulled her white coat on, and attached her I.D. to it, she made her way over to the nurses’ desk where some of the other doctors on the wing were. Iris, one of the trainee specialists that YN had met yesterday and was going to be working under her was already there, flicking through some paperwork for some of their patients for the day.

“You look…” Iris looked YN up and down, “Different.”

“Different?” YN just laughed, “You saw me stressed yesterday. Today I’m not stressed. Today I’m fine. Today I’m ready for work. Today is a new day. Today is a new day, and it is going to be a good day!”

Iris stared at YN, watching as the woman tapped her nails against the top of the desk waiting for Iris to pass her the files for their patients today so she could get on with the day. She could feel today was going to be a good day. No room for distractions, just her and her work.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Iris raised an eyebrow at YN, watching as the girl just smiled at her.

“I’m feeling fine. I’m feeling good,” YN smiled, finally stopping the tapping on the desk to hold her hand out to receive her first patient file, “Now, I have a bladder to operate on in an hour and I need to read my patient’s chart.”

Iris didn’t seem too convinced by her answer but carried on anyway, “I don’t have it. The peds consultant, Dr. Styles just went in for a consult.”

“Oh,” YN looked surprised, looking over her shoulder to look at her patient’s room but she couldn’t see anything through the door, “I haven’t met him yet. How long has it been since he went?”

“He wasn’t working yesterday,” Iris shrugs, “He’s lovely. Really. Everything you expect from someone who has spent years of his life saving kids.”

YN wasn’t surprised at that. There is a certain type of person who worked in paediatrics. These people had to be kind but stern. They had to be strong but compassionate. Being a doctor, or a surgeon anyway was tough but when children are involved, it complicates everything – makes everything more emotional. There had to be a type of detachment in the person – knowing that these patients were children, and there is a certain higher level of emotion attached to them but how you couldn’t let that emotion rule takes guts.

When YN first went to medical school paediatrics was the last thing on her mind, but by the time she had finished, it was the only thing that she could think about. Now – here she was.

“Well, I hope he’s not going to be long,” YN sighs, tapping her nails against the desk again, “Got pre-ops to do, and I don’t really fancy standing and waiting here for any longer.”

“Stop complaining,” Iris sighs, standing up and moving around the desk so that she’s next to YN, “And he’s here.”

YN sighed, pushing herself up and turning around. She was used to the introductions by now. Whilst peds doctors are lovely and have some sort of emotional intelligence they are still doctors, and that comes with some sort of arrogance. All she needed to do was introduce herself and then she could get into the operating room – where she wanted to. That’s all she thought she would do, but the second she turned around she knew that wasn’t going to be the case at all.

“Hi,” He stopped right in front of her, his hand reaching out as though it was going to shake hers, “I’m Dr. Styles.”

Turns out she didn’t need his number. Turns out she was going to be working with him.

#2

The second that it happened YN had just finished surgery. A kidney transplant on a nine-year-old boy. She was exhausted. She was stressed, and all she wanted to do was go home and go to bed – that was what she needed to do. Just as YN pulled her scrub cap off her head and followed that with a yawn she felt a hand wrapping around her waist. Just a second later she was being pulled into the closest room, which just happened to be a janitorial storage room.

YN sighed, facing the back wall, and taking in the musty scent along with the brooms and mops that were lining the back wall. She didn’t need to know who was with her, and that was the problem.

“You’re avoiding me,” He spoke, and YN still didn’t turn around. She didn’t want to turn around, “You’re avoiding me, and you can’t avoid me.”

YN sighed, “I’m not avoiding you. I see you every day.”

“In consults, YN!” YN ran her hand over her forehead, still looking at the wall, “In consults, where you don’t even look me in the eyes! I’ve tried and tried, and you won’t talk to me!”

“Because you’re my boss!” YN flung around, looking Harry directly in his eyes. The way she raised her voice caused Harry’s eyes to widen, and the way he immediately saw her eyes start to fill up caused them to soften straightaway, “You’re my boss, and I slept with you!”

“YN,” Harry sighs, taking a step towards her with his hand out. Before YN could flinch she pulled away, “You didn’t know that that I was your boss, that is not your fault.”

“You are still my boss, Harry,” She sighs, trying to stop her lips from turning into a frown, “You are still my boss, and I’ve slept with you. You’ve seen me naked! I’ve seen you naked! You’re my boss!”

“YN, you need to listen to me,” Harry was the one sighing now, running his finger across his eyebrow, “You did not know that I was your boss. I did not know you were a surgeon, never mind the surgeon on my staff! We both didn’t know and if we don’t talk this out – we’re not going to be able to work together and that’s dangerous. I know it, you know it. How can we treat our patients, those children out there if we can barely look at each other in the eye?”

YN sighed, knowing that it wasn’t the most sanitary, but she was tired. She dropped down to the floor, her back leaning against one of the shelves covered in cleaning supplies. Harry sighed and dropped down next to her, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Why didn’t you ask for my number?”

YN had interrupted the silence that had washed over them, and Harry didn’t say anything straight away. He turned to look at YN, but she was staring straight ahead – at the other shelves with boxes of cleaning supplies on.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you ask for my number?” She asked again, “Before you left. Why didn’t you ask for my number?”

“I wanted to,” Harry responds this time, but YN still doesn’t look at him, “I wanted to, but I was late. I forgot.”

YN laughed. She couldn’t help it, “You forgot? You slept with me, and then you forgot to ask for my number?”

Harry’s head turned to hers quickly, his eyes laced with shock, “You didn’t ask for mine. You could’ve asked for mine, you could’ve.”

“I could’ve if you didn’t race out of the room like there was a fire under your arse!”

Harry sighed again, looking straight ahead at the shelves. They were in silence again, and then his hand reached out to grasp hers. She tried to pull away, but he didn’t let her. Instead, she snaked his fingers through hers and pulled her hand so that it was resting on her knees.

“Oliver,” Harry sighed, running his thumb over the back of her hand, “The patient that you did the bladder operation on, you removed his tumours.”

“Yeah?” YN sighed, unsure as to where this was going.

“That was my friend's kid,” Harry sighed, not stopping as he ran his thumb over the back of her hand, “Oliver. Oli – that’s what we call him. He’s a bubbly kid, kind, good at sports. He was fine. Then one day he wasn’t. His parents took him to his GP, he said it was a bladder infection. They came to me, and I said the same. I said the same. They begged me to run more tests, begged me. I didn’t, he got worse, and they came back. I ordered the tests and –”

“He had cancer, and I removed his tumours,” YN sighs. Before she could help it, she pulled his hand on top of her knee and ran her thumb over the back of his hand.

“I went to the bar because I was trying to not think about it, and then I saw you,” Harry sighed, shrugging slightly, “And I, for that night could push everything out of my head. I could push the fact that I missed it out of my head. Then I woke up, and I forgot to ask for your number because I was late to make sure that he was alright before his surgery, and I wanted to be there for his parents. Then I saw him, and then I saw you and then I remembered – I should have asked for your number, but it didn’t matter.”

“Because I was here,” She sighed, and he pursed his lips together and nodded, “But then I ignored you because I slept with my boss, and I thought you didn’t care.”

“I did care,” He sighed, “I do care. It was just…”

“It was a bad day,” YN sighed, a small smile gracing her lips, “We all have bad days. I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

“It’s okay,” Harry smiled, “Can we not ignore each other anymore? I know it’s weird that you’ve seen your boss naked but –”

“We’re okay,” YN laughed, “As long that you don’t find it strange that you’ve seen your colleague naked too.”

He joined in with her laughter, the sound filling up the once-silent room. It had been a month of this silence, this lack of communication between them and even though YN was exhausted – she felt better. Once the laughter had died down, YN realised that she was still holding his hand, her thumb still rubbing on the back of her skin.

YN looked up at Harry, her breath catching in her throat when she realised that he was staring right at her. It was as though the room around them had shrunk, pushing them closer and closer together until their faces were only inches apart. They had just made up, and then all of a sudden his lips were on hers.

YN moved, their lips not separating so that she was straddling his lap. The room now wasn’t small, and it wasn’t just filled with cleaning supplies – it was filled with their deep breaths, their moans, the sound of their lips moving against one another. YN’s hands slipped into the curls at the nape of his neck, just as they had done that night a month ago. Harry’s hand slipped underneath her scrubs, grabbing against her waist, and pulling her closer to him.

That feeling was back, the one that she had felt before. The one where it felt good, as though (and she knew how crazy this sounded) that they fit together perfectly. The feeling of his hands on her, and his lips on hers was everything that she needed.

That was until there was a knock on the door.

“Excuse me!” The voice was deep, and not one that YN recognised, “I need to get into my storage cupboard unless you want the entire hospital to be dirty!”

YN and Harry pulled away, a string of laughs escaping their lips as they tried to pull their selves together. Harry pulled the door open once they looked a little more presentable, revealing Mark, the janitor, standing there with his hands on his hips.

“Sorry, Mark,” Harry nodded, clearing his throat slightly, “Bad day.”

Mark scoffed, watching as YN fluttered past them and started to move down the hall. She didn’t move fast enough to not hear him say, “Keep your bad days to the on-call room next time.”

“So,” It was later on in the day, and YN had managed to get some sleep in one of the on-call rooms before she was back to it. She hadn’t seen Harry since their little adventure in the janitor’s cupboard earlier today, not until right now, “I was thinking.”

“Oh,” YN sighed, continuing to flick through the charts that were in her hands, “That’s dangerous.”

Harry laughed, and that was when YN turned to look at him. He was in his scrubs, his hands in his white lab coat. All YN wanted to do was wish that they were back in that cupboard, mainly so she could kiss him again.

“My thinking isn’t dangerous. I think I come up with brilliant ideas,” Harry leant against the nurses’ station, his body leaning towards her.

“Okay,” YN closed her chart so that she could angle her body towards his as well, “What is this brilliant idea you’ve come up with?”

“I think we should go on a date,” YN’s eyes widened, but before she could say anything to him he carried on speaking, “I think we should go on a proper date. Dinner, or a movie – something. A proper date.”

“This was your brilliant idea?” YN raised her eyebrow, “To ask me on a date?”

“Yes,” He beamed another smile at her, “Properly. We’re going to do this properly.”

YN cleared her throat and took a step closer to Harry so that they were not at a professional space away from each other.

“So,” YN’s eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips, “This whole… doing it properly thing? Does that mean we can’t have sex?”

Just when YN thought he was going to kiss her, Harry stepped away. He walked away from her.

“Harry?” She exclaimed, her arms dropping open.

“We’re doing this properly!” He called back, not even turning to look at her, “I’ll pick you up at eight!”

YN sighed, shaking her head, and watching as he turned the corner out of her view. She turned back to her chart, but before she could open it her eyes caught Iris – who she had completely forgotten was sitting behind the desk when Harry walked past.

“I don’t even know what to say,” The girl spoke, eyes still open wide, “I feel like I’ve just watched some sort of soft porn. I feel like I’m at work, and I’ve just witnessed soft porn with my own two eyes.”

YN laughed, she couldn’t help it, “I think you’re in shock.”

“I think I’ve just watched soft porn between my two co-workers – my two bosses,” She adds, the shock on her face still not wavering, “Never mind that, one of my friends – my best friends, mind that – and her boss, who is also my boss.”

“Iris,” YN clapped in front of her face, snapping her friend out of whatever shock she was in, “You good?”

“I’m good,” Iris stood up, “I just think I’m going to wash my eyes out.”

A few hours later YN was waiting for Harry outside the hospital, dressed in an outfit that wasn’t exactly the best but wasn’t the worst. YN hadn’t expected to be going on a date this morning, but Harry had seen her in her scrubs, so a pair of jeans and a nice top wasn’t going to be the end of the world.

“You ready?” Harry’s hand hovered above her back as he joined her outside the hospital.

“I’m ready,” YN sighed, “I’m ready for our proper date. Can I find out where we’re going on our proper date?”

“Not yet,” He slipped his hand into hers, “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

YN groaned but allowed herself to be pulled to Harry’s car. Harry drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand on YN’s. It felt comfortable. YN hadn’t been on many first dates, but the ones that she had never felt like this. Saying that many of the people she had been on first dates with she hadn’t already slept with, or she hadn’t worked with them.

They pulled up outside what seemed to be a diner of some sort. YN hadn’t lived here long, so she hadn’t explored anyway but her house, the hospital, and the supermarket.

“What is this place?”

“You’ll find out,” Harry opened the car door for her, “Not a fan of surprises?”

“I’m a surgeon,” YN stated as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Surprises normally equal either more work for me or death. I’m not a fan of surprises.”

“I think you’ll like this one.”

Harry opened the door to the diner for YN, allowing her to step in first like a proper date. This was a proper date.

“Harry!” An older woman called from behind the counter, “It’s so good to see you!”

“Hi, Mrs Chapman,” Harry didn’t even flinch when the woman came and placed a kiss on her cheek, “How are you?”

“I’m fine, doll, how are you?” The older woman pulled away but kept her hands firmly on Harry’s arms, “Still the best doctor that ever lived? My Harrison is doing his exams later this year thanks to you.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Mrs. Chapman,” Harry finally managed to pull himself out of the older woman’s grasp, “Are we okay to sit?”

Mrs. Chapman looked over at YN, then she gasped and nodded, “Of course you are! Your booth’s free, Harry. Let me know if you need anything.”

Harry just smiled, leading YN towards a booth at the back of the diner with a hand on the nape of her back. Each time that YN found out a little bit more information about Harry, it shocked her and didn’t simultaneously.

“Do you leach off a lovely woman whose child you saved?” YN asked, raising her eyebrow as she slid into the booth across from Harry.

“I do not leach,” Harry shook his head, passing YN a menu, “I found this place way before Harrison came to see me. Mrs. Chapman is a lovely woman, who now gives me free food now and then because I saved her grandson.”

YN just sighed, shaking her head, and looking down at the menu again. It had everything that a typical diner would have, but I suppose the thing that made it different from the rest was the connection that Harry had with it.

“Do you come here often, then?” YN asked, deciding on whether she wanted a burger or not, “To be on a first-name basis with the owner?”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs, not even looking at the menu as though he already knows what he is going to have. He then sighs, “It’s the only place around here that’s open twenty-four hours. I come here because the food’s nice, the people are nice and I’m normally too tired to cook after a shift.”

“God,” YN sighs, leaning back in the booth and crossing her arms over her chest, “If I’d have known this place existed I would’ve saved so much money on crappy microwave meals.”

“Oh,” Harry shakes his head, “No, we can’t be having that.”

“Okay then,” YN drops her menu on the table in front of them, “What do you recommend?”

They end up ordering way too much food than what would normally be appropriate for two people to eat. They had burgers, and milkshakes and god only knows how many different types of pie. The only constellation that YN had for it was that they’d be able to take the leftovers home and that was one thing she loved more than eating out was the leftovers the next day.

“I’m stuffed,” YN sighed, dropping her fork down on her plate. She had just put back a burger, a handful of fries and half of two slices of pie (cherry and apple) in one sitting. In YN’s defence, she had been in the OR for the majority of the day, and that therefore meant scoffing a sandwich in the twenty-minute break she found herself having about six hours ago.

“So, you’re not going to help me finish this last slice of pie?” Harry pouted his lips slightly at her, pushing the plate with the last bit of cherry pie towards her.

YN sighed, but it didn’t take her long to pick up her fork and dig it into the last piece of the pie. YN ate half of it, and Harry had the other half. At that point, YN felt as though she was truly and honestly going to burst now. If it was socially acceptable to unbutton her trousers, she would have done that.

“That’s it,” YN shook her head, waving her hands in front of her, “Stop feeding me. I can’t take it anymore.”

“It was good though?” Harry nodded, “Right?”

“So good,” YN sighed, unable to hold the smile off her face, “I don’t think I’ve eaten this good since moving here.”

“Not much of a cook?” Harry laughed, wiping his hands with his napkin.

YN shook her head, leaning back on the booth. Even though she was having a lovely time, there was a part of her that was exhausted, but she wanted to stay. Even though every muscle in her body, every ache was screaming at her to go home and go to bed – she just couldn’t. She didn’t want to leave; she didn’t want this night to end.

“I’m not much of anything,” YN shrugged, “I’m a surgeon. That’s about it.”

“I don’t believe that,” Harry shook his head, “I believe that, yeah, you’re a surgeon, but I don’t think that’s all there is to you. That’s all I want to know.”

YN sighed, her teeth clamping down on the inside of her lip, “I guess you’re just going to have to wait.”

“I’m going to have to wait?” Harry laughed, “What am I going to have to wait for?”

“Our next proper date.”

Harry’s entire face beamed out into a smile, and YN couldn’t help but join him. In all honesty, whilst there was a level of comfortableness between them there was also a part that made her giddy. It was new and it was exciting and even though alarm bells were ringing for her that this was her boss, she had never felt this way about anybody before.

She didn’t think she ever would again.

#3

The third time it happened, YN knew that this was going to be for good.

“You’re going to get married, and you’re going to have his babies and get a dog and I’m just going to be watching from the sidelines. Single. With fifteen cats. No husband, no cute kids. No sexy husband that’s good with the cute kids…”

“Iris?” YN interrupts before the girl could carry on her rambling.

“Yeah?” The girl beamed, a sad smile crossing her lips.

“You’re doing it again,” YN sighed, dropping her hands to the top of her charts, “The thinking out loud. The crazy cat lady thing. I know you think that you’re making yourself feel better by speaking into the universe, but it’s just sad Iris.”

“You know what’s sad?” Iris sighed, and that’s when YN saw the glaze over her eyes again, “That I’m not going to have a hot doctor husband, and cute kids, and –”

“That’s it,” YN sighed, picking up her chart and moving away from her boyfriend, “I’m leaving. I can’t listen to this anymore.”

YN had taken all but two steps away from the desk when she felt someone’s arm knock into hers. She didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

YN and Harry had been living in bliss for the past six months. They had done this properly. They had been on dates, ‘proper’ dates as they had continued to call them, and every day just seemed to get better. That wasn’t to say that they hadn’t had their ups and downs. Two doctors, paediatricians at that, trying in a relationship would have its ups and downs. They were emotional, exhausted, and stubborn. That meant that every so often their heads butted together and it either ended up in them screaming at each other or just sitting in complete silence.

“What can’t you listen to anymore?” He asked, his shoulder brushing hers and they walked down the corridor.

YN sighed, “Iris is having her cat existential crisis again. I told you it was a bad idea for her to get a cat, and what did you say? You said it was a good idea, and now I’m –”

“Woah,” Harry stopped her, placing his hands on her shoulders to calm her down, “Now you’re having the cat existential crisis.”

YN sighed, lifting her hand to scratch her eyebrow, “She’s infecting me. Harry, we have to do something. You must have some single friends. Something. We need to fix this.”

“We don’t,” Harry shakes his head, “I know she’s your best friend and you –”

Whatever Harry was going to say next didn’t matter, and it didn’t matter because a scream came from down the hall. It wasn’t a good scream, and before anything else could be said the two of them were rushing down the hallway and into the room where the scream came from.

It was Paige. She was their latest patient, in for Lymphoma. It was a recent diagnosis – very recent and the girl was crying and screaming.  The nurse looked as though she was going to have a breakdown herself.

“She won’t let us put an IV in,” The nurse sighed, “We’ve tried everything, but she just keeps screaming.”

“It’s going to hurt!” Paige screamed back, wet hot tears streaming down her face as she looked between Harry and YN.

Harry looked at YN and she just nodded, “We’ll take it from here Kathy.”

The nurse nodded, leaving the room, and allowing the door to slam shut behind her. YN flinched slightly, but at the same time she knew how stressful children could be sometimes. She also knew that Kathy was coming off a long shift, and that could also factor into the stress.

“I’m sorry,” Paige’s mother spoke from the corner of the room, her eyes welling up just like her daughters were, “She’s never normally like this. I tried. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry smiled, dropping down onto the seat next to Paige’s bed, pulling some gloves onto his hands, “Needles are scary. They’re sharp, and they’re scary.”

“It’s going to hurt,” Paige whined, her chest wracking with more sobs, “It hurt last time, Dr. Styles, I don’t wanna hurt.”

