#excuse the too-small head. was too deep in by the time i noticed.

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕾OPHIA

Sophia Laforteza x fem!reader

summary: your favourite thing about being a singer was the hours it would just be you and your producing equipment alone. with the help of lara, you put a lot more than just your imagination into your new track; sophia

warnings: angst, fluff, mean!sophia, internalized homophobia

When you sat in that chair, in front of the glorious table of high-end equipment, you felt all the negative energy from your life evaporated into nothingness. Creating art was a passion, the feeling of fulfillment you earned from completing a song you poured blood, sweat and tears into was irreplaceable.

Until you had the pleasure of knowing Sophia Laforteza.

Sophia was her own person. She knew what she was doing on Dream Academy, and she knew what she was doing as the current leader of Katseye. She took care of herself, she took care of her bandmates and she made sure everything worked.

When you and Sophia first began talking, it was… magical.

She was an absolute dream. Sophia’s love language was acts of service; she would cook for all the girls, but she’d make an extra cup of coffee for you with a cute pattern on top of it. She would come say goodnight, tucking you in and sometimes soothing you to sleep with Disney songs. On award shows and interviews, she’d always stand behind you, making sure you wouldn’t suffer from a wardrobe malfunction.

It was the small things that really had you hooked on her. And for a while, it was everything you could’ve imagined come true.

But, then, when things would turn serious and you started reciprocating the same sort of attention she was giving you, she began distancing herself. She was no longer staying behind to talk to you when the group would have nights out, and she’d always be busy scheduling for Katseye to hang.

When you confronted her about it, she brushed it off. “No, no, it’s nothing like that,” she said, “You’re overthinking.”

Giving her the benefit of the doubt, you only nodded.

So you let her string you along a little further, giving her your hand when she asked, following her around when she’d wag an enticing finger at you. It was obvious your crush had gradually grown into a love of sorts. At least, for you.

I think we could do it if we tried, if only to say, “You’re mine”.

“Manon and I need to pick up a delivery,” Megan announced, “We’re heading downtown if anybody wants to come.”

After four hours in the dance studio, listening to the same song and doing the same routine, rehearsal had finally come to a close. Everybody was worn, fatigued from the draining energy they had to keep up with.

“I’m heading home, so that’s an option too,” Daniela said.

Yoonchae decided to head home, but Lara wanted to go thrifting, so she would leave with the two in Megan’s car. Daniela rolled her window down, Yoonchae in the passenger seat. She nodded towards the two of you.

“You guys coming home with us?” she asked.

You glanced over at Sophia hopefully, praying she could make up some excuse for the two of you to be able to spend some time alone. Though none of the girls knew of your secret, even a blind man could see the two of you were good friends, so if Sophia would have just said no, they wouldn’t have paid either of you any mind. Alas, you didn’t seem to be on the same page, the way you have noticed the two of you have been.

“Actually, I have to do this thing alone… Y/N should be heading home with ya’ll though.” she answered for you, eyeing you in a ‘leader mode’ expression. It wasn’t soft, it was exposing, with a sharp edge. You felt you could only nod in agreement, before watching her wave you all goodbye and strolling down the street towards the city’s busier section.

You know I’ll do anything you asked me to.

You slipped into the Mustang, closing the door with a deep exhale from your nose. Neither of the girls in the front seemed to notice your low energy, belting along to Daniela’s songs.

You eventually tuned them out completely, sat alone with your own thoughts. And you were left with reminiscing the few, but unforgettable moments you managed to sneak in with Sophia.

A week ago, when all of you went out for lunch and Lara began talking about her ex-girlfriend, the discussion of half the group being girl-kissers began arising. It was a sort of light-hearted teasing, just playfully making fun of each other, but Sophia got very defensive when Megan made a comment about her crushing on female Korean idols. Everybody didn’t know exactly what to say when the Filipina had insisted she was straight, and that statement, combined with her refusing to look you in the eye that whole meal afterwards was confusing.

Especially when the two of you would sneak out the house and have a late night rendezvous together. When she kissed you that night, in some alley down the block, you couldn’t help but let the negative feelings flush from your body.

But, oh my God, I think I’m in love with you.

A few days ago, the girls sat around their kitchen island for the breakfast Sophia had made. And when you came downstairs, groggy from just waking, you could see her enjoying a chat with Megan about some new clothing line that had come out. You made your way towards the six, about to go grab yourself a bite to eat when a plate of well-presented food was handed to you. You looked up, to see Sophia still very well focused on her conversation with the redhead, her eyes on Megan’s phone screen, but it was the fact she noticed your presence even when none of the other girls did, her remembering to set you a plate, knowing you would come down.

But still, you seemed to come second to quite literally anything around her.

It was then the lyrics, “Sophia, know that you and I, shouldn’t feel like a crime”. When she finally glanced at you, her eyes soft with a small smile on her face, your heart drumming at the sight of her hair nestling the sides of her face, the next line was clear. “I just wanna say how much I love you with your hair down.”

Though she would sometimes show she cared in her own ways, she kept her distance, hiding behind her carefully built walls. Even in the rare moments they were alone, Sophia’s fingers only briefly brushed against your hand before she pulled away, retreating into herself.

Sophia insisted on it. “It’s better this way,” she’d said one night, lying beside Y/N in a dim hotel room after a gig. “The band... the fans... they wouldn’t get it. It’s just easier to keep it to ourselves. Were the only ones who matter, right?”

How ironic. Everybody else’s opinion was so important to her, but yours blew straight past her head.

When Sophia came back that day, she smelt of a foreign cologne. She came into her room when you and Yoonchae were watching a show together in the younger’s bed. She noticed you there, watching her every move, but neither of you were gonna say anything in front of Yoonchae.

When the latter got up make some microwave popcorn, you decided to just upright test just how much you actually meant to her.

“I can’t do this anymore, Sophia,” you sighed.

Sophia turned around from facing her closet, her eyebrows furrowing. “Do what?”

“This—us—being some kind of secret you’re too afraid to admit exists.” Your words came out sharper than you had intended, but you didn’t try to soften them. “I’m tired of hiding how I feel. I’m tired of pretending that we’re just friends when we’re not. At least, I’m not.”

Sophia sighed heavily, leaning her head back against the closet door. “You think this is easy for me? You think I want to keep it a secret?”

“Then why do you?” You shot back, standing now, Yoonchae’s laptop forgotten on her bed. “Why do you care so much about what the band or the fans might think? We’re human, Sophia. They’d get it, especially the girls.”

Sophia’s jaw clenched, and she stepped forward, her tone firm but defensive. “You don’t know that. You don’t know how they’ll react, what they’ll say. If this gets out, it could ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

“What you’ve worked for,” You corrected, crossing your arms. “Because I’m the one putting my heart into this, and you’re the one pretending it doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is you asking me sneak around in the dark while you act like you don’t care about me at all!” Your voice cracked, and you quickly swiped at your eyes.

Sophia’s face softened for a moment, but then she turned away, her hands running through her hair in frustration. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple! You either want to be with me, or you don’t.”

Silence hung between you, thick and suffocating. You took a deep breath and added, more quietly, “I don’t want to keep hiding, Sophia. Not anymore. If you can’t handle that, then maybe this isn’t what I thought it was.”

Sophia spun around, her expression stormy. “Fine. You want honesty? I’m scared, okay? I’m scared of what happens when everything changes. When we can’t go back to how things were before.”

“It already changed, Sophia,” You said softly. “You’re the only one pretending it hasn’t.”

Sophia opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. Her eyes darted around the room as if searching for an exit. Finally, she grabbed her jacket from the chair and muttered, “I need some air.”

“That’s your answer? Running away?” You asked, your voice a mixture of hurt and anger.

Sophia paused at the door, her back to you. “I’ll be back later.”

Baby, you don’t gotta fight, I’ll be here till the end of time.

She left, the door clicking shut behind her.

You sat back down, staring at the closed door, the empty room echoing with everything left unsaid. When Yoonchae came back in, asking about a grumbling Sophia storming out the dorm, you just shrugged and said you didn’t know.

