#congratulations my keyboard

[never-ending-fanfic]

Alright folks, so I was writing an interaction scene between Kallus and Draven for this fic's next chapter, where Draven is trying to keep Kallus from overworking himself and well, I was writing Kallus' reply, but instead of writing "I'm sorry?" as I intedned to, I clicked the suggested words on my keyboard (on accident) and it turned the dialogue into, well this:

...

Ok mate.

OK MATE.

[cleocatzby]

Who am I without my ReminderGB™?

[writerseclipse1]

lucky charm [max v.]

summary: max wins at the us grand prix (2021), and he can't help but insist you were his lucky charm.

warnings: making out, fluff.

word count: 0.7k

“…for the first time, on us soil, max verstappen wins the us grand prix!” cheers erupted from the fans and the redbull crew. you heard your father whoop, fisting the air in celebration.

all you could do was nod proudly, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed in front of your chest. you pushed yourself off of the wall, high fiving the crew and congratulating them on their amazing job during the race.

you all exited the pits a few minutes later, grouping up below the rostrum. checo waved to all the fans and took his place on the third podium step.

next up was lewis who, despite the rivalry between the two teams, he was your friend as well. he was one of the people who taught you how to drive a formula 1 car and actually be good at it.

and last, but certainly not the least to step onto the rostrum was max. you smirked, clapping along to the people beside you. he punched the air, grinning widely as he scanned the crowd, spotting you and winking discreetly. you only rolled your eyes and shook your head but clapped for him nonetheless.

he received his trophy from the one and only shaquille o’neal, the height gap between them despite max’s position on the top podium, making you snort. not long after their presentation of trophies, they started to drink and spray their champagne on each other, soaking their suits and no doubt their fireproofs.

after all the celebrations and the picture taking that led you to change your shirt, it was time for the interviews. max left for the interviews and you went to the red bull building, assessing the information gotten during the race, seeing what you needed to work on even if max drove without error. your typing on the keyboard of your father’s computer and the clicking of the mouse echoed in the room. 

“so this is where you’ve been,” max mused, leaning against the doorframe of your dad’s office. you ignored him with a smirk on your face. you kept checking the data, not even sparing him a glance. you heard his footsteps get closer but you paid it no mind, feeling his arms slither around your waist.

“don’t ignore me, schatje,” you felt his breath on your neck, nudging your neck with his nose. “appreciate me.”

“i swear, verstappen, if my father sees you here,” you whispered, abandoning your work and turning in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck regardless of your recent words. “you’re gonna get fired, probably die too.”

“i’ll take my chances,” he mumbled, tilting his head and his eyes darting to your lips. “besides, if this makes us official, even if i die in the hands of my boss right after, it would be worth it.”

you chuckle, his lips gently pressing themselves on your own. his mouth was gentle, taking his time with you, his hands slowly roaming your waist and pushing you back into the desk. your hands took his cap off, one hand holding onto it while the other combed his locks.

you detached your lips from his, chuckling when you saw his cheeks all red. you adjusted the cap in your hands, placing it on your own head and he bit his lip, fixing your hair.

“keep it. ‘looks better on you.” he complimented, tilting your head up so he could steal another kiss. you laughed, massaging his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“you ever notice that whenever you attend my races, i win,” he spoke up, making you hum. “and if you weren’t here, i lose. badly, might i add.”

“huh,” you comment, raising your eyebrows. “you’re right. i wasn’t in silverstone but i was there in italy, i wasn’t in azerbaijan, but i was in france. now, i wasn’t in monza, but i was here. cool.” you add, making him throw his head back, laughing.

“guess you could say that you are my lucky charm, liefje.” he suggested and you agreed, nodding your head. you two were too focused on each other that you didn’t notice a third party wander into the room.

“what the fuck is this?”

you froze and max gulped, his gaze moving to the door, his eyes widening.

“oh shit.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ a/n: fic look familiar? this is an old work from my old account @/theonly1outof-a-billion!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Professional Indiscretion

Inspired by this post

Warnings: non/dubcon, degradation, demeaning behaviour, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki Laufeyson

Summary: a colleague returns from a recent vacation but is less than relaxed.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You’ve honed the skill of indifference long ago. The voices that carry from down the hall meld together in a dull buzz as you push them to the back of your mind. You’re less concerned with the latest water cooler gossip as your deadline bears down on you. 

You hate when a project comes down to the line. It couldn’t be helped. What should have been a two-person assignment was dropped solely in your lap. It isn’t the first time and won’t be the last. Your colleagues are less than reliable. 

As their voices glaze over each other, you shrug of your resent. They all have their obligations; golf rounds or the windfall of courtside tickets. You’ve never been afforded the luxury of a half-day to go play. You are the dependable one; as far as your coworkers are concerned, you have nothing going on besides picking up their slack. 

Work is work. You don’t linger on it; you just get it done. A peel of laughter jars you from your focus. You should close your door but that’s just an invitation. The last time, they simply moved in front of your door and spoke even louder. It’s like a game to them. 

Caroline’s bubbly laughter trills down the hall. She’s joined the rabble. One of the young temps the men love to flirt with. ‘Oh it makes me feel young again.’ Ugh, you couldn’t imagine turning the clock back twenty years. You’re happy that era of your life is over. 

You squint at the monitor and review your work. There’s a subtle tap on your doorframe. Your flicks up and back down. Loki. 

“Yes, how can I help you?” You ask as your fingers flutter over the keyboard. 

“Good afternoon to you too,” he drawls as he breaks the threshold. 

“Afternoon,” you continue to type. You try not to think of how this was meant to be his project. 

“I’m only doing my rounds. As you know, I was recently abroad and I brought back some sweets,” he crosses your office and sets a blurry object down in your peripheral. 

“That’s generous, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.” You say. 

“You’re welcome,” he overrides your protest. 

You sniff, “thanks.” 

He’s quiet as he stands across from you. His gaze hangs over you like a dark cloud. You check the auto-save and retract your hands. You push your shoulders back and look at him. 

“You were the only who didn’t come out to congratulate me,” he muses. 

You sit straight. You are not unkind or inconsiderate. You just don’t come to work to socialize. You signed the card they sent with the flowers. 

“Congratulations on your wedding. It seems it was a success,” you say. 

He doesn’t react right away. He just stares at you. His green eyes are sharp and his lips a thin line. It isn’t the ego stroking he was looking for. You’re not quite sure what more to say. You’re not very familiar. 

He scoffs, “I see.” 

You blink, confused by the derision in his tone. You look at him past your monitor as he slowly pivots on his heel. It scuffs loudly and he marches to the door. He stops right before it then delicate grabs the handle and draws it shut. 

You tilt your head curiously, “I’m just finishing up a project, so I don’t have very much time--” 

“You’ve always been a dry old spinster, haven’t you?” He slithers as he faces you again. 

“Pardon?” You’re genuinely stunned by his accusation. It’s not the first time you’ve met with that sort of spite. There is a contempt reserved only for older women. 

“Yes, you strut around here as if you are a queen. Above us all, and I come to you with a token of good will, a souvenir from my honeymoon, and it only reminds you of how utterly pathetically alone you truly are,” he sneers. “So you offer me that trite look and your empty tiding.” 

You scrunch your lips in surprise and cup your hand in confusion, “nothing of the like. I’m sorry, I am rather busy with my work--” 

“Oh but this isn’t just today. It’s how it’s always been. You cannot be happy for anyone for your own misery,” he tuts. 

“If that’s what you think,” you sit back calmly. “I think you should go.” 

He lingers on the other side of your desk, “it’s because she’s young, I know it.” 

“What?” 

“My new wife. I see how it makes you bristle to know a man of your peerage couldn’t be bothered with you. You see, women age differently. They become bitter.” He snarls. 

“I hardly see how this is appropriate. I am asking you to go--” 

He sets his stance and lowers himself into the chair across from you. He smirks and pushes back his dark curls. Your spine locks up. That look in his eye, you’ve seen that in men before. 

“I know what the matter is,” he pushes his feet wide and grips his thighs. He postures so his shoulders are wide and high. “How long has it been?” 

You refuse to acknowledge his jeer. You shift to your monitor and go back to your editing. He clucks. 

“Months, years?” He suggests. 

“I’m busy,” you insist, keeping your eyes averted. 

“What the wife doesn’t know...” he growls. 

You flinch, appalled by his suggestion. 

“Leave,” you say. 

He snickers. “Are you so resigned to your feeble existence? Those lonely nights? In your condo, drinking your chardonnay, reclining on your chaise and reading the latest lascivious rag written for pruny old divorcees?” 

You freeze then slowly look at him. It could be a cruel assumption, though it isn’t untrue. In fact, it is far too accurate to be a coincidence. Down to the chaise and the chardonnay. 

“And that toy you keep in your jewelry box,” he curls a finger to mimic the curved shape. “Do you even feel it anymore?” 

“Get out,” you hiss. 

He smirks and arches a brow, “come.” 

He beckons with two fingers. You clutch the armrests of your chair and your nose flairs. You glare back at him, horrified. A newly married man and he’s here propositioning you. What’s more, he’s been watching you. 

“You’re disgusting--” 

“Get up,” he rubs his thigh. “And come here.” 

“HR--” 

“Oh, I know Bradon well. I will be happy enough to explain how you’ve grown so jealous of my young wife. You’re overworked so of course you couldn’t control yourself--” 

“He wouldn’t believe you--” 

“Wouldn’t he? We play squash on Sundays. He knows my character well. An upstanding member of the country club--” 

“Why are you doing this? What do you want me to say? Hm? Congratulations on your pretty young wife. Now, you should go home to her,” you snip. 

“I don’t want you to say anything,” he taunts as his eyes narrow snakishly. “I want you to come sit in my lap so I can show you how useless that toy truly is.” 

“You are--” 

“I am your villain,” he undercuts you. “And you have two choices. You can finish that project and submit it and have it tossed out for your indiscretions or you can do what I tell you and still have a job to support you wined-up erotica sessions.” 

You curl your lip, repulsed. There’s no point in asking why. Men do not operate on logic. 

“What’s it going to be?” 

You grit your teeth and take a deep breath. You push yourself to your feet and steady yourself. You move stiffly around the desk, eyes on the wall as you near him. As you get close, he grabs your hip and turn you. He forces you down so roughly that your ankles bend. 

You catch yourself on him, grabbing his hands as he grips you tight, and you writhe against his obvious arousal. A man like him can only get off on his own ego. You shudder and grasp his wrists. 

He pulls you back against his and rests his chin on your shoulder. You squirm as he untangles his arm from your hold. He hooks his arm around your stomach as his other tugs at your skirt. You huff and claw at his sleeves. 

“Alright, that’s enough, you’ve made your point--” 

He shoves his hand against your panties, pushing the satin between your folds. You gasp and twitch. You push your thighs together and crush his fingers. It only adds pressure. 

“You remember the day I started,” he turns to nuzzle your neck as he speaks, “and you had to make it known that you weren’t an assistant advisor, you were a senior.” He moves his fingers between the clutch of your tensed thighs. “That you were above me?” 

“No, I--” you gulp slap at his wrist. 

“Oh, and look at you now. Still above me, eh? Right there... on top of me,” he buries his hand against you and nips at your neck meanly. “You will be on your knees soon enough,” he flicks his fingers harshly and you spasm. “Right where you belong.” 

[wonyowonyo]

Crossfire (M. Sakura X M!Reader)

A/n: heyaaa wonyo_wonyo here!!! I've missed u guys :3 anyways I got sum vacant days, free from the shackles of life so I decides to write wohoo. I'm posting this on my phone so I apologize in advance if the post is kinda scuffed. This one's a 4k word oneshot, hope yall enjoy and I'll catch yall in the next one. wonyo out!

In the bustling world of eSports, few could rival the fame of Pro-Gamer Miyawaki Sakura from Le Sserafim. Known for her sharp reflexes and strategic mind, she dominated the Valorant scene with her team. But recently, her attention had shifted to a new prodigy: a rookie male player who had taken the community by storm.

The Valorant community buzzed with excitement as Y/N, the rookie sensation, was making headlines. His gameplay was reminiscent of Tenz, combining precision with an uncanny ability to predict opponents' moves. Sakura, while preparing for her own matches, found herself drawn to his streams, captivated by his skill and charisma.

In her downtime, she would secretly watch his highlight reels, her heart racing at each clutch play. Little did anyone know, she had become one of his biggest fans.

The grand tournament was set, featuring some of the best teams in the world. Y/N’s team, Cloud9, was pitted against the reigning champions, Gen.G, in the semi-finals. The arena was electric, with fans eagerly anticipating the showdown.

As the match began, Y/N showcased his prowess with Jett, dashing through the map with surgical precision. The rounds were intense, each team trading blows, but Y/N consistently outperformed, making impossible shots and leading his team to victory.

Sakura, watching from the audience, couldn't help but cheer. Her heart fluttered with each of his plays. She was falling for him, and it was exhilarating.

The finals were set: Cloud9 versus Le Sserafim. The tension was palpable. As the teams gathered backstage, Sakura and Y/N finally met. He was charming, his confidence evident but not overbearing.

"Looking forward to our match," he said with a grin.

Sakura, momentarily flustered, replied, "I hope you're ready for a challenge."

Their banter was light-hearted, but both knew the stakes were high.

The match was legendary. Each map was a nail-biter, with both teams pushing their limits. The first match was set on Haven. As the timer counted down, Sakura’s fingers danced over her keyboard. She played Sage, anchoring the team with her healing and strategic walls.

The rookie’s team pushed aggressively. His precision with the Operator was deadly, picking off Le Sserafim members one by one. Sakura’s heart skipped a beat whenever she saw him on her screen, but she quickly refocused. She needed to keep her team in the game.

In a crucial round, Sakura found herself in a 1v3 situation. The crowd’s roar faded as she breathed deeply and clutched the round, using Sage’s abilities to perfection. The scoreboard evened out, and excitement crackled in the air. But Y/N retaliated on Ascent, his Jett plays leaving the crowd in awe.

The final map, Bind, was neck-and-neck. With the score tied, the last round would decide the victor. Y/N found himself in a 1v3 situation. The crowd held their breath as he deftly maneuvered, taking down two opponents. It was just him and Sakura now in a one-on-one duel. Sakura could feel the eyes of the crowd on her, the weight of her crush mingling with the pressure to win.

With nerves of steel, Sakura planted the spike. Y/N approached, anticipating her every move. The final showdown was a dance of skill and strategy, Sakura’s heart raced as she anticipated his moves, using her Viper abilities to outmaneuver him. The arena held its breath as she landed the final shot, securing victory for Le Sserafim.

"Congratulations,You were incredible out there." Y/N said, offering a handshake.

Sakura blushed and  took his hand warmly, her admiration for him evident. "I’ve been... a fan for a while," she admitted shyly.

Y/N grinned, "I’m honored, especially coming from someone like you."

As they shared a laugh, it was clear this was just the beginning of a new friendship—and perhaps something more.

————————————————————

In the days following the thrilling tournament, Sakura found herself constantly on the lookout for a glimpse of the rookie sensation, Y/N. Their moment of connection after the finals had left her with a fluttering heart and a newfound desire to get to know him better.

One afternoon, as Sakura was leaving the esports arena after a team practice, she turned a corner and nearly collided with a familiar face. There he was, Y/N, standing just a few feet away. Their eyes locked, and Sakura felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Sakura! I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," Y/N said, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.

"No, no, it's my fault," Sakura replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I wasn't expecting to see you here."

An awkward silence fell between them, and Sakura found herself searching for something to say, desperate to prolong their chance encounter.

"I was just, uh, heading out to get a coffee. Would you... would you like to join me?" Y/N asked, his eyes filled with a hopeful expression.

Sakura felt a surge of excitement at the invitation, her heart racing. "I'd love to," she responded, a shy smile spreading across her face.

As they walked side by side, the familiar scents of the arena fading in the distance, Sakura couldn't help but feel a growing sense of anticipation. This unexpected meeting had the potential to be the start of something truly extraordinary.

The cozy café was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversation as Sakura and Y/N settled into a quiet corner. The atmosphere was casual and relaxed, yet Sakura couldn't help but feel a subtle tension between them, a palpable energy that crackled in the air.

"So, how have you been?" Y/N asked, his voice gentle and warm.

"I've been good, just... you know, practicing and preparing for the next tournament," Sakura replied, her fingers nervously wrapped around her mug.

An awkward silence fell between them, and Sakura found herself desperately searching for something to say, a way to break through the barriers and truly connect with Y/N.

Summoning her courage, she looked up and met his gaze. "I... I've been thinking about our match a lot, you know. The way you played, it was... it was amazing."

Y/N's eyes widened slightly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Really? I... I'm glad you enjoyed it. I have to admit, I've been thinking about it a lot too."

Their eyes locked, and the world around them seemed to fade away. Sakura could feel the energy shifting between them, the subtle flicker of something more than just a friendly connection.

"I... I'd love to play with you again sometime, if you're up for it," Sakura said, her voice soft and hopeful.

Y/N nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Absolutely. I'd be more than happy to."

As they made plans to meet up for a gaming session, Sakura couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. This casual meetup had opened the door to something deeper, and she was eager to see where this journey would lead them.

The familiar hum of gaming rigs and the click of keyboards filled the air as Sakura and Y/N immersed themselves in a friendly match. The tension between them had dissipated, replaced by a sense of comfortable camaraderie as they strategized and executed their plays.

Sakura found herself captivated by Y/N's skill and focus, the way his brow furrowed in concentration and the way his lips parted slightly as he issued commands. She couldn't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way he commanded the virtual battlefield.

As the match progressed, their communication and teamwork became increasingly seamless, each of them anticipating the other's moves and working in perfect harmony. Sakura felt a surge of pride and exhilaration, not just from the thrill of the game, but from the growing connection she felt with Y/N.

When the final round came to an end, the two pro-gamers sat back, their eyes meeting in a silent exchange. Sakura could feel the tension building, the unspoken feelings that lingered between them.

"That was... really amazing," Y/N said, his voice soft and sincere. "You're an incredible player, Sakura."

"Thank you," Sakura replied, her heart racing. "You were incredible as well. I... I really enjoyed playing with you."

The air between them was thick with a palpable energy, and Sakura knew that the moment was ripe with the promise of something more. She felt a surge of courage, a desire to take a leap and explore the depths of this connection.

"Hey, would you... would you maybe want to grab a coffee sometime?" Sakura asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'd love to... to get to know you better."

Y/N's eyes widened, a warm smile spreading across his face. "I'd love that, Sakura. I really would."