Harry sighed, “It does hurt, I’m not going to lie to you, Paige.”

YN’s eyes furrowed as Harry spoke but shrugged off his jacket at the same time. He pulled the tourniquet out of the unopened IV kit and wrapped it around his arm, pulling it tight.

“It hurts, but only for a minute,” Harry smiled, “Dr. YLN here is going to show you how it’s done, and I’m going to explain every little step. Is that okay, Paige?”

Paige’s tears were still falling, but her breathing had slowed down slightly. YN pulled on another pair of gloves and prepped the needle.

“This rubber band is a tourniquet,” Harry explained, “You’ve probably had one before when you were having your blood taken. You see, it helps us to see your veins,” Harry pointed out the vein in his arm which had popped out. “Dr. YN here is going to insert the needle and… yes it’s going to hurt, and it’s hurting but now it’s not.”

When YN had finished putting the needle into Harry’s arm, she looked back up to see Paige’s tears had stopped and a small smile on her face.

“So,” Harry smiled, pulling the needle out and holding some cotton wool on his arm, “How about Dr YLN goes and gets a new IV kit, and your mother holds your hand whilst I do it, yeah?”

Paige smiles, nodding her head, “Yeah.”

Once YN had brought a new IV kit into the room, she just stood by the door – watching. She watched as Harry spoke to Paige through the IV, keeping the young girl calm throughout the entire thing. Just watching Harry and watching not only how good at his job he was but also how he acted around the children was everything that YN needed to know.

The icing on top of the cake was when he started to tease the young girl, pretending that he didn’t have any lollipops to give her, even though he had some in his coat pocket. YN smiled, watching as the girl who once had tears streaming down her cheeks was now laughing, playing with Harry, and trying to guess which pocket had the lollipops in.

YN walked out of the room with that cheesy smile on her face, trying not to make it obvious the reason why but she knew. Iris was still sitting behind the nurses’ station, and YN stopped in front of her and sighed.

“You’re right,” YN chuckled lightly, “We’re going to have really cute babies.”

“We did good today,” YN sighed, placing the bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of Harry. YN dropped down next to him, accepting the space underneath his arm to squeeze into.

They had been on their feet a long time today, and just the fact that they were both now curled up on the sofa, with a glass of wine to soften the blow was all YN needed. Paige’s surgery had a few minor complications, but it was nothing that YN couldn’t handle. When Paige had woken up, the smile on her face knowing that she could finally eat the lollipop in a few hours that Harry had given her was enough for YN to know that it was worth it.

“We did,” Harry sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “Paige is going to make a full recovery and she’ll be back on her feet in no time – all thanks to you.”

YN sighed, “Wouldn’t have even been able to operate without you.”

Harry just sighed, his lips ghosting over YN’s head. There was a change in the atmosphere, and YN could tell. Harry didn’t say anything else, and YN didn’t know whether he wanted to talk or not.

“You want to talk about it?” She spoke quietly, her finger drawing lines along his knee that was sprawled out in front of her.

Harry sighed against her, pressing another kiss to her head, “Not now. I will later though, I promise.”

“Okay,” YN smiled, reaching out to grab Harry’s hand, “Can I tell you something?”

Harry hummed. YN hesitated for a second, not knowing whether this was the right time to do this or not. But then she remembered today, and she remembered that feeling that she had whilst she had been watching Harry with Paige. She remembered the tightness in her chest, and it wasn’t worry or stress. She knew what it was, and all she could hope was that he’d feel the same way.

“I think…” YN started but then she shook her head slightly, “No, I know. I know that I love you, Harry.”

Harry lifted his head from the top of YN’s head, turning so that she was looking at him. When YN’s eyes met his, she was shocked to see that his eyes were slightly filling up. YN lifted her hand to his face, placing her palm on his cheek and making sure that he was okay.

“I…” Harry started, and YN’s heart pummelled to the bottom of her stomach. She couldn’t tell. She had admitted to the man that she was the love of her life, the man who was it for her and she couldn’t tell what he was going to say. She froze. She froze, and then he smiled, “I love you.”

YN sighed, and it took everything in her to not pick up one of the cushions next to her and launch it at Harry’s head, “Don’t scare me like that again. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

“What?” He laughed, leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek and then to the nape of her neck, “What do you mean?”

“Your face, and the silence and –” YN pulled away from him slightly, moving so that there was a gap between them. Until a wave of something covered her and before she knew it she was standing up, “Then the hesitation! You hesitated and you looked like you were going to cry, and then you hesitated to tell me that you love me!”

Harry sighed, sitting up with his knees open in front of her. Harry reached out for YN’s hands, but she pouted and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I love you. I love you more than anything YN, and I know that it hasn’t been long – but I am ready to spend the rest of my life with you.”

YN sighed, but reached out and dropped her hands into Harry’s, “You’re not upset with me then?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “I just… today, with Paige. That girl. She was so scared, so scared. Her parents were scared, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’m a doctor, that’s what I am and the entire time all I could think about was you. In the surgery, I wondered how you were feeling, and what you might have wanted for dinner tonight.”

YN sighed, reaching forward to place a hand on his cheek – his face leaning into her touch.

“Harry…”

“I have never, ever not thought of the hospital, and my patients the entire day since I was a trainee. Then you come, and you’re always there – in the back of my mind. I love you so much, YN, and I would never hesitate to tell you that.”

YN didn’t say anything else. Instead, YN took a step forward. She grasped Harry’s face in her hands. His hands snaked around her waist, pulling her body closer until his head was resting upon her stomach. YN’s fingers slipped through his hair, right until they were at those curls at the bottom of his neck that she loved. She could feel his lips pressing tiny pecks into her stomach over her shirt. Using the curls, she tugged lightly to pull his face away from her stomach, and she could immediately lean down and capture his lips with hers.

YN sighed into the kiss, her body collapsing onto his until she was straddling him. His hands picked up speed, slipping underneath her shirt as hers tugged on his hair – their lips moving together at the same rate.

“I love you,” Harry mumbled against her lips, not stopping his kisses for even a second.

YN pulled away for a second, pushing his hair off his forehead, “Then show me… please.”

Harry nodded, pressing another chaste kiss to her lips before helping YN up and off of the sofa. The two of them stumbled into YN’s bedroom quickly, their hands never leaving each other’s body.

It was new, it was exciting, and it was good. It was love.

Harry dropped down on the bed, and YN followed – dropping on his lap just as she had been on the sofa. His fingers fiddled with the edge of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra (it being the first thing to come off her body when she came home), and his lips immediately started placing kisses all over her chest and breasts.

“I love you,” He mumbled against her skin.

“Do you love me? Or do you love my boobs?”

Harry chuckled, his teeth grazing her nipple lightly, “I love you and I love your boobs… equally.”

YN laughed, pushing him away from her body lightly, “You’re such an idiot.”

“I am,” He placed her kiss on her chest, “I’m an idiot,” he placed another kiss on her neck, “But I’m an idiot who loves you.”

Piece by piece their clothing was removed, and whispers and kisses and giggles were shared until they were both naked. They had moved further up so that Harry’s back was pressed against the headboard, YN hovering above him.

Their movements started slow, YN sliding herself down onto Harry’s cock. The feeling was full, and amongst that, it was full of love. Harry’s hands landed on YN’s hips, helping her move whilst YN’s clutched the headboard. YN gasped into Harry’s mouth as she started to rotate her hips.

“Harry,” YN moaned into his mouth, one of her hands leaving the headboard to grasp his shoulder. Harry started to help her, his hips rolling up to meet hers, causing YN’s nails to press into the skin of his shoulder.

“Keep going for me, baby,” Harry mumbled, his head dropping down to YN’s shoulder – his lips grazing her skin, “Come on, keep going for me.”

YN sped up her hips, listening to Harry’s words of encouragement. There was no way that YN could be closer to Harry than she was at this moment, but with each thrust, she wanted to be.

“So wet for me baby,” Harry mumbled, “Doing so well for me baby.”

“Harry, please,” YN whined, her hips moving quicker and quicker with every passing moment, “I need more, I need you more.”

“You wanna switch?” Harry pulls his head up from her shoulder, looking directly into her eyes, “Just tell me, baby.”

YN’s hips stopped and with Harry’s help, she lifted herself off him. YN whimpered slightly at the loss of contact, but the second that she moved so that she was on her back, Harry was hovering over her.

“Harry, please,” YN’s hands clawed at his back, pulling him closer to her.

“You okay?” He asked, one hand on his cock to line it up with her entrance and the other one holding his body up by her head.

“Please,” YN nodded, her hands scratching down his back again, pushing lightly on the top of his ass, “Please Harry, I wanna feel you. Need to feel you.”

Harry didn’t hesitate to push inside of her, taking YN’s breath away. He moved forward so that their foreheads were touching each other’s. This was what YN wanted – what she needed. Each thrust of his hips felt as though he was bringing her closer and closer – not only to her orgasm but also to him.

“Harry,” YN whimpered, moving her lips onto Harry’s, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Harry picked up the pace, moving his hips faster and faster until he saw the tell-tale signs. YN’s breathing turned faster, and one of the hands that was on his back reached out to the bed next to her, screwing the sheets into her fist. It hadn’t taken Harry long to pick up the signs, listening to all of the signs that her body gave him. Once that switch was flipped, Harry knew exactly what to do.

“It’s okay, baby,” Harry mumbled against her lips, one of his hands slipping down between their bodies so that he could roll her clit between his fingers, “Let go for me, always look so pretty when you come for me – so pretty.”

“Harry, I’m so close,” YN’s hips moved up to meet Harry’s. The mixture of both Harry’s cock inside of her and also his fingers on her clit, speeding the process along – that was all that YN needed. Her orgasm raked through her body, a line of whimpers escaping her lips, along with a string of Harry’s name. Harry coaxed her through her orgasm, not stopping his pace until he saw the signs.

Harry came not long after, his body going rigid against YN’s. Harry’s head leant down to capture YN’s lips with his again, slowing his hips down until he came to a complete stop inside her. He dropped down – his body weight falling upon YN’s. She felt comfort with it, his body weight pressed on hers.

Silence fell between the two of them, and it wasn’t until a few minutes later when Harry moved to slip out of YN that any sound was made in the room apart from the sound of their breathing. YN felt an emptiness inside of her, but once Harry was laid at her side she wasted no time in moving closer to him. She lipped his leg in between his, her arm wrapping around his chest and resting on his shoulder.

“I…” YN started, her finger lifting to run down Harry’s cheek ever so lightly, “Think you’re a good omen.”

“What?” Harry smiled, tilting his head down slightly so that he could look at her, where her head was resting on his shoulder.

“A good omen,” YN shrugged, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I think… you were brought to me to show me that everything is going to be okay.”

“It is going to be okay,” Harry nodded, lifting his hand to brush her hair off her forehead, “Everything is going to be okay.”

It wasn’t that YN believed in anything like that. She didn’t believe in signs before all of this but now. Now, she believed that Harry was her sign. He was her sign.

He was her good omen.

[valwrote]

I am on hiatus because of exams but @danijaci you have pulled me out of it for today thanks to your biker!Wriothesley drawing. 😭😭💫💕🦋

Please allow me to add some words to your scrumptious art because I am obsessed with this man.

biker!Wriothesely x 9 to 5 job!reader.

not proof read i wrote this in 30 minutes and put it in queue.

It was a wet day. The air was moist and puddles had formed around every corner. You walked with your files clutched under one arm, umbrella held in the other, sheltering you from the light drizzle that remained after the heavy downpour from a few hours ago.

Your clothes were recently washed and neatly ironed. Atleast they were till someone whizzed past you, splashing you with puddle water, soiling your clothes. You yelled curses at them, trying to brush away the water on your clothes which clearly was a futile attempt.

You turned around to walk home and get changed into a new pair of clothes till you noticed the biker who splashed water on you, was coming back. You came to halt as the biker parked their bike in front of you before pulling the visor of the helmet up.

You could see icy blue hues staring at you. The voice was muffled you could make out a 'sorry' in their sentence. "I can't understand what you are saying." You frowned, not pleased with the situation at all.

The biker removed their helmet to reveal a man, beautiful beyond comprehension. His hand reached up to fluff up his black locks which had been flattened by the helmet, while his other hand placed the helmet on the handle of the biker. He swiftly kicked the stand of his bike before making his way to you.

"I said I am sorry for splashing you with water. It was an accident and I should've been more careful." He sighed, assessing the damage caused by his recklessness.

"Oh it is fine, it will come off. The only problem is that I am late for work." You grimaced at the feeling of the clothes sticking against your skin. He seemed to have noticed that.

"How about I give you a ride back home and to your office? It'll save you time and in exchange of helping you, you'll forgive me. Sounds like a win-win." He offered. You hesitated since getting on a bike with a strange guy was complete violation of the stranger danger rul— screw it.

"I'll take you up on that offer."

"Great. One more thing.." he took off his jacket and leaned in to wrapped it around you. You took your time to admire the man while he was busy zipping the jacket up. After he was done he glanced up at you. There was an awkward silence, you could feel his body warmth radiate upon coming in proximity and—

"Let's go. The jacket will prevent you from feeling cold while riding on the bike." He walked over to his biker and mounted it. He gestured you to take a seat while strapping his helmet back on. He then handed you a spare and drove off.

Your life was usually dull. A boring 9 to 5 job, same old sceneries and same old people had made life monotonous, yet this moment of sitting on a bike with the cool air hitting your body, the vehicle effortlessly taking smooth twists and turns was an escape from all of that.

You had your arms wrapped around his waist. Part of your arm could feel his muscular built under the clothing. He was a gentleman, responsible, quick-witted and good looking. What more could a girl ask for—

"We are here." He dropped you off at your house. If only you knew that from that day, the strange man would become an inseparable part of your life.

biker!wriothesley who would drop you to your office and back everyday under the excuse that it will save you time and energy even though he simply wants to enjoy the warmth of your arms wrapped around him.

biker!wriothesley who would bring big bouquets of your favourite flower each week in hopes to impress you.

biker!wriothesley who steals you away from your friends to go on an impromptu outing with him.

biker!wriothesley who loves watching sunsets with you while sharing a pint of icecream.

biker!wriothesley who fell harder after you fell first.

biker!wriothesley who would feel happy even at the smallest biking related gift you get him. He is a strong believer of sincerity.

biker!wriothesley who always gives up his jacket whenever you feel cold and always puts your comfort first.

biker!wriothesley who was hesitant on confessing but eventually mustered the courage to do so.

"Hey big guy, why did you bring me here all of a sudden?" You enquired softly. Wriothesely was a man with many scars and a fragile heart. He only ever dragged you away when he was feeling upset.

"It's nothing. I am just- I have to come out clean about this.." he sighed, trying to face you. The sunset's beauty only made you look more captivating in his eyes than you already were.

Wriothesley had always been gentle with you. Ever since the day he splashed water on you, to the time where he accidentally hit you in the face with the helmet while tossing it to you, hoping you would catch it, uptill now.

He looked at you with endearment, sincerity and love. You were his solace in his adventurous life while he was your spark in your mundane one. You two were like puzzle pieces. Meant for eachother. Meant to complete one another.

"I like you. I find my thoughts drifting towards you all the time. I thought biking was my only passion, nothing could take my attention away from my love for bike riding but then you came and—" he cupped your face, his frost blue eyes spoke a thousand words which his mouth couldn't utter.

biker!wriothesley whose partner in crime (not literally) is you. He can confide in you about his problems and loves when you talk to him in biker terms.

biker!wriothesley who loves taking you on long drives. He loves exploring new places and seeing the smile that traveling brings to your face.

biker!wriothesley who flaunts you off to his biker buddies or 'gang' he named 'The Meropide' talking non stop about how amazing you are.

biker!wriothesley who teases you alot.

"Wriothesley- you have been cleaning your bike since the past 2 hours!" You complained, he treated that bike like royalty. Cleaning it, greasing it, getting air in the tires—

"You see sweetheart, I have to take care of my wife. I am simply spending quality time with her." He smirked at you.

"Oh yeah? Then what am I?" You asked, arms crossed across your chest.

"You are my mistress—"

You didn't let him touch you the entire day.

biker!wriothesley who gets all shy and clammy at physical intimacy, be it holding hands, hugging or stealing kisses.

biker!wriothesley who wouldn't trade you for the world. He holds you dear and the day he confessed to you, he had given a piece of his heart to you and vowed to always be by your side.

this is so scuffed- I haven't written in so long especially in this format.

but hell do I not love wriothesley.

don't copy, plagiarize, repost.

©definitelysel

[wriothesleybear]

Protective Warden

~warnings: x wriothesley, unwanted touching by stranger (grabbed on arm), otherwise just fluff.

~a/n: thank you @harlekin6 for the idea🥰 i hope this satisfies your request❤️

You step off of the elevator, relieved to finally be off of it. Even though you've taken it for the past three years, it still gets tiring from the long ride. You check in at the entrance of the Meropide Fortress. It's a quick check in as usual due to you being known around here by the employees. You were known as the Duke's wife. You were a cute, bubbly, talkative, and outgoing person. The complete opposite of your husband. The workers sometimes wonder to themselves how you two ended up together. You didn't mind their questions, laughing them off because to you, you knew who your husband was. Only you saw his softer and teasing side, the part of him you fell in love with.

You planned to surprise your husband with his favorite lunch today, wanting to spend time with him due to his work schedule keeping him busy. He would usually return late at night after you've fallen asleep and leave early in the morning before you woke up, giving you two no time to spend together. While walking to his office, you greet the usual employees and notice Sigewinnie down the hall. Her eyes shine as she sees you, happy to see you again. After a little small talk, you ask her the whereabouts of your husband. She tells you that he was currently in a meeting, busy interrogating new prisoners. You planned to wait for him in his office, but Sigewinnie excitedly asked if she could show you some new stickers she recently made. How could you say no to that face.

You follow her to her little infirmary. She excitedly shows you all of her new stickers while you give her your full attention, happy to see her like this. You enjoyed spending time with Sigewinne as did she. She was like a daughter to you. She saw you and Wriothesley like parents to her. After a while of listening to Sigewinnie talk about puffy stickers, you both were suddenly interrupted by a rookie guard entering the infirmary.

"Miss Sigewinnie, I have a prisoner who is feeling unwell. Could you take a look at him?"

"Of course! You can bring him in." She said, getting her medical instruments ready. A tall man enters the room. He didn't look scary or dangerous so you thought nothing of it. Sigewinnie tells him to sit on the infirmary bed so she can check him out. You notice while he walks over to the bed, he keeps looking at you. You pay it no mind. It takes a few minutes for Sigewinnie to figure out what was wrong and she goes into an adjacent room to make some medicine for the inmate. The whole time, the inmate keeps watching you which begins to make you a bit uncomfortable. He begins talking to you, giving you compliments on how beautiful you looked. You were polite and thanked him but continued to be uncomfortable. You hoped the visit would be over soon so he could leave. Suddenly, he gets up from the bed and walks over to where you were sitting, deciding to sit in the chair next to you. He was a bit too close causing you to scoot away from him. You ask him politely to leave you alone, not wanting to piss him off by being rude, but he ignored your request and continued bothering you. He began to say more inappropriate things to you while eyeing you up and down. You had enough and got up from your seat, planning to talk to the guard waiting outside the room. But before you could leave, the inmate grabs your arm harshly.

"Where do you think you're going. It's rude to ignore someone where they're talking to you. It's not everyday I get to see a beautiful chick like you."

You try to break your arm free, sternly telling him to let you go. He laughs and doesn't let up his grip. You begin to push him away causing him to get mad. He pulls you towards him, his grip tightening causing you pain. You yelp. Suddenly, theres a loud crash as the infirmary door is slammed open. You both look over to the doorway and see your husband. He notices the inmate's hand on you and quickly moves over to him. Wrio roughly grabs the man's shirt, moving him away from you and getting the man to remove his grip on you. He slams him against the wall. Anger is evident on your husband's face while he silently glares at the prisoner. The room begins to get a bit chilly due to your husband's vision.

"Why are you putting your hands on my wife." Wrio coldly asks.

"Wrio." You put your hand on his back and gently call his name, wanting to stop him before he beats the prisoner to a pulp. He relaxes a little. He calls the rookie guard in and orders him to take the prisoner into solitary confinement.