Wishing that you were mine, pull you in, it’s alright.

“Hello, Eyekons!” The screen flickered on, Lara's face appearing under the warm light of her apartment. She dragged out the fan base name, practically yelling at the top of her lungs. Fans flooded the comments, greeting the woman. Lara grinned, adjusting her phone. “I figured we’d do a little acoustic set tonight, ‘cuz y’know ’ya girls have been working hard in the studio to feed ya’ll. Y/N and I have been really putting our Katsussies into this one song, so we’re gonna let you guys hear a bit of it, and you can tell us if ya’ll like it.”

Fans immediately filled the chat with excitement.

Lara leaned closer to the camera, her smile softening. “Okay, so backstory while babygirl sets everything up. Y/N wrote this song, I helped produce it and honestly, I feel like it’s definitely one of the more vulnerable and beautiful things I’ve shared.”

She paused, scrolling through the comments before adding, “The thing is, Y/N never outright said who it was about or what inspired her, but, you know, when we were working on it, it always felt like there was this... extra weight in the room. Like, it wasn’t just a song for her—it was the song.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, like she was sharing a secret. “And if you ask me, I think it was about someone really close to her. Maybe even someone you guys know, but,” she held her hands up, “Ya’ll didn’t hear that from me.”

user01 watch it be about sophia

user02 LARA DONT EDGE US TF

user03 I bet everyone everything it’s a laforn/n song

Lara laughed nervously, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I mean, I’m not naming names. But if you pay attention to the lyrics... well, I think it’s pretty obvious Y/N poured her heart into this one. And it’s about someone who’s made her feel, like, really conflicted. Like they’re hiding something. Anyway...”

You came back into the room after a door opened and closed. You came onscreen, immediately getting roped into the live by Lara. The Indian yanked you into her lap as the tow of you stared at the phone. You waved. “Hey, guys. Oh, damn, there’s like 30 thousand people watching this right now.”

Lara hissed, “I might’ve teased our new song.”

“Lara, it’s supposed to be a work in progress still.” You scolded, your arm around her shoulder as the two of you playfully bickered in front of the fans. “But I guess since you dropped the ball like that, we can play a little snippet.”

Lara goes to pick up her headphones, plugging the keyboard into the system before you got into place in Lara’s chair.

You grabbed a microphone and headphones of your own, pointing at the base track file on the computer for Lara before the two of you counted down together. And when the first note hit, you felt your eyes flutter shut, teeth picking at your lips nervously. You hadn’t shown anybody this song except Lara and a couple of Katseye’s writers and producers. The first snippet of it launching live for tens of thousands of people felt very nerve-wracking. But the one person you wished this song could reach wouldn’t hear it first.

“I think we could do it if we tried, if only to say, ‘you’re mine’.” You sang softly into the microphone, “Baby, know that you and I, shouldn’t feel like a crime.”

user04 Singing this from experience is crazy

user05 it has to sophia

user06 OMG WHOEVER IT IS THEY FUMBLED

You weren’t thinking about who was watching anymore. You weren’t thinking about Sophia or the fight or the aching silence that had followed. It was just you, the song, and the truth you had poured into it. You kept the name of the song hidden for now, replacing the many times you would say her name into something more general to avoid any trouble.

When the final chord faded, she opened her eyes to see the chat overflowing with comments;

user07 Weird way to propose, but yes.

user08 ID NEVER KEEO YOU SECRET BABY :(

user09 hope sophia hears this y/n

Your breath caught at that last comment, but you quickly pushed forward. “Well, I hope you guys like it so far, we’re still figuring out some other parts to the song,” you said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Your support means the absolute world to us, so, thank you, Eyekons.”

Lara hooked an arm around your neck, giving you a side hug in show of support. “Yes, this amazing human being works very hard to give you guys the music you all deserve.”

The chat continued to flood with love and support.

user10 We’re here for you guys always <3

user11 ex or not you deserve someone who’s proud of you

user12 The voice crack “in love with you” broke me

You set your headphones down, your hands trembling slightly as you glanced back at the screen. Your phone buzzed on the table, a notification from somebody that had your heart racing.

Sophia L. You think you’re in love with me?

[honeyshiddendesire]

Office Secrets

Chapter One: Wine Spills and Bright Ideas

Summary: You hated office parties but when your boss personally invites you then the fun and long list of secrets begin. 

Characters: CEO! Trafalgar Law x EMPLOYEE! Reader

Warnings: 18+ !! flirting! Law catches reader in undies! Mentions of masturbation and sex! Reader can’t stand her coworkers! FEMALE reader! 

Masterlist

You were the employee who kept to herself, you ate alone, kept the small talk, if any, to a minimum, hell you even skipped out on all the office parties. You tried to stay low on everybody’s radar because despite working in the same office for a number of years you didn’t want these people to be anything more than just coworkers. Friends? In the workplace? Yeah you’d rather smash your own head in then have these people know anything about you. You only needed this place for the big ass checks and you wanted to keep it that way. So for years you avoided every party that went on in your office, that was until your boss personally asked. 

You never spoke to him up close, his assistant Bepo, was always the one that handled things around the office most of the time so it shocked you when on your way out one day that he called your name. 

“Excuse me Y/N.” His deep voice made you freeze, the hair on your neck standing up as you slowly turned around. Your brain racing in different theories of why he would call your name, the fact that he even knew it made you nauseous. “Uh…yes sir. How can I help you?” You reply as you adjust your glasses to look up at him. 

“The party tonight.” He says simply not continuing and you just raise a brow. You watch his tattooed hands go to adjust his black tie and it makes your heart skip a beat, you never seen them so up close before. The word D E A T H  was on his fingers in black ink along with a weird symbol but you didn’t want him to catch you staring for too long or he might notice the drool coming out of your mouth. 

Ugh do men even understand how hot the tie thing is let alone adding some tattoos into the mix or maybe they do it on purpose as a trap. 

“Yes?” Your tone was an obvious question that made him give a small smirk. “I noticed they’re not your cup of tea but…” He pauses to look around, as if he was making sure the both of you were alone before he leaned down a bit toward you, his voice lower as he spoke again. “I would love to see you there.” You really didn’t want to go but with a man as handsome as him leaning down into your personal space with that charming smirk of his, the strong powerful scent of his cologne invading your nose, who were you to refuse. 

That’s how you found yourself currently standing in front of the mirror contemplating your choice in attire, almost regretting never going to one of these parties cause you had no idea what to wear. You wore a long loose blue sweater dress, blacked heeled boots with your hair slicked back into a ponytail. You could’ve cinched your waist with a belt but clothes showing off your curves wasn’t much of your speed, instead you left the sexy for underneath. You had quite the guilty pleasure when it comes to all things lingerie, you always took out some of each check just to splurge on a couple nice sets. No one ever got to see them but whenever you were feeling anxious about going to certain events you gave yourself a nice confidence boost with some pretty pieces underneath. 

So taking a deep breath you said fuck it and grabbed your purse, you were already running late so there was no point in changing now that you were already dressed. It wasn’t long to get to your job, that was always a plus in your eyes. Sighing as you parked into your usual spot, you rolled your eyes at the fact that your smoking hot boss was able to sway your decision so quickly. Why the hell did he even want you there so bad? 

“Fuck my life.” You mumble as you get out of your car and head into your office, glad that you at least were by yourself for a short moment on the elevator ride up. The sound of awful music playing loudly along with chatter among all your coworkers was heard the second the doors opened up making you mentally groan. You walked out with your eyes glancing around to spot a drink or something to wash down your growing nausea that this damn party was causing. You found the table that was full of soft drinks and food but none of it caught your eye like the bottle of moscato that was almost empty. Pouring the rest of the moscato it barely filled your glass which made you frown until you heard that same unmistakable voice speak to you.

“I’m sorry I should’ve brought more, I didn’t realize there was someone else who enjoyed moscato like I do.” Your boss observed with a tone of amusement from behind you that made you look in his direction. “Oh sir, it's not a problem at all.” You smile politely as you stare into those charming stormy grey eyes of his. 