The days that followed were filled with a sense of anticipation and excitement for Sakura. Her casual coffee date with Y/N had opened the door to a budding friendship, one that she found herself eagerly nurturing. They would meet up regularly, sometimes to game together, other times to simply chat and get to know each other better.

In those quiet moments, Sakura reveled in the easy banter and the genuine connection that was blossoming between them. There was a palpable chemistry that crackled in the air, a spark that both of them seemed hesitant to acknowledge, at least for the time being.

As the next major Valorant tournament loomed on the horizon, Sakura found herself torn between her professional obligations and the growing desire to explore this newfound relationship. She knew that the competition would be fierce, and she couldn't afford any distractions. Yet, the prospect of being apart from Y/N for an extended period left her with a sense of unease.

————————————————————

The hype and anticipation surrounding the upcoming Valorant tournament reached a fever pitch, with players and fans alike eagerly awaiting the clash of the titans. Sakura and her team, Le Sserafim, were considered the clear favorites, their dominant performances in previous events cementing their status as the team to beat.

But as Sakura prepared for the tournament, her focus began to waver. Memories of her time with Y/N would creep into her thoughts, distracting her from the intense training regimen she had so meticulously followed. The more she tried to push these feelings aside, the more they seemed to consume her.

One evening, after a grueling practice session, Sakura found herself alone in the team's gaming lounge, her fingers gently tracing the edges of her mouse. She couldn't shake the sense of longing that had taken root in her heart, the desire to be with Y/N and explore the depths of their connection.

It was in that moment of vulnerability that she made a fateful decision – a decision that would have far-reaching consequences, both for her professional career and her personal life.

————————————————————

The flashing lights and thunderous cheers of the Valorant tournament filled the arena as Sakura and Y/N took their positions on the stage. The energy was palpable, the air thick with anticipation as the two pro-gamers faced off in a highly anticipated match.

Sakura gripped her mouse, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she scanned the virtual battlefield. Y/N mirrored her expression, his brow furrowed as he plotted his team's strategy. The opening rounds were a tense back-and-forth, with both players showcasing their impressive skills and split-second decision-making.

As the match progressed, the crowd erupted in applause and shouts of exhilaration. Sakura and Y/N were in perfect sync. The tension was palpable, neither side willing to back down.

In the final moments, the score was tied, and the outcome hung in the balance. Sakura felt her heart pounding in her chest as she maneuvered her agent, her mind racing with calculations and contingencies. Across the stage, Y/N was equally focused, his eyes locked on the screen as he made a crucial play.

The final round was a nail-biter, both players pushing the limits of their skill and strategy. Sakura held her breath, her entire being consumed by the intensity of the match. And then, in a flurry of action, Y/N emerged victorious, his team erupting in celebration.

Sakura felt a mix of emotions – pride, admiration, and a twinge of disappointment. As she shook Y/N's hand, their eyes met, and she saw a glimmer of something more than just a professional rivalry. The spark that had ignited between them still burned brightly, undimmed by the heat of their virtual clash.

In that moment, Sakura knew that this was far from the end of their story. The Valorant stage had brought them together, but the true connection that lay between them was something that transcended the virtual realm.

The post-match interviews and press conferences had dragged on, and Sakura found herself eagerly anticipating the moment when she and Y/N could finally steal away from the public eye. As she made her way through the crowded backstage area, she spotted him, his gaze fixed on the ground, seemingly lost in thought.

Approaching him cautiously, Sakura placed a gentle hand on his arm, causing him to look up, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Hey, you," she said softly, offering him a warm smile.

Y/N returned the smile, though Sakura could detect a hint of vulnerability in his expression. "Hey, Sakura. That was... quite a match, huh?"

"It was," Sakura replied, her voice low and intimate. "You played incredibly well. I'm... I'm really impressed."

A moment of silence passed between them, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging in the air. Sakura could feel the tension building, the desire to bridge the gap between them growing stronger with each passing second.

"Y/N, I..." she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I need to tell you something."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. Sakura took a deep breath, summoning her courage.

"I... I've been thinking about you a lot. About us. And I... I can't stop thinking about the connection I feel between us. It's... it's more than just a professional rivalry, isn't it?"

Y/N remained silent, his expression unreadable. Sakura's heart raced, the uncertainty of his reaction threatening to consume her.

"I know this might be... complicated," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I... I need you to know how I feel. I don't want to keep this bottled up any longer."

The air was thick with tension as Sakura waited, her entire being focused on Y/N's response. The moment seemed to stretch on endlessly, until finally, he reached out and gently took her hand, his touch sending a shiver down her spine.

"Sakura..." he began, his voice low and filled with emotion. "I feel it too. I... I've been struggling with these feelings for a while now."

Sakura's breath caught in her throat, her heart threatening to burst from her chest. The vulnerability in Y/N's eyes was a mirror to her own, and in that moment, she knew that the path forward, though uncertain, was one they would navigate together.

The air crackled with a potent mixture of vulnerability and anticipation as Sakura and Y/N stood there, their hands intertwined, the world around them fading into the background.

"I've been... so afraid to say anything," Sakura confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to jeopardize our careers, our friendship. But I can't keep denying what I feel for you."

Y/N gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes reflecting the same tumultuous emotions she was experiencing. "Sakura, I feel the same way. These past few months, getting to know you, being around you... it's been both exhilarating and terrifying."

Sakura felt a surge of relief wash over her, but the uncertainty that lingered was palpable. "What do we do now? This... this could complicate things, both on and off the field."

"I don't know," Y/N admitted, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "But I do know that I don't want to lose you, Sakura. Whatever happens, I want us to figure this out. Together."

Sakura's heart swelled with a mixture of joy and trepidation. She knew the challenges they would face, the scrutiny and the potential fallout, but in that moment, all that mattered was the connection they shared.

"Okay," she said, her voice steadier now. "Let's take this one step at a time. We'll figure it out, no matter what."

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'm with you, Sakura. Through it all."

As they stood there, hand in hand, the weight of their decision hung heavy in the air. But there was also a glimmer of hope, a promise of a future that was theirs to shape, no matter the obstacles that lay ahead.

————————————————————

The aftermath of the Valorant tournament was a whirlwind of activity, with both teams and players facing intense scrutiny and media attention. Sakura and Y/N had made the conscious decision to keep their newfound relationship under wraps, at least for the time being.

However, their carefully guarded secret was not destined to remain hidden for long. During a post-match interview, a seemingly innocuous question about their "close friendship" triggered a line of questioning that quickly spiraled out of control.

Sakura felt her heart race as the interviewer probed deeper, hinting at the possibility of a romantic involvement between the two pro-gamers. She glanced at Y/N, who was visibly tense, his jaw clenched as he struggled to maintain his composure.

The tension in the room was palpable, and Sakura knew that they were rapidly running out of time to address the situation before it spun entirely out of their control. She took a deep breath, summoning her courage, and made the decision to speak up.

"Look, the truth is, Y/N and I... we have developed a deep connection. One that goes beyond just being teammates or competitors." Sakura paused, her gaze unwavering as she met the interviewer's eyes. "We've been trying to navigate this situation as best we can, but the reality is, we care about each other. Deeply."

The room erupted in a flurry of activity, with reporters shouting questions and cameras flashing. Sakura felt Y/N's hand brush against hers, offering a silent show of support amidst the chaos.

In that moment, they both knew that there was no going back. Their relationship was now public knowledge, and the consequences, both professional and personal, would be significant. But as they stood there, facing the storm together, Sakura couldn't help but feel a sense of resolve.

Whatever lay ahead, they would face it side by side, determined to forge their own path and to explore the depths of their connection, no matter the cost.

The fallout from the public reveal of Sakura and Y/N's relationship was swift and unforgiving. The esports community, known for its intense rivalries and cutthroat nature, erupted in a frenzy of speculation, criticism, and even outright hostility.

Both players found themselves at the center of a media storm, their every move scrutinized and dissected. Accusations of favoritism, bias, and potential conflicts of interest began to swirl, threatening to overshadow their impressive accomplishments on the Valorant stage.

Sakura and Y/N weathered the storm with remarkable resilience, though the emotional toll was undeniable. They faced intense pressure from their respective teams, as well as from sponsors and league officials, all of whom were concerned about the potential impact on their brands and reputations.

Yet, amidst the chaos, their bond only grew stronger. They leaned on each other, offering support, comfort, and a steadfast determination to weather the storm together. In the rare moments they could steal away from the public eye, they would simply hold each other, drawing strength from the connection that had blossomed between them.

"I never imagined it would be this difficult," Sakura confessed one night, her head resting on Y/N's shoulder. "But I don't regret it, Y/N. I don't regret choosing you."

Y/N pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his arms tightening around her. "Neither do I, Sakura. We'll get through this. I promise."

As they sat there, the weight of the world seemingly on their shoulders, they knew that their love would be the anchor that kept them grounded, even in the face of the most turbulent storms.

————————————————————

Despite the intense scrutiny and controversy surrounding their relationship, Sakura and Y/N refused to let it dampen their competitive spirit. As the next major Valorant tournament approached, they were more determined than ever to prove their worth on the virtual battlefield.

In the weeks leading up to the event, they immersed themselves in a rigorous training regimen, pushing their skills to new heights. Sakura could feel the electricity coursing through her veins as she honed her strategies, her focus laser-sharp and unwavering.

Y/N, for his part, matched her intensity, his gameplay reaching new levels of precision and adaptability. The two of them were in perfect sync, their communication and teamwork seamless as they coordinated their team's movements.

As the tournament began, the scrutiny and pressure only seemed to fuel their determination. Sakura and Y/N were a force to be reckoned with, their performances captivating the audience and their opponents alike.

With each successive win, the noise and criticism that had once threatened to overwhelm them began to fade into the background. All that mattered was the thrill of the competition, the rush of adrenaline, and the unbreakable bond that united them.

And as the final match of the prestigious Valorant tournament commenced. Sakura and Y/N, once fierce rivals, now united by a love that transcended the virtual battlefield, found themselves pitted against each other once more – but this time, the stakes were higher than ever before.

The world watched with bated breath as the two pro-gamers led their respective teams through a grueling series of rounds, their skills and strategic prowess on full display. The intensity of the competition was palpable, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife.

Yet, amidst the fierceness of the battle, Sakura and Y/N shared fleeting glances, a silent language that spoke volumes of the profound connection they shared. Their teamwork and synergy were unparalleled, each anticipating the other's moves, their decisions seamlessly in sync.

As the match reached its crescendo, the score remained tied, both teams refusing to back down. It was in this moment of pure, unadulterated tension that Sakura and Y/N found their moment to shine.

With a flawless execution of a daring maneuver, Y/N outmaneuvered Sakura's team, securing the final victory for his squad. The arena erupted in thunderous cheers, the fans captivated by the sheer brilliance of the play.

In the aftermath, Sakura and Y/N met in the center of the virtual battlefield, their eyes locking in a moment of profound understanding. Y/N reached out, gently taking Sakura's hand, and in that instant, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them.

"Congratulations, Y/N," Sakura whispered, a soft smile gracing her lips. "You were amazing out there."

Y/N returned the smile, his thumb caressing the back of her hand. "I couldn't have done it without you, Sakura. This victory belongs to both of us."

In that moment, their bond transcended the confines of the tournament, their love shining through as a testament to the belief that true triumph could only be found in the strength of their shared journey. The world watched in awe, captivated by the raw, unadulterated emotion that radiated from the two pro-gamers.

As they stepped off the virtual stage, hand in hand, Sakura and Y/N knew that their story was just beginning. The future was theirs to shape, a canvas upon which they would continue to paint the masterpiece of their love – a love that would inspire generations to come, a love that knew no boundaries.

[foreingersgod]

If you can could you do a Caitlin Clark x reader with angst? Thank youuu

votes are in! we’re going with angst to fluff for this one!

Regrets . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: caitlin says something to you during an argument that she immediately regrets

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

caitlin was a phenomenal athlete. she was good at what she did, blowing everyone away and breaking records, all while doing well in school and balancing the other parts of her life. you absolutely admired her for it, amazed by how perfect a person could be. she was so good to you, as her girlfriend, giving you equal support and love.

you on the other hand, were never an athlete, your dream was to pursue writing or journalism. you loved to write more than anything in the world and you knew from a very young age that that was what you wanted to do for the rest of your life. you often wrote small stories in your free time or touched up on trending articles, trying to write as much as you could. throughout your college years, you’ve been interning and taking classes to get you into a good position for your career.

you’ll admit, it was a very competitive career to go into, but you were determined to succeed. caitlin was always at your side, too, rooting for you every step of the way.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

it was a tuesday night, you were at home cleaning and fixing up dinner. caitlin was still out, something about a meeting with a few scouts. she didn’t say much about and said that she’d tell you all about it when she got home.

so you waited patiently, finishing up dinner and waiting for cait to get home. you pulled out your laptop while you awaited her arrival, beginning to work on an important paper you were writing for your journalism course. as you typed away at the keyboard, you felt your phone vibrate. you pulled out your phone, curious to see who was texting you.

cait <3: really big news when i get home, can’t wait to tell you

your heart started to beat a little faster, eager to hear what it was. you knew how hard she had been working to get the attention of some of these scouts so you hoped it was finally paying off for her.

as you were finishing up a paragraph for your article, you heard the lock of the front door jostling, hinges creaking as it opened. your eyes darted to the door right away, watching as caitlin walked in, positively glowing. she hung up her jacket and took off her shoes all with a huge smile on her face. you found yourself smiling too, her happiness contagious.

“hey, babe” you swooned “how was the meeting? big news?”

she came over to you, standing behind the counter opposite of you chair. “YN, it was life changing! you’re never gonna believe it, it’s like a dream come true”

her eyes were wide with excitement, still shaking from receiving the news. she had you anxious as you waited for her to spill. you closed your laptop half way to give her full attention, pushing it aside.

“what?” you questioned “the anticipation is killing me!”

“well,” she took a breathy pause for dramatic effect “a few of the scouts that i was talking to approached me after the meeting. they were telling me about how they’re recruiting for the women’s olympic basketball team…and long story short, they want me on the team! baby im playing in the olympics!”

“holy shit, you’re kidding!” you leaped out of your seat, rushing around the counter to congratulate her “that’s amazing, oh my god, i’m so proud of you!”

you hugged her tightly, smoothing your hands across her back.

“thank you, i’m freaking out still, it’s so surreal” she felt like crying “we’re going paris, YN!”

she was still on cloud nine, starting to text friends and family to share the good news, but you had stepped back thinking you heard her wrong. you? the both of you? paris? while you were aware that the events would be an international occasion, you hadn’t realized it would be that far away. you had just assumed you would do a bit of long distance for the time being, caitlin going to play and you staying here to take care of things and focus on journalism. noticing you had pulled away, caitlin sent her last text and turned back to you.

“hey are you ok?” she asked “went all quiet on me”

“hm? oh yea i just,” you started picking at your nails, nervous to bring up the conversation “it’s just that you said ‘we’?”

her infectious laugh rang through your living room “of course, you’re my girl, i want you there with me”

“cait, you know i’d love to be there for you in person and come with but…but i can’t just go babe” you said, apologetically.

your entire soul shattered seeing the look on her face as you broke the news. she looked defeated, trying to laugh it off as a weird joke “what do you mean you can’t go?”

“don’t get upset” you said, sensing the tension growing “but a trip like that is expensive, and there’s things that i need to take care of, especially if you’re going to be gone…and i’m just in the middle of a really important part of my path in writing…i need to be able to focus on that right now. but we can do it, you know? we’d only be doing the long distance thing for a little bit!”

“are you serious?” she tried to keep her voice calm, instead raising it slightly “this is a huge deal for me and you don’t even want to be there with me?”

“that’s not true! i would do anything to go, but like i said, that’s an insanely expensive trip and i’m in the middle of trying to pursue this journalism thing so i-”

“you’re not going so you can write your silly papers?” she ridiculed “fine, it’s expensive, we can work around that, but you’re seriously telling me you’re not doing this so you can write?”

you were dumbfounded, her calling your passion just some ‘silly papers’ made you sick. you’ve been pushing yourself to every possible limit to work towards this, and you thought she was supportive of that, i guess this was bringing out her true colors.

“silly papers? caitlin, pursuing journalism is my dream, you know that” your nose scrunching in frustration “i’ve always been supportive of your dream, i’m constantly putting my own things aside so you can continue to do this”

“yea well that’s because i’m actually good at what i do” she snapped. her voice was laced with spite, gaze shooting daggers into yours. “i’ve got a real job, with real responsibilities, YN”

your body was frozen, feet glued to the ground, limbs unable to move. the way she was talking to you hurt, any support that you thought she had for you was gone out the window. you wanted to scream, storm out of the house and slam the door.

“that’s really what you think, hm?” you sneered “that i don’t have a real job? that i’m not good at the one thing i’m passionate about? jesus fucking christ caitlin.”

somewhere in your body, you found the courage to move. without letting her get another word in, you grabbed your laptop and stormed up the stairs into your shared bedroom. she could sleep on the couch tonight.

the second you made it up the stairs, you slammed the door and collapsed onto your bed. you were seething with rage. for her to stand in front of you, after you’ve put your heart and soul into helping caitlin succeed, was like a punch to the gut. she knew how hard you had been working to make this happen, how many classes and workshops, how many late nights and meetings with publishers. she knew about it all and she still had the audacity to say such a nasty thing.

you pulled the comforter up over your shoulders, hiding below it, and sobbed in your pillow. you didn’t even bother trying to finish your article tonight, your headache too painful from the tears. about an hour went by, you had assumed, the sun going down outside your bedroom window. not once did you hear anything from caitlin so you thought she had left to blow off steam or made herself comfortable on the couch.

then there was a knock at your bedroom door. she didn’t have to knock, in reality, it was her room too. you didn’t answer at the raps at the door, nor when she called out your name. you didn’t have anything to say.

“YN, can we talk?” her voice muffled from behind the wooden barrier “i shouldn’t have said those things, i didn’t mean it”

you stood up, opening the door for her and resuming your position on the bed, pulling up the covers once more. she followed suit and sat down at the foot of the bed next to you. still silent, you waited for her to continue.

“what i said was uncalled for” her voice cutting through deafening silence “none of it was true”

“so why’d you say it?” she could tell you had been crying right away, hearing the stuffiness in your nose. it made her stomach turn knowing she was the reason why.

“i was mad. the second i got the news, all i could think about was taking you with me. i had the whole thing planned out. but i didn’t even consider what it would mean for you, to drop everything and go to paris with me. and that was incredibly unfair of me to assume.”

you remained silent, listening to her confession.