"Y-yes sir!" the guard nervously says before he quickly takes the prisoner away. Once they're gone, Wrio turns to you with a soft look.

"Are you okay?" he asks as he walks closer to you. You gently smile at him and nod your head. He looks down at your arm, noticing a red mark forming where the prisoner grabbed you. His anger flares again but he stops himself, focusing his attention on you. He pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arm tightly around you while he strokes your hair.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to protect you. What are you doing here anyways? I didn't know you were going to visit."

"I wanted to surprise you with lunch and spend time with you. It's been a few days since we've spent time together and I missed you." You tell him as you nuzzle into his chest. He chuckles from your cuteness of being honest with your feelings.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to spend time with you lately. I promise I'll make it up to you by spending the whole day with you on my next day off."

"Deal." You giggle.

"Come on. Let's go eat." While you two walk to his office, he has your fingers intertwined, walking close to you to make sure you are protected. You arrive to his office. He sits in his chair while you go get another chair to put beside him.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"I'm looking for a chair."

"Don't need one. Come here." He pats his lap. You blush, walking over to him. Even though you've sat in his lap many times before, you still get a bit bashful.

"But you can't eat if I'm in your lap Wrio." Without another word, he pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you so you can't escape. He nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving a quick kiss on it, making you squirm.

"Wrio." You shyly say. He chuckles at your cuteness.

"What did you bring me for lunch?" He asks, changing the subject.

"Your favorite. Steak with a side of vegetables and mashed potatoes." You say as you take everything out.

"Smells good. I bet it takes great. I always enjoy your cooking."

"Yeah, I don't explode the kitchen when cooking." You tease.

"Hey, that just means it's going to taste great."

You laugh. "I will give you that. Your food does come out tasting yummy even thought you ruin the kitchen. But I suppose it's worth it." You cut the steak, taking a piece on the fork and holding it out for him. "Here. Say ahh." You tease.

He sighs. "I'm not gonna say ahh but I'll still take a bite." He eats the piece of steak. "Delicious." You feed him the rest of his meal, taking some bites for yourself here and there. Once you two finish, he kisses you and thanks you for lunch. Even when his work schedule gets in the way of your time together, special moments like these make up for it.

[thefabulous-mostgroovy]

Beautiful Boy

"You're sure you want to do this?" he asks, softening his voice. Jon nods.

"I... I think it'll be good for me."

That's all Martin needs to hear.

(art included!)

Jon/Martin, 1.7k words, rated Gen, read on AO3. this is for day 3 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt Hair Care!!

Martin truly thinks he's an absolute genius for using one of Jon's hair clips to keep the towel in place. Jon snickers a little at his chuffed face in the mirror, holding the other end of the towel up with his hands in front of him.

"Don't laugh," Martin tuts. "Or I'll give you a bad haircut.

"I don't know if a buzz cut is possible to mess up," Jon says. Even joking, he sounds a little nervous. His eyes dart from his own reflection to the scissors in Martin's hands, and back again. Martin plants a kiss in his hair.

"You're sure you want to do this?" he asks, softening his voice. Jon nods.

"I... I think it'll be good for me."

That's all Martin needs to hear.

They've gone over his decision a few times. First of all, the long hair has gotten a bit annoying. It blows in his face, especially in the Highland winds. It's a pain to maintain. But, mostly, it has too many negative memories attached. The only reason it's as long as it is, is he's been too tired and stressed and scared to go outside to get a proper haircut. He didn't grow it out, it got out of control. Just another thing he couldn't fix, couldn't get a handle on. Not to mention the fairly recent fear of strangers welding blade near his throat. Chopping it all off is about as good of a fresh start as Jon is going to get right now.

He remembers Jon's hair when they first met. It had been a bit long, even for how short he used to keep it. He kept it loosely pushed out of his face, but it fell in loose waves over his face whenever he was concentrating on anything else. Martin was never able to pay attention to the day's to-do's because he was always too busy watching Jon's hands run through his own hair, flipping it out of his face, the grey strands at his temples revealing themselves when he combed it back.

Despite his scruffy, ill-fitting suit jackets and trousers, his hair always fell perfectly with seemingly very little effort. Martin has curly hair himself, and he's never been one to get jealous over someone else's hair, but he really thought that's what he felt about Jon in the early days.

(It was not jealousy. He was just completely arse over kettle for his boss. But, can you blame him? Jon might be the prettiest man Martin has ever met.)

After Prentiss, Jon let his hair grow out a bit more. Well, let is a strong word. More like, he neglected in getting a haircut as his paranoia grew and grew. It reached his shoulders in just a few months, and Jon had taken up keeping it tied back in these large clips that's currently holding up the towel that will catch all that hair when Martin shears it off.

Martin remembers being quite surprised at how long his hair had gotten when he returned from his brief stint of running from the police. It was hanging in loose strings over his shoulders, like it hadn't been very well taken care of. Part of him had wanted to sit Jon down and detangle the nest residing on his head. Maybe give it a good wash.

The next time he saw Jon, it was with his hair in a braid. Or, an attempt at a braid. It was a bit more like a series of knots, a bit lopsided and kind of falling out. In his week-long shock at the fact that his boss was not, in fact, just a creepy middle aged man who was way too into administrative work, but an evil eldritch monster who is still way too into administrative work, he told Jon this. While he waited for Jon's tea to steep, he turned around and told him, 'Hey, your braid's a mess. Want me to fix it?'

To his everlasting surprise, Jon said yes.

With shaking hands and a beet red face, Martin had sat behind Jon on the couch, and carefully brushed Jon's hair through with his fingers. His hair looked healthy, like it had been recently washed, and smelled of coconut and bergamot. There was a lot more grey in it than when he first met Jon (but not as much as there is now).

Jon had sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head back as Martin had brushed his hair back. He had wanted so badly to run his nails over his scalp, and he just barely restrained himself from doing so. His hair was soft under his hands, and it bounced back into shape when his fingers ran through the ends.

Actually putting the plait in was easy. Martin fell victim to being a girl's Gay Best Friend while he was still in high school, which is never all that great, but he did actually enjoy styling her hair. It came to him as muscle memory, twisting the three sections around each other, careful not to pull or tug by accident. He kept it fairly loose to not give Jon a tension headache, and the shape of his curls were still visible as they flowed into the braid.

After tying it off, Jon had gotten a bit stuttery and smiley, tucking the shorter strands that fell over his face behind his ears, and Martin had practically short circuited and fled the room.

Jon never got around to properly cutting his hair, even as it reached further and further down his back. After Daisy, he could never let anyone near him with a blade without falling into panic. So, he simply put up with the choppy cuts from cutting the dead ends off with a pair of kitchen scissors. It was good enough for him, apparently. And he never had to let any strangers near his neck.

Martin can't help but feel a little pride at the fact that Jon is allowing him to do this. Sure, he's screwing his eyes shut and bordering on holding his breath, but Jon is letting him do this in the first place.

"I'm gonna start now," Martin warns him. Jon hums and nods minutely, and Martin gathers some hair in his hands. He gives him another moment to change his mind, then makes the first cut.

He starts near his nape, moving along in as straight a line as he can manage. He cringes a little at the slope he creates—he somehow manages to cut a bar graph into Jon's ends—but it doesn't matter. He drops the cut strands into the bin below him, not bothering with the bits that stick to the towel. His hair goes from ending at his mid-back, to... whatever Martin has managed to make. It sits in an odd, blunt bob, just above his shoulders. When Martin sets the scissors down for a moment, stretching his hands, Jon's shoulder slump and relax, and reveals that Martin has actually cut much further than he thought.

"You look like Lord Farquaad," Martin snickers as Jon opens his eyes. They glow green for just a second, and Jon gasps in offence, then laughs.

"So mean to me," he bemoans. "Why must I face such treatment? Go to jail."

"If I go to jail, I can't do the rest of your hair, m'Lord." Martin picks the scissors back up, ready to cut more off before going with the razor. Jon closes his eyes again.

"I'll just visit you in jail," Jon says, seeming much more relaxed now that the first shock is over. "Give you a spoon to dig your way out."

"I'll Shawshank Redemption my way out of there," Martin promises as he cuts shorter and shorter. "Come back with scissors and a vengeance."

Jon laughs quietly. After another few minutes, Martin has gotten his hair into a rather shaggy short cut. It looks awful.

"Okay, I'm gonna plug in the razor, don't look at your hair."

"Why not?" Jon immediately opens his eyes and starts to laugh at the sight.

"Don't look!" Martin splutters, scandalised.

"I look like I got attacked by Edward Scissorhands!" Jon cackles, running a hand through the choppy sections.

"I'll fix it, just hold bloody still," Martin grumbles, face red. Even through the buzzing of the razor, he can hear and see Jon humming with giggles. He never could have guessed that Jon's favourite hobby, should they ever have actually started dating, would be winding Martin up at every opportunity.

He starts, again, at the neck and works his way up. His grey hair sits in patches through the black, buzzed hair. Martin wouldn't tell him, but it makes him look like a spotted cat. The hair falls into the towel above Jon's lap, onto the floor. Once Martin is done, and it looks a relatively even length, he turns the clippers off, and kisses the top of Jon's head.

"All finished," he says softly.

Jon opens his eyes and stares at the mirror. He runs a hand over his head, tilting it to the side a little. Martin, to busy his nervous hands, removes the hair clip from the towels and gathers it up with the pile of hair in it.

"Do..." Martin tries to act and sound casual. He does not. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah," Jon says, and finally smiles. There are pinprick tears in his eyes. "I do. I really do."

Martin kisses the top of his head again, running his hand over his hair. The short strands are still soft, but sliding his hand up the opposite direction leaves his palm a little scratchy. Jon doesn't stand, but he reaches up and pulls Martin down into a proper kiss.

"I love you," he whispers on Martin's lips.

"I love you, too," Martin whispers back. He brushes some of the stray hairs that somehow found their way onto Jon's jumper before he kisses him again.

That night, in bed, Martin strokes his hand back and forth over Jon's hair while he sleeps, tucked under Martin's chin. It feels nice. Different.

And Jon is still the prettiest man that Martin has ever met.

[violet-eng]

Lantern Rite Zhongli x fem!reader - NSFW of course

Summary: Zhongli likes reader! since the first day he saw her. Then, during the Lantern Rite, he finds a spot where to watch the show together and do it. The second part wasn't planned. Old man just wanted some time with his crush but ended up doing it.

Warnings: Smut as always. piv. Outdoors sex? Unprotected sex (wear a condom please)

World count: idk, but it's a lot.

(🎨by @gorooon0402)

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .┊ ┊ ⋆˚         ✧. ┊         ⋆ ★

The first time Zhongli saw you was at the top of the city, at the place where Rex Lapis had died. You had caught his attention, kneeling in front of the place, offerings in front of you and your head lowered.

He knew everyone in Liyue, somehow his ancient omniscience had given him that privilege, but you were a complete stranger. The cloak covering your body, the seams bruised and the hood worn, you had had a long journey, but you were there, praying.

You stood up, wiped your knees and adjusted your clothes. You headed towards the exit and brushed against his arm.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice soft, just like your features. You were in his eyes the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life.

That same afternoon, Zhongli goes to the Bubu pharmacy in search of certain medications; his human form had been difficult for him to care for in recent years. He rings the bell on the table expecting Baizhu or Qiqi to appear, instead, you are the one who receives it. This time you wear a different cape, matte oak colors without a hood, allowing your face to be seen clearly, framed by your hair.

"What can I help you?" You ask, both hands on the table and a kind smile on your lips. Zhongli, due to vestiges of his ability as an Archon, perceives a certain energy emanating from you: perseverance, an unbreakable will accompanied by nostalgia and kindness. He realizes that you have come a long way in your life, that you know hard work and have extensive knowledge about the different nations of Teyvat. He wonders why he didn't give you a Vision when he was Rex Lapis, realizing you lack one. All of this is enough to awaken something in him, a human feeling that he thought he had gotten rid of a long time ago.

"I need medicine" is the only thing that can come out of his lips, while he spreads a prescription in front of you.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Baizhu warned me that someone like you would come" you say, taking a bag.

"Someone like me?" The phrase sparks a hungry curiosity in Zhongli.

"Yes, an elegant gentleman with an eloquent voice."

Those words send a wave of heat up Zhongli's spine, although his face doesn't flinch.

"I see, it's like Baizhu" he finally says.

The following months you find yourself invading Zhongli's mind, and the more he gets to know you he realizes the greater attraction he feels for you. It's not just your face, your smile or your gestures, it's the way you care for the patients that Baizhu can't care for, the way you tell the children about the things you've seen outside of Liyue, when you help Madam Ping with her teapot or when you bandage Yanfei's ankle for running from side to side.

You are the kind of person he decided to live for as a human, the kind of pure soul he had given up his gnosis for, the creature he hates not having created, even though he knows he would never have had the ability to create something so perfect like you.

The Lantern Rite arrives, the festival is bigger this year than last, and Zhongli, who watches everything from one of the tables at the Wanmin Restaurant, cannot help but feel slightly alone. He looks for you in the crowd, perhaps you could share stories of his expeditions as you have often done for a few weeks, but he can't find you anywhere. That worries him.

He asks about you in a subtle way, knowing that people hold you in high esteem for your work as an auxiliary doctor, discovering that you have been making outpatient visits all day to some of the adventurers who suffered a gunpowder accident while preparing the fireworks.

So Zhongli heads to the city dock, where he finds you leaving the house of one of your patients. He notices that you are exhausted, so he approaches you cautiously.

"It looks like you haven't rested all day" he says as he offers you a drink.

"Is it late for the event?" you ask after wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

"No, you're just in time."

"Madame Ping's place is probably full, not to mention the plaza. I was dying to see the lanterns this year," you say, looking over the sea, where you realize that they are preparing everything for the big event.

"I know a place..." Zhongli says, not very sure of his words although his tone of voice hides it pretty well.

So you two end up crossing the water in a boat, reaching the other shore, from where you can see the coast of Liyue.

You are amazed by the sight, and you express it to Zhongli as you get rid of your cloak, revealing your clothes underneath, it is a dress, and Zhongli surprises himself by looking for where the zipper of your clothes would be or how easily It would be undoing your buttons.

The lanterns rise, and you pick up your legs as you follow the bright spots rising above the dark sky with your gaze. You watch the show and Zhongli looks at you, the amber color of the fudistant ego reflected faintly on your face.

You are alone, and that gives him enough courage to approach you, take your chin in his hand and turn your face towards his. You don't have time to react because his lips are against yours, gently sucking on your bottom lip.

You put your hands on his chest and separate yourself from him in search of air. He feels dazed, ecstatic, and ashamed all at once. He believes he has offended you, and regret consumes him until you kiss him again, this time wrapping your arms around his neck.

You feel the same as him, and that gives him enough courage to take off his jacket and tie while still kissing you. His hands go behind your back looking for that zipper that he had identified before, and then sliding it to reveal your body in lingerie. The image sends a ripple to his core and he suddenly feels imprisoned in his pants. He gently pushes you until your back is against the grass, damp from the rain a few hours ago, and he positions himself over you, your legs between his.

“Zhongli…” you whisper as you watch the way he undoes his shirt and then removes a glove with his teeth. You notice something primitive, almost animalistic, in his gaze.

As he undoes his pants you notice his hardened cock lifting the fabric of his underwear, your already wet center becoming even more soaked at the image of him on top of you.

Zhongli leans over you to kiss you as he gets rid of the fabric and is completely exposed to you. The image he gives you makes your nipples harden, and you close your legs even more before the incessant moisture that flows from you. Zhongli's body seems sculpted, his shoulders defined, his pectorals large, and his abdomen marked by his muscles. His cock points at you, big and thick, the head red with hunger at your center and a vein bulging on the side.

You gulp at the thought of what awaits you. You can't believe you're with him like this, outdoors, on the grass.

"We're alone, right?" you ask, and he smiles, leaning over you.

"Completely alone," he says, kissing your neck as one of his hands slides under the fabric of your bra, grabbing the soft flesh of your breast and teasing your nipple.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispers in your ear, his voice hoarse.

He takes off your bra, exposing your breasts to him. You try to cover yourself, but he grabs your hands and pulls them away from your breasts. He wants to see you, he has wanted to for weeks.

"Don't be shy," he hisses, tilting his head, a proud smile on his lips. You are completely blushing, "Let's see what else you have for me" he says, sliding one of his fingers between your breasts, down your abdomen and reaching the edge of your panties. He lowers them cautiously from both ends and when he takes them from you he brings them to his nose, inhaling your essence impregnated in the damp fabric. That only causes you to leak even more.

Zhongli throws the fabric along with the rest of the clothes and bows again, this time he won't pause as much. He glances at you as he spreads your legs with one hand, a lopsided smile appearing on his face as he notices how wet you are for him.

"All this just by touching you" he says as he slides two of his fingers through your folds making you shudder and arch your back, you are as needy for him as he is for you.

He brings his fingers to his mouth and tastes your juices, running his tongue over his lips.

"So sweet, and all for me," he growls.

He aligns himself with your entrance and suddenly you feel him slide easily inside you, it's as if you were tailor-made for him, specially created for him.

Zhongli pushes his way inside you, molding your walls to the shape of his cock.

“You're tight,” he whispers, stifling a moan, leaning over you and gripping the grass under his hands. The way you squeeze him drives him crazy.

When Zhongli is completely inside you, you throw your head to the side and cover your mouth so he doesn't hear you moan, you don't want to make him uncomfortable with some embarrassing sound.

"I want to hear you," he says, taking your hands and putting them on the sides of your head, "I want to hear you moan, scream, curse... no one else is going to hear you, only me."

You look at him with reddened cheeks, completely drugged with desire and lust. The way those words leave his lips, the way he looks at you while he's inside you, all of it makes you feel ready for whatever's next.

Zhongli moves slowly at first, drawing soft moans from you, he wants you to adjust to his size, he wants you to get used to his rhythm as he holds on your hips while he lets low moans into your neck.

You cling to his back and move your hips as if to signal that you are ready, that you want him to fuck you as he really wants.

When your insides feel empty without him, your walls clench around his tip, and then he slides all the way inside, hard and fast, giving you no time to process the thrust.

He does it one, two, three times, keeping your hips static against the grass, the friction against your buttocks burns at first, but then succumbs to the pleasure you feel every time he enters you, every time he hits your cervix and your g-spot. Every time he moans incoherently into your neck you forget that they are out in the open fucking like two animals in heat.

"So soft, so mine," he says between indecent moans as his tip arches inside you, hitting your cervix. You feel that at any moment he will cross into your uterus and split in half.

The force with which he thrusts into you is almost beastly, accompanied by grunts and his hand tangled in your hair. His mouth attacks your nipple, making you feel double stimulation.

Zhongli stands up and sits on the grass, placing you on top of him, on his hip. He never left your insides.

You cling to his neck and rest your head on his shoulder, the image of the approaching lanterns blurred by the tears in your eyes. Zhongli's hands on your hips mark the pace of penetration, sinking deeper into you if that is possible.

"Just like that, cutie, just like that~" he growls as he squeezes your glutes and abuses your pussy with his cock. You feel a knot forming inside you.

“Zhongli,” you moan, breathing heavily, arching your back and digging your nails into his shoulders.

He realizes you're about to reach your limit, and he lays you back down on the grass.

"Don't resist," he says as he lifts one of your legs and places it on his shoulder, giving you a wave of ecstasy from the new, even more pleasurable position.

You look at his face as he continues to move inside you, some of the lanterns fly above his head, the amber fire almost as intense as that of his eyes at that moment. You caress his cheek, that image of him, thirsty for your pussy with the flashlights on him, you want to keep it in your memory forever.

His thrusts become frantic and irregular in rhythm, you feel the burning in your belly and center grow more and more, like a flame of fire every time he touches the already quite abused rubbery spot. Zhongli goes on and on and on and then you feel him coming. The knot inside you unravels and you let out a scream as you mark his back with your nails. You've reached your orgasm, and overstimulation haunts you as Zhongli continues to move, seeking to reach his own climax.

He twists his mouth into a grimace and presses his hips against yours, releasing a load of his cum into your hole.