“I’m glad to see you here.” Your boss smirked at your shocked expression and the way you fidgeted with your glass in your hands. “Thank you sir.”  You never had an issue with staring people in the eyes until your boss started speaking to you. One of his slender tattooed hands went up to run his fingers back in his hair, your eyes unable to look away from him, the glint of his gold earrings shining brightly making you wonder how they moved when he was railing someone in bed. Specifically you- but you were way too shy to ever make the first move when it came to that sort of thing. 

“You look beautiful.” He says as you take a sip of your wine nearly making you choke on the beverage. You miss how he licks his lips as you go to reach for a napkin to wipe your face, his mind racing with ravenous thoughts of you. “Sorry- thank you sir.” You mumble out awkwardly as you throw out the napkin in the can beside you. “So I have to ask…What usually happens at these office parties anyways?” 

You smile when you notice his grey eyes roll like beautiful storm clouds as he lets out a sigh, “Nothing besides me dying of boredom.” His voice whispered as he scanned the room and his admittance made your heart race with excitement. “Ah~ so I’m not the only one who hates these things.” You joke and he only nods. 

“The difference between you and me is that I have to attend. My father always said it was good for business if the owner shows a different side of himself to his employees.” Your boss tells you, his tone irritated but still holding amusement which made you laugh. Leaning over a bit to keep the conversation just between the two of you, “Okay so tell me why I had to come here if I’m not the CEO like you.” Your boss only chuckles as he once again gets closer. 

“Because if I had to suffer alone one more time at these stupid parties I’ll end up on the news.” His joke makes you laugh louder than you expect which catches the eyes of some of your female coworkers who instantly give you dirty looks when they notice the hot boss talking with you. “Oh my god seriously? I’m just your insurance policy so you don’t burn the place down huh?” You joke back and he nods his head, a smirk on his face as he looks down at you. “Keep that between us okay? Shh people are coming over.” He says making you frown as you turn your head to spot the office birds flying over. 

“Oh my goodness Y/N I never thought I’d live to see the day you actually attend something.” The woman known as Sharon says, ugh that woman’s god forsaken voice could make paint peel in a second. “So anyways what’s so funny. I love a good joke.” 

“Wasn’t anything worth repeating.” Your boss says making you inwardly cheer at your shared secret. “How are you enjoying yourself Sharon?” He asks and you can’t help but notice how his body tenses up, his voice losing the amusement that he showed you just moments ago. 

“I’m having a great time Mr. Law, I just love~ how you always attend.” She tells him and his mouth goes in a tight line, a vein in his forehead threatening to pop at her comment. “Well it is my office. Can’t leave you all to yourselves now can I.” Sharon must have thought he was trying to be funny because she laughs like a mad woman, her arm going out to slap yours and in the process knocking her glass of wine all over you. Red fucking wine might I add. 

“Fuck!” You say out of pure natural reaction feeling the cold wine soak your whole front. 

“Goodness I’m so sorry I’m such a clutz sometimes. You should really go take care of that, you don’t want to ruin that fun sweater you’re wearing.” Sharon says with a sassy tone, the use of the word fun clearly a jab at your attire. 

Fucking bitch, you found yourself thinking but unfortunately you just had to smile. “Yeah I’ll go do that no problem. You should probably take it easy though or everyone might get the impression that you’re a messy drunk.” You bite out with a fake smile as you head to the ladies room, missing the way your boss has to hold in his laugh at your remark. You instantly flooded Law’s thoughts the second you walked away, the woman yapping away in front of him but he couldn’t care less. From behind him he heard some other females talking about how annoying they thought you were, or how you thought you were too good to ever attend these sorts of things and that you deserved Sharon’s wine all over you.  It was Sharon making a joke about you that had his thoughts stop in their tracks. 

“Excuse me?” Law said, making Sharon halt her words with wide eyes. “Sir I was just joking, it’s just harmless hazing. It was only a little bit of wine.” Law’s breath came out sharp as his eyes lowered into a glare that made her blood run cold. “I didn’t realize I hired someone so disrespectful in my company.” He snaps as his fists ball up in his pockets, his eyes watching you go down the hallway towards the bathrooms in the back. 

Heading into the bathroom you peel off your dress angrily shoving it into the sink and under some cold water. That bitch must’ve just poured herself a full glass since there was so much on the front of your dress. You just bought the damn thing and you highly doubt that it would be fixed, “Dammit.” You used your nails to scrub against the fabric completely stopping when you heard the door, which you thought you locked, suddenly open. 

“Y/N I wanted to ask-oh uh.” Law, your boss immediately paused as he saw you bent over the sink with your dress off trying to get the wine stain out. He knew you would be trying to get it out; he just never expected you to take the whole dress off leaving you in that lacy embroidery you were currently wearing. His eyes were unable to look away at the different color flowers that did nothing to hide your nipples and your pussy, he could tell the lingerie was for sex appeal definitely not for coverage. The garter on your mid section connected to leg rings that squished your soft thighs and suddenly he was never more jealous of a piece of fabric in his life like he was now.  

“Sir!” You shouted his name like three times till your voice had to get louder, his beautiful grays finally looking back up at you in shock. “This is a lawsuit, you know.” You say to him putting a hand on your hip, no point covering up since he already got a good eyeful of all your special bits. “Shit! Shit - I’m sorry, you’re right.” He panics but for some reason his body won’t seem to turn away, his eyes dropping down to look at you over one more time. A curse coming out of his mouth in a raspy breath that made you smirk as you called out to him again. His body finally cooperates as he turns to face the door but doesn’t leave, his face heating as his brain recalls everything over at superspeed. “I had to ask you a question but- are the women here usually so catty with you?” 

Law’s question had your brows raise before your face dropped into a frown, your hands going to shut off the water with a sigh. “Yeah but I don’t give a fuck. They try to see who can get under my skin but all this place is to me is a fat ass check.”

“I see.” Law says making you mumble a ‘sorry’ but he only chuckles, “Why be sorry I should be the one to apologize? I can understand now why you hate these things.” You throw on your dress after you ring it out as best as you can but still some of the wine remains. You walk towards the man, the sound of your heels making Law stand up taller at the sound.

 “So Mr. Law you let me in on your little secret of hating office parties so maybe we can add this ordeal onto the growing list huh?” You joke as you go to step in front of him, leaning in close, his tanned cheeks heating up as you smile at him. “Sorry again. It seems like I owe you a raise.” 

“HA! If that’s your way of trying not to get me to sue for sexual harassment then it’s a deal but-I’m still heading home. I enjoyed our banter though  sir. I must say I’m shocked you noticed me despite my skills at trying to stay off the radar.” You say as he opens the bathroom door for you, both walking down the hallway back toward the office. “Actually it’s because you try so hard to remain unnoticed that I noticed you.” He smirks and it makes you fidget a bit as he stares down at you. “Oh I see nothing gets by you then. I’ll see you next week sir.” He just nods and you turn quickly to grab your purse off your desk and head out of this dreadful place, your boss’ eyes staring you down as you walk away. 

The image of you in that beautiful lace was making his body hot, and if he so happened to think about you in it while he fisted his cock between his hands later on then that was his business. It’s not like you needed to know that as he laid in bed that whole weekend that the thoughts of you only grew stronger, or that he pictured what would’ve happened if he bent you over the bathroom sink. The filthy thought of just coming up behind you to push those lacy panties to the side as he shoved his long cock into your dripping pussy made him groan into his elbow. Thinking of one of his tattooed hands having to cover your mouth that would hopefully spill out lustful moans, picturing himself having to look over your shoulder to stare at your fucked out expression in the bathroom mirror. The way you’d moan out for him as he shoves a few fingers into your drooling mouth as he runs kisses along your neck with his hips moving at a rushed pace so neither of you would get caught. 