“baby, i don’t think your papers are silly and i don’t think it’s not a real job” her hands found the way to your legs under the blanket, rubbing at them tenderly to try and comfort you “i’m so amazed by how talented you are. you’ve put in so much effort into making a name for yourself and i admire you for that, i know you’re going to do amazing things. what i said was cruel and purely out of spite and it won’t ever happen again, i’m so sorry”

you sniffled, wiping the rest of your tears as you sat up against the headboard. she had looked horrible when you looked at her. hair messy from running her hands through it, face pale and flushed, it didn’t take much to realize how bad she felt for lashing out at you.

“i know you’re mad, and i’m upset that i can’t go either,” you spoke up “but if you’re going to make a habit out of saying things like that to me, i don’t know if-”

“i swear to god i’m not! that was a shitty slip up, but please, i’m being honest when i say that i’ll never do that again. i have never once believed that what i said was true, im so so sorry” she pleaded, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of your palm.

“i forgive you, but it’s going to take a lot for you to make it up to me”

“anything, i’ll do anything” she said “i can’t live with myself knowing that i made you upset. whatever it takes to gain your trust back, i’ll fucking do it”

you let out a small chuckle, knowing the real cait was already shining through. the caitlin that would go to the ends of the earth for you. her hand was still gripping yours, drawing small shapes around your knuckles and kissing them reassuringly. you tugged her towards you making her fall into the sheets beside you. you reached out, caressing her long strands of hair, silently admiring her.

the two of you remained there in bed without saying anything. the sun lingered in its final hour in the sky as you both soaked in each other’s presence.

you couldn’t stay mad at her for long.

[qrrieterisunnq]

if you don’t write smut ignore this :)

jack and berrys first time and jack shiny so sweet and soft and making berry feel so beautiful

No More Virgin - Jack Hughes

Thank you for requesting my lovely! It's a bit longer so I hope it doesn't mind And I'm sorry for taking so long and sorry for it being shitty.💖🤣MINORS DNI - 18+ content

PART OF STRAWBERRY GIRL AU

strawberry girl masterlist

“I-I’m ready, Jack,” Amara says while she stands in front of her man, nervously fidgeting with her fingers, not daring to look at him. "I uhm, I think I'm ready."

Jack who's sitting on the couch, looks up at her, his eyes wide, but a smirk rests on his lips. He knows what his girl is talking about, but he doesn't expect her to come to him and tell him just like that.

“Why so suddenly?” Jack asks, reaching his hands out for hers to take them.

“I…uhm…I don’t know. Just feel like I’m ready.” She whispers looking at him with doe eyes. Gosh, she’s so fucking beautiful is what runs through his mind.

Jack stands up hovering slightly over her and looking down at her with a smirk. His right hand cups her cheek, tilting her head as he leans down pressing his lips on hers.

He knows he should probably ask her if she’s ready but knowing her and her personality, he doesn’t.

Amara’s arms sneak around his waist, moaning softly in the kiss. Jack chuckles quietly, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs.

“We’re not doing it now,” he whispers in the kiss. “Today, after our game, we won’t go to the club if we win instead we’ll go home and celebrate the win like this.”

“Okay,” she swallows hard, looking into his beautiful eyes. “But you have to shoot at least one goal.” She smirks and giggles when a surprised look washes over his features.

“Well, then I’ll shoot a hattrick.” He mumbles in the kiss with a wide grin. Amara just shakes her head at his cockiness and kisses him again.

Jack is breathing heavily as he and the other Devils make their way into a locker room with wide grins on their lips.

Laughter fills the locker room as the boys start to undress themselves from their gears. Coach walks in and grins at them clapping his hands to get their attention for at least a few minutes.

“You did amazing guys!” he shouts clapping his hands. “Johnny! Defence was amazing keep going like that! The offense wasn’t the best but compared to theirs it was great. And the last thing I want to say before Nico gets the word is,” he trails off looking around the locker room until his eyes land on Jack. “Jack! Congratulations on your first hat trick!” He shouts and the guys cheer and clap their hands with laughter and shouts of Jack’s name.

Nico grins when he stands in front of Jack with their hat trick hat. “You played a hell of a game bro!” Nico sets the hat on Jack’s head with a grin on his lips.

“Thanks, man!” Jack smiles hugging Nico and grinning when the photographer takes a photo of him with the ridiculous big hat.

“Yeah! Now listen to me! We have a few days off which doesn’t mean we won’t have any practice, except for tomorrow. That’s a free day for all of you, enjoy your time with family, celebrate, and do whatever shit you want to do, but the day after tomorrow is two-hour practice at 6 am sharp and then at 8 pm only for an hour.” This is the last thing the coach says before he and the staff leave the locker room leaving all of the guys in there. Jack doesn’t waste any time and he undresses himself and hops in a shower so he doesn’t smell so bad when he comes home to Berry.

With a smile on his lips, he bids goodbye to the guys and gets out of the arena. He waves to the fans on his way out of the garage and drives to his apartment complex. Grin doesn’t leave his lips as he says hi to the lobby man, walks into the elevator, pushes the button of his apartment, and clicks the code on the keyboard, making the elevator move to his apartment.

Amara is impatiently waiting for the door to open and jumping on her place lightly. The door swings open, and Ara throws herself on him peppering his face with kisses while he giggles at the welcome he receives.

“I’m so proud of you Jacky!” she kisses his lips, making him let out a soft moan.

“Thank you,” He whispers and pulls away just to put his bag on the ground and comes back to her pulling her to his chest with hands on her hips. His eyes roam her figure and he lets out a low groan at the sight of her bare legs and his shirt low on her shoulders. “Fuck you look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She giggles, soothing her hands over his chest. She clasps his hand in hers and makes her way into their bedroom. Jack closes the doors behind them observing her movements.

He can see how nervous she is but she’s trying to be confident, which makes his heart flutter with pride. “Look at me, baby.” He sighs reaching for her hand and turning her around. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

“And you are the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.” She blushes lowering her head.

Jack chuckles and leans down to capture her lips with his. His hands go to her hips as he slowly backs her to their bed and slowly lays her down his lips still on hers in a hungry but slow kiss.

He swallows her moans when his hands travel down her torso, brushing the sides of her breasts. Her back is arched slightly at the feeling of his hands on her skin.

“Jack,” she moans throwing her head back with her eyes rolling back. “Fuck.” She cusses and Jack chuckles at her language.

“Am I making my innocent Berry cussing?” he whispers in her ear his lips playing with her ear lobe.

“Yeah.” She says her breaths are heavy and her eyes are fixed on his face. Jack leans down, connecting their lips in a heated kiss, and his hands land under her knees as he urges her to wrap them around his waist.

“You are gorgeous, baby.” A blush appears on Amara’s cheeks from the compliment.

“You too.” She giggles her hands playing with the hem of his shirt.

“You want me to put it off?” he asks, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. Amara bites her lower lip and nods her head. “Then do it.”

Amara looks up at him with wide eyes, but her hands automatically do what he says. Her hands slide under the shirt, caressing his skin before she pulls it over his head, smiling at the view of his bare and toned chest.

“Can I?” he asks, tugging at the shirt she’s wearing. Amara just nods her shy eyes watching his face carefully. Jack sits on his heels and helps her sit up so he can pull the shirt over her head.

Amara always thought she would be extremely nervous about someone seeing her naked, but with Jack, she feels loved and beautiful like she never felt before.

“Fuck, Berry, you are so fucking gorgeous.” He let out a groan at the sight of her full breasts. With his eyes locked on hers, he lowers his head down to capture her left nipple between his lips, gently nibbling at it.

Amara lets out a surprised gasp that is followed by a loud moan when she feels the pleasure running through her.

“You taste so good,” He mumbles into her skin as his lips move to the other nipple, playing with it for a while. After he has his time with her breasts he moves his kisses down her stomach until they reach her panties. “May I?”

Ainsley looks deeply into his eyes looking for some type of disgust in them but when she finds none she nods with a small smile her hands nervously playing with his hair.

“Are you sure? I can see how nervous you are.” Concern is in his eyes as he watches her from down there.

“I’m positive, plus I know you’re jerking off in the shower so.” She shrugs giggling at Jack’s surprised and little ashamed expression.

With a chuckle Jack pulls down her panties, observing her beautiful pussy. “Fuck you are so beautiful.” He whispers and his middle finger slides through her folds, which makes Amara moan.

“No,” Amara takes his head in her palms shaking her head when Jack leans down to kiss her pussy. “I’m not really ready for this.”

“Okay,” he smiles at her and turns his head to kiss her palm. “But I can use my fingers, right?”

“Yeah.” her voice is not even above a whisper as she speaks. She shivers when Jack's finger slides across her clit and down to her entrance.

“Relax, it won’t hurt.” With that Jack pushes his middle finger in her, holding a groan in his throat. He looks up at his girl, whose head is thrown back and her mouth is open in ‘o’ shape. His wrist starts moving from itself while his eyes keep glutted on her face.

When a loud moan escapes her lips Jack increases the speed and adds another finger earning yet another loud moan from her. “Does it feel good Berry?” he murmurs his voice hoarse as he watches his girl getting to the edge. Jack groans when she squeezes around him, her tight walls tightening even more around his fingers.

“Yeah.” She shudders out tightening her walls around him again.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight. Keep squeezing my fingers like that.” He groans leaning down to place his lips on her’s in a soft kiss.

"So fucking beautiful my love." he keeps whispering sweet things in her ear while she moans and squeezes around his thick fingers.

Her orgasm is slowly but intensely shooting through her body as she moans loudly her whole body shaking from the pleasure.

“Gosh, Jacky, what was that?” she looked at him with shock. Jack chuckles kissing her forehead before answering.

“That was your first orgasm my sweet berry,” he says before he pulls his fingers from her and brings them to his mouth groaning at the sweet taste. Amara looks at him with wide eyes catching his wrist. “What baby? I’m just tasting you.” Smirking he leans down, pressing his lips on hers, letting her taste her sweet juices.

She moans at the taste of herself, her hands running down Jack's back. With a smile, Jack pulls away standing up and stripping from his pants taking the boxers all the way down with them. Amara takes in his toned chest and muscles while he stands there with a smirk on his face. She blushes when her eyes land on his big cock.

“You like what you see?” Jack asks teasingly, taking his cock in his hand and stroking it a  few times as Amara watches him.

“Yeah.” She squeaks, her hand clapping around her mouth as Jack giggles. Jack slowly climbs up to her so his face is on the same level as hers. He bends down a presses their lips together in a sweet kiss.

“I know you already said that but are you sure you want this?” he asks her again stroking her cheeks with his thumb. Amara looks at him with a soft smile, her hands cupping his cheeks. She pulls him down pressing her lips to his in a hungry kiss.

“Is this enough for an answer?” she asks him, a smirk on her lips.

“Yeah,” He smiles at her, and his hand trails down her side, until he reaches her knee. He wraps it around his waist, his eyes never leaving her. Amara groans when she feels his cock on her pussy. “I’ll go slowly okay?”

“Okay.” She swallows hard when she feels his cock rubbing against her entrance.

“Relax, baby,” He whispers as he slowly pushes himself into her. Amara shifts under his body and he stills for a second, watching her features. “It’s okay baby, just relax okay?”

Amara nods, breathing in and then out, relaxing her muscles, which allow Jack to slide more into her, stretching her walls. Amara lets out a soft moan at the pain and pleasure mixed together.

“Oh fuck. You feel so great.” Jack groans in Berry’s neck as soon as he’s fully inside her. He can feel her wall tightening around his cock and her fingers scratching his scalp. “Can I move?” he asks pushing himself up on his forearms so he can look her in the eyes.

“Please.” She moans and grinds her hips against his. Jack chuckles and presses his lips against her forehead as he starts moving slowly.

“Fuck.” He groans and squeezes her tight as his hips jerk a little too quickly, earning a loud gasp from Amara.

“Oh my gosh.” She moans kissing his shoulder and squeezing around his cock when he hits the spongy spot.

“Keep squeezing me, baby,” he says as he pounds into her increasing the speed of his thrusts. “Just like that beautiful.” He smashes his lips on her, his tongue making its way into her mouth, fighting with hers for power.

“Jack,” She moans as she feels her another orgasm approaching really fast. “I-I think I’m coming.”

Jack smirks leaning on his right hand, bringing his left one down to her clit rubbing it at a quick pace to bring her to her orgasm. As soon as she finishes, Jack pulls out of her, lying down next to her and pulling her in a hug.

“What about you?” she looks up at him with a confusion written all over her face.

“I’m fine, Berry. Today was about you not about me.” He smiles and kisses her forehead but doesn’t miss when Amara pulls the blanket around her body.

[spikeeager]

Tutorial: How-To Create Striking Gradient Shapes & Waves for Adobe Illustrator for iPad

In this tutorial, we will explore step-by-step instructions and tips to create striking gradient waves and shapes that can enhance any project, from digital illustration to web design and marketing materials.

Starting off you'll want to open Adobe Illustrator on your iPad, and select 'custom size'.

Create a canvas that measures at 3000 x 3000 points.

Set the colour mode as 'RGB'.

Select the 'Pencil' tool, and then select 'Paint Brush'.

Select 'Calligraphic' brushes, and scroll down until you find the 15 pt. 'Round' brush and select it.

Select the 'Fill' option and set the colour value to none.

Select the 'Stroke' option and set the colour value to a colour of your choosing.

Select the 'Smoothness' option and set it to the maximum value (10).

Draw a wavy line.

Select the 'Stroke' tool and choose a new colour.

Draw another wavy line over the top of the previous.

Select the 'Stroke' tool and choose another new colour.

Draw another wavy line over the top of the previous two.

Select the 'Selection' tool.

Select all of the shapes.

Select the 'Repeat' tool.

Within the 'Repeat' tool, select the 'Blend' option.

Tip: If you have a keyboard connected to your iPad, you can use the keyboard shortcut 'Command+Alt+B' when objects are selected to blend them.

Now our gradient wave shape has been created!

Once the shapes have been blended, you can manipulate the spacing of each shape with the three dots in the middle, each one represents each of the lines.

Move each point around until you feel comfortable with their spacing.

We may want to make some alterations to our shape such as changing the rotation, shape, size, order of lines. Here’s how we can do that.

Select the 'Selection' tool.

Drag and select the shape.

Select the 'Object' tool.

Select the 'Release' option.

Now the objects are unblended they can be altered or manipulated to our liking.

To put our gradient wave back in place, first select the 'Repeat' tool.

Then select the 'Blend' option.

Congratulations on completing the tutorial on creating striking gradient waves and shapes in Adobe Illustrator for iPad! You've taken significant steps in enhancing your design skills, learning how to apply gradients effectively, and bringing your digital artwork to life with vibrant colours and dynamic forms.

Keep Practicing - As with any creative skill, practice is key to mastery. Continue experimenting with different gradient combinations, wave patterns, and shapes. Find new ways to enhance your designs.

The more you practice, the more confident and proficient you will become.

If you're interested in supporting me, or checking out some free eBooks, Wallpapers, and more. Please consider checking out my Ko-Fi page: https://ko-fi.com/spikeeager

[voidcat]

i. welcome to summoners rift

characters: narumi gen, gn!reader

a/n: the game i had in mind while writing this is league of legends.. boo i know. anyways i tried to keep the LoL terms down so itll be easier to understand. reader is implied to be a part of first division- part time operations leader but more involved in data collecting and medical side of things, (I’ll decide fully later)

. i need to make this pathetic loser suffer in games so bad its not even funny anymore... first of many more fics to come im afraid

The first few times to play it safe and because it’s what you’re used to, you take a generic support class— Seraphine got crowd control, enough damaging spells to trigger a DoT or do some extra last minute damage, provides shield, speed and health.

A well balanced support and pretty, Narumi cannot help but think as the Seraphine on his screen hits ctrl+3 and dances for the third time while waiting for the opposing team to make a move. You seem to know what you’re doing, you placed wards, dance when it seems idle but keeping your attention enough to cut it when you suspected an ambush few times. Plus it’s one of the most recent skins you got for the champ so he knows you know how to play the champion, despite your low score on her-

After all, not everyone has been playing this damn game for 5 to 10 years now, a newbie is no problem as long as they know how to play and show it. You leave the minions to him, heal him at critical moments the enemies thought he was dying so he can attack back and get them one by one— you’re good, and you’re especially good with him.

By the time the entire team gathers on the same lane, pushing to the opposing team’s base, you send your ult at the perfect moment, charming four enemies at once and creating the dream situation of any player.

Well, the rest of your team slowly dies because of heavy damage over time they took but it’s alright. The screen says in big letters: PENTA KILL! With his champion icon right under it, and in the game chat even the opposing team congratulates him, saying it was insane game play.

Then Narumi hears that same melody since the beginning of the game whenever you hit the dance animation and a new message in the game chat:

> victory dance for that lovely penta ( *｀ω´)

Reading the message, he watches your champion dance with his eyes glued to the screen, heat rising up to his face… absolutely adorable is what it is. Standing there with his champion, he then hits ctrl+3 as well to join you on the dance, letting the minions carry on.

The game is about to end, the opposing team begs in the chat to not end, to keep playing, meanwhile his team makes some jokes referencing early minutes of the match. Then at the last second, Narumi quickly types in and hits send.

The chat box reads: ‘support diff’

Before queuing up for another game, his hand acts on impulse and invites you to the lobby.

And to his surprise, you accept!

The sound of message notifications reaches his ears short after and he quickly reads over.

>awww >seems like someone enjoyed my presence;P

Adorable and cheeky, this just might be his best in game interactions by far. without a word, he queues up another game and another, the night goes on.

messages from you in-game keep on coming, at one point he thinks to himself "what he hell is a fryslan bop" to which you just send a keyboard smash followed by a "its a song lol"

so you are a chatter, he gathers quickly. not often but when you do, you send in a lot. he soon catches up to when you're actually talking versus spamming a song's lyrics while having Seraphine dance in your stead.

until you cancel the queue start up and send a message.

>gotta go >its late >booo >we jst got started >work tmr sry T-T

with a sigh, he watches as you leave and tries playing another match, but for some reason during the entirety of the match, he has no fun.

when you log into your game accounts in the evening, relieved to have an easy day, you notice a few friend request. "kaijuslayer"

you click accept and before you can open another tab, you instantly receive a lobby invite. its unreal how quick this person is... and how much he enjoys gaming, apparently. with no plans for the night and no desire to do anything else, you accept the invite.

Narumi is over the clouds to see not only has his request being accepted but also his invite too. gaming is more fun when you are winning, and thus playing with people who know what they're doing. you pick the same champion again and accomodate to his various picks, supporting him however he needs. it's perfect, it's distracting. while the two of you wait for the client to find another match, you begin to talk. since it's a friday, he tries his shot and asks if you'll stay for longer this time.