He's breathing hard, his forehead is sweaty, and his member is still inside you. You caress his chest and neck, he takes your hand and kisses the back. You are both silent, only your heavy breathing can be heard in the air.

"Oh my Rex Lapis" you finally say.

Zhongli smiles and kisses you on the lips after hearing you say that. Maybe in the future he will tell you about his past and who he really is, for now he just wants to be there, lying next to you, naked and watching the lanterns traveling through the night sky.

[drdemonprince]

Hi Dr. Price,

I’m a huge fan of your work and I’ve found it immensely helpful in figuring out who I am.

In recent years I’ve discovered I am both AuDHD and Bi. My partner is also Bi and very supportive. However we have been together for over a decade and I’m struggling a lot lately with the fact that I’ve never actually been with anyone else. I’ve been spending a lot of time in queer spaces online and finding myself wishing I could at least experience some of what they do.

I love her more than anything and would never do anything to hurt her. She’s not interested in opening things up in any way, which I completely respect and to be fair I’m not even sure that’s truly something I would want either.

I guess I’m just asking if you have any advice on these overwhelming feelings of missing out on aspects of life I never knew I even missed? Other than using porn to get it out of my mind as I’m worried that’s affecting our relationship sexually, which is another issue. Should I find a dating sim game or something to push all of these thoughts on to? It’s kind of messed up but I feel like if I was allowed to flirt online and not actually act on it that might satisfy me? I don’t know.

If nothing else thank you so much for your work and giving me a space to get this off my chest. ❤️

Because I am of the mind that most longings for queer expression/recognition/community cannot and should not be met with media consumption, I'm not going to tell you that there is any kind of game that can simulate queer erotic contact in a way that will be remotely satisfying for you.

You and your partner's desires for your relationship and its boundaries are important and matter, but alongside that, I would also encourage you to listen to that urge that tells you that you'd love to flirt online with a sexy queer stranger as a way to let a little of the steam off.

The wants you are feeling are real, and when disregarded or left unattended they can spiral out in all kinds of unpleasant ways, from just regular garden variety frustration, to resentment, to conducting years long emotional affairs with agoraphobic instagram thot boys you met online (not that I know anything about that).

You want to be recognized by another queer person as a sexually desirable, available person, you want to feel the rush of a developing romance, you want the future to be filled with possibility and excitement, you want to know that your life is not over and that there's still more to learn about yourself and more experiences to enjoy -- these are all good things. These are important things, and I promise you that it is very unlikely that you won't get to experience more desire, attraction, sexual contact, romance, and heartbreak in the years to come.

Most relationships end. Those that last more than a couple of years undergo dramatic shifts over the course of their tenure. And so, it is very likely that you and your partner will either eventually split, or your various desires and capacities will become incompatible in certain ways, and you will contemplate some kind of change to the relationship dynamic (or someone will fail to communicate this and cheat. hopefully not that one. But if it does happen, well. It's very common and not the end of the world or even necessarily the end of the bond).

How does it feel to confront this information? That in all likelihood, this relationship will either end, open up in some way, change dramatically in its dynamic, or be marked by one or both parties stepping out in some way, however small, be it an online flirtation or a kiss at a party or a sexual affair? I think your feelings in response to that information is important too. And that regardless of what you and your partner decide for the time being, it is an important series of potentialities to reflect on and emotionally prepare oneself for. Also worth asking: are these potential futures ones that you can speak to your partner about? One of them will likely be headed for you in time, not through any fault of your own or due to lack of love, but simply because people change and relationships develop, just like a person develops. Whether or not these are subjects that can be broached is itself valuable information, too.

Now personally, I am very biased, but I think there is very little harm in having some virtual sex with a consenting stranger, roleplaying sexy interactions online, even getting on a dating or cruising app and posting a few anonymized photos and seeing what kind of attention you get and enjoying the rush. I think that kind of thing is all within the realm of the harmless and forgivable, but hey, my sister just ended an engagement over her fiance doing that kind of thing, so not everyone agrees with me clearly.

But I think it is worth at least contemplating the full, long continuum of infidelity that exists, from having a whole secret other marriage and family and keeping a partner in the dark about it on one end, say, and making bedroom eyes with a cute person at the bar and fantasizing about what if what if what if, on the other. If your partner did anything along that whole continuum, you might be hurt, and likewise they might be if you do.

You say you love your partner more than anything and would never do anything to hurt her. But you can't really promise yourself that. Every partner hurts one another in some way or another, sometimes even intentionally, over the course of a long relationship. But hurting one another in a relationship is, also, not the end of the world. We all make mistakes, say things we regret, lose control of our faculties at times, or are simply forced to reconcile that what we need conflicts with what another person does. And sometimes we put our needs first, even though it's uncomfortable.

I don't regret the times I cheated. I regret the lack of communication and cowardice that brought me to that half-formed, unarticulated decision. But I don't regret ever having chosen to listen to needs that had been powerfully screaming inside of me, typically for years before I attended to them.

I think you and your partner should continue having very frank conversations about these topics, and do your best to regulate your own anxieties and feelings of relationship threat when the other party brings up an activity or an idea that makes the other feel scared. The choice isn't to remain monogamous or to become fully polyamorous with no hierarchy. There are a lot of activities you can both decide are either okay or not okay, and conditions under which you will engage in them.

Even what counts as "monogamy" is subject to fierce debate, that's part of why so many jealous straight people destroy one another so easily. Is texting someone you think is cute in a flirtatious but ultimately just friendly way cheating? Is dancing with someone else cheating? What kind of dancing is okay and is not? Is cuddling on the couch? Working on erotica together? Kissing? Is watching porn with someone else cheating? Is masturbating to a video they sent you?

You might have a very visceral response to these questions, but those are just like, your opinions. They are not set in stone and you can easily find another monogamous person who is just as adamant about completely opposing rules and definitions of what monogamy means to them. And so, it's worth talking with your partner and really being honest with yourself about what it is you want to do, what is decidedly off the table, and what the hell it even is that you two are talking about when you discuss your relationship and its limits.

If it were me, and if I could wave a wand and make you and your partner feel okay about and agree to a set of relationship limits, I think you should consider flirting with actual queer people online. But I can't control other people's behavior or emotions, as much as I have tried. But you can at least contemplate (and then discuss) alternate ways of getting the kind of attention that you desire.

There are lots of things you can do to scratch your itch that are not having sex or dating someone else: LARPing (there is larping that has a sexual or romantic component!). Tabletop games. Acting or improv that incorporates romantic or sexual elements. Going to a sex party and just WATCHING people do stuff. Going to a gay bar and just hanging out and socializing. Going to a cruising bar and watching people fuck. Going to a dungeon for a class or a demo. Going on gay speed dating but secretly agreeing that you're not actually going to take anybody home, you're just gonna see how it feels. Wearing a slutty outfit to pride and waving and winking at people. Exchanging heartfelt letters with a queer friend who you have chemistry with but who respects your relationship.

These are just some ideas, but the possibilities are limitless. One day, you and your partner might agree that you are open to having sex with other people, or flirting, but not to them having other lasting relationships. maybe you'll have threesomes together or one partner will watch the other fuck casual hook-ups. Or maybe you'll just break up. Who knows what the future holds! No matter what it is, you can figure it out with both love and commitment to your partner, but also the courage to name what you are feeling and to honor your desires. None of those things have to be incompatible, and monogamy doesn't have to be incompatible with getting a little thrill here and there either.

Good luck!

[parfaitblogs]

hi! im not the anon who asked for the headcanon but it was SO good. you should do one for lila where he and reader are not dating but she stills likes him!!!! and goes under complete transformation after the pool kiss with stuff like, she stops taking coffee or lunch with him and starts doing so with emily. like passive rejection from reader? but it’s just her protecting her heart, omg.

lowkey my favourite thing to do… (ignore someone i’m not dating because they didn’t give me the attention my brain conjured up because limerence is my best friend forever 🎀). this got even longer Goodness Gracious somebody take my keyboard away from me.

s1 spencer… much different to s8… and you are not dating him… but because this is parfaitblogs’ fanfiction blog he has a big fat crush on you back. as god intended.

as someone who grew up without romantic relationships, i feel like he would take the attention lila’s giving him in a sort of quick attachment way. but it still feels wrong because he’s pretty sure he likes you, but nothing has ever happened between you two so he believes it’s a silly crush he needs to get over!! never mind the teasing and the lingering touches and the nights you spend cooped up at work with him to finish case details. they were just friendly!! and this is what he needed to get over you.

except you’re distancing yourself from him because why does him kissing lila hurt so much and why do you hate the jokes morgan keeps making about spencer’s actress girlfriend? and he notices it immediately, because even if he’s supposed to be paying attention to this new girl he’s started something with, he can’t stop thinking about you and the walls you’ve put up.

maybe you’re on a case! and he can’t sleep because he’s thinking about his best friend turned stranger (you), and you’re thinking about him in that stupid pool kissing lila, so you both decide to go to the diner across the street of the hotel. just because the universe loves to twiddle their thumbs and meddle in your business.

and it’s a very awkward acknowledgement that you’re going to be spending that night in the diner together, because why wouldn’t you? but then he’s asking if he did something in the smallest voice possible, and you’re shrugging your shoulders and not really saying anything. so, like the genius he is, he goes through recent groundbreaking events that has happened for the two of you, and he lands on the kiss with lila. maybe it’s a twitch in your hand, or a readjustment of how you’re sitting, but he knows it’s that, and things start to fall into place.

he’s asking why you’re upset because of that, and it’s a lot of verbal poking and prodding at you before you finally express that it made you jealous, and you don’t feel like you have any right to be jealous, so you just ignored him instead. he tells you if he caught you kissing some other guy he’d probably feel the same, then realises he probably shouldn’t have told you that, and stammers to try and explain himself.

but he’s really cute, and you smile at him for the first time since that kiss with lila, and he’s pretty sure everything’s okay between you two again.

and also he gets to take you on a date as an apology for kissing a girl he doesn’t really like.

[spencerreidsreads]

I’d take 100 bad days for this

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Summary: A bad day turned good by a stranger giving you his sweater

Genre: Fluff!

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Spencer is probably slightly out of character. I’m still learning and this is my first time writing for him so please forgive me.

AN: Once again not proof read as I’m still too embarrassed to read my own works. Please let me know if there’s any mistakes.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡꘎

With tears streaming down your face, you continue your walk through the streets. The barley there light flickering from the questionable lamppost above casts a slither of light to shine over your soaking wet form. Your tears mix with the raindrops to coat your skin and add to your already terrible mood.

Everything that could’ve gone wrong today, did. First of all, you’d had a terrible nights sleep. Coffee was the first thing on your mind when you woke up in the morning, but instead of starting your day with a warm vanilla latte like you had planned, you found yourself out of coffee. This was strike one.

Then, as you started your journey to work, hoping to stop off at your favourite coffee shop to try get your fix in, your favourite jacket that you had been wearing got caught on god knows what and ripped. The hole that now sat in the sleeve of your jacket mocked you as you lost the energy to detour for your morning caffeine.

Other small things continued to happen throughout the day to add to your sour mood. Someone shut the door on you as you were walking into the building, you realised you had forgotten your lunch and a colleague of yours spilled her coffee onto your recently completed paperwork.

The final straw, however, was when your boss called you into her office. This was never a good sign, you don’t get called into your bosses office unless it’s bad news. The eyes of the rest of your colleagues followed as you trudged into the room that was your idea of personal hell. As soon as you sat down opposite your boss, she explained that the design for a project you had presented had been turned down. They had gone with someone else’s.

This in particular broke your heart. You had been so passionate about it. So confident in your ability to make it work, so why did no one else see that? Add this to all the other small things that had happened that day, and it’s enough to open the floodgates.

As you exit your office and enter the street below ready to walk home, the sky matches your mood. Grey clouds and heavy rainfall are all you can see and hear. Well, you thought, at least it matches your mood.

You decide to take the train home, the quicker you get home the quicker you can drown your sorrows in ice cream. Once you get to the station with tears still spilling from your eyes, you’re happy to note the platform is completely empty. Except for one other individual, a tall man with longish hair, who looked just as soaked as you were. He stood, clutching onto the strap of his brown satchel as he looked around the platform.

His eyes locked onto you and he gave you an awkward smile. You reciprocated the smile and looked away. He didn’t look like the type of guy who would cause you any trouble, but you certainly weren’t in the mood to find out. Avoiding any more contact was the best option, you thought.

Though no matter how hard you avoided looking in his direction, you didn’t anticipate that he would initiate the contact with you.

“Excuse me?” you heard his voice. It sounded unsure and soft, yet friendly in it’s tone.

You turned to look back at the man with the satchel, your eyes asking the question you didn’t need to vocalise, “what?”

You look down and see he’s holding some sort of fabric in his hands.

“I just - uh, you looked cold and I have a spare sweater… if you’d like to put it on. Don’t think you have to! I just thought I would offer since you’re wet and well if you’re wet and cold for a prolonged period of time, it may negatively affect your immune system, making you more likely to get a cold” - he didn’t look in your eyes once whilst saying this - “so… yeah, I just wanted to offer”. You struggled to hold back your smirk, already feeling slightly better. He was a rambler for sure, you knew this much already. He also seemed terrified as he waited for your response. You got the idea he wasn’t the most confident guy in the world.

“Are you sure?” you asked the man. You were very aware of stranger danger and knew you most likely shouldn’t be taking this from him, but honestly you were absolutely freezing. The rain had completely soaked through your clothes at this point and had left your skin feeling the cold. Not to mention, the guy was cute and the idea of wearing his sweater made you feel slightly warmer already.

“Oh absolutely! I don’t need it, it’s just a spare I had in my bag. Actually you should probably take off your shirt before putting the sweater on. Wearing wet clothing in cold temperatures significantly increases the risk of hypothermia, as it rapidly removes heat from the body. The water in wet clothing quickly evaporates, taking heat away from the body therefore reducing the body's ability to maintain a normal temperature.”

You raise an eyebrow at his suggestion that you take off your shirt. He looked confused for a second before realising what he’d said. The man’s eyes widened in surprise and he began to stutter out an apology.

“N-no I didn’t mean that. Well, I did but not like that. I’m not asking you to take your shirt off. I- uh, I’m sure you’ll be totally fine if you keep your shirt on. In fact-“

You cut off his panic induced ramble with a laugh, he is absolutely adorable, you thought to yourself.

The stranger looked at you, his cheeks flushed, most likely out of embarrassment and slightly biting his lip. Like he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. You decided you’d help him out.

“That’s certainly the most creative way a guys ever hit on me. Asking me to strip on a train platform is a new one for me” you said with a smirk.

The man’s eyes widened in horror. “No, no - that’s not.. I didn’t..”

You once again cut him off with a laugh, louder this time. “I’m just messing with you, I know you didn’t mean it like that. Thank you, for the sweater. I really appreciate it. And your concern for my well being too, that’s very sweet of you” you spoke as you slipped the sweater over your head. You couldn’t help but softly inhale the light smell on the sweater, it smelt clean with a hint of warmth.

“Oh, yeah you’re welcome” he replied, still not making eye contact with you. He didn’t say anything else so you decided to try and continue the conversation whilst you wait for your train.

“So, do I get to know the name of my knight in shining armour who protected me from freezing to death on the train platform?” you asked, you’d made the decision that this man didn’t want to hurt you, so you wanted to get to know him a bit better.

“Oh I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid” he replied, finally looking at you.

“Well Spencer, Spencer Reid. I’m (y/n), I assume you’re waiting for this train?” and you pointed to the empty tracks where your train should be showing up within the next few minutes.

“Yeah, just heading home for the day” Spencer told you. “I’ve been out of town for the past couple of days so I’m excited to just get home and relax with a book”

At the mention of his idea of relaxing being a book, your eyes lit up. You’ve always loved reading, ever since you were a child. Anything you could get your hands on and you were grateful. Fantasy, romance, thriller, historical fiction - anything. You were an absolute bookworm at heart.

“What book are you planning on reading?” you asked.

“I haven’t decided yet. Though I’ll probably go for some light reading since it’s late, I have a few chemistry textbooks I’ve been meaning to read so maybe I’ll get started on those”

You laughed at his mention of chemistry textbooks being light reading, so he’s pretty and funny, you thought.

Until you looked at his face and he seemed utterly confused as to why you were laughing. Was he serious when he said that?

You halted your laughter and decided to get back on track with the conversation. “Well that sounds interesting, I tend to read romance or fantasy books when I’m feeling tired. They keep me engaged enough that I don’t fall asleep straight away. Though I’m currently rereading A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Housseini. I haven’t read it in years but came across it in the library recently and decided I wanted to read it again. It’s just as good and moving a second time”

Just as you finished saying this, your train started to pull up. The both of you moved together and approached the doors that were waiting to open. Once they did, Spencer signalled for you to enter first, thanking him you stepped onto the train and headed to find a seat. One sat, you saw Spencer who looked unsure. You guessed he wasn’t sure if you’d want him sitting with you, but just in the short conversation you’d had, he already decided he wanted to talk to you more.

Luckily you sensed his worry and patted the chair next to you; inviting him to sit. Spencer slowly approached and dropped down next to you, taking his satchel off of his shoulders and placing it on his lap. He turned to you and continued your previous conversation.

“You like to read?” he asked “that’s great, I love reading, I can actually read twenty thousand words per minute so I get through book’s extremely fast so I’d love to hear any recommendations if you have any”

Since he again, looked completely serious when he said this, you assumed he maybe wasn’t joking. A guy who can read 20,000 words per minute and enjoys chemistry textbooks in his spare time, what is he some sort of genius?

“Wow” you blinked. “ I’m lucky if I get through one book per month, I get distracted too easily. No matter how much I love a book I just can’t get through it in one go” you admit. Though not out of shame, you read for pleasure and getting through one book a month is working just fine for you.

Spencer smiled slightly at your words,

“but I’d love if we could trade book recommendations” you add on. “Though I’d prefer if you didn’t recommend anything to do with chemistry. Or biology for that matter, or physics. You know what, anything science based is just not my cup of tea.”

He laughed slightly at your request. “Deal” he said. “Are you more of a fiction fan?”

“Absolutely” you responded, “I’m good with any genre but it has to be fiction”

“Ok. I can do that, I’ve read plenty of fiction” he smiled through his words.

“I bet you have Mr twenty thousand words per minute” you giggled.

Spencer laughed along with you, he could tell you weren’t teasing him, it actually almost felt flirty. If he knew for sure Spencer might flirt back, or attempt to at least. But he doesn’t want to have got the wrong impression and make a fool out of himself. He was currently fighting an internal battle with himself.

Either act like this is just a normal, totally none flirtatious conversation and leave the train with a few book recommendations for books he’s probably already read and nothing else. Or, be brave and ask you out. Not only had the conversation you had been fun to him, but Spencer couldn’t deny, you were absolutely beautiful. Even soaking wet from the rain, your hair in ringlets and makeup smudged slightly on your face, Spencer thought you looked breathtaking.

Unfortunately for him, he would have to hurry up and make his decision. Because whilst he was in his own head, he hadn’t realised the train was slowing down.

“Well” you said as you begin to stand, “this is my stop”. You hadn’t even had the chance to exchange book recommendations. You were seriously hoping he would ask for your number. It was almost like your bad day hadn’t happened at all when you spoke with Spencer. He made you smile for the first time since yesterday and you really would love to see him again.

And Spencer was thinking the same thing. It wasn’t often he had to chance to have normal conversation like this. Especially about books. He mainly spoke with his team about serial murders and cases they were working on. It felt nice to leave work behind for a while and have a conversation about an interest of his.

Once he saw you stepping towards the doors of the train, he jumped out of his seat after you.

“Wait, uh (y/n)” he seemed nervous again. “We didn’t get to recommend books to each other.”

He seemed genuinely upset about this.

“You’re right” you replied. It seemed he may need a little push to say what he wanted to say. So you decided to help him again, you couldn’t wait all day, you needed to get off the train any minute now. “I wonder what we could do about that?” you posed like a question, giving Spencer the option to offer a solution.

And in an act of courage that he didn’t normally have around women, he offered one.

“Would you like to get a coffee sometime? With me, I mean”. You could almost hear his heart pounding with how nervous he seemed.

“You mean like a date?” You asked.