“Fuck-” Law finally groaned deeply as he came all over his black silk sheets, rolling his eyes at having to change them now but the carnal desires were just to powerful. The whole weekend was tortuous for him and here he was at 5 in the morning on a Monday needing a shower before work. At this rate he’ll be running late to his own business because of you and that only made him want to see you more. Dressing in his nicest all black suit he headed to the office the thought of you still plagued his mind. Now as he drove his fancy sports car he started to picture you riding him in the backseat making the tinted windows all steamy.  

“Fuck my life.” Law grumbles as he heads up the elevator, shock washing over him as he noticed you were the first one there. That was rare, usually you showed right on time so you wouldn’t be spotted. “Y/N I see you’re here early.” 

The sound of your boss making you go still, your cheeks growing warm as your brain replayed all the dirty fantasies that you came up with over the weekend. Turning in your desk chair you looked at him walking over toward you, that same amused smirk on his face just like at the office party. “Sorry sir, I hope that’s alright. I realized after going home that I still had something to add to my pitch for the meeting later.” Your honesty made Law groan as he ran a hand over his face. “Shit I might have to make you my second assistant because I forgot all about that.” He groaned as he leaned against your desk and you couldn’t help but smile at him being so relaxed whenever he was around you. Law always made sure to look so polished and strict around everyone but here he was letting his walls down with you for some reason.

“It must be rough with Bepo on vacation. He seems good at his job.” You say as you cross your legs, sitting back in your chair. You weren’t the most flirtatious woman around but there was no way you could miss the way Law’s eyes immediately dropped to your legs. His stormy eyes following up from your sexy stilettos all the way to the hem of your skirt, swallowing the lump that he suddenly felt in his throat. He couldn’t help but wonder if you had on another lingerie set, hidden from view and man was it getting hard to breath all of a sudden.

 “Mr. Law if you keep staring at me like that then people will think I earned that raise in some unsavory ways.” You smiled as you noticed his eyes snap up to your face. 

“Yes…that would be quite -unfortunate wouldn’t it.” He comes to mess with his tie as he licks his lips before giving you that damn smirk of his. “I guess if those unsavory things were to happen we’ll just have to add it to our list of little secrets don’t you think.” His words had your whole bravado shattered just as you thought you had him where you wanted him, he proved that he was a man always with a plan. Hearing the elevator ding Law stood up from your desk just before the door opened, saving the both of you from prying eyes. 

“Good morning Mr. Law.” The birds squealed out happily making him wave a hand, “Morning ladies.” Giving them a small wave and nod he turned to you giving you a charming wink before heading to his office across from you. You watched the man stroll to his office with his earlier statement in the forefront of your brain. Did he want to fuck me? Your face warm with the thought of him bending you over his desk made you take a deep breath to settle yourself. 

Hours passed before it was time for the meeting where you would be making your first big pitch. The project was a banquet to raise money for children who don’t know what it is to celebrate their birthdays because they don’t have the money that would allow them to do so.  Since it was the company's 30th anniversary coming up you thought it was the perfect time to finally speak your mind and throw in some ideas of your own. Instead of the company getting the gifts you figured it would be nice to give back you just hoped your boss would think so as well. 

Gathering your stuff you head into the meeting room, your anxiety growing and bringing the nauseous you tend to feel with it. This would be the first time you ever stood up in front of these fuckers and you were not happy about it, you wish you could just come up with the idea and tell him privately but nope. Every month there would be this project meeting where everyone would lay out their ideas at that moment. Now knowing that he dislikes these people coming to him all the time though it made sense, one meeting every month was better instead of everyone popping into his office all hours of the day. 

“Okay everyone, who would like to go first.” Law said as he sat at the head of the table leaning back in his chair, his face stern as he scanned the room until his eyes got to you where the corner of his mouth lifted a bit. Before you could raise your hand though Cheryl beat you to the punch, standing quickly before Law could even tell her too. 

“I had this super interesting idea if I may Mr. Law!” She squeals and Law only sighs as he clasps his hands on the table, “Well seeing as you already stood up.” There was an underlying irritation to his voice that she clearly didn’t catch and you only smiled down at the table holding in your laugh that threatened to spill. 

“Animals.” She says and puts her arms out to her side like she just pitched a million dollar idea. You couldn’t hold it in seeing her face with a cheesy grin that quickly dropped hearing you laugh. You tried hiding it with a cough but she just put her hands on her hips and gave you an eye roll. “What’s so funny Y/N? I doubt you have a better idea.” 

“Sorry my bad.” You say not wanting to laugh at her pitch; it was just her mannerisms that had you lose it. Law leaned forward now, his eyes looking at you intensely. “Now Y/N I like to treat my company as a family so I won’t tolerate any rude behavior so please why not share your pitch for the rest of us.” He was trying to sound stern and strict but he couldn’t hide that glint in his concrete eyes. Your eyes widened as you looked at the man giving you a scolding, your body heating up under his intense gaze and as much as you wanted to stay focused you just couldn’t help your mind from wandering. 

“Okay, as great as animals are- we just held a banquet for them a month ago to save animals from deforestation. It was a big hit but I was thinking of the children this time around.” You say standing up and walking over to the projector to insert your usb, your presentation popping up on the screen. “I was thinking with the company’s 30th birthday coming up that we could celebrate by holding a banquet to gather donations to send all kinds of gifts to kids for their birthdays.” 

“How is that better than animals exactly?” Cheryl spat out and you sighed. “I never said either or is better I was just saying that we already did a fundraiser for the animals these past two banquets. The banquet held for saving Koalas and the one for deforestation were both super big hits so I just thought maybe we could try something different.” You further explain and she just rolls her eyes, Amber doing the same when they locked eyes. 

“I just think since you’ve never really done much here that you should just wait and let the rest of us come up with the ideas like we usually do. What do you even do here?” Amber says and you just give her a ‘are you for real’ look that makes her huff. 

“I’ve been working here longer than the both of you and I do the same job you all do. That means I’ve seen endless fundraisers for animals, all of which are great but there’s nothing wrong with some new ideas.” You state back before carrying on, “Anyways- I think we could set up a whole website where you list a child’s name, age and things that they like along with your address and someone anywhere in the world can choose what and how much they want to send. As a company you already have so many people who can donate thousands and that would jump start the whole program. Just think of schools and parents being able to give every child a birthday gift and bringing joy that's immeasurable just over one present to make them feel special. Each gift would be sent out before the child’s birthday to ensure they have at least something to open along with a card with a special note for them to hold onto years to come.”  

You flip through all the slides and mock ups of the website that you came up with along with possible ads that you could put on different platforms to make the whole thing possible. You had thought of everything, there was no loophole, or loose end that you left and it had everyone stunned. You may have kept quiet for years but there was a reason, when an idea was too good you never wanted to spoil it by sharing it too early. After you finished speaking you waited for them all to vote like they usually did but Law just stood up clapping his hands for you. 

“Outstanding! Absolutely incredible. This is life changing. Imagine how one gift could drastically change the hope for a child who never thought someone cared. Think about what they could achieve.” 

“It’s just a dumb birthday gift.” Amber mumbles, pissed since she’s usually the one that makes the winning pitch in these meetings. 

Law held out a hand to silence her, “Enough. It’s more than a gift, it’s a symbol that people care, that despite the circumstances you live in there’s still something for you in this world. I love it. We need to work on this as soon as possible. I’ll call my investors, we need vendors and caterers, I’ll leave those to you Y/N. Anything she needs, all of you help her, it’s her idea so she’s the lead on this. No more nonsense fights and childish behaviour. Break for lunch first everyone. Great work Y/N. I’d like to have a word alone with you in my office, please.” As everyone leaves you unplug your usb and put it in your pocket to fix your papers before following your boss to his office.

Once in his modern designed office, you gasp as you notice the view of the brightly lit city shining like something out of a movie. “I must say you’ve been holding out on me Y/N.” Your boss leans down to whisper in your ear making you shiver as he catches you off guard. “I’m glad to see that your brain matches that beautiful face of yours.” His voice drips with seduction that threatens you to partake upon but all you do is turn your face to his with a sly smile. 