>nah >my v much serious v grownup job has saturdays too >and awfully early waking hours >sucks to b u> v serious v grownup huh >yea? >im starting to suspect u might b a child >OLIFSDJFIGOJSDOLŞGJSDFOLŞG >the calls coming from inside the house

before Narumi can send a reply, the 'match found' screen pops up and the two of you leave it there.

the match starts off smooth. he's farming a good amount, the two of you reached level 6 before the others, and as the opposing lane tries an ambush, you hit them with your ult, charming them in the process. as narumi begins to unleash his combo, your slowing down waves slither there gently, quitely. then follows your shield and speed buff, and right before his very eyes, your now-powered-up-double skill hits the enemies and the screen reads: "TRIPLE KILL" with your icon next to it.

as much of an ideal support as Seraphine is, Narumi remembers the fact all too painfully that Seraphine was first released as a midlaner... a very much capable AP damage unit if built that way. a part of wants to see, and a part of him is afraid of what he might see if he goes to check which items you have purchased- or if it was a brilliant calculation by itself.

as Narumi stares at the screen, Seraphine dances again, sometimes ending the animation to go around him. seeing him frozen for far too long, you ping him few times. as if his misery, and his kills stolen wasnt bad enough already, your team's jungle has the audacity to send a message to in-game chat. 'supp diff'’

complimenting his support? his duo? Narumi begins to see red.

as you begin to teleport back to the base, you send an emote of one of the characters, tongue poking out, winking and doing a peace sign.

and on his side of things, narumi gen cannot find it in him to stay mad at the turn of events- because just look how endearing and cute you are! it's alright if you took a kill or two by accident, you're still his support, his duo after all!

despite the... technical errors, the game ends in another victory and with you doing a victory dance again, now pinging him if he's staying idle until he joins you as well. his heart cannot take it. it's too much... and as if you are dead set on being the final blow, you send cute emotes, and whenever he sends one back, you reply with another, it goes and goes until the matches end.

a flood of message notification sounds brings him back to earth again.

>heeeey >r u gonna start the queue some time this year? >oh btw pick a color

puzzled at the last message, he says a color, not expecting much out of it. until he sees you have picked another skin with the chroma he said. candy and teeth- you are so adorable and charming, so bad for his poor health. waiting in your lane, you begin the dancing animation again and narumi grins at the screen, watching you dance.

oh no, this is bad. this is pathetic even for him now... he cannot be possibly finding some gamer maybe across the country, someone he never saw nor even heard the voice of charming...

maybe that annoying part time operations leader was right about his... pent up frustration... if he's this down for a game model supposedly representing a person, maybe you had a point when you implied he goes to seek some action and revive himself of whatever's been building up down there.

there is no way he can let anyone learn about this- worst of all, you. with your stoic face and condescending eyes, you'd never let him live that down.

Him! Narumi Gen! the first division captain and the strongest anti-kaiju combatant! he'd rather die than give you the satisfaction of knowing he's so desperate to get some sort of friction he's starting to mix an online person with the character they're playing.

aggressive pings snap him out of his running thoughts and he realizes he's a little behind game-play wise.

now, looking over at the match stats, it doesn't seem all to unsalvageable. he better get to it, there's a match to win and a lovely duo to impress.

[grinnames]

Hai! Just wanna say I LOVEE this AU to death!!! I love the concept, designs, everything! I had a question regarding IGBP: How would the scars translate to SMG4, and more importantly, does IGBP happen in your AU? Also, this is totally voluntary, but how would SMG4 react to a hug from Hexsy? :3 (That's right, bro's getting hugged this time /silly)

Thank you for enjoying my story! I'm still figuring out some of the lore for this AU, and that includes IGBP, so I don't want to spoil too much until I'm ready. SMG4 DOES go through a psychotic break, gets a keyboard, and nearly ruins everything, just like in canon. However, his psychotic break will be for a completely different reason than perfection. I'm thinking that instead of "perfection," it's going to be more about "reclaiming what was lost." (Interpret that how you will!) IGBP is either going to be a turning point in which something truly dark awakens inside SMG4, or he gets some sort of redemption arc.

The one thing I can say for sure is that SMG4 won’t have any physical scars. As the vessel for an eldritch god, he can just regenerate and heal those scars like nothing happened!

As for that hug... (ahem)

Congratulations, you are one of the five many people that asked for a hug! Since so many people asked for a hug from these two, I'm going to later post the drawings of your characters getting their hugs in one big post. I'm just replying so that I don't leave you all hanging! (end filler message)

[fluffyf0x]

Hi <3 Congratulations on 100 followers, and I hope you have / had a lovely birthday 🥳❤️ Your café event sounds so adorable. Could I please place an order for a hot chocolate, soft and sweet, for Kenma? If it's possible, I would prefer a female reader. Thank you so much for doing this event and congratulations again! Please don't feel rushed to write it quickly or anything, I'm happy with waiting. Please take care of yourself ;)

Hot Chocolate for Kenma Kozume!

Hot Chocolate - Kisses

Event masterlist

Winner's Kiss

Now Playing: Me and My Husband by Mitski

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved

Kenma Kozume knew he didn't like physical affection. Or at least, he preferred a different form of affection. Probably through gifts, or actions.

That is, until he started dating you.

Kenma used to flinch every time you hugged him. No no, its not that he didn't like it. It's just he was surprised. That's all. He was awkward. Unsure how to properly wrap his arms around you. Or when is the right time to give you a peck on the cheek. How to keep his hands locked with yours without it sweating too much.

Kenma learned that it wasn't that he didn't like physical affection. It was because he didn't know how to give and take it.

The sound of the keyboard clicking was the only thing heard in the room. You clicked your tongue as you watched Kenma's character get shot. You didn't hear what was going on in the voice chat. All you knew was that Kenma was very close to cursing out someone. His face morphed into a look of frustration and annoyance. You were leaning by the table for support as you watched him play. He turned off his mic and slammed the table when the game ended. You sighed.

"He was good" Kenma said quietly. Leaning back on his chair. His screen went back the the game's homescreen. You furrowed your eyebrows. Seeing a small chat from the same guy Kenma was playing against earlier. You pointed at it.

"He's asking for another game" You said. Kenma narrowed his eyes. Seeming to be unsure if he should play with him again. He would, really. However, he knew you were waiting for him to spend time with you. Kenma felt a little conflicted.

"I'll join the next game" you said. Slipping into the seat beside him. Quickly booting up the pc that he set up beside his gaming set. He blinked. Well that made things easier?

Kenma nodded. "Okay, I just told him to wait for a bit, said you'll join"

"Kk, thanks baby"

Kenma turned back to his screen. Playfully turning around in his seat. He still wasn't used to his nickname. Its been a year since the two of you got together. His ears still turn red every time you call him that. You typed away quickly, opening the game. You smiled at him.

The game soon started. You and Kenma were both focused on the screen. Your eyes twitched at how noisy your opponents were. Always screaming. You sighed, putting down your headset, letting it rest on your neck. Kenma noticed this and did the same. Both of you silently played through the match.

*Win*

You and Kenma's team won this time. You smiled. He sighed in relief.

"He's finally gonna leave me alone" Kenma said. You raised an eyebrow.

"Hmm? Why?"

"He wouldn't leave me alone and kept asking for a rematch. He keeps winning. He said he'll only leave me alone if I win" Kenma said, you could feel the subtle frustration in his voice. You chuckled. Getting closer to him and giving him a kiss on the lips. Kenma tensed. You smiled. Kissing him again. He seemed to relax a bit. Still tense though. You kiss him one more time, and this time, he melted into the kiss. Cupping your cheeks and smiling into the kiss.

When you broke the kiss, you were trying to catch your breath. He smiled.

"I think I'm starting to get used to your love."

You beamed. This man was yours to keep.

Hi loves! Tysm for participating ♡♡ This is the first time I wrote for Kenma, I hope you enjoy @bobateagojo

[kairiscorner]

ok but like it's canon in the comics that miguel's not as good at tech compared to biology. so imagine...

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

lyla was apparently resetting herself and would be unresponsive for a few hours, but it seemed he had no choice. coming from the future, he has little clue about how technology in the 20th century was supposed to work, but luckily, you were a natural at using 20th century technology! unluckily, miguel was too prideful to ask you for any help. the rest of the society had decided to resort to cell phones to contact each other for the time being, though it wasn't as great as the watches, it was at least useful for something. however, only one person remained to be clueless about these cell phones, and ironically, it's the guy from the future, miguel o'hara himself.

he had asked jess and peter b how to use a phone, but they, unsurprisingly, only know how to use it when someone calls--they don't even know how to facetime properly. he asked ben to help him since he classified as 'part of the youth', but his explanation was full of onomatopoeias and edgy narrating that miguel was totally lost. you approached miguel as he was practically snarling at his phone's screen, not being used to calling an AI assistant who wasn't lyla to fetch him information on the anomalies you all were monitoring, but the only search results siri gave him were the definition of anomaly and earth-1218 search results from fan pages.

"hey mig." you greeted him as miguel sighed and tried to compose himself. "how are you holding up?" you asked him, knowing full well he was losing his mind over the countless notifications he was getting from his chats from peter b that were all just pictures of mayday and his keyboard mashing over how cute his daughter was. "i'm barely holding on, to be honest." he said as he forcefully scrolled on the screen, which ended up in it being scuffed and scratched on by his talons.

"puta." he muttered as he looked at the now scratched screen. you took the phone from his hands and asked him what he was going to do, with him explaining he just wanted to dismiss the incessant notifications from peter b. you set his phone on a 'do not disturb' mode and shut off his notifications from peter b in an instant. "that's all you have to do, really." you explained as you handed the phone back to him, with his eyes following yours as you smiled up at him. "ah, thank you." he said as he took his reading glasses and tried to read a text that came his way. "congratulations, you have won a 100,000 dollars. email this contact to claim your reward... but i didn't do anything?" he remarked aloud, confused. "oh, that's spam. just ignore it, delete i--" he was calling the fucking number.

"hello? yeah, i didn't play any game. you texted me about a prize i didn't win, i think you have the wrong number. ...what do you mean i have to email you? just forward the message to the right individual. ...no, i'm not gonna email you, we're talking right now! look, i don't even want your prize, i make more than six figures a month. ...what do you mean you need my credit card information? hijo de puta, i'm not the guy you're looking for!" miguel screamed into the phone as he spoke to the scammer. you wanted to tell him to drop the call, but seeing him scare the scammer had made you want to watch this unfold. he was screaming curse words in spanish and repeating how he doesn't need any prizes from these hacks.

"on second thought, always call the number." you murmured to him as he angrily put the phone down. "shocking idiots, is the 20th century full of guys who can't double check numbers and force you to email them when you're already talking to them over the phone?" he asked you as you nodded slowly with a slight grin. miguel shook his head as he checked the progress on lyla's update. "17 more hours of this madness." he groaned as he buried his face in his palms. "well, you can always go on... i don't know, tiktok?" "no. we're stuck on earth 1218's internet, i've been warned by peter b it's a scary place i should never visit." "i wonder why..." you muttered as you avoided his gaze and smirked.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @arachnoia @melovetitties @ophanimgold

[amethystwrytes]

Safe (Part Eight)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous. 

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Depiction of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only MDNI.

Chapter WC: 10K

AN: Just a friendly reminder to peep warnings on this story (and any story that offers them) just in case you see something that makes you uncomfortable that you'd like to avoid.

~ Part Eight ~ (Series M. List Here)

“That’s a strong heartbeat Ms. ___,” the doctor smiles and turns a dial on the machine. The quiet room fills with what sounds like galloping horses, “Everything looks fantastic. Let’s measure the sack, and I can tell you about how far along you are.” 

The doctor turns the dial back down a bit, slides the ultrasound wand from your vagina which you appreciate, and clicks some things on the screen. 

“When will we know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Hyunjin asks excitedly. 

The doctor smiles, “There are blood tests we can do near the end of the first trimester, but the anatomy scan won’t occur until Ms. ___ is about twenty-eight weeks along and right now…” the Doctor types something out on the keyboard, “she is only about ten weeks.” 

The doctor clicks another button and a piece of paper slides out of the machine, she rips it off and hands it to you, “A picture of the baby,” she smiles. 

“And everything looks okay?” you ask again, your fingertips gently caressing the paper in your hands. 

“Yeah, right now everything looks wonderful. Did you want to schedule the blood tests in a few weeks to determine gender, and uhm,” she looks at the three of you, “we could also add DNA to the labs…” 

“Excuse me?” Minhos voice gets darker and he narrows his eyes at the Doctor, you know that look and sit up quickly, squeezing his hand in yours. 

“That won’t be necessary,” you smile politely, “Let’s just schedule whatever labs are required for me and to make sure the baby is healthy, but everything else can wait.” 

The doctor gives you a nervous smile, “Right, okay then. Well, congratulations, again, and make sure to take your vitamins, drink plenty of water daily, and stay away from alcohol and the food items that are on the list that the nurse gave you, I’ll see you in about three more weeks.” 

The doctor all but runs out of the room and you and Hyunjin look at Minho.

“What?” he asks, fingering the cuff of his sleeve as he stands. 

“You need to behave in public,” you snort, removing the awful paper exam gown and grabbing your neatly folded clothes, “or I can’t bring you boys to my appointments. You scared that woman.” 

“She crossed a line,” Minho points out, “If we wanted a DNA test we’d have asked for it.” 

“I could wait for her in the lot, kill her after work,” Hyunjin teases, pantomiming himself choking her out with piano wire, and you smack his arm. 

“Not helping!” you hiss. 

“It was a shitty question,” he counters with a shrug. 

“Okay maybe, yes, but we’re going to have to get used to weird questions and odd looks. I mean, look at us,” you gesture. 

The room goes silent for a moment before the three of you start to giggle. 

“I’ll be polite and forgiving,” Minho smiles, “for you.” 

“Thank you.” 

As the three of you are walking out into the lobby you hear a voice call your name. 

“___?” 

You turn and see Hanna, you worked with her in the Emergency Room at the hospital. 

“Oh my god! It’s been ages,” she greets you with a hug. 

“Hanna, how are you?” 

“I’m good, I was about to go on a break and saw you,” she smiles. “Are you pregnant?” 

“I, um, yes, I am,” you smile awkwardly. “Do you work here now?” 

“Yeah, I switched from ER to Obstetrics, I was so tired of the drama at the hospital, I just wanted a better shift and to go home at 5pm,” she laughs, “but you! Congratulations!” 

“Thank you,” you smile and you can feel her catching up to the moment, finally seeing the two men standing behind you. “Um, this is Lee Minho and Hwang Hyunjin.” 

She looks between the two men, “Nice to meet you…both.” 

“We really ought to be going,” you say. 

“Well, we should catch up soon! Honestly, it’s like you disappeared into thin air. One night you were at work and the next the admins were saying you quit without notice, I mean…where did you go? Are you working anywhere?” 

“No, I um…it’s like you said, I just got tired of the drama and the rough shifts and such.” 

“So you’re not working at all?” 

“I am, it’s just more of a private practice kind of gig,” you lie, sort of. 

“Oh, well, you should give me a call sometime, my number’s still the same, I’d love to hear about it, and what you’ve been up to,” she eyes the two men again. 

“Yeah, absolutely,” you nod, “take care okay!” 

You don’t give her the time to respond before you quickly push through the glass doors and out into the parking lot. 

Christopher waits for the three of you in the SUV. Hyunjin climbs into the passenger seat while Minho slides into the back with you. 

“What was that?” he asks. 

“What was what?” you reply as if you don’t know what he’s referring to. 

“Why were you weird with your friend?” 

“Was I?” 

“Kitten,” Minho raises an eyebrow and gives you a stern look. 

“I just…” you shake your head and shrug, “I’ve been average my whole life, just normal, and I’m not anymore. I nurse criminals back to health and I’m in a polyamorous relationship with two of them and also pregnant and I just don’t know how to explain that.” 

“Are you ashamed?” he asks and while there is no defense or accusation in his tone, it still makes you feel guilty, uncomfortable. 

“No, I’m not ashamed of you, or us, or what I’m doing but I also haven’t had to be in a position where I needed to explain it all, Hanna caught me off guard. That’s all,” you explain. 

“Okay,” he nods, reaching across the seat to squeeze your hand, “I love you ___, I want you to be comfortable and happy, you know that, right?” 

“Yes baby, I know.” 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“I had a meeting with Kim Namjoon today,” Minho says, sitting at the dining table, the entire group waiting intently for information. “He got a message from a realtor friend of his that Taehyung is about to close on some property, an abandoned sugar mill near the river.” 

“Well, it’s no secret he knows that we found his storehouse location, I got shot for it,” Seungmin says, “Clearly he’s looking for a new place to hide all his goodies, including our guns.” 

“Exactly,” Minho nods, “They close this coming Saturday, he’ll get the keys to the lot, and by Saturday night his shit and our weapons will be moved to a new location we’re not familiar with.” 

“What do you want to do?” Hyunjin asks. 

“How well do you all have the warehouse memorized?” 

“We could all tattoo it on our asses from memory,” Changbin jokes. 

“Then tonight we set a plan in stone, and tomorrow night, we do this shit. No more talking about it, we steal those fucking guns back, set Kim Taehyungs life on fire, and watch it burn to the ground.” 

The room goes quiet and you lean back on the countertop, your fingers squeezing around the edge. This is actually going to happen. For weeks it’s just been a conversation, a recon mission, and an unrealized plan of action. You knew it was coming, and you knew it was coming quickly, but your skin still feels clammy, and your heart rate jumps as you think of the inevitable danger that’s now a mere twenty four hours away. 

You don’t want to know any more. You kiss Minho on the cheek and squeeze Hyunjins shoulder as you make your way up the stairs to the bedroom. All you need to do is be ready, for what? You can’t really say. However you don’t need to know the gory details of how they plan to break into Taehyungs storehouse, who they plan to hurt, and how they intend to get out with the least amount of damage done to them if such a thing is possible. Hyunjin and Felix seemed to be certain that someone might die in attempting this, and your heart hurts contemplating that thought. Would it be Jeongin or Changbin or Felix? Maybe Seungmins stubborn ass, or sweet Jisung. God forbid Minho or Hyunjin, the very thought twists your insides apart. 

No. No you can’t quite let yourself think about it. You decide to think about treatment only. As you slide into the soothing bath water you think about different types of stitches, trauma procedures, and what medications you might need at the ready. You won’t lose anyone, you can’t. You’re too deep in this to imagine losing any of these men you care about. 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Then

It’s 6:50am and you just clocked out, walking out of the hospital into the dark parking lot, the sun not quite up yet, the sky a mixture of gray and dark clouds, indicating a storm is coming. 