“If you’d like, I’d love to take you on a date. We can discuss books and drink coffee and hopefully we’ll be more dry and comfortable than we are now” he reminded you that you both were still currently soaked from the rain.

Your face showed a small smile, but on the inside you were ecstatic. You couldn’t believe after your terrible day that this gorgeous, sweet man was asking YOU on a date.

“I’d love that Spencer” you said earnestly.

You noticed the train doors were about to open, you needed to be quick as you had no way of contacting each other but you needed to get off if you wanted to get home any time soon.

“Uh, do you have a pen? Or your phone. I need to give you my number” you began to panic that you wouldn’t have time to exchange numbers. The doors had just opened.

“Just tell me it.” He stated.

“What?” You responded.

“Trust me” he replied, “I’ll remember it”

How could he remember a full phone number that quickly, after just hearing it once. But you didn’t have time to question it, you quickly relayed your number to him and went to step off the train.

“(Y/n)!” Spencer called your name.

Now on the platform, you turned to look at him, he stood there, looking at you with a smile on his face.

“I’ll call you. It was-“

Spencer was cut off my the doors of the train closing. You watched as the train pulled away, taking the handsome man with it. He awkwardly waved at you as he left.

You felt like a fool, of course he wouldn’t remember your number. Was he just playing you this whole time? Why did he ask you out if he had no intentions of actually wanting to do it?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. This was just a coincidence. It was probably someone wanting to give you more bad news to finish off your day. You signed and started to walk whilst pulling your phone out of your purse.

“Hello?” You said into the phone, not even looking at who called.

“So when are you free for coffee? I can’t wait to hear those recommendations.”

You had to pause your steps you were so surprised. It was actually him, you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face.

You looked down at the sweater hugging your fame, the sweater that belonged to him. The man who was taking you on a date.

You’d take a hundred bad days, if it meant your evenings would end like this. Softly conversing with a gorgeous man on the phone, wearing his sweater and discussing when you were going to see each other again.

“Ah, Mr twenty thousand words per minute, it’s so nice to hear from you…”

Maybe your day wasn’t so bad after all.

[lookingfts]

Friday Fic Rec 9/6

Thanks for your submissions! Here are the recs for our first week. (Titles are links to each fic)

All the magic we made by @iwishyouwouldstop

"I'm always shocked this fic doesn't have 1000 kudos. It's so damn good."

Description: Kate and Anthony grow up together, learn to harness their magic together and are certain nothing can tear them apart. Until something does. Now they are strangers who occasionally publicly humiliate each other in between finding means to survive in a world that is increasingly hostile to their kind. Then Anthony commits the ultimate betrayal and Kate's retribution results in a life-threatening curse that forces them to work together.

Status: WIP (18/?) Rating: E

Love Doesn't Burn. by magicalmenagerie

"This fic isn’t finished, and the author hasn’t updated it since 2023, but it’s still one of my favorites. I love how it mixes the past and the present, and how the two characters were involved during the worst phase of their lives and then reconnect when they’re more mature."

Description: Anthony is trying to forget his past. Kate is trying to remember as much as possible. They’re both too young to know what they fall into is not love. Until much later, they finally do. (A second chances au riddled with miscommunication, infatuation, and incomprehensible philosophical musings)

Status: WIP (11/14) Rating: E

The Hope That Keeps You and One Last Weekend by @helenakwayne

"They have very different vibes but they’re both soo good and I think they’re less known fics in the fandom. I would say read the hope that keeps you if you’re looking for something more fun and fluffy, and one last weekend if you want angst (with a happy ending of course)."

Description: The Hope That Keeps You: Kate Sharma loves football because her father loved a certain West London club, so she made it her job. Anthony Bridgerton loves football because his father loved a certain West London club, so he bought it—or at least some of it. They’re all supporting the same side, so there should be nothing but harmony, right? It’s not like they unnecessarily complicate everything for no reason.

One Last Weekend: On the weekend of Simon Basset’s and Daphne Bridgerton’s wedding, Anthony Bridgerton and Kathani Sharma try to finally get what they both need after years of pursuing what they thought they wanted.

Status: Both Complete Rating: E

I'd Give All I Have, Honey (If You Could Stay Like That) by @newtonsheffield

"23 year old Anthony is a himbo and causes a LOT of tears for Kate but ends perfectly."

Description: The one constant in Anthony Bridgerton's life was Kate Sharma. They'd spent their entire childhoods together, she was as part of him that could never leave him. But the time to grow up came sooner than he thought it would. And he doesn't know why the sight of men queueing outside the Sharma's townhouse makes him sick to his stomach.

Status: Complete Rating: T

LFTS rec: A Devil's Love by FormerlyIR

Someone asked me about a mafia fic recently, and my mind went straight to this masterpiece. I had to reread it and honestly - it was even better than I remembered. Crazy hot passion wrapped in the most creative, evocative prose.

Description: When Kate's sister goes missing, she gets herself a waitress job at the Pebble Lounge to track her down, working under London’s seedy underbelly to find the only person she has left in this world to love. And Anthony Bridgerton? No matter how alluring and distracting he may be, he’s just a means to an end, his life defined by his family business built on corruption. Kate won’t dance to that tune. She’s just trying to find her sister.

Status: Complete Rating: E

Thanks for your submissions! This will be a weekly thing, so keep your recs coming, and I'm open to suggestions about the format!

[odinsblog]

[re: this post]

The bad news is, I’m stranded because my condo has only one road in and out, and that’s 100% underwater rn

The other bad news is, my car is flooded even though I thought I moved it to higher ground

BUT … the heartening news is this:

This condo complex is roughly 2,500 units so tons of people live here. We were all without power from around 4pm yesterday until 10:30am today

So at daybreak everyone was outside surveying the damage and trying to figure out how to get their sunken cars started and how to get out (we’re just going to have to wait for the waters to recede iMho)

I took one look at my VERY RECENTLY PAID FOR CAR as it sat submerged, and started to head back inside. That’s when a neighbor I’d never met before asked me if my phone was charged. I told her no, it’s completely dead. She then directed me to another neighbor who found one outlet that, for some reason, still had power. There were about 10 or 15 people lined up and someone had gotten probably the longest extension cord w/outlets that I’ve ever seen in my life. If you weren’t already charging your phone on the outlet, there was one outlet spot where everyone was taking turns to get a quick 10 minute charge and make some calls. Apparently everyone had already voted to use one of the extension cord outlets full time for a coffee pot (because coffee, right?)

There was someone else outside whose car wasn’t submerged who was letting people use his car to charge their phones

And then I heard someone say, “Are there any elderly or disabled people living here who we need to go check on?” And I said, “OMG, what about the lady on the 7th floor? She’s in a wheelchair!” And someone else said that the elevator was out because of no power, and I was like, “So? Are the stairs broken? I can run up and go check on her.” And then someone else was like, “She died a couple of years ago.” And we were all like, “Ohhh.”

I’m rambling a bit, but the point is, it was super refreshing to see people working together and sharing and helping each other. This wasn’t a disaster by any stretch of the imagination. At worst, it has merely been a big inconvenience. But it was still nice to see neighbors (many of whom were strangers until this morning) being nice and helpful to each other

It reaffirms what I’ve always believed: in difficult times most people WILL work together—without any personal or monetary incentive. So please don’t believe greedy ass mutha fuckers when they opine about survival of the fittest and making a quick profit off of someone else’s suffering. It doesn’t have to be that way, and most often, it isn’t that way

And yeah, I know that my small experience wasn’t a dire situation and no lives were on the line (like they are where the hurricane actually made landfall), but I would like to believe that my microcosm is the norm for similar macrocosms

I believe that most people are good at heart, or at the very least, they WANT to be good and sometimes just need a nudge in the right direction

Anyway, I guess it’s about time for me to go do battle with my car insurance company (now talk about evil entities!) to see what up with my partially submerged vehicle

If anyone has done this insurance claim dance before, I’m open to some friendly advice bc this is brand new for me

Please have a great day today everyone ✌🏿

[wackapedia]

Drunk Words Are Sober Thoughts

Sihtric Kjartansson x reader

Plot: Good news: You celebrate your recent victory by challenging strangers to a drinking contest. Bad news, you turn into a whiny baby when drunk and your friends do not want to deal with it at all Wc: 793 words Warnings: drinking and being drunk, mention of fights in the battlefield, mild mention of dying. Fluff tho

You sway in your seat as you down the rest of your ale and slam your mug against the wooden table. Your opponent, still quite sober, laughs at your poor attempt of challenging him in a drinking contest. You try to focus your sight, but it appears that there are now seven of them? "One more... I can take one more..." You were completely unintelligible at this point when you asked for another round. The observing crowd laughs. You decide to laugh along, not entirely sure what's funny. All of a sudden, their laughter halts. Someone had just walked into the alehouse.

You were sure something was still funny despite everyone else's silence as you giggled and turned to the man standing next to you; the amber hilt of his sword strapped on his back was unmistakable despite your drunken state. Your friend and lord pay off your tab and literally haul you out of your seat, carrying you back to camp.

"You celebrate better than a Dane…," he comments.

"Hmm? How do we know that?" You furrow your brows, genuinely wondering. You hiccup before continuing, "Do we know any Danes?"

Uthred sighs and hauls you higher over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The walk back to camp was short; you'd sobered up just a little to spot Osferth tending to a bowl of soup, which you hoped was for you.

You must've fallen asleep for a while because you awakened to the interior of your tent, with Uthred tapping your cheek and balancing a bowl of broth on your neck.

"Here. Feed yourself." He holds it steady and makes your hand hold a spoon.

"Ah, you sound like my father!" You pout, dropping the spoon back into the bowl.

Uthred sighs, quitting the task at hand. He calls for Finan, who happily takes over.

"This is why you shouldn't get drunk, you turn into a baby!" Finan takes a spoonful of broth, lifting it to your lips.

You keep your lips tightly shut as you pull the furs up to your face, hiding from everyone's favorite Irishman.

"And you're acting like a mother hen!" You mumble from under the covers.

He laughs with his entire chest. "Mother hen' isn't a new one, he gets that a lot.

"Come on, this will help you with tomorrow's hangover. We have to get back on the road." He chides, further proving the Mother Hen allegations. You remain under the furs, beginning to feel sleepy again. Finan calls out to you one more time, almost begging you to take just a few spoons, bargaining and negotiating like it was a battlefield. Somehow it was, with you being so difficult.

"I want Sihtric..." You slur under the sheets, walking between sleep and wakefulness. Finan doesn't respond.

"Sihtric is always so kind and gentle with me, even when I'm not drunk." You were talking to yourself at this point, slowly popping your head out of the covers, eyes closed. "He's always looking out for me without making me feel belittled. We work so well, especially on the battlefield." You sigh, thinking back to that morning's fight.

You were working through the open field after the breach at the shield wall. Standing back to back, you were absolutely lethal against your enemies, with bodies dropping quickly around the both of you. It felt comfortable to have him near you during fights. If you were to fall in battle, he would be the last thing you could see before passing. And somehow that, in itself, was your heaven, Valhalla, and paradise.

You were mumbling all of these thoughts out loud, unaware that the man himself was sitting next to you, holding the bowl of broth, red-faced and flustered. It also didn't help that three heads stacked through the tent entrance to listen in on your whole spiel about Sihtric.

".... He's easy on the eyes too. So please get Sihtric for me, Finan, before I-" You almost choked on your own tongue when you turned your head to see Sihtric. The bowl of broth must be boiling in his hands now at the heat of embarrassment and excitement coursing through his veins. The heads of Uthred, Finan, and Osferth by the tent entrance snicker to themselves as they watch the scene play out.

"Please say that again when you're sober, and then I will kiss you if you let me." Sihtric somehow recovers from his state, and finds the courage to express his feelings.

Immediately, you sat up and grabbed the bowl, slurping all of its contents messily, praying that it truly helped with hangovers so that you and Sihtric could have this conversation sober first thing tomorrow.

And that he'll make good on his promise to kiss you.

 A/N: apparently i write for TLK now too lol

[slytherinshua]

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER

genre. slice of life. kind of open ending. warnings. none. pairing. fuma x fem!reader. wc. 913. request. requested by @heavenfilm for fuma inspired by beautiful stranger by laufey. a/n. i hope this fic like?? makes sense?? def heavily inspired by the song and doesn't have much plot but i think its cute :(

The train ride to work was more often than not, almost completely empty. You enjoyed the silence of being one of the 10 or 15 passengers travelling so early in the morning. It was pleasant. You usually took train 112 to your office, but it had recently gone out of business because of how little people it transported each way. A newer, fancier train had taken its place, going throughout the capital to many different stops. It was more cost-efficient, you had to admit, but you missed the quietness you once had on the one hour ride.

It was early in the morning when you boarded the compartment. The sun had barely been up for an hour, and you clutched your hot cup of coffee in your hands as you took a seat. Waiting patiently for the train to start moving, you started to people-watch to pass the time, scanning the unfamiliar faces of other passengers taking the same train, doubtless to one of the other stops.

There was a father reading a book about cars, and his son reading over his shoulder. Two teenage girls were talking to each other in whispers and giggles, most likely about a crush at school. There was a young woman staring out of the window, and in her hand was a small knitted baby hat. She looked sad, and you wondered what her story was. Your eyes travelled to the door of the train as you heard the sound of it closing. 

A young man had just walked through the doors as one of the last passengers to board. As soon as you saw him, your breath was caught in your throat. You looked away quickly, immediately shy in the presence of one of the most dashingly handsome men you had ever seen in your entire life. 

He took a seat right across from you, and pulled out a newspaper from his back pocket. You dared to take another glance at his face, memorising his jawline and cheekbones. How could someone be so effortlessly attractive?

He seemed to feel your stare on him, and he suddenly glanced up, catching your eyes before you could act discreet. You felt your face grow hot— you hoped he didn’t notice. From the corner of your eye, you were almost certain you caught a small smile on his face. What is it because of you? No. He probably read an amusing headline.

The entire train ride seemed to go by far too quickly, and you spent almost all of it studying the beautiful stranger. You tried to not be obvious, but you were sure that you failed within the first 10 minutes. It was as if he was hypnotising you, sucking all your willpower away, glueing your eyes to his figure.

A stirring feeling in your stomach told you that you should ask for his name. Maybe he was also on his way to your stop. Maybe you would see him again. You cursed yourself for being so nervous. You could never get yourself to take a risk. What if he already had someone in his life? The embarrassment would be unbearable if he did. Who were you to try to make a move, anyway?

So, you sat in silence, imagining what you thought his life might look like. You decided in your head that he was a plain office worker in the big city, and he was on his way to work as usual. Each morning was exactly the same, the comfortable routine that people dreamed of, but once achieved always seemed to be more underwhelming than expected. 

As you studied his face and mannerisms, you decided that he was probably an only child— taking after his father, though his mother adored him. He grew up with humble roots, his only dream being to be able to make his parents proud. And he was able to achieve it when he landed his job for a successful corporation. 

But life in the city was lonely, and he wasn’t one for socialising. While his coworkers went off to parties on the weekend, he stayed in his small apartment and read books. He liked all kinds of books, but romance was his favourite. He would never admit how much he longed to experience it himself, but he adored the idea of it. Not dramatic, adventurous romances, but quiet, serene love stories that budded like a flower, blossoming and blooming to perfection. 

Yes, that was what he longed for, you decided. But given his shy nature, he never had the courage to ask any lady out. He was worried he wouldn’t have time for romance, though the loneliness continued to eat away at him. It would be more bearable with someone by his side.

The announcement of your stop rang throughout the compartment and broke your train of thought. You sighed and took one last glance at the man, still contentedly reading his newspaper. You stood up and grabbed your bag, one last urge to ask for his name flashed through your mind, but you suppressed it and stepped off the train. You secretly wished that you would see him again— maybe he would be on the same train tomorrow morning. If he was, you would take your chance. But, for now, he remained your beautiful stranger; one that you had no guarantee of ever stumbling upon again, but had stolen your heart in that hour, and you were content with him keeping it. 

↳ &team taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @kpoprhia,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,, @chiiyuuvv,,

@seunghancore,, @heavenfilm,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: BEN SHIMONI

Full English text of this sign about Ben at the bottom of the page

Ben Shimoni, 31, was celebrating peace at the Nova music festival in southern Israel on October 7, 2023 when the event came under massive terrorist attack by a barbaric well-armed horde of killers and rapists. Amid carnage and chaos, Ben dodged bullets to reach his car and then picked up four strangers. He maneuvered their way out of the festival site and drove thirty minutes to Beersheba, where his passengers got out of the car. To their shock, Ben said he was going back to rescue more people. They tried desperately to change his mind but Ben turned the car around and headed back to hell. 

Ben was very familiar with the roads around the festival area because he spent his childhood in Gaza. Ben lived in Gush Katif, a tight-knit, warm community of Jews. In 2005, when Ben was only 13, his idyllic life was hideously disrupted when his family and all the other Jews in Gush Katif were forcibly ejected by their own government in a tragically misguided attempt to conciliate the Palestinians. Families who’d harvested land and built businesses over a lifetime had to hand it all over to their enemies. The Palestinians immediately destroyed the farms and factories, elected Hamas and began building terror tunnels to kill Jews. Now 18 years later, paragliding terrorists on a mission of destruction were at the Nova music festival and Ben was on a mission of his own: to rescue as many people as possible. 

Like a firefighter rushing into a burning building, Ben drove into a field that was still under massive attack. He immediately filled his car with five more terrified strangers, and drove them to safety in Beersheba. This group, too, was shocked because once again, after reaching safety, Ben chose to go back to the festival site. He’d already saved nine lives but made one more desperate and valiant attempt. He picked up three frantic girls and almost got away until they were stopped at a checkpoint manned by heavily armed soldiers. Ben’s girlfriend Jessica Elter was on the phone with him and heard what happened next. Jessica told the Jewish Chronicle: “Suddenly I heard Ben asking, confused but not afraid, if some people in the road were Hamas terrorists or Israeli police. I heard the girls in the back screaming and pleading with Ben at the top of their lungs to ‘Drive, drive, drive.’ I heard a lot of yelling in Arabic and a big crash, some shooting and, after a minute of quiet the phone just hung up.”

Ben’s car was later found riddled with bullets but empty and he was initially classified as missing. However after five days Ben’s family was notified that his body had been identified, some distance from the car. Nearby was the body of the girl who’d been in the passenger seat. They had both been shot. The two girls who were in the back of the car have never been found and are presumed to be hostages in Gaza. Jessica is praying for their rescue and hoping to learn more from them about Ben’s final minutes.

Jessica says that Ben’s heroic self-sacrifice to save at least nine other people was completely in character. “He was shy, loyal, very honest with every person he met, and never said no to someone in need. He always put others before himself, truly. He had the best heart ever. And the thing he did that morning testifies to the person he was.” Jessica and Ben had attended several previous Nova festivals. Jessica would have been at that one too, except that she had recently grown more religious and stayed home to observe Shabbat.

Ben was a successful businessman who worked in the restaurant industry and appreciated the Israeli night life scene. His brother Avinoam remembers that Ben “loved life. Loved cars, traveling and parties. Always puts himself last and wants to help, so it’s not surprising that the last action he did in his life was trying to rescue his friends from hell.” 

Israeli band Synergia released a song based on a poem written about Ben Shimoni. It begins, “Who is the person who goes back into hell, a moment after he escaped?”

At the Nova festival site, Ben’s loved ones put up a sign about Ben’s life and his heroic actions on October 7, 2023. May his memory always be for a blessing and may his soul have a great elevation!

Full text about Ben (from the blue sign in the image above) at the memorial site, written by his family:

Ben Binyamin Shimon was the first born son to parents Pnina and Rafi Shimoni after many efforts to bring children into the world. Ben has younger twin brothers, Avinoam and Chai, and Chai has special needs. The three of them grew up in Dugit of Gush Katif near the sea. Following the Israeli disengagement from Gaza, Ben’s parents Pnina and Rafi divorced. Ben moved to the north with his father, and two years later, his brother Avinoam joined him, spending their teenage years there together. After completing his military service, both Ben and his father decided to leave the north and move to Modiin to start a business together, which led Ben into the world of business and back to the south. In recent years, Ben moved back to live with his mother and brother Chai in their home in Ashkelon. Later on, his partner Jessica also joined them. Ben always loved extreme sports, cars, and motorcycle racing. His friends and close-knit family were his whole world.