“I’m glad you think so sir.” His eyes glanced down to your lips before he backed away to lean against the front of his desk. “Y/N I have a secret I’d like to add to our list if that’s alright with you.” Smiling you give a nod making him continue, his tattooed hand going to fidget with his tie, not missing how your eyes watched with lustful intensity. “Are you sure you want to hear it? I might have to give you another big raise so you don’t sue.” Taking a step forward you tell him it’s okay and he only smirks as his eyes scan your body. 

“I really can’t stop thinking of you. Have dinner with me tonight.” It wasn’t a question and you both knew it, he knew you’d say yes, hell- even you knew you’d say yes. But you both had a good banter between the two of you so it was only right for you to walk toward him. You let your hand grab onto his tie gently pulling until he leaned closer, “Hmm you’re right sir. I think I will need that raise but- if you can show me a good time after dinner then I think we can settle a good deal.” 

“Son of a bitch.” Law breaths out shakily and it makes you smile at him, winking as you release him before heading to the door. “If you’ll excuse me sir I’ll be heading out for lunch. You can pick me up at 7, I’m sure you can look up my address.” 

You never felt as sexy as you did in that moment walking away, even your secret stash of lingerie couldn’t rival the way that Law made you feel. Your body was buzzing, you thought your heart would beat out of your chest and the grin that was plastered on your face just looked like excitement for the pitch that he praised you on. If only they knew the chemistry between the boss and you they would have a fucking field day but you could give two shits about these fucking snakes. That man was yours and when you have your sights on something you’ll break as many necks as you have to in order to get it.

[mystrangeadd1ct1on]

If you want me, im yours.

Pairing: f!reader x Stephen Strange

Summary: Y/N got into trouble twice and he saved her, TWICE. They soon enough become close and eventually..

Warnings: a little bit of angst, but mostly fluff<3

Words count: 4k?

A/n: hii so this is my first fanfic, hope you like it🖤 (please excuse how bad it is written by times)

You quickened your pace, your heart racing as an unknown man behind you called out again.

“Hey, come on, sweetheart. I just want to talk to you.”

You ignored him, keeping your head down and clutching your bag tighter. The streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, and the people around seemed oblivious to your discomfort.

“Don’t be rude now,” he said, his voice closer this time. You felt a cold wave of panic wash over you as his hand brushed your shoulder unexpectedly.

Before you could react, another voice cut through the tension, calm but firm.

“Is there a problem here?”

You turned to see another man standing a few feet away, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. He was tall, dressed in a dark coat that billowed slightly in the breeze.

The man hesitated: “No problem. Just talking to her.”

“Doesn’t look like she wants to talk,” the stranger replied, his tone steady, almost conversational. “Why don’t you move along?”

The man scowled, muttering something under his breath before turning and walking away, disappearing into the shadows.

You exhaled shakily, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. The stranger turned his attention to you now, his expression softening slightly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, though your hands were still trembling. “Yeah, I think so. Thank you. I didn’t know what to do.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze not invasive but observant. “It’s New York,” he said with a faint, wry smile. “Unfortunately, things like this happen too often.”

You managed a small smile in return, still trying to steady your breathing. “I guess so. I just… wasn’t expecting it tonight.”

His eyes flicked to your hands, noticing the way they gripped your bag. “Do you need someone to walk you home? Or somewhere safer?”

You hesitated. He seemed genuine, but you didn’t know him. Still, something about his calm demeanor reassured you.

“I think I’ll be okay,” you said after a moment. “I live a few blocks away.”

He nodded, stepping aside to give you space. “Alright. Just stay aware of your surroundings. And if you ever feel unsafe, don’t hesitate to call for help.”

“Thanks,” you said again, your voice steadier now. “Really.”

He gave you a slight nod, his expression unreadable. “Take care.”

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but call out, “Wait! I didn’t get your name.”

He glanced back, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “Stephen,” he said simply before walking out of your sight.

***

The air felt electric, thick with tension as you pressed yourself against the cold wall of the alley. You couldn’t believe how the day had spiraled. One moment, you were grabbing a coffee, the next, you were being dragged into a hostage situation by a masked figure wielding some sort of strange, glowing weapon.

The villain stood in the middle of the chaos, ranting about power, control, and the destruction of some "order" you didn’t understand. You were now in some alley of the villian, unable to move due to the rope wrapped around you, great.

“Alright, that’s enough,” a deep, calm voice echoed.

Your eyes widened as a man in a flowing red cloak and blue robes stepped forward. He didn’t look like any superhero you’d seen on TV. No flashy gadgets or masks—just an air of authority and… magic?

The villain scoffed. “And who do you think you are?”

“Doctor Strange,” he simply said, his voice steady, almost bored. His hands moved in a fluid motion, golden sparks trailing through the air as glowing symbols formed around him. “you’re wasting my time, let's just get this over with.”

You couldn’t help but stare, torn between awe and confusion. Who was this guy? And how was he doing… that?

The villain lunged, but Strange was faster. The air seemed to ripple as portals and shields materialized out of thin air. His movements were precise, calculated, as if he already knew how the fight would end.

In moments, it was over. The villain was bound, the glowing weapon disarmed and disintegrated. You stayed rooted to the spot, your eyes fixed on Strange as he turned to you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, stepping closer. He began to gently untie you.

“I… I think so,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, but there was a flicker of something else—recognition?

“You look familiar,” he said slowly, tilting his head as he studied you.

You blinked, suddenly remembering. “Wait… Stephen?”

His eyes widened slightly, and a hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. “The woman from the street,” he said, his tone carrying a trace of amusement.

“That’s you?!” you asked, gesturing vaguely at the cloak and the sparks still fading from his hands. “You’re a… sorcerer?”

He shrugged, the smirk growing. “Basically, yes.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still trying to process everything. “Wow. And here I thought you were just some overly observant guy.”

“I can be both,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes scanning you for any signs of injury. “Are you sure you’re okay? No injuries?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him, still slightly dazed. “Just… a little overwhelmed.”

“That’s normal,” he said, his voice softening. “It’s not every day you’re caught in the middle of a magical showdown.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. “So, uh, do you do this often? Saving random strangers?”

“More often than I’d like,” he admitted, the smirk returning. “But I seem to be making a habit of saving you specifically.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Well, I appreciate it. Again.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable for a moment before he spoke again. “You should head home. Stay safe.”

“Right,” you said, starting to move but hesitating. “uhm.. thank you.” you said sincerely.

His gaze softened again, and he gave a small nod. “Take care, Y/N.”

You froze. “Wait—how do you know my name?”

His smirk returned, and with a flick of his wrist, a portal opened behind him. “I know more than you think,” he said cryptically before stepping through, leaving you standing there in the alley, questions swirling in your mind. Will you even ever meet again?

***

It had been a few weeks since you’d last seen Stephen, or rather, Doctor Strange, and you still couldn’t quite shake the surreal feeling of that encounter. The way he’d casually saved you, then vanished without a trace, had left you with more questions than answers. Was he really a sorcerer? And if so, what was he doing in New York, saving random people?

You hadn’t expected to run into him again, especially not like this.

It was a quiet evening, and you’d decided to take a walk through the park, hoping to clear your head. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, and the park was mostly empty. The crisp autumn air filled your lungs, and for a moment, you felt at peace.

That was until you heard a familiar voice.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You turned, your heart skipping a beat as you saw him standing near a bench, hands tucked into his coat pockets, looking just as composed as the last time you saw him.

“Stephen?” you asked, your voice a little too surprised for your liking. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. “I could ask you the same thing. It’s a park, Y/N. People come here to walk, think, enjoy the quiet.”

You scoffed and narrowwed your eyes, not sure whether to laugh or roll your eyes. “I know what a park is.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You both stood there for a moment, the awkwardness lingering, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just… unexpected.

“So, uh… how’s life?” you asked awkwardly, suddenly realizing you didn’t really know anything about him outside of the fact that he could do magic.

“Busy,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes scanning the park. “You know, saving the world, fighting evil, all that.” He paused, glancing back at you. “And you? What’s your life like now?”