You take a deep breath and reach into your bag for your keys, walking into the maze of the lot toward your beat ass car. 

“Excuse me, ma’am?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin, your keys falling to the ground with a clanky thud. You look at the man slinking up to you, hands in his pockets. 

“Yes?” you respond hesitantly, gripping one of your keys between your index and middle fingers, ready to strike in case this person means to harm you. 

“Do you work here?” he continues. You look at your ID badge hanging over your left shirt pocket, and the light pink scrubs you wear and stare at him. 

“Yeah?” 

“Sorry, what I mean to ask is, are you like, a doctor or something?” 

“I’m an RN,” you answer and he continues just blinking at you, “a nurse. Are you hurt?” you look at the man, who appears to be just fine. 

“No, but my friend, he needs help,” the man replies, gesturing with his thumb behind him to some unseen distressed friend. 

“The entrance to the Emergency Room is just straight ahead,” you turn and point from where you just came from, “The big red letters that say Emergency, you can’t miss them,” you say and turn back to your car. 

“See, the thing is,” he takes another step towards you and you instinctively take a step back, “We can’t go inside.” 

“Why can’t you go inside?”

“I can explain everything but my friend really needs your help,” he says. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” you laugh, “Do you think I’m going to follow a strange man deep into this massive parking lot for you to throw me in a trunk or something?” 

“No ma’am, please, I mean you absolutely no harm, and I’ll explain while we walk but my friend…he’s bad, alright? There’s blood everywhere and it won’t stop and I’m afraid he’s going to die but I cannot take him into the hospital or he definitely will.” 

“This is the part of our conversation where I whip my phone out and call security dude, so either take your friend into the hospital or get lost, okay?” you scoff and twist your key into the lock of your car door. 

“Miss….” the mans expression is pleading and you look at him, really look at him, the fear in his eyes and the worry, “Please. Please help us.” 

You stand staring for a few seconds more then let out a windstorm of a sigh. 

“Fine. I have an emergency first aid kit in my trunk, hold on,” you slam the drivers door and slink to the trunk, opening it quickly to grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder. “Lead the way then.”

You follow the man deeper into the lot, weaving in and out of car aisles. 

“You said you’d explain? Why don’t you start with your name and what happened,” you demand. 

“My name is Hwang Hyunjin, my friends name is Minho and there’s one other guy with us, Jisung,” he starts. 

“Three against one, fantastic,” you deadpan. 

“I promise we aren’t going to hurt you ma’am, my friend, Minho, he’s an important man and lots of people want him dead, if he goes into that hospital and someone recognizes him, well it could be dangerous for him and anyone near him, including your coworkers, okay?” 

“I don’t like the sound of that at all Hwang Hyunjin,” you shake your head as he stops at the rear of a large black van. Oh great, you think. 

“Please?” he opens the doors to reveal two men, one of them holding a dirty towel over a wound, the other man wincing in pain, struggling with breath and looking very, very injured. 

“Shit,” you mutter, crawling into the van, nurse mode on and completely forgetting that this could all be a trap. Although, judging by the man writhing in pain before you, you think perhaps Hwang Hyunjin was telling the truth after all. 

“What happened?” you ask the other two men. 

“He was shot…” 

Your eyes widen as you look around, what have you gotten yourself into? 

“I see,” you clench your jaw and take a closer look at the wound. “Your name’s Minho?” you ask and the man with the wound, who seems to have just now noticed you, opens his dark eyes and nods. 

“Okay Minho,” you say rummaging through your woefully lacking bag, “I’m going to have to run back into the hospital, I think this is outside the capacity of my little first aid bag. Is the bullet still inside or did it go through?” you ask. 

“I believe it’s still inside but I’m not sure,” Hyunjin answers. 

“I need to go get a GSW kit from the med room,” you back slowly away from the van and two of the three men look at you as if they expect you to come back with security. You ought to. Every security protocol that exists is being broken right now. You try not to think about it as you jog back toward the hospital. 

“Forget something?” Seokjin, the emergency department guard, cocks his head toward you. 

“Yes, um, in my locker,” you fake a chuckle as you glide by. You should tell him there’s a man in the parking lot trying to be treated outside the hospital, tell him that this man is obviously some kind of bad guy, yet for some reason you don’t. 

The GSW kits are locked up with the other supplies in a nearby closet, and you can’t scan your ID because if or when someone realizes it’s missing they’ll be able to trace it to you. You sigh, looking around to make sure no one is watching as you pluck Sunni’s ID badge off the nurses desk - she always leaves it lying around. It’s wrong what you’re doing, stealing things under her name, but you push through the door, grab the kit and a few extra things, shove them into your backpack and head back out. Shift changes are always busy, the incoming staff doing their first rounds to get acclimated to new patients and their needs, so you go through completely undetected except by Seokjin, who doesn’t seem to care, and plays his Nintendo Switch at the lobby desk as he always does, just giving you a smile and a nod on your way out. 

You run back toward the van and swing open the doors. Hyunjin looks thoroughly impressed that you are still alone and you ignore the appreciative smile that creeps across his face. 

You put on some gloves and unzip the GSW bag. 

You toss the kit to him, “I need to cut open his shirt, while I do this I need you to find some clamps - they look kind of like scissors but they have curved tips that look like pliers, I’ll need to use them to get the bullet out. I’ll also need a lot of gauze, probably every bit that’s in that bag.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he starts rummaging while you work at getting Minhos shirt off of him. 

“Clamps,” you command and hold your bloody hand out, he places them in your palm, “Okay Minho, I think I can see the bullet, but this is going to hurt, okay?” you grimace and press your lips together tightly as you shove the clamp into the wound, the bullet is deep but retrievable and Minho is surprisingly still as you fiddle around his insides with metal. 

“Got it,” you drop the clamps, “Gauze, all of it,” you instruct and the two additional men start handing you piece after piece as you shove it into the gunshot wound to stop the blood loss. 

“There should be an ace bandage and some surgical tape in there, get them,” you continue directing and the men continue following orders. You bite off some tape and place it over the packed gauze, then wrap the bandage around his torso. Finally, you take a breath. 

“He’ll need to be seen by a physician,” you sit back on your legs, “This is a very sloppy fix but it’s the best I can do in the back of a van. He needs antibiotics, and someone to unpack that gauze and inspect the area, probably stitch up the wound - but he should make it until you can find someone to do that. Do not leave the gauze in more than four hours, he’ll need to be seen before that but I’ve bought you time to find someone you can trust.” 

“Thank you,” Hyunjin nods. 

You crawl out of the van and he hands you your bag, but you shake your head, “Keep it, and you’re welcome.” 

“We need to get out of here,” the other man, Jisung, says and Hyunjin nods. 

“Get him seen immediately, don’t wait, there’s an emergency rural clinic in Nayeong, it’s about a two and a half hour drive but it’s a tiny, sleepy town where no one’s going to ask a lot of questions. Plus, if he hasn’t had his license revoked, the old doc that runs the clinic should be pretty easy to buy silence from, as long as he can get his liquor at the end of the day,” you share and Hwang Hyunjin smiles at you. 

“What about your silence?” he asks, “Can that be bought?” 

You shake your head, “I could get fired for what just happened, it breaks every protocol we have here, but I won’t say a word as long as you never come back to this hospital, I don’t want to see your face again, you hear me? Keep whatever dangerous shit you all are wrapped up in far away from here.” 

“You got it Doll,” he smiles then slams the van door and slinks around to disappear into the passenger side. 

You let out a shaky breath as you watch them drive off, realizing for the first time just how scared you’d been. You gather yourself for a moment then go back to your own car, you’ll go home and wash - no, burn - these scrubs that are now covered in blood, you’ll take a hot shower and you’ll go to sleep and forget about the three criminals you just assisted. In eleven hours you’ll have to be back here like it never happened. 

The next morning, you should have seen it coming, should’ve known that there would be a man propped up against your car waiting for you. This time it’s Minho, the man you removed a bullet from. A small part of you is relieved to see he is up, standing, and looking decently okay though you can tell he’s sore by the way he stands with his hand pressed to his lower left side. The rest of you however, is just plain mad. 

“I told you not to come back here,” you frown. 

“Well, yes, but technically you were speaking to my guy,” he smirks. 

“Oh, well I am so sorry for the confusion,” you roll your eyes, “but I meant all of you need to stay far, far away. Now, leave me alone before I get into actual trouble.” 

“I only wanted to say thank you-,”

“You’re welcome!” you snap, “Now leave.” 

“I like you,” he sucks at his lip and grins with amusement, “I wasn’t sure, but you have quite a bite to you, and now I’m certain.” 

“What are you rambling about?” 

“I’d like to offer you a job.” 

You snort, “Not interested.” 

He moves his arm and slides an envelope out from underneath his jacket then hands it to you, “Reconsider.” 

You open the flap and peer inside. Money. Several stacks of money. In fact, you’ve never seen this much cash in person in your entire life. It makes your mouth go dry and you quickly close the flap and tightly clutch the envelope in your fists. 

“What the Hell?” you seethe. 

“That’s just my payment for yesterday, a simple Thank You. However, if you agree to come work for me, I can guarantee that kind of money regularly and promise that you’ll never want for anything ever again.” 

You look at the envelope then back at him. 

“I’m not a criminal,” you say. 

“I’m not asking you to be a criminal, Kitten. I’m asking you to continue what you already do, just at a much higher pay rate,” he smiles. 

“And what else?” you raise a brow, “Because if memory serves me right, when you make a deal with the Devil it always comes with a price.” 

He shrugs, “All I’d ask of you in return is your silence, to keep what you hear and see a secret. To be someone I can trust, that’s all.” 

You shake your head, “I have a job, I don’t need your money,” you extend the envelope back to him. 

“Liar.” 

“Pardon me?” 

“You need that money, ___. You have over eighty thousand in student loan debt, you’re behind on nearly all of your utility payments, if you’re late one more time with rent your landlord has threatened to evict you, and no offense but this car looks like it’s one winter away from completely breaking down.” 

“How the Hell do you know all that?” you fume.

“I always do background checks on my employees,” he smiles. “I’m not going to sit here and force you into anything, but I cannot tell you how beneficial it would be for me to have a medical professional on standby. It would help protect my guys tremendously.” 

“I’m just a nurse,” you tell him, “I’m not a surgeon or anything like that. I don’t know how useful I can be for you.” 

“Why underestimate yourself, Kitten? You saved my life yesterday morning, you knew exactly what to do, and the only reason you sent us to the rural clinic is because you didn’t have the resources to finish the job. I can get you those resources, I can get you anything you ask for.” 

“How much are we talking, pay scale I mean?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you. 

“You’ll get a black card with your name on it and unlimited credit, I’ll place you in one of my safe houses on the edge of the city, a beautiful home in an expensive neighborhood, I’ll also give you a car - you can select it or I can take a wild guess at what you like - and I’ll pay out your lease, your student loans, your utilities and get all your affairs taken care of for you so all you have to do is give the hospital notice and show up at this address when you’re ready,” he hands you a piece of paper with an address scribbled on it. 

“Just like that? I agree to work for you, I quit my job, and you just make all my problems go away?” 

“Just like that.” 

“Do you do bad things?” you look at him, “I need to know.” 

He takes a calm breath and nods, “Yes. I do bad things.” 

“Like what?” you wonder. 

“I work in certain…legal gray areas…but I’m afraid if you want to know the details then you’ll have to agree to our arrangement first,” he explains. 

“If I decide I don’t like it? What happens to me then?” 

“We’d have to cross that bridge when we come to it, Kitten.” 

Great, how very reassuring. 

“If I say no?” 

“Then you say no, you can keep that envelope of cash and put it toward your debt, and you’ll never see me again.” 

You can’t quite explain why the thought of never seeing him again is disappointing. All he wants is for you to nurse wounds. He’s not asking you to do anything you wouldn’t be doing anyway. Yet a heavy feeling sinks into your stomach, like perhaps this is all a mistake. You choose to ignore it though. 

“Okay,” you nod. 

He raises a brow, “Okay…what?” 

“I’ll work for you.” 

“You don’t want to think about it?” he grins. 

“If I think about it I’ll decline,” you shrug, “I’ll call my supervisor when I get home, she should be settling into her office by the time I get there. I’ll be at this address tomorrow morning at 9am.” 

“Wow. I did not think it would be that easy,” he laughs. 

“I’m not a bad person, I don’t do bad things, but I’m tired of living the way I have been,” you admit. 

“I know you’re not a bad person, I knew that the second you crawled into that van yesterday,” he agrees. “But good, I’m glad you accepted. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“I’m kind of scared of you,” you call to him as he trots off. 

He turns, a smile on his face, “You kind of should be, Kitten.” 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Any word yet?” you walk into the living room where Christopher paces back and forth. 

“Nothing yet,” he shakes his head, looking at his phone for good measure. 

It’s nearly 1:30am. Minho, Hyunjin and the rest left around nine o’clock. Four and a half hours of radio silence. Four and a half hours of not knowing if they’re okay. 

You sit in the arm chair, the same one Minho sat in the night he watched Hyunjin fuck you on the couch. The corners of your lips twitch into a tiny, satisfied smile but soon turn back into a frown, will he ever sit in this chair again? You screw your eyes shut and try to destroy that thought, cast it out of your head and burn it with fire. 

The time seems to pass at an alarmingly and unnaturally slow pace. You just sit, silently listening to the ticking of the wall clock, occasionally watching Christopher pace, then sit and rub his legs with his palms, only to stand up and start pacing again. You get it, so you don’t scold him, but it is grating on your nerves. 

“Should we call someone?” you ask, knowing what the answer is but hoping Christopher is worried enough to break the rules. 

“No, if we call in the middle of something we compromise everything. We wait, someone will call when there’s something to call about,” he says. 

You nod, accepting, but hating this answer. 

“What if it was a trap? Or what if the police got them? Or…”

“Stop it ___. You’re not helping anything,” he huffs. 

“It’s been almost six hours now,” you point out, trying to keep your bottom lip from trembling, fighting back tears. 

“I know but we can’t-,” 

Christophers voice is cut off by tires squealing into the driveway. You get up and practically sprint to the front door before Chris pulls you back, his weapon drawn just in case. 

You wait eagerly, listening to the sound of car doors slamming and quick footsteps, your skin practically vibrates with nauseous anticipation. 

Minho bursts through the door first, he blows right past Christopher and rushes you, his arms coming around you tightly. You’re about to ask where Hyunjin is but you see him follow close behind, greeting you the same way and the three of you stand there in an embrace for a few moments. 

“Is everything…” you trail off, not sure what to ask first. 

“Everything is fine now baby,” he tilts your chin up and kisses your lips. 

“Everyone made it out?” you continue. 

“Everyone made it out, not a scratch,” he grins, and you think you might see happy tears glossing his eyes. 

“Just like that?” you say, practically in disbelief. 

“Just like that.” 

“Taehyung is ruined,” Hyunjin grins, lighting a cigarette and opening a nearby window, “We got our guns back, his heroin is burning even as we speak and if that wasn’t enough, just like our warehouse explosion attracted investigators, his will too, except this time they’ll find the remnants of so much heroin that all eyes will shift to Taehyung, no one will give a flying fuck about us, at least for a long time.” 

“Is Taehyung…dead?” you wonder. 

“No,” Minho shakes his head, “but I bet he wishes he was, and that’s good enough for me.” 

“He won’t retaliate?” you don’t believe that someone like Taehyung would just roll over and take it. 

“I don’t see how he could,” Minho shakes his head, “The bastard is going to have to go into hiding, if he even so much as walks into daylight investigators will be on him so fast he’ll be in a prison cell by the time he draws a breath.” 

“So, it’s just…over?” 

“For now, yes. It’s over. Kim Taehyung loses.” 

Something doesn’t feel right, but you decide not to worry about it. Everyone seems so celebratory, opening bottles of expensive liquor and laughing. A win is a win, and they desperately needed a win. 

You spectate for a while, smiling at the ease and happiness in the room. You feel a sense of pride, which is something you’d never imagine yourself feeling for these men. You retreat upstairs, tired from worrying and coming down from the adrenaline rush. 

You’re not necessarily surprised when you hear Hyunjin slip into the bedroom and you watch in the darkness as he strips himself of his clothes and slides in with you, his body pressing against yours, his hands sliding underneath your tee shirt, palming one of your breasts. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your mouth, rolling you onto your back so he can fit his fingers snugly against your cunt. You moan into his mouth as he pushes into you, twisting and pushing you to pleasure. 

“I love you too,” you say, taking his face between your hands, you throw your leg over his hip to give him better access. 

The door opens again and Minho stares through the darkness. 

“Well, I feel left out,” he huffs playfully, locking the door behind him. He begins to remove his clothes as he walks around to slide into the other side of the bed. 

“Just a warm up Boss,” Hyunjin whispers, leaning over you to capture Minhos mouth with his own. 

The warmth you feel in your heart, in your very bones is like nothing you could ever experience anywhere else. Safe between them both, surrounded by passion and love and heat. 

“Fuck me,” you rasp against Minhos mouth and he slides between your legs, granting your wish while Hyunjin worships your sensitive nipples. 

“I love you,” you whisper, “I love you both so much, fuck,” you moan. 

The danger is gone, and the three of you relish in the relief until the sky turns a light gray color, taking turns touching and kissing and fucking, cat napping between. It’s perfect, you think, everything is perfect now. 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Fuck me, has anyone heard from Kim Seungmin for Gods sake?” Minho grumbles loudly as he walks through the kitchen. 

“I think he’s been holed up with that girl he met,” Hyunjin answers, setting his pencil down on top of his sketchpad.

“What girl?” 

“Who knows, with Seungmin it’s a new girl every month,” Hyunjin chuckles, “Why? What’s got your panties in such a twist?” 

“He and Jisung are supposed to be delivering the guns to the Min organization in one hour and he’s not answering his fucking phone,” Minho explains. 

“Get Felix to go, or Christopher - it’s high time he starts doing a bit more than just driving everyone around, let Seungmin have his fun,” Hyunjin waves him off. 

“He really does need all the sex he can get,” you laugh, “the man is a total ass most of the time, anything to soften that blow.” 

“You two are making me soft, I swear to God,” Minho complains, “but fine. Chris can help with the delivery and Seungmin can continue getting his dick wet to spare us all of his nasty attitude.” 

“What time do we need to be at the Park meeting?” Hyunjin asks. 

“We should have left twenty minutes ago,” Minho sighs, “Will you be alright? Here alone?” he looks at you. 