He was always ready to help, even when not asked. Ben loved to celebrate life and live in the moment; nightlife and parties were an integral part of his life. He owned several businesses related to food and nightlife.

In the last few months of his life, he decided to leave these businesses and began working as a sous- chef with his good friend Matan Zafrir at the Pitmaster restaurant in Petah Tikva, with a bright future ahead in the industry. His coworkers recount that they had never met a more professional, caring, and dedicated person than him. 

That Saturday, Ben decided to stay home for the second holiday of Sukkot, a decision that, as it turned out later, saved his mother and brother Chai from traveling to celebrate at the home of their friend from Dugit, Tova Goren, who lived in Kfar Aza and was murdered in her home along with her daughter Eran.

On October 7th, in the early morning hours, Ben left for the Nova festival, where he met up with his friends Tom Peretz and Michal Ohana. His partner Jessica, who was inseparable from him, surprisingly decided to stay home that evening with his mother and brother Chai. When the attack began, Ben immediately called his mother to inform her that there were rockets and to wake up Jessicaand take everyone to the safe room (bomb shelter).

Ben wasn’t afraid of the rockets; he got in his car and started to flee. He knew the area well, having grown up there and served there during his military service. Ben was an experienced driver and knew how to navigate the roads of the Gaza envelope. At the beginning of the journey, he picked up four passengers he didn’t know; Jude Kotler, Amit Shalit, Mashi Lindner, and Tal Gozal. From their testimonies, we understand that Ben quickly grasped the situation and did everything to calm them down and bring them to safety.

He rescued them to Be’er Sheva. On his way there, he contacted his father, who lives in Be’er Sheva, and asked if he could bring them to his house.

His father was at work in Omer (another city in the South) and told Ben to come and get the key. Ben realized this would delay him and decided to drop them off at a house he didn’t know at the entrance to Be’er Sheva. There, they begged him to stay with them and not return to the festival area, but he was determined to save his friends who were still there. That morning, during the rescues, Ben managed to speak with his friends and family. Everyone had the chance to talk to him; his father Rafi, his mother Pnina, his brother Avinoam, and his girlfriend Jessica.

They were all proud of him for saving people, and asked him to come home and not return to the area of the festival. However, Ben was determined to save his friends. He returned and managed to save another eight people he didn’t know to the Netivot area. Only ten months later we were connected with these people and learned that they were physically healthy but not mentally. Afterward, he returned to the festival area for a second time in hopes of finding his friends Tom and Michal, even though they told him not to come.

Nevertheless, he drove to the last location they sent him. But when he arrived at the location, Tom and Michal were no longer there (probably because their phone battery died, and they had already moved to their next hiding place). Today Tom and Michal are safe and sound. At that time, Ben knew that Gaya Halifa (Z”L), who worked with him at the Pitmaster, was also at the festival, so he contacted her and understood she was in danger. He asked her to send him her location. Gaya was with her friend Romi Gonen; they were hiding from the terrorists’ gunfire in a small bush near the Re’im parking lot.

Gaya sent Ben the location, and along with it, she wrote, “Don’t come; there are gunshots.” Despite this, Ben chose to look for them. He found them and got them into his car. In addition to them, Ben saw Ofir Tzarfati (Z’L) and offered him to join them in the car. Ofir had just made sure that his friends and girlfriend were rescued into another car and there was no space for him to go with them, so he joined Ben’s car.The four of them began driving towards Ashkelon on Road 232. Gaya managed to speak with her father, Avi and tell him that Ben rescued them and they were on their way out, asking him to pick her up from Ashdod. Romi texted her friends and family that a friend of Gaya’s from work (Ben) came to rescue them and that they were on their way out. After a short drive of a few kilometers at a crazy speed, during which Ben was on the phone with Jessica, he told her that he saw figures ahead and asked, “Are they terrorists? Arabs?” Immediately after, Jessica heard gunfire and screams. At 10:12 AM, at the Alumim Junction, they encountered an ambush by terrorists who slaughtered them.

The car stopped, and Ben and Gaya were murdered on the spot. Ofir and Romi were injured and half an hour later, kidnapped to Gaza. All this was recorded on a phone call between Romi and her mother, Mirav. After 54 days, we learned that Ofir was murdered in captivity at Shifa Hospital, and his body was found and returned for burial in Israel. As of today (ten months after October 7th, at the time of this writing), Romi is still held captive by Hamas, and we all pray for her safe return to her family, healthy in body and soul. Ben and Gaya were declared missing for five days. After extensive searches and understanding that something terrible had happened, we hoped that perhaps they were injured or even kidnapped, but the bitter news came. Ben planned to continue living life to the fullest and build his life his way, but fate chose for him to die a hero. Ben left behind a grieving family, friends, and a girlfriend who miss him, are proud of him, and love him deeply.

[aita-blorbos]

Am I the "asshole" for wanting to have a body again?

Context: I was once a powerful demon, but an attempt was made to seal that demon's soul inside a cursed object. The sealing didn't completely succeed, and the demon's soul was torn to pieces, with only the part currently known as "me" ending up inside. I don't remember much about this part of my life, but as far as I can recall, I almost certainly didn't do anything to deserve it.

I (immortal, pick one) have been trapped in this object as an incorporeal spirit for so long I've lost track of time. My prison has changed hands many times, but was most recently acquired by an extremely ambitious student at a nearby magic school (13M, we'll refer to him as "K"). K all but demanded I lend my power to him and teach him some of what I knew. As I quite literally have nothing better to do, I agreed, and the arrangement has been mostly tolerable.

Except a short time after we began working together, a new student "S" (also 13M) showed up at K's school. And what did he have with him but the other part of my soul?! I don't know how he came to have it, if he's some sort of reincarnation of my original self or a distant descendant, but all that mattered was that if I could get to him, I could have a body again. It was the best opportunity I'd ever had to get my life back. So I got K to perform a ritual that switched our places and put me in his body (and before I'm called the "asshole" for that, it was supposed to be a TEMPORARY arrangement, and besides, he's the one who wants to mess with dark magic. I taught him a very valuable lesson about dealing with demons! Not that he actually learned anything from it…)

S came straight to me, but someone must've realized what was going on and put a protection charm on him. Then he beat me in a duel, and after that he just…walked away. Like he didn't have a care in the world! He hadn't come to deal with me, or even to save his classmate, no, he just wanted to steal one of my ritual components because some stranger had asked him to, otherwise I don't know if he'd have bothered showing up. I don't think he even listened to a word I said.

Needless to say, that plan didn't work out. I'm still working with K, but now both his teacher and the most powerful warlock on this side of the planet are watching me like I'm some sort of criminal. And what's worse, no one involved took me seriously, and aren't willing to so much as mention the incident. It's like it didn't even matter! I'm pretty sure even S has forgotten the whole thing, he's got a memory like a sieve for anything that isn't the scientific name for a stag beetle.

It hasn't been all that long, but it feels as if it's been decades since I've gotten to do anything. Is it so wrong for me to try and escape this pitiful existence I've been unjustly forced into? Am I going to spend the rest of eternity in here being the butt of some kind of massive cosmic joke? I really don't think I deserve to be either treated like a reprobate or outright ignored.

EDIT: THIS IS FAKE NONE OF THIS HAPPENED my device must have been stolen moderators please delete!!

EDIT 2: To everyone saying K should get rid of the demon, if any of these events had hypothetically actually happened (WHICH THEY DIDN'T), I would definitely have the situation COMPLETELY under control by now!!

[serawritesthings]

AMBIVALENT MINDS

Pairing | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem! Reader Summary | There was no doubt an air of mystery surrounded Simon, and while you hadn't seen him in years, his sudden appearance rendered you shocked, to say the least. It doesn't come without complications, though, resurfacing feelings that should have been laid to rest. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, smut, angst-heavy, description of violence, very sad :D Word Count | 12k A/N | Hello once again lovelies! I have recently been working in this fic about Ghost, where I had an idea that I thought was very fitting for him. I'm so used to writing for Arthur, so I'm a bit nervous, but I thought I would challenge myself for this one! I really hope you like it, and if you do, don't hesitate to let me know. I would much appreciate it! ♡ Also, I'm still head-deep in my Arthur Morgan phase, so the next fic will probably be of him. Enjoy!

Stoic had always felt like a suitable word to describe the ghost that haunted your mind. Lacing every corner of your thoughts, he strayed, forever walking the memories of your past–unwanted and unwilling, unidentified, and under no sense of obligation to you or anyone else.

His presence had become a looming shadow, casting a heavy gloom over what you so profoundly wished to forget. No matter how hard you tried to escape those clutches, he held on too tightly, etching his essence into the fabric of your consciousness as the echoes of his footsteps reverberated through the corridors of your mind, a constant reminder of what you wished could be undone.

But it left you more unsatisfied than initially prepared for, finding the distance between you to be nauseating, like the miles only made the hurt seem to grow closer until it was seeping into your very bones. Although reality had a funny way of keeping up with you, clouding the past in its grasp, so now, it only felt like someone else’s experience and not your own–oddly comforting and discomforting all at the same time.

Simon always seemed to have that effect on you, and it was always the most challenging part for you throughout the years you spent together. One day, you would find the rough exterior grow gentle as it warmed the harsh edges with the soft look in his consistently monotone eyes; the other day, sharp and cold orbs cut through you like a splicer–like you were a stranger.

It was hurtful and increasingly confusing, making you wonder if you had been in a one-sided relationship all this time. He kept many parts of himself a secret from you, heavily guarded behind thorny walls, as even the slightest inquiry made him shut you out completely. The struggle you went through to gain his trust was like tiptoeing through a glass field, every step bordering on agony.

He never told you where he lived, only ever sleeping at your apartment even though it was too cramped. And, as it came to his private life, he didn’t speak a word but almost knew yours entirely from the number of questions he asked and your willingness to keep talking the moment you got started.

Funny that his nickname spoke so well with his aura, for that was exactly how you had perceived him now that you had a clear look at him that wasn’t shrouded with love and admiration. In reality, you didn’t know who he was under all those layers and cautious ways, your conversations made up of carefully guarded expressions and chosen words, the depth of emotions often hidden behind a veil of protection.

Somehow, he had felt, well, real? More real than the faked chivalry you were so used to when you were brought up, parents having more wealth than you deemed necessary amidst their strive towards perfection. Compared to their stale kindness and expectations, Simon was a welcomed change, as exciting as he was human.

For a younger you, he was fascinating and shrouded in a prolonged mystery you begged him to tell you. But he never did, always preaching about the unsafety of his life and no less job, that you were better left unknowing–for your sake. So curious and unbelievably stupid you were at the time, not realizing the danger that surrounded Simon and how it could affect you.

You understood him, though, and you did for a long time, but for obvious reasons, it grew exhausting to harbor a love for a man like that. You were young and naïve, only surpassing your early twenties that were spent on edge with an older man you weren’t sure could love anyone, no less himself.

In the shadow of your own accord, the best years of your life passed away, and through long days of studying for your medical degree and battling the struggles of barely seeing him–wondering where he was most of the time–you set your sight on other things, naturally.

For this reason, you always reminded yourself that he couldn’t be loved because he didn’t want to. The thought bruised you because for the longest time, you couldn’t imagine being without him. Thank God that time heals wounds, for the thought grew dim; despite his looming presence, you couldn’t shake from your mind, even though you tried your damnedest.

“I wonder where you went just now, missus.” The warm tone of Gretel filled your ears comfortingly as it cut through the obnoxious clicking of the pen you tormented anxiously. Stopping abruptly, you glanced at the woman writing in a patience journal, focused but somehow acutely aware of your absent-mindedness.

“Oh, sorry.” You spoke quietly, the luminescent light flickering above you as you straightened your back, getting ready to continue your work. “Just stuck in my thoughts…” You trailed off with a sigh, avoiding her questioning gaze as she peered at you over the bundle of paper.

Although a sharp and hardworking lady, Gretel had a knack for seeing straight through you. It was a shame since you always prided yourself on your ability to stay undecipherable, a thing you learned after the heavy supervision you had been under when you were younger.

You could almost swear she was psychic, for she always had this look in her eyes, like every thought that passed through your mind was the most obvious thing in the world, and you felt just as ashamed every time you thought something filthy in her presence.

“Hmm, I know that look, dear. Why don’t you finish up and go home? Rest your mind for a while. Lord knows we have a lot of work to get done tomorrow now that the doctors have been slacking off lately,” she hummed unamused at the last statement, turning back to the endless words loitering the pages, glasses hanging low on her nose.

“Oh, you sure?” In all actuality, you weren’t interested in going home anymore. It felt too empty these days, the eeriness seeping into every corner of the house. Here, you at least had people around you every minute of the day, patient or college, and burying your head in work seemed more of an appealing way to deal with your emotions than staring endlessly into the white tapestry of your wall without a single second of sleep.

“Course I am.” Wishing you away with her hands, you glanced uncomfortably at the snow falling outside the window, hoping to stay in the hospital's warmth. But alas, you knew better than to question her, so you finished your work in silence, the loud drag of your chair notifying Gretel you were on your way.

“Any plans tonight?” She sent a mischievous look your way, expectantly. “A special someone, maybe?”

“No.” You only let out a breathy laugh, giving her a look that spoke too much of your answer. “No, I uh, I’m going to bed.” Cringing at yourself, you shut your eyes when your back was towards the inquiring woman, chastising your inability to make up a lie instead of telling her the sad truth.

“I don’t believe that, a fine woman like you staying home on a Friday night?” She put down the papers and put all her attention on you. “Blasphemy, if I’ve ever heard it.”

The corners of your mouth lifted slightly, appreciating her attempts to lift your mood. It was depressing, though; you could admit that. Earlier, you had heard both the younger and older coworkers gossip about the nightly adventures that awaited as the clock turned 5, feeling like shrinking into the floor at the lack of excitement in your life compared to theirs.

“What about that mystery man that came through here some time ago every time you got off work?” Her words made you stop in your tracks, the now remaining cold, stale coffee you were forcing down your throat spilling down the corners of your mouth, staining your shirt.

“Oh, dear, let me help you.” As the woman rushed towards you, your mind grew numb at the thought of the man you had tried so hard to push toward the back of your mind. Truthfully, you hadn’t thought about him for quite a while, but Gretel’s words forced you to face the cold eyes that stared back at you in your mind, ultimately ruining your every attempt.

“Sorry, I just-” Her reprimanding voice cut your apology short.

“No need to apologize,” she shushed you, grabbing the cup from your hands before you dropped it, smiling heartily in comfort as your cheeks flushed a bright red.

You gladly left the building after your mishap, and although with a large coffee stain under your jacket to showcase your bad luck, it felt relieving to be outside in the fresh air instead of your work’s stale smell of disinfectant and latex. More so, to avoid another possibility of embarrassing yourself somehow.

Gretel hadn’t pestered you more about your apparent surprise when she brought up Simon, but you could feel her eyes scrutinizing you when you weren’t looking. You pondered if she would be disappointed if you let her know you were mere strangers to each other, bordering on a heavy dislike from the abrupt end you faced.

When you grew tired of trying, you presented him with an ultimatum that took weeks for you to muster up the courage in order to speak of it. It felt more like he was the one to break things off with you than the other way around, which wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. He didn’t even get angry as the tears of distress from his lack of emotions ran down your cheeks when you questioned him, wondering why he stayed.

The look on his face wasn’t giving away an ounce of hurt, only remaining detached like he always did, like your talk was a major inconvenience. Your distraught voice didn’t affect him as you begged him to listen and realize, it took so much away from you always to be mindful of him.

“You never let me in, Simon. I feel like I’m tiptoeing around you all the time, like the smallest thing I say will set you off.” Whenever you spoke of this, it felt like he dissociated. You might as well be talking to a wall the way he seemed to bounce every word back at you, eyes observing you under the dim light of your kitchen where he leaned against the counter.

There had been something strangely different about him this time, though, as he came to you in the middle of the night, disturbing you, who had just managed to fall asleep after an increasingly tricky work day. It wasn’t that you disliked him coming to you, but he never told you why after being gone for so long, which troubled you.

“I don’t even know you! You never tell me anything, and you know almost all there is to know about me.” You gazed at him questioningly, only gaining a blank look back. Crossing his arms, he gazed out the small window of your kitchen as the rain made its way down the glass.

When you stepped into your apartment after your long walk from work, the memory hit you tenfold: everything looked remarkably the same as that day–the last day you saw him. If you focused hard enough, you could almost see him still standing there, watching you indescribably as you poured your heart out to him, begging him to stop shielding himself from you.

Now that you looked back at it, you almost felt embarrassed for how you behaved compared to his composed self, but you couldn’t hold back your frustration anymore. The pain and defeat you felt had boiled over, making you wonder if he had viewed you as childish for the words that poured out of you uncontrollably.

Taking your stained shirt off, you changed into something more comfortable before burying your head in the sheets, wanting to melt into the fabric so you could resume the ignorance of your past the following day.

It didn’t work, though, as you could almost feel the comforting rumble of his voice under your head like the sheets had magically turned into his chest, the steady beating of his heart pulsing heavily against your cheek. The fold in the linen grew into the familiar, scarred skin under your palms, your fingers tracing the ruined tissue that stretched far as the coldness of him heavily contrasted with your warmth.

The low chatter of your ancient TV grew distant as sleep started to pull you into its embrace. In the last remains of wakefulness, you could feel his coarse fingers caress your cheek before pulling some strands that covered it behind your ear–lingering on the soft curves as it hurled you closer to dreamless slumber.

“Stay quiet.”

Your eyes opened wide at the sudden breath that hit your ear; not a figment of your imagination, but someone whispering the words harshly against you. Your first instinct was to scream, but you found a broad, gloved hand already covering your mouth, muting the sound successfully against the otherwise quiet apartment–despite the low buzz of the TV in the background.

A heavy weight had you trapped underneath it, and you trashed wildly against the hold. Your movements grew limited, though, and as you moved, you found yourself pressed even firmer against the mattress, the voice you could recognize anywhere rumbling dangerously at you when you didn’t listen.

“I said quiet.” It felt like water as cold as ice washed over you when the familiar voice reached you, rendering you quiet and unmoving in pure shock.

You didn’t get much time to ponder over your current predicament, hearing quiet yet rustling footsteps step slowly on the creaking floor panels of your apartment. The hair on your arms rose when you realized others who were unwelcome walked outside the room, the creeping footsteps only growing closer to your bedroom door.

As they did, the hand covering your mouth slowly released its grip, but not before pushing a finger against your lips. You obeyed, feeling him pull you closer so you were pulled taut against him, having no choice but to follow his lead as he stepped away from the bed. Every movement was cautious and quiet as your back was pushed up against the wall beside the door, your whole frame covered by a broad back that towered before you.

It was Simon, no doubt. You were sure of it as you gazed up at the man, the broadness of his shoulders, the tall height, and the gruff voice that had called you out earlier. From what you could see from his back, he was dressed differently; a mask seemed to cover the whole of his head down to his neck, pulled into a sweater of the same color as a thick vest could be seen from underneath it.

In a hasty motion, you felt his hand graze the skin of your stomach as he pulled what appeared to be a gun that was strapped against his body from the waistline of his jeans.

Your breath hitched at the sight, the clicking noise as he loaded the metal slowly cutting through the quiet room, backing up even more so you were pushed tighter against the wall. The footsteps had ceased now, and for a while, you pondered if they had ever been there in the first place, wondering if this was reality or just a depraved dream your exhausted mind had conjured up in lack of excitement.

But then, you saw the door handler move slightly out of the corner of your eyes. Craning your head towards it in fear, your view was obscured though as Simon moved to shield you even further, lifting the gun as the door creaked open, the soft light of your hallway lamp illuminating the room, a giant shadow now apparent on the walls from the figure outside.

The door remained open, and the seconds ticked slowly like ages passed; your trembling hands made their way to Simons’s sides, grabbing his waist as you tried to keep your breathing quiet, heartbeat picking up as he placed a gloved hand on yours for a second to then wrap around the handle again.