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Same as usual. Work, life, avoiding being caught in hostage situations.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a half-smile. “That’s good. I’d hate to think you were getting into trouble again.”

“I’m trying to avoid it,” you replied, smiling back at him. “But you never know with New York.”

There was a brief silence, both of you just standing there, the sound of distant laughter and rustling leaves filling the air. Then, Stephen stepped closer, his expression a little more serious.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, his voice softer than before. You looked up at him as he was towering over you. The slight breeze flying through his and your hair.

You met his gaze, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “I’m glad you’re okay too.”

For a moment, it felt like the world had slowed down. The noise of the city faded, and it was just the two of you standing there in the park, sharing a quiet connection.

Finally, you broke the silence. “So… do you do this often? Just run into people you’ve saved?”

He smirked. “Not really. But I’m glad we did. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of the moment. “Well, I’m not that hard to find.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, just stating a fact.”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Good to know. Maybe we’ll run into each other again soon, Y/N.”

“Maybe,” you replied, feeling a little more at ease. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

With a final glance, Stephen turned and walked away, disappearing into the park as you stood there, a strange sense of anticipation lingering in the air. Maybe this wasn’t the last time you’d see him after all.

A few days passed since your unexpected meeting in the park, and Stephen Strange hadn’t left your mind. It wasn’t just the mystery of him—or the fact that he’d saved you twice now—but something about him lingered, like a song you couldn’t quite forget.

It was late one evening when your phone buzzed. You frowned, glancing at the unknown number flashing on the screen.

“Hello?” you answered cautiously.

“Y/N.”

You froze, recognizing the deep, composed voice immediately. “Stephen?”

“Good guess,” he said, his tone carrying that familiar hint of amusement.

“How—how did you get my number?” you asked, a little incredulous.

“I have my ways,” he replied, his voice too calm for your liking.

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “That’s not creepy at all.”

“I thought you’d appreciate it,” he countered smoothly. “You did say you weren’t hard to find.”

Touché.

“What do you want?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though your heart had started to race.

“I was thinking,” he began, his voice dipping slightly, “we never really finished our conversation the other day. I thought it might be nice to… change that.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the directness of his words. “You want to… talk?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of dinner,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Unless you’re too busy avoiding trouble.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you managed to keep your tone steady. “I think I can make time.”

“Good,” he said, sounding satisfied. “Tomorrow night. Seven. I’ll text you the address.”

Before you could respond, the line went dead. You stared at your phone, equal parts annoyed and amused. Who just hangs up like that?

***

The next evening, you found yourself standing outside a small, tucked-away restaurant in Greenwich Village. The address Stephen had sent you led here, and you couldn’t help but wonder how someone like him—mystical, larger than life—chose such a low-key spot.

Inside, you spotted him almost immediately, sitting at a corner table, looking far too composed for someone who’d just asked you out of the blue.

“So you came,” he remarked as you approached, standing to pull out your chair.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you shot back, taking your seat.

He smirked, settling across from you. “I'm not. Just impressed.”

The conversation flowed easier than you expected. Stephen was sharp, quick-witted, and surprisingly easy to talk to when he wasn’t throwing portals around or saving the world. You found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks, his dry humor balancing perfectly with your own.

At one point, as the waiter refilled your drinks, Stephen leaned back slightly, studying you with a curious expression.

“What?” you asked, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“You,” he said simply. “You’re different.”

“Different how?”

He tilted his head, as if considering his words carefully. “Most people I meet are either intimidated or overly curious. You’re neither.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Maybe I’m just used to people like you.”

“People like me?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Arrogant,” you grinned

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough.”

The night passed too quickly, and before you knew it, you were walking out together, the cool night air wrapping around you.

“Thank you for tonight,” you said, glancing up at him. “I had a good time.”

“Good enough to do this again?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes serious.

You smiled, nodding. “Yeah. Good enough for that.”

He returned the smile, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn there was something softer in his expression.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, stepping closer. “But next time, I’m choosing the place again. My way of keeping you out of trouble.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, Doctor Strange.”

He smirked, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he stepped back. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Stephen,” you replied, watching as he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the night.

You stood there for a moment longer, a strange mix of warmth and anticipation settling in your chest. Maybe this wasn’t the last time you’d see him after all.

Recently you found yourself thinking about Stephen more often than you cared to admit. Your conversations had become almost routine now, with texts or brief phone calls between his missions, but something about those moments lingered in the back of your mind. He wasn’t the easiest person to get to know, but the more you spoke with him, the more you saw a side of him that few people ever would.

Tonight, however, things felt different. He had invited you to the Sanctum for what he called a “quick catch-up,” but you had a feeling it wasn’t going to be as casual as he was making it sound.

You arrived at the Sanctum, the heavy door creaking as you pushed it open. Stephen was sitting at the long table, scribbling something down on a piece of parchment. When he looked up, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Y/N, you’re early.”

You shrugged, walking over to take a seat across from him. “Better than late.”

There was a long silence between you two, a comfortable kind of stillness that had settled over your conversations in recent days. You found yourself just watching him, noticing the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of the table.

You decided to break the silence. “You’ve been… busy, huh?”

“Always.” His smile was half-hearted, and there was something in his eyes that told you he wasn’t entirely present.

You frowned, tilting your head. “You’re still working on that spell?”

“No,” he said, sighing softly. “Just thinking, I guess.”

“About what?” you asked, leaning forward.

He met your gaze for a moment, his eyes holding a depth that you hadn’t quite seen before. “My hands,” he said quietly, his voice almost distant.

You blinked, not expecting that. “Your hands?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the table as if the words were hard for him to say. “Yeah. They’re… they’re not what they used to be.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew about his accident, of course—the rumors and whispers about how he’d lost his career as a surgeon. But no one ever really talked about the aftermath, the emotional weight of losing something so central to his identity.

“Stephen,” you started softly, unsure how to approach this, “I know you used to be a doctor. You must have been amazing at it.”

He looked up, his gaze meeting yours, and for a moment, you saw something in his eyes that wasn’t the confident, detached sorcerer you were used to. There was a flicker of something raw, something that made your chest tighten.

“I was,” he said quietly. “I was good at it. I saved lives. I helped people. But now…” He trailed off, shaking his head, as if saying it out loud made it more real. “Now, my hands… They aren’t steady enough. I can’t do what I used to. I’m supposed to be able to heal, but…” He swallowed, his voice catching for just a second. “But I can’t even heal myself.”

The vulnerability in his words struck you harder than you expected. He wasn’t just a sorcerer; he was someone who had poured himself into healing, only to be stopped by something so simple, so… physical.

You didn’t say anything at first, just watching him, letting the silence stretch between you as you processed his words.

Then, without thinking, you reached across the table and gently placed your hand on top of his. The touch was soft, almost tentative, but his eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for the first time, you saw something different in his expression. A softness, an openness.

“You don’t have to heal everyone, you know,” you said quietly, your voice gentle but firm. “You’ve already done more than most people could dream of.”

He let out a small, dry laugh, a sound that held no real humor. “Maybe. But I can’t help feeling like I’ve failed. My hands were my identity. Without them, what am I?”

“You’re still you,” you replied, squeezing his hand. “You’re still the person who saved me that day, the person who showed me kindness when I needed it. You’re more than just your hands, Stephen. You’re the person behind them.”

There was a pause, and you could see him wrestling with his thoughts, as if your words had hit him in a place he hadn’t expected. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping slightly as the tension seemed to ease just a little.

“I didn’t expect you to understand,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe not,” you said with a small smile, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, he simply watched you, his fingers still resting under your hand. It was a quiet moment, but there was something in it—something raw and real that neither of you had expected to find in each other.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he suddenly said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, pulling your hand away, but just enough to let your fingers brush against his in a quiet acknowledgment. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

***

Tonight, there was a shift—a tugging feeling in your chest, as if the pieces of the past were coming together in a way you hadn’t fully realized before.