“Yes, I need to organize some things, and I’ll probably just take a bubble bath and go to bed scrolling through baby registry items,” you smile.

It’s been over a month since anyone heard from Kim Taehyung, with most believing he fled the country to avoid detection from investigators. His name and footage of his warehouse burning had been on the news for weeks, but no information had turned up. Kim Taehyung isn’t coming back anytime soon. 

“Okay, our phones will be on silent during the meeting, but text us as soon as you lay down, alright Love?” Minho kisses your cheek and you nod. 

“I will, I love you both, be careful.” 

Hyunjin kisses the top of your head, “Always Doll.” 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

You’re scrolling through Pinterest for nursery ideas when your screen is interrupted by a text. 

Hurt bad, need help at the old warehouse -KSM

You narrow your eyes, opening the number and pressing the call button. It rings, rings and rings until you get to the voicemail. Kim Seungmin. You know what to do. BEEP. 

“Hey, what’s going on? Call me back…” 

You hang up the phone and wait. Five minutes turns into ten minutes turns into fifteen. You’re starting to get nervous when your phone pings with another message. 

It’s not safe to talk. I’m at the warehouse and need help. I can’t move myself. 

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Seungmin knows better than this, and you think he must be really fucked up if he’s asking this of you. 

You open up the message again, On my way. 

You get dressed and grab a bag, stuffing random supplies in. 

Before you go you call Minho, it goes to voicemail, which is probably a good thing because he might actually kill you for doing what you’re about to do but something in your gut is telling you that Seungmin needs you. So you leave him a message telling him what happened and where you’re going. For good measure you leave Hyunjin a voicemail too. Then you load up the car and start driving. 

Seungmins truck is parked in front of the burnt and disheveled remains of the warehouse. The drivers side door is open, the interior light is on and you can see blood spatter all over the inside of the door. Your skin erupts in chills and you scream when your phone starts ringing. Minho.

“Hello?” you answer breathlessly. 

“Where the fuck are you? And you better not say at that fucking warehouse!” Minhos voice is angry. 

“I am,” you answer softly, still staring at Seungmins truck. 

“Fuck!” Minho yells into the phone. 

“Baby somethings wrong,” you say. 

“What? Is Seungmin there with you?” his voice is suddenly laced with fear under all that steely ice. 

“His truck is here, but I don’t see him, I just pulled up,” you answer, “I think he’s inside, but there’s blood all over the inside of his truck,” you tell him. 

“Do not go into that building, do you hear me? Hyunjin and I are on our way, for fucks sake please baby don’t go inside without us,” he pleads. 

“I need to find Seungmin,” you say defiantly, “Something is clearly wrong.” 

“No!” he bellows, “Do not go in there without backup. Do you hear me? ___?” 

“I hear you!” you finally yell back and hang up the phone. “But just because I heard you doesn’t mean I have to listen,” you whisper. You toss your phone into the passenger seat and grab your first aid bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you approach the broken and tattered entrance. 

“Seungmin?” you look around at the burnt debris. Why the fuck would he come here? It’s an utter mess.

“Seungmin! Where are you?” you hiss into the darkness. 

You hear a gargled cough from another room and follow it, your blood pressure steadily rising. Something isn’t right. 

When you enter the room you can smell the blood. You scan the room twice before you see it, the lump of a body laying in the far corner. 

“Oh my god…” 

You rush to him, falling to your knees, your bag thumping on the ground next to you. He’s been shot, multiple times, a pool of blood underneath him. He’s pale, God he’s so pale. 

“Seun…Seungmin?” you tap the side of his face, tears stinging your eyes. His lids slowly open and he looks up at you. Something changes, you see fear. 

“No…” he shakes his head back and forth, which seems to expend all of his energy, “Why did you come…why did…” he coughs again, bright red blood sputtering from his mouth, hitting your tee shirt and your arms. 

“Oh God, Seungmin, what did they do?” you look at his abdomen, his chest - riddled with bullet wounds. Your blood runs absolutely cold, your very spirit leaves your soul. 

You cannot fix this. No one could.

“Am I?” he looks up at you. Am I going to die? That’s what he’s asking, and yes, he is. You clench your jaw to stop yourself from crying. Don’t cry.  

You smile, lean down and smooth his hair off his forehead, “No. You’re fine, you’re going to be just fine Seungmin. Soon you and I will be bickering over something or another,” you laugh, continuing to pet his hair with your fingers. 

He nods, but his eyes scrunch up and tears flood down the sides of his face, into his hairline. He doesn’t believe you, they never do, but he’ll play along to make it easier, and that’s what you’re here for now. 

“You know,” you say, twirling his hair, “Minho and Hyunjin make a good team, but he was wrong about one thing,” you smile, “Hyunjin isn’t the best he’s got, you are. You’re the best soldier Minho has, and he’s hard on you because he knows it’s true.” 

“No….shit…” Seungmin chuckles, and so do you. You stretch your tee shirt out to wipe the blood that seeped from his mouth from his efforts. 

“They’ll be here soon, okay? Can you wait with me?” you ask softly. 

At this Seungmin becomes alarmed, his eyes widening and head shaking back and forth frantically. 

“Hey, calm down, be still…” 

“Get out…you have to…not alone…” he rasps, his words garbled from blood. 

“Seungmin…you’re not alone honey, you’re not alone, shhh,” you soothe. 

He shakes his head again and tries to say the words, he tries so hard and you wait, you will his lips to speak, but instead the light fades from his eyes and his body goes still. 

“Seungmin?” 

You sit there for several seconds silently, your fingers still smoothing his hair, and then you sob. You press your forehead against his and sob, scream, and cry until your whole body hurts. 

“I’m sorry,” you wail, your body heaving with cries. “I’m so sorry!” and you’re not sure if you’re sorry because you couldn’t save him, sorry because of the way you’ve spoken to him in the past, or sorry that any of this ever happened at all. 

“___?”

Minhos voice is shaky as you look up from Seungmins lifeless body. 

“Hyunjin is doing a perimeter-,” Minho takes a step forward but stops when he sees Seungmin laying there. He covers his mouth and he turns his body away as if he can’t bear to look, then he turns around again rushing over and dropping to his knees. 

“Fuck,” Minho gasps, he strokes Seungmins face with the back of his trembling fingers, grabs Seungmins hand in his. “Fuck…” he sobs. 

“I couldn’t…” you cry, unable to finish the sentence. “Minho I’m sorry.” 

“You will be.” 

The voice doesn’t belong to Minho, and before you can really process this fact, someone is pulling you up off the floor by your hair. 

The smell of burnt ashes, wet cigarettes and pathetic overwhelms your nostrils nearly to the point of gagging. 

Kim Taehyung. Seungmin wasn’t trying to tell you he didn’t want to be alone, he was trying to tell you that the two of you were not alone. You suspect it also wasn’t Seungmin who texted you. You’ve been baited and you walked right into the trap. 

Minho is up like a shot, the gun he keeps strapped to his ankle pointed at Taehyung. 

“Nu-uh-uh,” you hear Taehyung growl, feel the cold hard metal of a gun barrel flush against your temple. “Set it down or I swear to God the last thing I do is blow this bitches brains all over the place,” he tells Minho and you choke out another sob. “Set it down!” he yells, the very walls reverberating from his anger. 

Minho grimaces, but bends over to set the pistol on the ground. 

“Kick it across the room,” Taehyung continues, “NOW!” 

Angry, Minho kicks the pistol and the three of you watch it spin over the concrete floor across the space. 

“What are you doing Taehyung? What do you want? It’s over,” Minho lifts his hands up. 

“It is,” Taehyung spits, “It is over. It’s over for me, but I don’t care.” 

“Clearly,” Minho seethes. 

“One thing I’m better at than you Lee is taking,” Taehyung chuckles darkly, “You take things, my Heroin for example, and that’s good, good job, but I take your fucking life, no…I take your fucking will to live. Just like with Seola, except this time you get to watch.” 

Taehyung cocks the gun against your head and you shudder. 

“I’m pregnant!” you scream in a last ditch effort to find a shred of humanity inside this monster. 

“Oh yeah?” Taehyung rasps against your ear, “Congratulations.” 

He drags the barrel of the gun from your head, down between your shoulders, and stops at the small of your back, “Maybe let’s blow your belly out first then?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ Taehyung!” Minho screams, “Just kill me.” 

Your head snaps up to look at Minho and you can feel Taehyung smiling with glee. 

“Kill me you fucking pathetic piece of shit! That’s your end goal, always has been, so just fucking do it you worthless son of a bitch! I’m so fucking tired of this…” 

“Stop!” you cry. 

“I want you to suffer,” Taehyung growls, you can feel his head shaking back and forth, “I want you to watch her die and know that it never would’ve happened if you’d left her alone, that it’s because of you she’s standing in this fucking room!” 

“I love you baby, I love you Lee Minho,” you cry, looking at him. 

“Say goodbye to her Minho, say it,” Taehyung urges. 

“I don’t fucking think so!” 

Hyunjin yells from the doorway, loaded gun pointed in your direction. 

Too many things happen at once. You can hear gunshots going off like firecrackers, you hear Minho scream something so loudly it somehow overpowers the crack of bullets flying. You end up on your knees with your hands over your ears until you see the gun Taehyung was holding drop beside you on the ground. You risk permanent deafness pulling your hands away to scramble for it and you get it, snatching it from Taehyungs reach a mere half second before his fingers land. 

You have no time to think about Hyunjins training session at the gun range, you point the barrel at Taehyungs face and pull the trigger. You can feel warm, wet pieces of matter that you refuse to look at or acknowledge hit the front of your body and you don’t need to look twice to know Taehyung is gone. 

Taking the gun you scramble over, falling several times because you can’t seem to control your body anymore, towards Hyunjin and Minho. The smell of flesh and gunpowder and death everywhere. 

Hyunjin sits on his knees, his body trembles, pupils so blown out he looks like he’s on drugs, “He saved me…he saved me…stupid mother fucker…stupid…” Hyunjins face distorts into a look of such pain that there are no words to describe it, and then he screams. 

“No, no, no,” you shake your head and leap onto Minho, who is being too still, turning him over from his side to his back. Just like Seungmin, Minhos chest is riddled with bullets, one right through his heart. 

“No. No, he’s got a vest. He’s got a vest…” you start ripping off his shirt, already soaked with blood, it coats your fingers causing them to slip over the smooth buttons. “No, no, no.” 

“There wasn’t time…” Hyunjin chokes. “We didn’t have time he said…there’s no time…”

You press your fingers against his neck and feel no pulse, then against his wrist…still nothing.

“Wake up baby, wake up,” you beg, you smack his face and shake his shoulders, “WAKE THE FUCK UP!!” you scream so loud it rips your throat to shreds. “Please!”

The life is gone from his eyes as they stare at nothing and you start to lose it. You can’t breathe, and all you can do is whimper. 

“He jumped in front of me,” Hyunjin repeats, sobbing as he grabs Minhos face in his hands. “Why would you do that…stupid…” he cries, his tears dripping off of his own face onto Minhos. 

“Call an ambulance,” you command through gritted teeth, you get up on your knees and press the heel of your palm into his chest and pump. 

“Baby…” Hyunjin sobs. 

“Call a fucking ambulance!” you scream hoarsely, counting time in your head. You ignore the sinking feeling you’ve had so many times as a nurse, ignore the fact that if you were in the ER right now, looking at anyone other than someone you love, you’d be waiting for the physician to call the time. You ignore everything. 

“He’s gone ___,” Hyunjin cries, placing his hand over yours. 

“No!” you scream. 

You didn’t get tricked into coming here. You didn’t just sit with Seungmin while he died. You didn’t just blow Kim Taehyungs face off and Minho isn’t dead. 

You repeat it over and over. 

“He’s gone,” Hyunjin says, crawling over to you, “He’s gone.” 

You scream into Hyunjins chest as your body shudders with sobs. 

He’s gone. 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Come on hun, you two need to get out of here.” 

It’s Felix. You look up into his big eyes, swollen and red with his own tears. 

You look down, Hyunjin lays next to Minho quietly sobbing into the floor. 

“We need to get you out of here sweetheart,” Felix places his hand on your shoulder but you push it off slowly with your fingers. 

“Please,” Felix sniffles, “We’ve got to get everyone out of here,” he looks around and shudders with new tears, “all of you.” 

You crawl across the floor, through the blood, and lean over Minho. You pick the weight of his arm up, cup his hand to your face and lean into it like you do so often. The lack of warmth from his skin brings on a new set of painful sobs.

“I love you,” you whimper. “I don’t want to go anywhere, not without you.” 

“Get them out,” Changbin tells Felix and the others, trying to steady his voice, “Get them home. Pick them up if you have to.” 

You can feel Felix look at you but he decides to try his luck with Hyunjin instead. Instead it’s Christopher who kneels in front of you, wipes his nose with the back of his arm. 

“Come on, it’s time,” he tucks his arm under your knees and braces your back while he lifts you up. 

“I couldn’t save him,” you weep into the crook of his neck. 

“You were never going to save him sweetheart, he never wanted to be saved.” 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Miss ___?” 

Through the blur of people you look up to see Kim Namjoon approaching you. You sip your water, wishing it was whiskey, but you’re still pregnant despite your mind, body and spirit being completely broken. Somehow the baby made it through the trauma and it’s your job to take care of him. Him. You can’t really say how you know, but you do. 

“Mr. Kim, thank you for coming,” you force a smile, smoothing out the skirt of your black dress. 

“Of course,” Namjoon clears his throat, “Lee was a friend, I’m so sorry that we’ve lost him.” 

Lost isn’t good enough, you think. Lost things can be found. What you feel is so much greater than loss, you feel erased. Annihilated. You feel nothing. 

“Uh,” Mr. Kim sits in the chair next to you and you realize you’ve been silent for several moments, “Minho asked me to give you this, he left it to you.” 

He pulls a white envelope from the inside of his jacket and hands it to you. It feels heavy in your hands and you look at Namjoon with confusion. 

“We weren’t married, I’m not owed anything,” you glance over at Changbin and the rest of Minhos loyal men, “whatever he’s left should be divided between them.”  

“No you misunderstand, this isn’t something he gave to me as a client to a lawyer, it’s not a will. This is something he gave to me as a friend and asked me to hold it for safekeeping, but to make sure you received it if anything were to happen to him.” 

“What is it?” you ask, running your fingertip over the edges of the envelope. 

“I don’t know,” Namjoon shrugs, “He didn’t tell me to look at it, just told me to keep it safe for you. There’s something heavy in it though, a trinket or something? I’m not sure.” 

Namjoon stands and gives you a sympathetic smile, “I’m truly sorry, he loved you very much Miss ___, I hope you knew that.” 

“I did,” you say but the words get lost on your lips, turning into a raspy whisper as your throat begins to swell with a sob, “Excuse me.” 

You clutch the envelope to your chest and retreat from the room, briefly making eye contact with Hyunjin, who is about as sociable at this funeral as you are, which is to say not at all. You can feel him following close behind.

“You okay?” he asks when you end up in an empty sitting area near the back of the funeral parlor. 

“No,” you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your cries. 

Hyunjin wraps his arms around you, a gesture that used to put you at total ease, but now it feels lacking, like Minho was a necessary piece to a three part puzzle. A piece that’s been destroyed so the puzzle can never really be whole again. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Hyunjin says with no explanation, and you don’t know what exactly he means by it. He doesn’t know what to do with you? With himself? Or what to do about anything at all? Same, you think. 

“I miss him too much,” you cry into his shoulder. None of this feels real.

“I know,” Hyunjin chokes on a sob, “I know baby, me too.” 

The envelope, still clutched to your chest crunches between the two of you. 

“What is that?” he sniffs, looking at the paper. 

“I don’t know, Namjoon said Minho wanted me to have it in case…well…” 

You sit on a chair and push your finger under the flap, ripping the paper. 

A key falls out of the envelope into your hand as you pluck a letter out. 

Hey Kitten, 

You promised you’d keep Scotland in the back of your mind, right? I don’t want to go anywhere without you either, but just in case we do have to be apart, I want to know that you, Hyunjin, and our baby are all safe. If you’re reading this, I guess it means I can’t come with you, but you deserve to start over, you all deserve to live a normal life without safe houses, without guns or makeshift surgery centers. So go. Start over. I’m so sorry that I was broken when we met, but you patched me up baby, and I love you so much. Tell Hyunjin to take care of you, to keep drawing in that stupid book of his, and that I love him too. When the baby is old enough, tell them about me, okay? Tell them I loved them with my whole heart, and I’m sorry I can’t be there. 

All my love,

Minho

“Scotland,” you whisper and hold the key over your heart. 

“What?” Hyunjin looks at you bewildered, “What is all this?” 

You wipe the tears off your cheeks, “It’s Minho. Keeping us safe one last time.”

Endnotes:

1. I cried writing the first draft of this ngl and kinda hated myself, then by like my third or fourth proof read I was like desensitized to it kinda? Anywho. I hope no one is legitimately angry with me😬😓 I promise this was my plan from the start and not a wild card draw. One more chapter left💙

2. Will tag my besties in the comments!! Here’s a virtual kiss 😘 and maybe also a virtual warm hug and sympathetic pat on the back? 🫂🫂🫂

[wisteria-blooms]

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (8/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST AT THE BOTTOM! (Let me know if you'd like to be added or if I've missed you!) A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out! I've been experimenting using my iPad + keyboard to edit which messed up my coordination on my laptop, if that's any excuse. It's just been hard to edit in this little rut where I can't bear to read what I write, but stick around, things are going to get exciting after this...

(GIF credits to @alicent-targaryen; I have so much trouble properly crediting when the GIF isn't the first in the set, ahh).

CHAPTER 8: Foolishly thinking things would slow down after Charlie moved in with you, you find that you're dead wrong. In fact, he finds a new way to integrate into your life: by attending the highly-anticipated book club meeting your mother had invited you to. But as you watch women flock to him like bees to honey, you find another problem to deal with, one that involves your heart. (6.6k words)

CHAPTER 8: TEA TIME (YOU'RE SO VAIN)

And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner...

“(Y/N)! Congratulations on the new place—”

“It’s every bit as beautiful as Bill described to us—”

“Perfect for a new couple, truly—”

Fred and George strode through the ajar door while talking amongst themselves as if they were walking into their own place. They displayed absolutely no respect for your sacred space. However, you felt no need to stop them from where you were in the kitchen—you were expecting them on this lovely Friday afternoon. After all, you’d invited them.

George cradled a large, wrapped box. He was strong but you could tell it was heavy by the slight strain in his arms. Fred, conversely, easily held a bottle of wine adorned with a ribbon on the neck.