What transpired next could only be likened to a horrible nightmare: the muted sounds of a suppressed gun going off, a body falling like a ragdoll down on the floor of your bedroom, dark blood seeping into the fabric of your rug from the man now laying there, completely and utterly lifeless.

Left staring at Simons’s back when he rushed towards the figure, he checked the man’s pulse in a quick motion. You couldn’t form a single sound, neither could you think straight as shock flooded you at the sight, eyes growing wide when you started to register what transpired.

Still remaining pressed against the wall in disbelief, you heard the low rumble of Simons’s voice speak into his intercom, eyes staring at you briefly through the holes in his mask before raising up, putting it back in his pocket while stalking toward you in big strides.

Grabbing your shoulders, he pushed you gently but hastily out the door, pushing your head to look forward as your gaze was transfixed on the dead man, finding it increasingly absurd to see that sight in the bedroom you had just slept in.

In your haze, you had found yourself being led into the kitchen, lifted up with strong arms on the counter as he grasped your cheeks in his gloved hands, finding your eyes unfocused and clouded.

“Hey, you okay?” His voice rumbled low in his chest as his eyes sought yours, patting your cheek gently to gain your attention. You craned your neck slightly to look up at him, eyes covered with black paint under the mask, seeming so familiar yet different from the man you knew.

“Simon?” Your voice was quiet, confusion lacing the edges as tears started to brim the corners of your eyes at the overwhelming emotions that hit you after the apparent shock that rendered you frozen.

“You’re alright,” he told you; as he swept his thumb over your cheek, a tear fell, bringing your head to his chest as his arms wrapped around you, gripping his waist in distress. Shushing you, he let you lean against him for a while as you sobbed, terrified of what had just transpired and what he had done.

You could still see the emotionless eyes staring back at you in your mind, the thought of them still lying in the next room shooting pangs of anxiety through you. Just like that, he had fallen to the floor, and through your tears, you started to feel the confusion fill you and the shock at what Simon had done.

He had killed a man. Also, he was dressed like a madman, wearing a mask and a vest, with a gun strapped into his jeans. He had been prepared to kill, and that thought hit you like a train as you felt your tears freeze, the arms around you caging you in until you started to push on his chest frantically, begging him to step away.

“What did you do!?” Distressed, you hit Simon’s chest in protest, feeling claustrophobic at having him standing so close after what he had just done. He didn’t budge, though, grabbing your arms tightly as he bent down to look you in the eyes.

“Stop that.” Sternly, he tried to get you to stop moving, but you didn’t listen. Still, uneasiness lingering in your thoughts.

“You killed him!” He hushed you with a dangerous look in his eyes, pulling your hands to your back so he could grip your wrists with one hand, stepping closer so he was pushed against you with the other hand gripping your chin forcefully.

“Listen!” He hissed loudly, making you stop your trashing when he did. “I need to get you out of here, got it?” You only stared at him frightfully as he spoke. “You need to stay quiet and keep close to me. Can you do that?”

When Simon didn’t get an answer, he closed his eyes for a second before opening them again, the fabric of his glove pulling your wild hair behind your ear.

“If you don’t do as I say, you’ll face the same fate as the man in your bedroom, understand?” You nodded slowly, and as he released your wrists in caution, he gave you a nod back when he realized you were listening to him.

“No matter what, you stay behind me. Got it?” His voice grew monotone as he took hasty strides towards your window, checking the empty street outside your apartment for a second before lowering the blinds. The kitchen grew shrouded in darkness, only the moon shining through the blinds. Taking a deep breath, you wiped your tears as you tried to gather yourself.

This wasn’t how you planned for your night to go. Just like any other Friday night, you were prepared to sleep the night away, not being witness to a murder, no less by your ex. He had been secretive through the years you spent together, and sure, you had made up various insane scenarios about his background. There had been crazier assumptions than Simon being a murderer, but that didn’t make the thought any easier.

Thinking about it made you shiver, wondering who he was beneath this facade he kept up and if this had been the case when you’d known him. Had he been hiding this from you all this time? You couldn’t help but feel betrayed, even if it was only you assuming. But then, he probably knew you would have one or two things to say about his, well, occupation.

Your first instinct was to keep your distance, but you realized you had no choice but to follow his lead if you wanted to escape this chaotic mess. Somewhere along your distressed mind and trembling hands that were a blend of his actions and being told you might have been killed tonight, his presence made the situation less grim, the usual safety he carried around him soothing your stress.

It wasn’t unusual, for he had always prioritized your safety–almost bordering on possessive. It had been a significant problem for you, seeing as it reminded you of your parents, whom you left when you turned 18, not wanting to be under that kind of supervision anymore. Countless memories of gruesome fights flashed before you, remembering the mood swings that turned Simon into a completely different person, words chilling and inexcusable action plenty.

Although many times horrible, his eyes had always been set straight on you, and despite them being sharp and calculated, you could almost feel the warmth radiate from them when they fell upon you. A hand on the small of your back, a large frame shielding you from others’ curious eyes and his sight, ever-so-watchful on you.

He was a man of actions, not words, and always picked you up when needed, walked you home, and even stayed in your apartment every chance possible, deeming it wasn’t a safe neighborhood. You had Simon to thank for the reinforced locks on your doors and windows, as well as the taser and pepper spray still in your purse to this day.

Cautiously, you trailed behind him as you moved through the hallway, the light above you flickering as you felt his hand planting itself on the small of your back as he reached around you. Pressing you closer to him, he took measured steps that echoed through the walls, not a single sound from the apartments surrounding you.

There was obviously something he wasn’t telling you, and there were so many questions you wanted to ask. Who was that man creeping through your apartment, and why, for all reasons, did Simon manage to be there at the right time? It felt too surreal to hold legitimacy, but somehow, you were thankful he was.

Simon’s gaze, once penetrating, had been soft when it met your wide ones a few minutes ago. It had always been rare to find him vulnerable, rarely getting a glimpse of the man behind the stoic eyes, but it reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. The rare glimpses of love he showed were enough to fuel your own at the time, running on the tiny specks of affirmation that he might, in fact, love you like you did him.

But there was a twinge of something else, a draft of loneliness clouding them that you had never seen before. It shot a pang of sadness through you, although unwillingly, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had someone else to lean on when you left him, or had you been the only one?

Blinking the reminiscent thoughts away, you refused to direct your thoughts toward the pity that always laced your feelings regarding Simon. There hadn’t been anything you could do to help him anymore when you left him, and you had to put yourself first for once and realize that what you had was growing increasingly more destructive with time.

You were glad you cut it off before it got any worse, wondering many times how it would have panned out if you hadn’t left. And more so, he hadn’t given you a single reason to stay when you left, only gazing into the air like you weren’t there–not begging you to stay like you desperately wanted.

“Where are you taking me?” A worried curiosity started to take hold of you, and amidst your cautious eyes and careful steps down the stairway in the apartment building, the thought of who the now-dead man actually was and if there were more around swirled in your mind.

You only got a miffed head turn in response, glaring at you through the black paint as he raised a finger to his clothed lips. Getting his notion, you kept quiet behind him, sock-clad feet following his every step on the dirty, laminated floor. You didn’t see a single person on the way down, and it felt eerie despite it being in the middle of the night with everyone asleep.

As you descended on what you now realized was the entry floor, you suddenly felt yourself pulled roughly against the corner of a wall, face right before Simon’s chest. You heard voices coming from the opening of the building, sirens audible in the background as the sound of traffic lessened when someone closed the door–voices growing nearer by the second.

You gasped out loud at suddenly being trashed around, but when you saw the broad arms of Simon encase your head with his body pressed up against yours, you relaxed. Craning your head hastily to gaze up at him, you already found his eyes staring intensely at you, although faltering when he met yours in what you might have interpreted as shyness.

Your gaze flickered, unsure where to look now that he was so close to you. You opted to plant your eye on his chest, the folds and curves of the sweatshirt following his ample muscles that were hiding under the fabric, bulging when his m muscles flexed.

A deep, red blush grew on your cheeks, and you chastised yourself for being so obvious, wondering if he took notice. Redirecting your gawking, you tried looking towards the side but found his large arms blocking your view as he leaned down further to shield you from, well, you weren’t so sure.

After some time, you heard the hurried voices pass as the footsteps grew distant. As you looked up at Simon, relieved, you found him already stalking towards the entry door, grabbing your upper arm when you stumbled to drag you behind him.

It was freezing outside, the chilly air seeping into the thin cotton of your pajamas as you cringed when your feet stepped on the snowy sidewalk, now wholly wet. You didn’t have time to ponder it, though, being directed towards a black car poorly parked a few meters away, like the driver had been in a hurry.

The street was empty, aside from a few other cars littered around the streets, heavy with the snowfall that had been falling a few hours ago. It wasn’t a neighborhood with a good reputation, and often you read about the crime and dealings held in the dark alleyways and corners of the city. You didn’t have too many options, though, the already low pay from your nurse job being even lower since you just got out of school.

The seat underneath you was cold when Simon pushed you through the door, slamming it so hard that the sound echoed in the quiet street. Running quickly to the driver’s side, he wasted no time in starting the engine, tires screeching as he belted through the tightly built buildings into the highway.

His eyes were strained, staring firmly ahead, ignoring all laws of speeding when he drove faster–not that there were any other cars around. Confusion clouded your face as you stared at him staying taut against his seat, glancing worriedly in the rearview mirror every other second.

“What’s going on, Simon?” You asked him, voice audibly stressed, gripping the seat tightly and craning your head to look behind you. There was no answer, as expected, and it only managed to fuel your anxiety as you watched his jaw tighten under the taut mask caressing his jawline. It didn’t deter you from continuing to demand an answer to why you were in this chaotic mess in the first place and what his part was in it.

The engine’s rhythmic hymn provided a backdrop to your growing unease, prodding him to speak. “Simon!” You pleaded, but he remained silent, navigating the empty streets with a determination that intrigued and frightened you–the unanswered question hanging heavy in the air, thick and stifling.

Simon’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and you were shot with a sharp, almost challenging look. “There’s people after you,” he snapped, voice cutting through the air. “But I can’t lay it all out for you now, so just do as I say.”

“What?!” You gripped the seat to turn around, seeing the road behind you devoid of any other cars. “You can’t be serious!”

His gaze, shielded and focused, hid the more profound truth–that the dangerous shadows tailing you were a consequence of his own actions, a perilous side of his life that had unexpectedly spilled into yours when he basked in the euphoria of being loved by you. The bonds you once shared had been like an anchor but now grew into a chain, its links forged in the crucible of his regrets.

You were left staring ahead while damning his stubbornness to not speak through the rest of the ride. The long way allowed you to think about the last hour and how absurd it was, especially seeing Simon again, which you had thought would never be the case some time ago.

Somewhere, deep in the crooks and nooks of your heart, it soared at seeing him again, prodding heavily at the memories you kept at bay, memories that hurt too much to consider many times. You examined his body that too many others bulged in pride and confidence, but to you, hunching slightly in exhaustion, fingers flexing nervously against the wheel.

He had grown much taller and broader since you last saw him, with an air of maturity surrounding him that you hadn’t noticed before. Admittedly, you were both grown adults now, more so since he was older than you, and it felt quite different to be near him. You were unsure if you had romanticized the few good parts of your relationship that weren’t shrouded in misunderstandings and miscommunication or if you actually missed the first and only man you had ever loved.

The air in the vehicle grew tight as time passed, but at least it was warm as he had put the heat on blast when taking notice of your shivering frame. The strain of emotions from the moments leading up to now seemed to get a hold of you, and in a tired haze, you felt your lids droop heavily as you tried to keep your focus on the road.

After some time, though, your head fell heavily against the door, neck craning uncomfortably as your body succumbed to the heavy load of the day. It felt like seconds had passed when you woke up from your deep slumber, head fitted into warm sheets covering your body in heaps as small orange lights shone through the blinds.

As you blinked slightly, you still felt the heaviness of sleep hanging over you, bare feet rubbing against the bedding as you snuggled closer into the warmth and familiar scent that surrounded you, once more falling into a dreamless slumber without wondering where the hard, plastic side of the door against your cheek went.

It wasn’t until the evening sun settled high in the sky that you awoke again, this time wide awake. Only, it wasn’t your bed; instead, dark, blue sheets covered your frame, shielding you against the coldness of the apartment–only now noticing a black jacket twice the size of your body wrapped around you.

–

Slightly dazy and confused, you rubbed your eyes that complained at having to remain open, sitting up straight. So, last night hadn’t been a dream? Smiling lightly, you realized your night had been much more action-filled than your colleagues if that counted for something.

“Hello?” Your voice broke through the silence, quiet and cautious, yet sure Simon had to be nearby. When the silence stretched on, you cast the blanket aside to recognize the familiar chill wound around your legs that weren’t shielded by the jacket.

Grimacing, you pulled the sides of the jacket closer to you, wondering if the heat was off. There was no mistake that it wasn’t yours, the wooden floor under your feet creaking audibly as you stepped over some planks that were missing, observing the small cracks that stretched on the walls and bedroom door that had been wholly wrung off its hinges, now leaning against the wall.

Walking into the small hallway, you stepped over the various objects loitering the floor, bending down to examine what appeared to be some old paperwork among the dirty shirts that couldn’t have been cleaned for a while.

Scrunching your nose, you grabbed the fabric to put it on the old plastic chair that missed one leg, wondering where you had ended up. You heard the slight thud of something falling towards the floor as you did. Gazing down in confusion, the appearance of a small portrait caught your eyes, not having been there a second ago.

Raising your brows, you bent down again, picking up the shiny paper as you observed the familiar smiling face. You remembered the day vividly, the memory making the corners of your mouth chirp up lightly as it flashed before your eyes.

You had rarely gone out with Simon, being told by him that it was too dangerous for you to be seen with him. Despite your disagreement about it, you often spend long days in bed, the smell of homemade breakfast wafting under your nose and the feeling of starved hands moving desperately, heatedly, now filling your mind.

You were buried in your bed sheets; face blushed with hair spreading wildly around you like a halo as you gave Simon a toothy smile, begging him not to take the picture through endless giggles as his hand tickled you playfully. He had just made love to you, tender in his own way, and told you he wanted to show you how beautiful you looked to him at that moment.

You placed the marred picture back into the heavy combat jacket you had laid on the chair just now, curious of the torn edges and suspiciously red substance covering it in some places. Had he kept that picture all these years?

“Simon?” Walking further into the apartment, you grew worried, wondering where Simon was. That’s when you heard the low rumble of his voice, talking in a hushed manner.

Tiptoeing faster, you caught sight of his large frame leaning against the kitchen sink, gazing at you monotonously when you entered as his mouth worded undecipherable words before ending the call, pulling the phone back into his front pocket.

As you placed the puzzle pieces together, you realized you were in his apartment. That explains it, you thought to yourself as your gaze wandered around the room, taking in the dire state of it. You couldn’t help but be surprised, never imagining that Simon lived in such a pigsty. It wasn’t that it was untidy; it was more like someone hadn’t been here for ages and ignored the dire need for renovations, looking like it would fall apart at any moment.

Your wide-open eyes met his calculating ones, and as you opened your mouth to speak, he cleared his throat before you could. “Sleep well?” He raised his brow as the question hung in the air, eyes caressing your form as he took you in.

“I, uh…” you trailed off, scrunching your forehead as you tried to find the right words, completely and utterly overwhelmed at where you found yourself. “Yeah, I think so.”

You got a nod back, still staring intensely into each other’s eyes as you wondered where to start the questions that burned in your mind. “You,” you stuttered. “You’re here.” Your fumbled words grew into more of a statement than a question, confusion lacing your expression.

Simon only gave you a look in response, and had you been looking close enough, you would see the corners of his mouth chirp up slightly, unwillingly, of course.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out. “No, what am I doing here?” Shaking your head to clear it, you dragged a hand through your wildly tousled hair before trying again, glancing at him in irritation. “What’s going on?”

He straightened up from his leaning position but didn’t step closer, still rendering you shying slightly away from his intimidating posture as he towered over you, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket slightly–nervously fidgeting your feet on the cold planks.

He nodded towards one of the old chairs surrounding a smaller table, beckoning you to sit down. Cautiously, you shuffled into the small kitchen, sitting tentatively on the chair as you hoped it wouldn’t break under your weight. Simon, though, stayed in his place, watching you indescribably before leaning his hands on the end of the table.

He glanced sideways like he was giving something a heavy thought before directing his gaze toward you again. “You’re in trouble,” he said. “The man I killed yesterday, he had been sent out to kill you.”

You froze in your seat as you felt shivers of utter fear running over your back as your heart began to race, its erratic beats echoing in your ears. The silence enveloped the room was broken by the ominous sounds of your breath, each inhaling a reluctant acknowledgment of the palpable reality you had dreaded.

Kill you? Why in the world would someone want to kill you? The fear grew into a hand that tightened its grip around your chest, making it harder for you to draw breath. Noticing your struggle, Simon’s hand flexed slightly as if he wanted to reach you amidst the panic but decided against it. Instead, he draped the mask he had been wearing over his head, revealing the piercing gaze accompanied by the blonde tufts of hair, messy from wearing the balaclava as the remains of sweat wetted the roots of his hair.

“Hey, it’s alright. He won’t get the chance now.” You weren’t sure if his words had been meant to provide you with comfort, but seeing him without his mask made you feel slightly safer.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You only got a grunt in response as he straightened up, turning away from you to look out the window. “Who was he?” You asked, trying to crane your neck to get more glimpses of his face that he had shielded from you until now.

There was something different about them, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. They seemed tired, though; the bags underneath them were hard not to notice, heavy and swollen as the whites of his eyes were shielded under a light redness.

“Kessler.” He let on, words short. Noticing your silence, he sighed. “Victor Kessler”

“But why was he in my apartment?”

Rubbing his eyes, you saw the muscles tense in irritation. “He did… something he shouldn’t, so he got expelled from the task force,” he said. “We’ve been keeping a close eye on him every since, but revenge isn’t a fool's game–not for him, it seems.” He felt your gaze on him, sighing again when he realized you weren’t satisfied by the answer.

“Look, I don’t know. Revenge maybe? He was going to use you to get to me; knowing you being dead would give him the reaction he wanted. Either way, you don’t have to worry about him now.”

“Why would…” As his words sunk in after you started to speak, you stuttered, caught off guard. “Why would he use me of all people?” To say you were baffled was an understatement. What you had with Simon was a story from years ago, a thing of the past, which meant there was no reason for you to be the target of their malice.

You felt his eyes on you, but as you looked back, they returned to gaze out into the dark street lightened by the snow and the flickering streetlamp. There were many things you didn’t know of, many things he hadn’t told you–mostly because of secrecy and his stubbornness, but also from the humiliation he would face if he did.

He never thought about how strange it would be for you to wake up and suddenly see him in your apartment after all these years, but Simon didn’t think as he belted towards your building complex in sheer panic when he got the notion just in time.

Without your knowledge, he had been watching you ever since you decided to leave, dead set on never letting you out of his sight. It wasn’t for some sick, deluded reason as many may think, but more of a worry about how he had involved you into his life that he knew couldn’t be escaped, how your safety was compromised when he was too weak to leave.

“It doesn’t matter.” His response was short and conceit, brushing off your inquiries. You pondered over his words that fell reluctantly from his mouth, growing dizzy from all the questions that surged within you at the information.

“You’re a soldier?” He smiled slightly at your conversation change, unbeknownst to you, as his back faced your questioning glances. “Special force operator.”

“Oh,” you mouthed silently, like his words resonated with you. The Simon you had known for most of your life was a soldier? The thought was strange, but it connected some dots for you and the mystery that had always followed him. Special force operator?

“What’s that?”

“We handle things regular troops can’t touch, take missions that others don’t dare.”

“What, like superheroes?” You managed to get something that was supposed to be like a laugh but intertwined with a scoff.

“No, it’s not about playing superhero, love. It’s about being the one who gets things done when the stakes are their highest.” He felt your gaze burning on his back, closing his eyes as the word fell out against his will, like a habit.

He had sometimes called you that when you were together, the endearing term slipping out occasionally. You chastised yourself when you felt the familiar yet strange fluttering in your stomach when hearing it leave, cautiously raising from the chair like Simon was a provoked animal, even though he remained utterly still where he stood, not minding you.