“You remember when we first met?” you asked quietly, your fingers tracing circles on the back of his hand. You sat on the couch and he was by your side.

Stephen’s gaze softened, and he turned his head slightly to meet your eyes. “How could I forget? You looked terrified.” He smirked, but it was warm, full of affection. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look at me like that. You were practically shaking in front of that guy."

You chuckled softly, the memory still vivid in your mind. The fear, the uncertainty, the way he’d stepped in without hesitation. “I thought I was done for. But then you showed up, and... everything kind of stopped. I didn’t even know who you were, but you were there. And you saved me.”

Stephen didn’t respond immediately, just let the words sit between you. It wasn’t often that he allowed himself to reflect like this—on the past, on how far you’d both come. But tonight, it felt different.

“I never imagined I’d be here. With you. Doing this... whatever this is.” You gestured between you both, a small smile on your face, but there was an edge of uncertainty in your tone.

He studied you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as though he was piecing together something you hadn’t said. “I never though I'd be so.. drawn to you.”

“and I was definitely a little 'scared' of you. You were this mysterious... sorcerer guy. And I didn’t know anything about magic. You were so... confident. But at the same time, I felt safe around you.”

His eyes darkened for a moment “I didn’t want to be your protector, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to be there for you.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “And now? What are we now, Stephen?”

For a moment, there was silence, as if the answer was too big, too important to rush. He took a deep breath, leaning in closer, his forehead brushing against yours. “I think I’m here. And you’re here. That’s enough.”

“But...” you began, but he cut you off gently.

“I don’t need to label this. I just need to be with you. Whatever that means.”

His words, simple and unadorned, made your chest ache in the best way. You’d gone from a terrified woman, lost in a city, to someone who was here with him, in this moment. You’d gone through pain, loss, fear... and yet, here you were. Together.

“I’m glad we’re here,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around him.

“Me too,” Stephen whispered back, pulling you closer.

And in that moment, nothing else seemed to matter. The world beyond the Sanctum could keep turning, threats could keep coming... but for now, you had everything you needed in this moment. Together.

Stephen pulled back slightly, his piercing gaze meeting yours, and for a moment, the vulnerability in his expression was almost startling. His lips parted as though he was about to say something, but he hesitated.

You tilted your head, your voice soft but firm. “Stephen... what are we doing? I don’t want to keep dancing around this.”

His jaw tightened, his hands still resting on your waist. He exhaled deeply, his thumb brushing over your side as if grounding himself. “You’re right,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I’ve been avoiding putting this into words, but I think it’s time I stop.”

Your heart raced, your hands gripping his shirt lightly. “Then say it.”

He looked at you, his expression softening into something almost tender. “I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone,” he said slowly, deliberately. “You’re not just someone I saved on a street, or someone I’ve spent time with. You’re... everything. And I don’t want to keep pretending this is casual or undefined.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The weight of his words settled over you like a warm blanket, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“You mean that?” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Y/N. I want this. I want you. And if you want me, I’m yours.”

A small laugh escaped you, a mix of relief and joy. “Stephen Strange, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

His lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “I suppose I am.”

You grinned. “Then yes. I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. “I guess it’s official now,” he murmured, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and affection.

“Finally,” you teased, resting your head against his chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through you. “Took us long enough, didn’t it?”

“Indeed,” you replied, your smile widening.

And with that, the uncertainty that had lingered between you melted away, replaced by the steady, undeniable truth: you were his, and he was yours. You felt happy like never.

[proteusolm]

the last wild horse

[hoshifighting]

NERD!WOOZI WITH SLUTTY FINGERING

a/n: i KNOW ive talked about woozi hands, woozi fingering, too much already in this blog, so, nerd!woozi its just another excuse for me to write about it again. sorry not sorry. a/n pt.2: yes, this is woozi's hand on minghao's neck that's why im screaming in the title. WARNINGS: smut, small angst, fingering, body fluids (cum spit), clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, intense orgasm, teasing, quick learner!jihoon

nerd!jihoon who’s all serene and timid, always too focused on his notes, pretending he doesn’t notice your little games, but deep down, he’s fully aware. you catch him sometimes, the way his pencil pauses mid-scribble when you lean a little too close, asking for the same damn pencil again. he knows you have like five pencils in that full-of-charms bag of yours, regardless here you are.

“you sure you don’t just wanna keep it?” he mumbles, barely looking up as he hands you the pencil.

you lean forward, letting your hair fall in front of your face like a curtain, just to see if he’d peek. and, of course, he does. a quick flick of his eyes, then back down to his notebook, scribbling some bullshit about physics or whatever. boring. you wonder what’d happen if you just grabbed his hand for real this time, full contact, no pencil-between-you nonsense. would he pull away? would he get all flustered, or would he grab you back, finally drop that innocent act?

“you ever gonna look at me when i ask you for something, or you too shy for that?” you tease, leaning on his desk now, your fingers inching closer to his ruler. he finally looks up at you, a little more serious than usual, and it catches you off guard.

“you keep asking for things you don’t need,” he says quietly, “why?” he scoffs, pushing his glasses up his nose like that’s gonna hide the faint flush creeping up his neck. “you can keep the damn pencil,” he mutters, eyes glued to the textbook in front of him.

and nerd!jihoon who gets so in his head about it that he doesn’t realize the moment he fucked up. ‘cause when you stand up from your chair, reaching down to grab something you “accidentally” dropped, you do it slow. bending over right in front of him, just enough that your skirt rides up a little too high, giving him a full view.

he stares for just a second too long, eyes glued to the hem of your skirt, swallowing hard like he’s trying not to make a sound. but it’s obvious, way too obvious, and when he realizes he’s been caught, his face turns red so fast you almost laugh out loud.

nerd!jihoon who's fidgeting now, trying to pretend he didn’t just eye-fuck you in the middle of the classroom.

but nerd!jihoon’s only got so much self-control, and you’re testing every bit of it.

nerd!jihoon who, for some reason, snaps at you that morning when you meet at the stairs outside the university building. it’s out of nowhere too—like, one second, you’re just giving him that casual little smile, ready to toss some flirty comment about the weather being as cold as his attitude, and the next, he’s all huffy, eyebrows furrowing deeper than usual.

“why do you keep doing that?” his voice comes out sharp, way too sharp for someone like him, the type who rarely even speaks above a whisper in class. you blink, taken aback, half-wondering if he’s joking, but when you see his jaw tighten, you realize he’s serious. dead serious. “is it that hard to leave me alone?”

ouch. you don’t even know how to react at first, like his words take a second to settle in, but when they do, it feels like someone knocked the air out of you. your eyes harden on him, and for once, you don’t have some quick retort. you just… stare. really?—he’s just gonna blow up like that?

“fine,” you mutter, voice cold as ice. and with that, you turn on your heel and walk off without another word, you don’t even look back as you head straight to the classroom, your heart pounding in your chest. you’ve never felt this weird compound of pissed and hurt before. it’s like something just snapped inside you too.

for the rest of the day, you don’t bother glancing in his direction. you gather your stuff at the end of class, all in silence, and when you make your way past his desk, you stop for just a second, pulling out all those borrowed pencils from your bag. without a word, you set them on his desk, one by one. they clatter onto his notes, each one feeling like a small “fuck you” in its own way.

jihoon doesn’t say anything, just stares at the pencils like they’re mocking him. he opens his mouth for a split second, like maybe he’s gonna explain, but nothing comes out. you don’t give him the chance either; you walk away, not bothering to look back. it’s like every interaction you’ve ever had just gets replayed in your mind, and now it’s all soured.

the next few days are weird. hell, you stop talking to him altogether. instead, you sit at your desk, quietly pulling out your own damn pencils from your pencil case, you don’t need his anymore, not when he’s gonna act like a complete ass about it. he watches you though—you can feel his stare on you, burning into the side of your head. but every time you glance in his direction, he looks away like he can’t deal with the awkwardness he’s caused.

it’s like he wants to apologize but has no idea how to start. typical jihoon—all brain and no clue when it comes to real people.

but one evening, there’s a knock on your dorm door. you open it, and there he is, standing there with a six-pack of those canned drinks you always get from the campus canteen, the same ones you always grab right after class. his face is red, cheeks flushed in a way that’s almost… cute? but you’re still mad, still remembering how he snapped at you like that.