“Thought we’d bring some housewarming gifts,” George said, setting his present on the counter.

“Had to guess most of it, as you and Charlie didn’t have a registry of any sorts,” Fred quipped, a smug look on his face, proud of his insinuation of you being married.

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes. “When are you going to give that up? You seem to be the only ones who know the truth, but refuse to acknowledge it.”

You should’ve expected their answer that was given in unison: “Never.” 

“I do appreciate the gifts,” you said earnestly. Underneath their teasing tones, Fred and George were still your greatest friends, and you were appreciative of their generosity.

You laid two palms on the box George had set on your kitchen island. “What’s this?” 

“Open it up and see,” offered George. 

Delicately, you began to unwrap the gift, plucking the tape off and careful not to rip the paper. 

“Save us the anticipation and just rip it open, will you?” Fred suggested, finishing off his remark with an animalistic shake of his head, like he was a lion tearing his prey’s flesh. The prey being your present.

“I’ve been conditioned not to do that,” you explained with a gentle sigh, recalling all your mother’s scoldings when you used to tear into presents as a child. When you set the edges of the wrapping paper down, you beamed at what was in the box. “An espresso machine! Really, Georgie?”

George nodded proudly. “Figured you’d need your coffee first thing in the morning.”

You enveloped him in a warm hug. “Oh, you know me so well.”

George rolled up his sleeves. “I‘ll get it set up,” he offered.

“And I’ve procured some wine for when you need a sleeping aid,” Fred added.

“Thank you,” you responded. “ Now I’ll have my morning and nights covered.”

Fred placed a hand on your shoulder and gently guided you away. “Let’s see Charlie’s room.”

You stiffened. How many times and to how many people were you going to have to explain this one? “It’s not his room.”

“Then what is it?” Fred queried innocently.

“It’s a guest bedroom.”

“We can debate the semantics of the love lair”—Fred had to suppress a laugh when your face contorted menacingly, and even George tried to stifle his laugh—“ but for now, give me and Georgie a tour of the this lovely place, will you?”

When the two jests had finally left after dinner, you closed the door and leaned against it. Fred and George’s footsteps faded with each passing second. You drew a deep breath. After the initial onslaught of visitors, being alone felt splendid. 

You lit a candle and began drawing a bath when you returned to the bathroom. Stripped away were the comforts of Dobby’s aid and you were left alone to your devices. You were off to a good start and you were going to prove you could manage just fine. You submerged yourself in the hot water to wash the grime and the weight of workweek away. 

When you were clean and dry, you slipped into a silk nightgown, the one with thin straps that hung over your shoulders and whose hem just covered your thighs. It was by far the comfiest because of how little material there was. You walked into the kitchen to fetch yourself a glass of water but not without admiring your space shrouded in moonlight first. The only thing keeping you from touching a blanket of stars were your windows. The flowers you’d received from the move-in were still in full bloom, the steel from George’s espresso machine gleamed, and your couch was plush and cozy. 

It was lovely and inviting. You didn’t regret moving out at all, no matter how difficult the circumstances were initially.

“So this is what freedom feels like,” you hummed. You loved the feeling of wearing and doing anything you wanted—you were the master of the house. 

You then ambled back to your bedroom. You set the glass down and walked over to the window to appreciate another view of the city—something you didn’t get back at home. Your eyes found the dome structure of King’s Cross station immediately. Hues of yellow and magenta surrounded the space to guide passengers and it stuck out like a sore thumb in the silence of the night.

You shut your curtains and crawled into bed.  You wondered how Charlie was doing, if his train was timely and if the ride was comfortable. As you fell asleep, you hoped the answer was ‘yes, it was.’

You didn’t know what time it was when a light roused you. Your mind was still clouded with sleep and you had just the slightest bit of consciousness. A weak beam of light seeped out from below the bathroom door. You heard the running of the tap and the bristling of a toothbrush on teeth. 

When the bathroom light flickered off, a new one flickered on. This one was more faint, further from you. 

“Wow.” 

That was all you heard before the second light shut off. You were far too deep in sleep to inquire about what you were seeing or hearing. Probably ghosts of Charlie floating about, taunting you and luring you into wicked, unthinkable dreams. 

When you fully roused in the morning, you rubbed your eyes. The feeling of complete rest tingled pleasantly in your body. You walked over to the window where blackout curtains shielded you from the sunlight. You swung them open and let the light filter in, illuminating every crevice of your new bedroom. You walked into your washroom to brush your teeth, wash your face, and to tame your hair. 

Remembering that George had generously gifted you an espresso machine, you hurried out of your room to get a sip of that sweet substance. 

The first thing you saw when you exited your bedroom was a black topcoat hanging from the rack. Below it, mounted by the wall, was a pair of slightly scuffed leather boots. Fred and George left with all their belongings, so the coat and shoes couldn’t have been theirs. Your heart skipped a beat and fear consumed your body: there was an intruder in the house. 

The most rational thing to do would be to bolt out the front door and to call security for help and enlist someone more qualified to dispose of the intruder. But pride got the best of you, and you decided you weren’t a damsel in distress who needed saving anymore. It could’ve been Fred or George coming back to play an elaborate prank on you. And when you fell for it, they’d never let you live it down. And the concierge would never let in an unauthorized visitor, so yes, obviously, there was nothing to worry about. 

The only issue was that your wand was in the living room, shredding any chance of self -defence. Instead, you grabbed a metal shoe horn and tiptoed quietly down the hall to the kitchen where you could hear sounds of someone being there: a barstool squeaking, the kettle steaming, and some humming. The bass notes of a man’s voice wasn’t clicking in your memory. Now, you were starting to doubt it was Fred or George.

It was too late to retreat. “Get back!” you yelled with ferocity. You hated to admit, but you’d squeezed your eyes shut so you were waving a shoe horn aimlessly. How you passed Defence Against the Dark Arts was a mystery indeed.

When you heard nothing, and felt no signs of you being murdered, you opened your eyes.

This was no thief or intruder.

It was Charlie.

He playfully threw up both his arms in surrender, teabag in one hand, and pretended to fall backwards, tailbone digging into the kitchen counter. 

You set down your weapon. “What are you doing here?”

He flicked the tag off his tea bag with his thumb, then let out a low whistle. “I think the question you mean to ask is, what are you wearing?”

Charlie’s question echoed in your head as embarrassment stirred up inside you. What were you wearing, exactly?

You looked down for the answer: a thin-strapped silk dress that barely covered your shoulders and thighs. Well, all that while brandishing your favourite accessory: the shoe horn.

“Is that how you win your duels? By distracting your opponent?” he asked. 

You were so infatuated and caught up with the idea of independence that you had forgotten that Charlie had a key and that he was staying over. Combined with the adrenaline of thinking that there was someone in the house, you might as well have had amnesia. His presence did corroborate with the lights and voices you heard last night. Oh shit, come to think of it, he did warn you he was coming over before he departed on Wednesday, but in the mess of things like his and Bill’s untimely appearance and Alicia’s fervent teasing, you’d forgotten.

“This is just what I sleep in!” You were in a right state. Panicked, you tried to make fun of him. Maybe he would lose some of that unbreakable composure. “Don’t you sleep in the same thing? If the rumours are true, that is.”

Charlie chuckled lowly, his laughter rising in volume. “Are you seriously asking me what I sleep in?” he responded. “(Y/N), your mind is a literal cesspool.”

You didn’t want to give off the impression of being embarrassed, so you walked on into the kitchen like nothing happened. “I think I know the answer, based on your deflection,” you mumbled as you settled in the spot beside him. “You can sleep in whatever you like, Charlie, I won’t judge you.”

“I was going to say I often wear much less,” he added in a husky half-whisper by your earlobe.

Oh.

You hand squeezed the metal handle of the espresso portafilter. The coffee wasn’t going to be the only thing steaming in here. You didn’t dare turn your head. You could imagine the handsome smirk at the things he was making you think: Charlie and his naked torso covered in a sheen of sweat, languidly moving under the covers, each hard ridge of muscle skimming the sheets… “Well, that’s just dandy for you, isn’t it?”

“Do I detect a trace of sarcasm?” Charlie pouted, looking down at you. He gave you a nudge. “Need I remind you that you asked me first?”

You kept your mouth shut and fiddled with the top of the espresso grinder instead. It didn’t come off easily, so you tried to pry it off with your nail. When it felt like the grinder was going to take off your nail instead, you gave up.

“Have you made coffee before?” Charlie questioned. His larger hand enveloped the top and twisted it off with ease. 

You seethed silently. 

Charlie continued, unbothered by your lack of response: “I was thinking we could grab breakfast first and discuss how to use the espresso machine after.”

Charlie’s offer was sounding pretty scrumptious. You needed a jolt of caffeine stat if you were going to make it through the rest of the day. 

“Fine,” you conceded quickly, shutting the machine off. “Lead the way.”

“Are you going to get changed first?” Charlie snickered. “It’s a bit nippy for that little number, isn’t it?”

You grabbed the shoehorn from the island. “If you aren’t careful, this shoehorn will meet your head.”

His mouth twisted in a way that made your heart flutter. “Whoa, you’re pretty intimidating for someone so small.”

Beautiful, crooked words.

“I’m really not just saying it for show,” you warned. 

Charlie stepped back, face full of feigned fear. “I’ll believe it.”

You huffed and turned around.

“When I see it,” he added quickly.

You nearly stomped back to your room to change.

“So, if I am staying over Friday night, I’d like to keep some eggs in the fridge and bread in the pantry, at the very least. I get pretty peckish right after I wake up.”

Charlie was explaining his terms and conditions to you on the way back from the cafe where you enjoyed a breakfast sandwich and a coffee. You were grateful you kept your attire simple—a white shirt over some flowy culottes and a trench coat—because you would’ve felt ridiculous setting foot into a homey family establishment dressed otherwise. Charlie even had a long chat with the owners, a married couple in their late sixties who’d insisted on your meal being on the house. 

After breakfast, you’d forgiven him for his teasing and stopped by the grocers to pick up some pantry staples. Charlie cradled a paper bag in one arm and looped a bag of tangerines around the other. Despite all this grocery juggling, he held the door for you as you made your way to the lift and continued to talk about his favourite topic: breakfast.

“Of course you can,” you replied.

“I appreciate you being alright with it. After all, there’s a decent amount of space in your fridge. Do you even cook?”

You reddened. “I only moved in two days ago. I haven’t had the time to—”

“Hm.” He cocked his head as the lift ascended. “Not much of an excuse given the rest of the space looks so furnished.”

“Fred and George came over for dinner last night with takeaway,” you retorted.

Charlie made a strangled noise. “I wasn’t invited?”

“You were at Hogwarts,” you reminded him.

He laughed. “It’s the thought that counts. The notion of me being invited. I thought you Malfoys were all about keeping up appearances.”

“You seem to know very little, Charlie,” you said as you opened the door, “about Malfoys.”

“You’re killing me today, (Y/N),” he said. He set his paper bag down and began organising his purchases on the island. “I didn’t take you to be so mean.”

You froze midway through taking off your trench coat. “I am not mean.”

He placed a carton of eggs in the icebox. “So, so, mean.”

You opened your mouth to say something but your words caught in your throat. You decided not to entangle yourself in the web that was Charlie’s teasing though it felt nice that he was so concentrated on you, and that he kept the conversation going. You sauntered over to the bookshelf instead and plucked out one of Madame Millicent’s books. You turned to the page you’d bookmarked, knee-deep in learning how to knead the most buttery and flaky pie crust. It would’ve been a really mundane topic, but this Millicent woman used such vivid descriptors that you could practically taste the decadence in your mouth. 

“What’s this?” Charlie asked, walking towards the sectional.

“Something I’m reading for a book club.” Oh, shit. You really had to get going on those Madame Millicent books. The date for the afternoon tea was fast approaching and each second brought you closer to a due date of less than a week. 

“Hm.” Charlie plucked a book out from beside the empty space, flipped to a random page, and began reading aloud. “Create a vacuum around his appendage. Use your tongue to stroke the tip of him. This is his most sensitive region. Make sure to gently lap any juices. Remember to engage in eye contact with him. Your eyes will be his undoing.” Charlie looked up. “Did you know that, (Y/N)? You may be on your knees or writhing under him, but you are the temptress with control, he is your subordinate.

You blanked out and blinked at Charlie. “What?”

“Is this what you’re discussing at your book club?” Charlie asked, handing you the book. His fingers touched the header. “Oral sex in flowery prose?”

You frowned. “You made that up.”

“I didn’t, but I’m flattered you think I write so well.”

You grabbed the book from him and looked to where he had been narrating from. To your horror, these were the exact words he’d read, except the addition of your name when he tried to get your attention. “I didn’t know it was about… this. It was supposed to be about female empowerment.” You looked at the book you were initially reading, confusion splayed all over your face. “Or at least her first title was?”

You skimmed your fingers over the textured spine where ‘Madame Millicent: Pleasing the Patriarchy’ was deeply embroidered. Well, this radiated a completely different persona than ‘Madame Millicent: Maître de la Maison.”

“Of course you didn’t, Miss Malfoy,” Charlie said with a snicker. “Wait until your father hears about what you’re reading now that you live all alone.”

You scoffed. “Actually, my mother was the one who recommended it.”

Charlie cleared his throat very audibly. “I’m sorry, what?”

You nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact with him.

Charlie shook his head. “Not the fair maiden, Narcissa Malfoy. She would never muddle her name with such sacrilegious affairs.” He stopped when a new train of thought struck him. “But that’d give our mothers a mutual topic to talk about, if they ever met.”

You eyed him curiously. Was he implying the saintly Molly Weasley indulged in erotica? Feeling awkward, you continued to talk about the book club.

“Well, Charlie,” you started, about to shatter his misconceptions about your mother.  “My mother is part of the book club that Madame Millicent is speaking at next week. She’s invited me as well, hence why I’m reading her titles. And you’ll find that lonely housewives adore books like these.”

“Seriously?” Charlie’s eyes lit up delightfully. “You get to meet the temptress in person?” he asked excitedly. “Can I come, too?”

“Why would you want to do that?” You snapped your book shut. “There won’t be a single man there.”

“Why, (Y/N), because I’m extremely well-read. And I care deeply for female empowerment, especially in the brazen manner Madame Millicent portrays it.”

You cocked your head and narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “Really?” You shook the book he was holding. “Or just this title in particular?”

He eyed you curiously, a smirk spreading across his face. “I’ll have all these titles finished by next week.”

“You shouldn’t overestimate your ability to read through all this, it’s quite a bit.”

“Oh, I know my limits,” Charlie affirmed. “I’ll see you at this afternoon tea.”

“You really read through it all?” you asked Charlie, voice thick with doubt, as you walked on the cobblestone entrance. 

Tea was to be hosted this afternoon at a venue your mother had written to you about. It was such a lovely place, green and whimsical, and its dreamy appearance befit its claim as a popular wedding destination. Evergreen shrubs, touched with the slightest amount of morning dew and rain, lined the path you and Charlie were taking. It had rained earlier this morning when the both of you were getting dressed in your apartment. 

“(Y/N),” Charlie started. “We read all day yesterday. All day. You didn’t even let me take a washroom break.”

That was true. He’d gotten back from Hogwarts late Friday evening, slipped into his room, and woke up before you to work the espresso machine for the two of you. Then, you got right to it. You had both claimed the opposite ends of the sectional and read through the rest of the titles in preparation for today. Charlie seemed content to spend his Saturday with you, and you were elated when he nestled into the couch and made no plans to leave. He did head back late Saturday evening to the Burrow, but came back this morning to dress for the event. 

You had Charlie for a full weekend, and you couldn’t suppress a smile at the thought of it.

“I had to oversee you reading the other two titles,” you teased. “Seeing you were so affixed on Pleasing on Patriarch.”

”It’s what I know best. I’m sure Millicent and I will have colourful discussions on it.”

You were received by a dapper little house elf in a bowtie at the front door who guided you through the hallway inside the mansion, then helped you down the back down some stone steps, before leading you into the gardens. It didn’t seem sensible or at all seasonable for afternoon tea to be hosted outside this time of year, but a warming spell that arced across the pavilion kept the women at the round table warm. The trees were blazing with hues of red and orange, nearly ready to shrivel and die as soon as the temperature dipped any further. At least they provided some colour in contrast to the dull, grey skies. 

“How are you feeling? Cold?” Charlie asked. He fiddled with the collar of your tweed cardigan that you’d layered over a long dress.

You perked quickly at his concern for you and the brush of his finger near your neck. His touch was the only thing that was shiver-inducing. “I feel fine. What about you?”

”I’m at the perfect temperature,” he said as he adjusted his suit. He was wearing an outfit a touch toned down from when you had dinner with your parents. While you liked his bedhead and the mess of curls that he usually sported, you had to admit that he was unusually beautiful when he tamed his hair. It drew attention to the sharp juts of his jaw and cheekbones that were usually hidden.

The two of you continued down the steps and the further you got, the more the stunning set up came into view. A round table was constructed in the centre of the gardens. A tablecloth decorated in rich autumn hues—deep red and gold—draped over it. The centrepiece which consisted of candles, pumpkins, and a leafy wreath snaked around the middle.

“Charlie!”

You both looked up.

This voice did not belong to your mother. It didn’t belong to anyone you were particularly familiar with.

But when a grey-haired woman stood up, you could pinpoint exactly who’d called.

“Mrs. Cromwell!” Charlie responded first.

“Cecile!” she yelled in cheery correction, still a ways away from the base of the steps. She lifted herself from the chair, gloved hands by her side to help with her balance, and ambled as quickly as her old age would take her to where you and Charlie were standing. Charlie, not wanting an elderly lady to walk unsteadily to him, ran over and you followed. Cecile gracefully extended her arm as if pulling him over. Time had softened her bones and compressed some cartilage, and she seemed very, very small next to Charlie. “Remember me?”

“How could I forget?” Charlie chuckled, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. Cecile giggled at his show of chivalry. 

As the twosome continued their conversation, you caught your mother beckoning you over with a glance. You left Charlie and Cecile and shuffled over.

“Why did you bring him?” Narcissa whispered, pulling you in by the arm. “I thought I made the invitation exclusive to you.”

“I informed you in a letter, mother,” you rebutted. 

“And I responded saying there were no extra seats at this function. It is extremely exclusive, (Y/N).” Narcissa’s tone was sharp and stern. “Charlie absolutely cannot be accommodated.”

“Okay,” you said. “Then I’ll leave.”

”You are not leaving,” Narcissa insisted in a harsh whisper. “Madame Millicent is expecting you.”