You glanced shyly as you approached him, still not used to being in his presence after such a long time. “So, that’s why you always were so secretive, huh?” The fabric of your jackets touched slightly, the feeling making him glance down at you in a concealed startle at suddenly having you so close. He looked away as you glanced up at him, refusing to let him get away with a grunt as an answer this time.

“You could’ve gotten hurt if I didn’t.” He looked indecisive when your cold fingers lightly placed their way on his hand that rested on the window sill, dark eyes avoiding yours. The skin under your palm was freezing now that his gloves had been removed, the scarred tissue you knew so well contrasting heavily against your unspoiled ones, pads rough and rugged.

Worming your nimble fingers through the backside of his hand, you observed the difference quietly, leaning your head on his big arm tentatively. The muscle tensed under you, his body growing taut under your touch as he had always done, mostly when he came back from what you, at the time, didn’t know the cause of, bruised and apprehensive.

You relaxed slightly when he didn’t pull away, glancing into the street silently. You should still have been terrified to the bone, but safety had always been a given when Simon was near you, and now you understood why you had felt that way. It made you somewhat sad to realize he didn’t speak to you about who he was, but somewhere, you understood why he hadn’t, why he still didn’t tell you the entirety of the situation.

What rendered you speechless was that he had been keeping track of you for this long since he was aware you were in danger. While you had been trying to forget him and move on with your life, he kept tabs on you, ensuring you would be safe.

“You should have told me.” He shook his head immediately, stepping away from your touch, shivering as he still felt the lingering drag of your fingers on his hand.

“I’m glad I didn’t.” You scrunched your brows at his response, stepping toward him but not getting any closer as he grabbed your upper arms in warning. “You’ve only seen me now because you’re in danger, alright? I’ll let you be once you’re safe. I’m unsure if Kessler has any other connections, but I have people who will look it up before you leave. I also had someone go through your apartment and make sure to remo-”

“I don’t want you to leave, Simon.” You interrupted him mid-sentence, words leaving you before you could think them through. It was dangerous for him to be here since he raised feelings inside you that had been buried a long time ago and were best kept locked away; you couldn’t help it, though, for the good moments you remembered were so devastatingly wonderful–making your now boring life pale in its memory.

He stilled at your words, a profound conflict littering his blue eyes as he gazed into your guilty ones. Raising your hand, you placed it on his cheek, running it tentatively over his skin. You thought he would pull away, so you were surprised to see his eyes fluttering shut at the contact, almost leaning into your touch.

The air surrounding you grew taut, with an underlying tension from the warmth spreading low in your belly. Swallowing nervously, you couldn’t help but step closer to him, bringing your arms around his waist to place your palms against the broadness of his back, breathing in his scent as you pushed your cheek flat against his chest.

You shouldn’t, but there was a pull you had no choice but to follow, wondering if it would feel the same as before. You felt his arms wound around you, your lips trembling at the familiar feeling you remembered always used to leave you breathless with devotion.

Simon pulled you tighter towards him, thinking of how he had remembered you feeling against him on the cold, unsure nights, only a gun strapped to his back and a picture of you in the pocket closest to his heart.

Sometimes, when he was sure he was taking his last breaths, he would grab the piece of printed paper, dust it off from the ashes of war as his blood-soaked fingers swiped over the picture, coloring you in a tint of red as he remembered how you had looked the day it was taken. It’s what kept him going when he didn't feel like pushing on.

He wasn’t afraid of dying, neither was he of going to hell, for every day that had passed without you in it, only a picture as proof, already brought him into the scorching fire as the devil himself tortured Simon by only being able to watch you from a distance, all because of his own choices.

It was his fault, of course, that he had chosen this path, but when he met you, it was too late. No longer could he hide from the life he had chosen, having to sacrifice you so he could keep you safe. If that wasn’t torture in itself, he wasn’t sure what was.

The warmth that enveloped him ran like fire up his veins, all sense of logic falling out the window as he basked in your touch, suddenly grabbing your waist and hoisting you around his, stalking in significant strides towards the counter. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, feeling the coarse stubble rubbing against your cheek as you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his hands wander their way under his jacket that covered you, finding sanction around your waist as he sighed at the feeling of your nose trailing up his neck.

Bending his head down towards yours, his lips desperately sought yours, all restraint gone as the chains holding him back fell towards the floor in a loud clank, pushing your body taut against his.

Fueled by his affection, you bask in the tenderness of his touch and desperation in his movements as you push all sense of logic to the back of your mind, longing to feel what you had always felt with Simon, the feelings that had been simmering in the back of your mind.

You shivered as his calloused hands crept under your shirt, caressing the soft skin that had remained untouched ever since he left, battled-bruised hands seeking sanction in the curves of your body that filled his wanton dreams, dreams that always depicted you.

“Simon.” you gasped in a quiet voice, hands running up to rest in the tufts of his hair, arching your back when his fingers traveled down to your backside, palms fitting wholly against you as he pushed you tighter toward his front with a quick drag.

A grunt left him when your legs tightened against him, feeling your crotch pressed against him, the euphoric feeling bordering on nostalgia. The room that remained as cold as it had been before wasn’t anything you pondered over when his hands unzipped your jacket, leaving it still wrapped around your arms, but the shirt of your pajamas was now visible.

“Tell me to stop.” His lips attached themselves to the crevice of your neck, bringing the supple flesh into his mouth as he groaned against you, fingers running their way up your shirt to lightly skim over the thin fabric covering your bare chest.

“Stop, Simon.” You said, voice monotone as you heeded his command needlessly, not paying attention to what you were saying as his thumb slowly caressed the side of your breast, begging him to touch you as your legs automatically widened to let him step further into your embrace.

He didn’t stop, though, not being able to restrain himself any longer as he saw how deliciously your nipple strained against your shirt, mouth-watering as they seemed to almost beg for him to wrap his lips around them. Doing just that, he heard the sound of your moan vibrating through the quiet room as you felt the unusual feeling of his tongue swiping over it through the fabric, gasping as you felt him grind his middle against yours slowly.

“Push me away. I mean it.” Weak hands found his shoulder pushing against the muscles that hid under the fabric of his jacket as he growled out the words, not budging him one bit as he continued his assault on your breast, covering the other with his palm as he crouched down slightly to make up for the height difference.

Grunting in frustration at his body not following his mind, he lifted you up once more after detaching his lips from you, carrying your heated body towards the manky, old bedroom. You unzipped his heavy winter jacket the short way you could, worming your hands around him like a snake, disapproving of the bulletproof vest strapped to him under the sweater. Instead, you grabbed his cheeks between your hands, placing your lips on his once more, feeling him pushing you up against the wall in the hallway.

Putting you down on your feet, he roughly removed the jacket from your arms, then gently helped you pull the fabric of the shirt to reveal your upper body, feeling his hands grab your bottom to carry you into the bedroom, carefully minding your head as he laid you down on the hard mattress, standing up to examine you as your chest heaved out its breath, gazing tenderly at Simon.

That did it, no doubt. The sight almost made his knees buckle; he grabbed ahold of the small wardrobe placed by the foot of the bed as he removed his jacket, lifting your back up slightly to put it behind you, your desperate lips finding their place on his neck as he bent down, stubborn legs wounding their way around his hips as you dragged him towards you like a siren.

He couldn’t help but follow, comfortably fitting his front against yours, the thin fabric of your pajama pants letting him feel you better as he strained against his jeans, the material stretched tight under his massive desire for you. Your breath hitched as he moved languidly, placing his forearm under your neck as you stared up at him through hazy eyes, a deep blush falling from your cheeks to your chest.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he swore into the otherwise quiet room at the sight. As your eyes met, you could see the sharp eyes crease as he scrunched his eyes tight, dragging his hand that wasn’t under your head down the curves of your sides, memorizing every crevice like this was the last time he could feel it.

The room grew shrouded in the released tension, now thick with a burning want as the large man hovering over you pushed your smaller frame against his ruined mattress, shame not having the chance to fill him yet from the state of the room he was devouring you in.

You paid no mind either, letting out a cry when you felt his hand creep down between your bodies, feeling the warmth of your crotch under his thick fingers as he parted two of them, dragging their way on the side of your lips, never really touching you where you mostly wanted him to.

“I can’t do this to you.” His voice was rough, blending a deep want and a heavy twinge of regret like he was doing something completely unlawful. You stroked his temple with your nimble fingers, wiping the sweat dripping down his forehead away, caressing the skin lovingly.

“Do what, Simon?” He didn’t give you an answer as you asked him breathlessly, but you knew what he meant, feeling like this was too hasty, too quick. But you couldn’t stay away from him, and all the hurt and uncertainty he had let you face entirely on your own, it felt too good to have him near you–for him to want you.

The slow drag of his crotch against yours growing more forceful, you were brought from your thoughts, breath hitching as the large imprint of him rubbed over the material of your pants, feeling every slide grow muted as a warm shiver traveled down your back, a sting of pleasure shooting sharply up your body all the way to your fingertips.

It was numbing, the way he chased after your lips while trying to pull himself away from you, arm pulling you closer yet head pulling away from you. The internal battle he faced was visible, but your warm and caressing hand lulled him closer to you, soothing the harsh thoughts that filled his mind, the worrying that stretched the lines deep on his face.

At the same time, he panted, dragging your trousers down your thighs, refusing to pull away from you, so when he realized there was no other way, you heard the fabric tear amidst the loud ringing in your eyes from excitement.

Your eyes shot open, but before you could speak, you felt Simon’s thumb push its way into your mouth, muting your sound of protest as he buried his head in your chest. Your hands threaded through his hair as you scratched the roots in pleasure when his other hands rubbed you over your underwear, wetness seeping through the material so his fingers could glide over you more easily.

It was mind-numbing, the sparks of pleasure you felt as his calloused fingers finally met skin, dragging slowly between your folds as your panties were pushed aside.

“Oh, god!” A strangled attempt at speaking left you, mouth agape as you arched up against him, feeling a thick finger slowly wind its way into the gummy walls, clenching down on the intrusion. The feeling left you quickly, though, and as a whine of disappointment left you, you felt his finger caress your clit in soft circles, making your hips move in motion with his hand.

Swallowing your noises, Simon’s tongue wormed its way into your welcoming mouth, lips massaging yours as he grabbed your cheek with one hand gently. Running your hands under the fabric of his sweater, you grabbed the vest underneath it in discontent, trying to show him you wanted it off, unable to do it yourself as his heavy weight rendered you moveless underneath him.

His eyes, now a swirling pool of black in the dark room, gazed dangerously into yours, grabbing the end of his sweater and pushing it over his head, refusing to detach from you. As the skin of his upper body was revealed, your hands ran over every piece of skin you could find to then push against the straps, the vest detaching from its hold, Simon throwing it beside the bed in a hurry, grabbing your thighs to push the plump flesh up beside you, gazing heatedly at your puffy lips that peaked through your panties, red and tender from his fingers.

Closing his eyes, he tried to gather his clouded brain, vision unfocused as he could only make out the blissful expression on your face. Wiping his forehead, he kissed the soft skin of your thighs, feeling them stay planted firmly where he pushed them as he let go.

His hands lowered to drag down the zip of his pants, his hardness straining painfully against the fabric. As the material loosened, a sigh of relief left him. Still, then pleasure so sharp ran through him when he felt your nimble hands slowly caress the bulge in his briefs, beckoning him to retake his place in the crevice of your neck, almost biting into your skin as your hand wormed its way into his briefs.

God had imprinted your every touch into his mind, only dragging them out when nights had turned too cold or lonely. Like some depraved animal, he had imagined your hands gliding over him in the confines of this bed when he was on leave, other times imagining your fingers wrapping their way around his shaft as he found to sleep in the corner of some building, teammates only meters away as he fell into a helpless dream of you and your soft touch.

To feel you touch him like that again must have been some type of depraved joke from the devil himself, finding pleasure in the torture of knowing he would never be able to feel this again. The slow drag of your fingers down the trail of hair that led to his crotch, slowly palming the scorching shaft that pulsed against your touch, the small leak of precum making the feeling all too much for Simon to contain himself.

“Fuckin’ hell, are you trying to kill me?” He panted out, grabbing your wrist when it became too much. Instead of a noise of disappointment, the beautiful sound of your laugh clung in his ears, and when he looked up, he found you giving him a toothy smile, a blissed-out expression covering your face.

“Oh, Simon,” you said, staring warmly at him as you took in the heaving of his chest as he planted his arms beside you, covering your whole frame with his large body. Looking down, you parted your legs even more, the anticipation being too much for you to handle, wishing he would dampen the warmth spreading in the low of your stomach.

Suddenly you felt his mouth against your begging wetness, tongue laying flat against your lips as he massaged and licked striped to your red clit, mumbling incoherent words against you that only vibrated euphorically against your sensitive parts.

As you trashed underneath him, his hands wound their way under your legs, pushing your hips down to the mattress as you felt his tongue worm its way into your tightly clenched whole to then once more tease your clit with his tongue, staring up at your face as the paint around his eyes dripped with the sweat down the folds of your legs, almost eating you whole as he lapped at you.

Hitting his head lightly, you begged for him to end his torture with pleading, tear-filled eyes from the overstimulation. You felt him everywhere as he buried his face nose-deep into your heat, hands burning every part of your skin that they caressed frantically, like starved for the feeling of you underneath them.

Pushing the ball of your palm into his bulging, scar-littered shoulder when he didn’t listen, you hit him once more when you regained more power, and he pushed himself hastily above you, almost manhandling you as he removed your panties off your legs and throwing them behind him.

“Come here,” he tells you, and it isn’t until he’s buried deep inside you that your facade breaks, tears gliding languidly down your cheeks in a quiet sob as he thrusts slow and deep, pushing down your thighs until they are burning from the stretch against the mattress–spread wide for only him. Simon hummed at the thought.

Hugging his head close to you, you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your neck as the sounds of him thrusting against you echo in the room, hefty and bulky, as you feel him bullying his way into you.

You knew this was it, and for that reason, you held him tighter, trying to imprint his touch into your head–wishing to prolong this moment so it would never stop, pleading with whoever would listen to make him stay. Your pleading only turned into mindless babbling as the force of his hips pushed you further up the bed, breasts bouncing with every motion.

Hearing the words stumble from you like he remembered they always did, he cooed at you, feeling your walls fluttering around his cock as he swore. “I know love, I know.” Breathlessly, he pushed himself up on his hands, grabbing the headboard as he continued to pound into you, watching you cry out with wet cheeks.

Closing his eyes in pain, he felt his heart cramp when what he was doing passed through his mind, knowing this wasn’t fair to you. But he couldn’t stop himself from having you, for you rendered him weak in the knees every time, not sure you knew of the power you held over him.

“Simon, please,” you begged with a trembling voice, staring into his dark eyes as his breath heaved with strain, begging him not to leave you again. He kept his gaze locked with yours, face contorting in agony when he realized your face would haunt him forever, damning him for his ways. He would stay away and leave you alone–he just needed to feel you for one last time, just once more.

To avoid the hurt that started to spread in his loins at the thought, he suddenly pulled you up by your forearms as he laid on his back, pulling you into his strong embrace as he splayed you over his chest, legs on either side of his waist.

A whine left you when he entered you once again, rutting up into you with strong legs planted firmly on the mattress, feeling you glide up his body with every thrust as your head buried its way into his neck. What left you now wasn’t even moans, mouth open wide in a noiseless scream as his hips slapped loudly against yours.

Grabbing the back of your hair, he pushed your head up so you started into his eyes, trying to tell you the three words he couldn’t speak. You gave no indication of noticing, eyes flickering in both pain and lust, arms on either side of his head as he kept pushing into you.

“Stay,” you managed to get out amidst his assault on you, gripping his shoulder tightly as the coil in your stomach started to tighten almost painfully. He remained quiet as he shook his head, bringing your face closer so he could press his lips against yours.

His chapped lips fitted like a puzzle piece against yours, and your hand lifted to caress the fading scars littering the skin on his face. He hit every sweet spot inside of you, pubic bone creating heavenly friction against your sensitive nub as it rubbed together when his movements grew faster. You found it hard to breathe as he swallowed your attempts, and with one hand on your waist and the other pushing your lips against his, you felt lightheaded as you moaned out against his mouth.

Starting to hit the mattress beside you in panic, he only pushed you tighter against his robot-like motions; the feeling was entirely overwhelming as the warmth that had begun spreading low in your stomach now traveled its way throughout your whole body. Your legs lay limp on the mattress, his muscular legs moving to shove you back on the mattress, now gripping the headboard again so he could push into you with more force.

When his hand found your clit, you saw white streaks of sharp light before your eyes, arching your back of the sheets as a noiseless scream left you, wet tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as you saw his eyes set intensely on you from above, your head shaking from side to side from the pleasure as you felt Simon piston in and out of you.

You didn’t want him to stop, knowing that when he did, you would never see him again. You were sure of it, felt it in how he held you and looked at you. So, when you felt the foil snap, you could only cry out as your ears started to ring, pulsating heavily around him as the cramps of your orgasm filled you with a scorching pleasure.

Every thrust of his prolongs your pleasure, still shooting through you as you fall backward, limp under Simon’s still forceful thrusts.

“That’s it, love.” Panting above you, he fell into your arms, rutting heavily against you as he wound his arms around your waist, finding strength in his muscular legs to keep his hips going, grunting audibly against your neck as you kept clenching around him. “Give it to me. Only me,” he mumbled against your wet skin, delirious from being in your embrace he so had missed.

“Only you, Simon. It will always,” you hiccuped. “Always be you.” The sobbing, blissed-out words coming from you were the final straw, his thrusts growing harder but slowing down as he bit into the skin of your neck, knuckles turning white from gripping your waist as his face contorted.

The pleasure kept roaming through him as he kept on moving inside you, prolonging the feeling as his cum rimmed around where his cock entered you, dribbling down you in heaps as it kept coming, stuffing you to the brim.

Spent, you feel the heavy weight of Simon relaxing against you, staying inside you as he tries to regain his breath–not wanting to part from you. A shaking hand found your trembling ones, intertwining them as he caressed the back of it with his thumb, reveling in how your hand caressed the skin of his back, shivers running down it as he basked in the afterglow of being one with you.

Your already heavy eyelids tried to keep open, refusing to let him slip out of your fingers, but your body had grown spent as it strained against the sleep wounding its way through you.

“Simon,” you mumbled, voice almost inaudible as he brought your hand to rest with his beside your head, humming at you, the vibrating of his chest lulling you closer to sleep. As it surrounded you forcefully, you could only let the last teardrop fall from your eyes, knowing he was seeping out of your grasp like dust.

–

The cold was seeping through you the moment you woke up, shivers wrecking through you as the bleak walls stared back at you–the blanket wrapped around you doing nothing to protect you from the chill. In a daze, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes tiredly, trying to regain focus as you coddled the blanket closer to your body.

That’s when the horror spread through you, head trashing wildly as you gazed around you while taking in your surroundings. A familiar, worn-down apartment stared back at you, the night dark outside as you gasped, fearing being left alone in his eerie apartment.

“Simon!” You yelled out, voice trembling as you stepped onto the wooden planks of the floor, shielding yourself with the blanket as you bolted through the hallway into the kitchen, finding it empty as you trashed open the door to the bathroom.

Your heart picked up its pace, feeling like someone had shot you right through the chest when you realized you were by yourself–completely and utterly alone, and he had left you just like you knew he would.

“Simon!” You belted out once again, leaning towards the wall in distress as the cries grew soundless as the power of it traveled up your throat, feeling it constrict until the wails filled the empty space, sobs leaving you as you grabbed your heart in agony.

By some sort of hope, you had wished he would stay even though you knew it was inevitable, but as you took notice, that wasn’t the case. Once again, the warmth of his hands had left you, forcing you to come to terms with living the bleak years of your life without him in your life, disappearing–never to return to your embrace again.

As you stood there, sobbing with cheeks red with tears, you damned yourself for loving him in the first place, for letting him step into your life once more when you were finally moving forward with your life. Unable to take the pain, you slide down the wall, glancing up at the walls as the ghost of him starts to loom over you, his shadow growing more fierce–more apparent–as you cover your head, unwilling to face reality any longer.