You looked back up to where Mrs. Cromwell was leading Charlie back to the round table, a funny sight indeed seeing that Charlie had no issues ambulating, but Mrs. Cromwell was roleplaying a nurse supporting an elderly patient at St Mungos.

“Mrs. Cromwell certainly seems to want him here,” you muttered through your teeth. “She’d happily let him take her place.”

Narcissa let out a long, hopeless sigh, and her hands lifted to rub at her temples. “I kindly ask you to ask him to leave.”

”But—”

“Good afternoon, ladies,” a voice called out from the back of the house. Twelve heads spun around to the lady standing at the top of the steps. She was short, slightly stocky in nature, and cloaked in beautiful deep purple robes. Her greying hair was pulled back into a bun on the top of her head. Her features were foxy and homely, and if you didn’t have the context that you did as to who she was, you’d never have guessed she was Madame Millicent. 

Her house elf scrambled in front of her. “Ladies,”—he glanced at Charlie—“and gentleman, may I present to you, Madame Millicent?”

Everyone at the table stood up as Millicent proceeded down the same steps you and Charlie had just taken.  

“Who do we have here?” Millicent called out, fixated on Charlie whose arm now permanently belonged to Mrs. Cromwell.

”Charlie Weasley, madame.”

”Weasley?” she questioned with a quirk of a well-groomed eyebrow. “Now, where have I heard that before?”

Your breath caught.

Narcissa gave you a pointed look and shook her head slowly. If Madame Millicent hated the Weasleys a fraction of the amount your parents did, you’d truly come to regret inviting Charlie.

”Now I know why that sounds so familiar!” Millicent exclaimed suddenly, clapping her hands together with glee. “Molly Weasley. Is that your mother?”

Charlie nodded. “Yes.”

”Such a small world we live in, don’t we?” Millicent continued. “She came to my last book signing and we had a chat about my recipes that lasted over an hour. Such a lovely woman, so lovely. I reckon I’ll be looking to her for advice on homemaking for my next book. A powerful woman, too, raised seven kids, if I remember correctly, and put them all through school.” She looked up Charlie up and down. “She forgot to mention how handsome her son was.” 

“Handsome? Wait until you see my older brother,” Charlie said, brushing off a compliment for the first time you’d witnessed.

Charlie’s comment certainly piqued Mrs. Cromwell’s interest. She looked up at him with an inquisitive look while Millicent did a quick assessment of the available seats and frowned.

“Well, that just won’t do,” Millicent tutted. “Gibbly, fetch me another seat for Mr. Weasley. He can be seated right next by me.”

Gibbly, Millicent’s house elf, dashed back inside the house to retrieve a chair. You and Narcissa just looked on with astounded expressions (like mother, like daughter). Neither of you expected Millicent would be so taken by Charlie. 

“You could’ve given me that honour, Millie,” Mrs. Cromwell huffed with a displeased expression. “I wouldn’t mind sitting next to him.” When Millicent just smiled, you relaxed. It must’ve been an old joke between friends, you reckoned. 

After Charlie was seated, tea had made its rounds. You stirred your earl grey with trepidation, knowing your mother was looking on, ensuring you were following good tea etiquette. You’d stirred for close to two minutes, preoccupied with trying to catch a glimpse of Charlie. You were seated left of Narcissa, so six seats from Charlie which was six seats too far and at a very odd angle. 

“I want to get to know the unfamiliar faces in this room. Would you mind introducing yourself, love?” Millicent was staring at you.

You set your spoon down. “I’m (Y/N) Malfoy,” you said. “I’m Narcissa’s daughter. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“Of course, I should’ve known,” Millicent said with a smile. “I can see your mother in you, but you take after your father so well.” 

You almost retched. 

Then, she turned to Charlie. “And what brings you here today, Charlie? I don’t recall seeing your name on the guest list.”

“Actually, (Y/N) was the reason I came today.”

Millicent leaned in. “Really?”

“Her interest in your writing rubbed off on me,” Charlie explained. “I was thrilled to have the opportunity to meet you in person. Take it as you will, but I was quite literally on my knees to be here today.”

You squinted. Was that… a patch of red spreading on Millicent’s cheeks?

“Well,” Millicent chirped happily. “Let’s start our discussions then.”

The first part of the discussion focussed on her first two titles, Maître de La Maison and Tips for the Domesticated Witch. Women around the table praised her recipes and how the results were always a hit with all their guests at functions they hosted. You nibbled quietly at a cucumber sandwich as the conversation droned on, having nothing of substance to offer. Charlie, on the other hand, seemed very interested, and even asked questions: “Millicent, precisely, how important is the bain-marie method for a perfect cheesecake?”

“Now,” Millicent said suddenly with a clap. “Let’s move on to what I know you ladies are really here for.”

A wave of giggles chorused through the pavilion. You looked to your mother for solidarity, but she remained tight-lipped and looked displeased. Well, there was only one last book left to discuss…

“I wish I could’ve attended an earlier session, but I was touring Northern Europe for the release of Pleasing the Patriarchy all summer. I’m delighted to be back in England to discuss my latest bestseller with you.”

“And I wish Chuck was still here to witness all my learnings through that book,” Mrs. Cromwell added in a serious tone. “You couldn’t have finished that book any earlier, Millie?” Her quip earned a round of subdued laughs. 

“Well, as I say to every woman, it’s never too late,” Millicent assured. “I reckon a steady dose of intercourse will keep all of us healthy and young on all accounts.”

”Trust me, I know,” Mrs. Cromwell said. “But I find men my age are so selfish and well-worn in their ways. I’m from a cursed generation where a woman’s pleasure was always secondary to her husband’s.”

“And it’s so awful,” Millicent agreed. “But you’re a crafty woman, Cecile. You must know a way around such a dated practice.”

Mrs. Cromwell made a face like the answer was obvious. “Of course, I only entertain the younger men now.”

An unabashed chorus of laughter erupted from the table this time. Mrs. Cromwell sent a wrinkled wink at Charlie, who smiled back. 

“Speaking of younger men,” Madame Millicent changed the topic and looked to Charlie, “It’s fate that we have one of those here today. What do you think of the advice laid out in my latest release?”

“You’re still talking about Pleasing the Patriarchy, correct?” Charlie repeated.

“Yes.” Millicent nodded. “I’ve consulted a fair share of men as preliminary research, but I’m curious as to what you think of it, the feasibility and authenticity of the tips, that is, if you could comment on both.”

“Well,” Charlie started, leaning back in his seat, “I reckon your advice is fabulous, very feasible. You’ve really captured the steps precisely. Put it in better words than I ever could.”

“Hm.” Millicent seemed mighty proud of herself. “And have you been able to integrate these tips in the bedroom?”

“Ah,” Charlie stalled, his breath catching in his throat in another historical first. What happened to the ever-so-confident Charlie Weasley you’ve come to know? He cast you a quick glance. You imagined his hesitation was due to the fact that your mother was right beside you, and he was being lightly coerced to talk about his sex life despite keeping things as vague as possible until this point. The only people in the room who knew about you and Charlie were your mother and Mrs. Cromwell; you weren’t certain Millicent or the twelve others had connected the dots.  

If Narcissa weren’t here, he might’ve been more adventurous in his answer. He shifted his attention back to Millicent in a flash; the untrained eye wouldn’t have sensed any hesitation. “Of course. I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity for self-improvement.”

“How considerate of you,” Mrs. Cromwell added with a dreamy, longing sigh. 

“Very much so,” solidified Millicent.

“Millicent, what do we do if our husbands are so consumed in their work at the Ministry that they won’t even pay us the time of day when they get home?” a younger woman in her thirties, draped in a dark teal shawl, piped up. Her seat-mate nodded in agreement. “I don’t even have the opportunity to practise anything I read. I’m so terribly frustrated, Millicent.”

“Sadly, that’s not out of the ordinary,” Millicent consoled, sympathy written on her face. “Has he always been so detached, Anna?”

“Ever since we’ve started living together, it’s as if the passion has faded.”

Millicent nodded. “Through my research, there are a number of things that decimate passion in the bedroom: children, work, and moving in together. When you move in together, you sacrifice the feelings of excitement and mystery that fuelled the passion and intimacy at the beginning of your relationship. We tend to absorb our roles as homemaker or a mother and less of a sexual partner.”

Anna sighed.

“Charlie, do you live alone?” Millicent queried. 

“I live with (Y/N),” Charlie answered without missing a beat. “Most days, anyways.”

Millicent’s mouth rounded. Mrs. Cromwell leaned in suspiciously at this revelation. Likely, her head was whirring around the fact that you spent time with Charlie in the bedroom. 

“And if you’re comfortable sharing,” Millicent asked in such a delicate but firm manner that you know she’d definitely prodded like this before, “what fluctuations in your physical relationship have you experienced since moving in?”

“I reckon everything’s stayed the same,” Charlie mused, his eyes brooding in deep thought, “or honestly, at an increased frequency.”

Both you and your mother immediately turned as red as the sugar-glazed strawberries on the tart on the serving tray. Your mother coughed, the insinuation that Charlie had punched into the conversation—that you and him had sex—interfering with her ability to masticate. You buried your head down to evade curious glances and looked down at the table cloth. Wow, has crocheting always yielded such beautiful results?

Millicent leaned her face into the palms of her hand. “Why do you think that is?”

“Well, as you said, we shouldn’t forget our roles as partners. And with a partner so beautiful, it’s not hard.”

You were mortified. You thought about asking Gibbly to help you dig a hole into the ground so you could block out all the chatter about your fictitious sex life.

“Well, my love,” Millicent redirected her attention to Anna, “here’s what I think you can do to bring back the spark in the bedroom….”

An hour later, afternoon tea was nearing an end. Gibbly cleared out the trays and teacups as you followed the other woman on the trail back into the manor. Charlie stood back with Mrs. Cromwell by a gate. This old woman and her spindly claws just weren’t going to let go of him! Your eyes followed his body as he leaned down, almost on his knees to listen to what she was whispering to his ear, a corner of his mouth pulled up in handsome amusement. 

‘She’s probably inviting him to her bed!’ you thought. 

“(Y/N),” Narcissa called, gently pulling at your arm. “Let’s go somewhere private to have a chat.”

“Sure,” you responded, walking with your mother northward but eyes still on Charlie southward. 

As you walked, you felt a sharp tug on your heart when Anna skipped over, teal dress grazing the grass, to join in on Charlie and Mrs. Cromwell’s conversation. Charlie’s smile was as friendly as ever as he chatted with a married woman who’d loudly and publicly announced she was lonely—practically a mating call if you’d ever heard one. He couldn’t be so deaf or stupid to ignore that, could he? 

You felt forgotten even though Charlie made such a grand display of you being his partner.

You almost tripped over a divot in the ground, but you couldn’t stop staring at what was unfolding behind you. It reminded you of his chummy conversation with Mallory at the bar, him never brushing off Mrs. Cromwell’s forward advances, Millicent praising his looks and asking him invasive questions, and now Anna giggling at him. If he could be so forthcoming with all these random women in front of you, how many of them was he charming behind your back? All while crawling his way to sharing the same apartment as you?

But it didn’t matter, did it? Your chest felt heavy at the realization that he wasn’t doing anything immoral or wrong. If you were together, you’d be well within your rights to be suspicious. Factually, you were the one who tangled him in this ruse, and the only credit you could give yourself was that it got a little more complicated and spindly than you could handle. So, you forced yourself to swallow the apprehension about the women in Charlie’s life the best you could. 

Narcissa led you over to a more secluded part of the garden where only the trees could hear your conversation. And you were going to be glad for it. 

“Is it true?” Narcissa prodded.

“What’s true?”

“What Charlie said?”

“He said a lot of things,” you reminded her. “But yes, mother, the bain-marie method will yield a better-tasting cheesecake.” 

“No,”—Narcissa shook her head—“about your sexual activity.”

“Mother!” you exclaimed in a whisper. You leaned out to make sure Charlie hadn’t come any closer. “I’d prefer if we discussed it later, or never at all, especially as it was already dissected in front of everyone.”

“I understand,” she said. “It’s a difficult topic, but I regret not sitting you down when you were younger, I truly do, (Y/N). It was a failure on my part. I had your father talk to Draco about these matters, but I need to make sure you’re taking care of your reproductive health before something unwanted happens.

“Of course I am!” you promised. “You needn’t worry about it.” Because we aren’t in a relationship. We aren’t having sex.

You wanted out of here. This conversation and the charades that followed didn’t feel exciting anymore. It now felt empty and wrong. It was a chore, trying to keep in line with what Charlie had announced, and you were certain he didn’t put a single care behind his words to you. 

“Well, it would give me peace of mind if you made an appointment with our Healer. There are many options for contraception nowadays, much more than when I was a young witch.”

“Contra—”

“It doesn’t have to be at the first appointment, but Healer Tousignant will go over your options and you should take some time to decide what works best for you. I promise, she is excellent at what she does. And I won’t ask anything of it afterwards.”

You skimmed through all the options in your head. If you refused Narcissa’s offer, you’d be subject to more questions about your sexual health, and who knows what inopportune place she’d choose to talk about it next? In front of your cousins during Christmas in Switzerland? In the middle of Diagon Alley? At dinner where Draco and your father would be present?

If you just accepted the appointment, you could conceal the fact you weren’t in Charlie’s bed (despite a naughty crevice of your brain that controlled your dreams hoping you were). 

A dull pain interlaced with the beat of your heart at the possibility of that person not being you. Reality told you it wasn’t going to be. It could be Mallory, Mrs. Cromwell, Millicent, Anna— 

“Fine,” you agreed with a forced smile. “Tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

>> NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what @earth-to-lottie @kissingyourgrl @sihtricswife @adalia-jaycee @anuttellaa @weasley-clan (Let me know if I missed you, or if you want to be added!)

[transmechanicus]

Everyone scandalized about Chilchuck being thirsted over, a character who is objectively 29, which is 40+ in human years, who has 3 grown daughters and a divorce, just because of how he's drawn, you have my biggest congratulations. I truly did not think the complex physiological system of a human body could be managed by a creature with not one singular brain cell. How you managed to stagger over to the computer and bash your skull against the keyboard with enough accuracy to post remains a further mystery. I am going to put you in a maze filled with buzzsaw goblins and will use the results to write a second PhD thesis.

[pupkashi]

Pupkashi! Congratulations on 1k!! You deserved it!!🎉💙 may I please request a drabble with the prompt  “aw, sweetheart you know you don’t have to ask...come here.” From the Water category with  “you’re my everything.” From the Cocktails category with our favorite white haired man, Gojo Satoru!💙

thank you friend !! i hope you enjoy this little piece :3 let me know what you think <3 !

warnings: mentions of feeling insecure / not good enough

3:27 am

your eyes were burning, but the second you laid down the tears you were holding back threatened to flow, and the sobs you were keeping at bay would slip past your lips.

it wasn’t something satoru did or said to make you feel insecure, he was always so perfect to you. in fact, it’s because he was so perfect that you felt like you’d never be enough for him.

why you? from everyone he could choose from, why would he choose you?

‘he chose me.’

‘he chose me,’ you’re trying to remind yourself, hot tears flowing down your face. your fingers ghosted over the keyboard, debating wether or not you should message him. you put your phone down, you shouldn’t bother him.

it’s like he had a sixth sense when it came to you. your phone lighting up only seconds later with a text from him.

hi baby <333

through teary eyes and shaky hands you typed out your message quickly, biting your bottom lip as you sent the text.

can you come home?

he replies in seconds, attentive as always.

are you okay? I’m omw

you hear his footsteps before you see him, the door to your shared bedroom opening quietly, satoru quickly taking in your state and rushing to your side.

“oh sweetheart” he mumbles, not bothering to slip out of his uniform as his arms wrap around you, bringing you close to him, one hand rubbing your back and the other smoothing your hair. “I’m right here baby,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head.

when you finally calm down, he’s slipping out of his uniform, sliding under the covers with you. “you wanna talk about it?” his voice is gentle, thumb wiping away a stray tear from your face.

you nod your head, clearing your throat a bit, sitting a bit straighter and fiddling with the edge of the blanket, was that string always there?

“i just” you let out a shaky breath, satoru doesn’t rush you, only staring at you with soft eyes, “am i enough for you? don’t you deserve better?” you don’t look up as the words leave your mouth.

satoru can feel his heart break in his chest, he can feel the shards of his heart lodging into his sides as he stares at you.

“you’re my everything” it feels second nature to tell you that, to tell you how much he loves you and how much you mean to him, “you’re more than enough for me sweets” he’s leaning closer to you, one of his hands slipping under you chin, gently making you face him.

“you’re all i ever need” telling you that was easy to him. it’s easy to love someone as perfect for him as you were.

“who else is gonna tell me off? who’s gonna laugh at my terrible jokes? who am i gonna watch bad romcoms with?” his eyes look like they’re shimmering with love as he stares at you, like you created the universe.

you laugh a bit, sniffling as you tear your eyes away from his, wiping away the couple of tears that ran down your face.

“i love you, pretty” his words are dripping with sincerity, and the feeling of his hand intwining with your serves as a reminder of his words. the warmth of his hands mending your heart, because it’s only you in the entire world who feels the warmth of his palms.

it’s only you that know how warm he runs, how cuddly he gets at night. it’s only you who he never has his infinity on with. it’s only you he drops everything for at a moments notice.

the two of you only sit there in silence for a second, letting you compose yourself before you’re excusing yourself to wash your face, coming back and finding satoru standing at the foot of the bed.

“are you leaving?” you ask, satoru smiles at you.

“you think I’m gonna leave you at a time like this?” he’s throwing his uniform in the hamper and taking large strides to you, kissing your nose before sweeping you off your feet and throwing you onto the bed.

“I’m not going anywhere sweetheart” he mumbles, “just picking up after myself” smiling as he peppers kisses on your face. he only stops when your lips capture his, smiling into the kiss.

the two of you slip under the covers quickly, battling for the blanket for a second before you both finally settle in.

“can i be the little spoon?” you whisper.

“aw sweetheart you know you don’t have to ask” he mumbles, extending his arms and scooting a bit closer to you, “cmere.”

he’s kissing the top of your head, arms gripping you tightly and sighing happily. you felt the warmth of his body on yours, his lips just barely ghosting over your shoulder before he presses a kiss there.

“gnight sweets” he whispers, “i love you so much” he presses another kiss to your shoulder.

“i love you more, my angel boy” you mumble, eyes heavier by the second, the comfort of his body against yours paired with his cologne making it harder to stay awake, “sweet dreams.”

you’re asleep by the time satoru replies, “any dream with you is sweet” giggling to himself before closing his eyes, squeezing you a bit closer to him.