“hey,” he says, and his voice is softer this time, merely audible. you just stand there, arms crossed, waiting for him to explain himself.

“i, uh… i brought these,” he mutters, holding the cans out like some awkward peace offering. “i noticed you… always get these. thought maybe…” his voice trails off, and he rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “i’m sorry. for what i said.”

you raise an eyebrow, still not convinced. “really? you were a complete jerk, jihoon.”

he shrinks at your words, nodding. “i know. i just… i didn’t know how to deal with it, okay? it… messed with me.”

you uncross your arms, softening just a bit. “and snapping at me was your way of handling it?”

he sighs, looking down at his shoes. “i didn’t mean it. i was just frustrated. not at you—just… at myself.”

you take a deep breath, glancing at the cans in his hands, the little effort he’s put into making amends. he’s trying. “fine,” you say finally, stepping aside to let him in. “you owe me more than just drinks, though.”

jihoon’s eyes widen a bit, his lips twitching into that familiar nervous smile. “what do you want, then?”

you scoff.

nerd!jihoon who feels the faint taste of the drink lingers on your tongue, and he groans into your mouth, probably addicted to it more than he’ll admit. he’s kissing you back—messy, needy, and a little clumsy, but you can tell he’s losing himself in it.

you shift on his lap, straddling him properly, and when you press into him, his breath hitches. it’s like he can’t keep himself together, every kiss pulling out little sounds, his hands hover awkwardly for a second, like he doesn’t know what to do with them, until you grab them and guide them up your body, pushing them to your chest, making him squeeze your tits through your shirt.

nerd!jihoon who gasps when he feels the nipples on his palms through your shirt, his lips pulling away from yours for just a second as he looks at where his hands are, eyes wide like he can’t believe it. his fingers flex against you, tentatively at first, but then you press your hand over his, forcing him to squeeze harder, and you let out a shaky breath.

then? oh, he gets it.

nerd!jihoon, who finally acts, squeezing your tits by himself like he’s been waiting for this chance his whole damn life. his fingers dig in just enough to pull a moan from your throat.

nerd!jihoon’s catching on fast now, realizing where you want to be touched, where your breath catches, where your body melts into him.

his hands roam up your sides, slipping under your oversized shirt, and when his fingers brush your bare skin, he freezes for a second. he realizes you’re not wearing anything underneath, no panties, no bra, just naked under the thin fabric. “shit,” he breathes, almost like a curse, his eyes darting up to meet yours, like he’s checking to see if this is real, if you actually want him to keep going.

you smirk, biting your lip, and press your hips down into him harder, a wordless yes, keep going.

his hand cups your pussy, and the way you immediately arch into him, gasping out his name—he’s gone. brain short-circuiting, but his body’s on autopilot now. “dont do this to me…” he mewls, too focused on the way you’re grinding into his hand, wet and ready for him.

nerd!jihoon who, once he realizes how horny you are, loses any hesitation he had before. his fingers, slender and surprisingly strong, waste no time. he’s focused—so damn focused—like he’s solving a problem in his mind, but this time, the problem is you. and he knows exactly how to handle it.

nerd!jihoon who pauses for just a second, like he’s still processing how turned on you are—how his touch alone got you dripping like this. his middle finger presses right against your clit, and he flicks it side to side—fast as hell, like too fast—and your hips jerk up into him, a soft whimper slipping out. his middle finger dips into your pussy first, just enough to feel the wetness gather on his fingertip, the way you swallow around him makes his breath hitch.

it’s like he’s testing what gets you going, what makes your thighs tremble, and god, does he know how to read your body. every gasp, every time your breath hitches, he switches it up—keeps you on edge.

he presses his middle finger deep suddenly, really deep, until you’re arching into him, your body reacting instantly to the way he knows how to hit that spot. his finger curls inside you, pushing hard, making you gasp like he’s punching the air from your lungs. he’s watching you, eyes glued to the way your hips move, like he’s trying to memorize how to make you react like this again.

"hold still," he mutters, and when you don’t, when you try to squirm because it’s too much too fast, he forces your legs open with his, his thighs pressing yours apart. “don’t... close them. i need to—” his breath catches when he adds a second finger, stretching you just enough to make your pussy clench tight around him, making your thighs shake. he presses them deep, so deep you feel the pressure low in your belly, but it’s when he starts to pull them out, flicking them up against your clit as he does it, that you lose it.

“oh fuck,” you gasp, back arching, and jihoon’s watching you so damn closely, taking mental notes on every single reaction you give him.

“so... wet. why? hm?” he whispers, like he can’t believe it, his voice shy but breathy, like he’s talking more to himself than you. his fingers slide out, slick with your cum, and without even thinking, he spits right on them—mixing the spit with the dripping wetness already covering his fingers. the sound is obscene, the slick noise of him fingering you only getting louder, wetter, messier.

and then, he adjusts.

“c’mere,” he says, voice a little rougher now, guiding you to sit between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. you can feel how hard his cock is, twitching against your ass as you settle between his thighs. his legs spread yours open, holding you wide as he slides his hand back down to your dripping pussy, his fingers diving back in like they belong there.

he uses his middle finger again—always that one—sliding it in deep, he’s too focused on you, too addicted to the way you moan when he pushes his fingers deeper. his legs wrap around yours, holding them wide open, ‘cause you’re so damn close to squeezing them shut. his voice comes out soft, right in your ear. “you’re so—fuck, so into this. just my fingers?”

he can’t believe it, can’t wrap his head around how crazy you’re going just from this—even though he’s making you drip all over his hand. but it only impulses him on. his fingers flick against your clit again, fast, precise, like he’s playing an instrument he’s mastered. your body jerks, and you feel yourself clenching around nothing, cum practically coating his fingers now. he slides them deep again, harder this time, pushing you into the bed so hard your hips are practically pinned down.

“you like that?” he asks, voice shaky, but he’s so into it. holding you open like he’s afraid you’ll try to close your legs.

his fingers are everywhere—inside you, rubbing, pressing, flicking.

“fuck—jihoon,” you moan, words tumbling out of you like you can’t control them, and his breath catches again. his fingers move faster, slick sounds filling the room as he alternates between pressing deep inside you and flicking your clit, over and over again, until you’re a complete mess in his arms.

“you’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me say something stupid,” you gasp out, barely holding onto any coherent thought, and he lets out a soft, shy laugh, like he knows exactly what you mean.

nerd!jihoon who's lost in the rhythm he’s created, only pushes harder, fingers still dancing between your thighs as he chases that sound—that sweet, desperate gasp that makes his heart race. “i think i can handle it,” he teases, but he’s definitely not prepared for the way you arch your back, pushing harder against him as your breath gets quicker, sharper.

“jihoon, please,” you whimper, the words spilling out like they’re a prayer. your body is begging for something—anything—more, but he’s holding you right at the edge, fingers moving so fast you’re pretty sure your brain is short-circuiting.

he seems to realize just how close you are. he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear, “can you—can you come for me? just from this?” there’s a softness in his voice, but the way he asks it is so demanding, and you can’t help but nod.

“yes—yes!” you manage to breathe out, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

“just let go. i got you.” it’s like the words unlock something inside you, and before you even realize it, that sweet ache intensifying.

nerd!jihoon who lets out a soft chuckle, shaky as hell, but damn if he doesn’t sound proud. his fingers don’t slow down though. his middle finger presses even deeper, practically curling up into the g'spot inside you that makes you pass out for a second, and you gasp so loud you’re sure anyone passing by your dorm would hear it.

“jihoon—fuck, right there!” you groan, and he hones in on that spot like he’s taking thoughtful reminders.

he bites his lip, watching the way your hips roll into his hand, how wet you are, cum dripping down his fingers like he’s proud of the mess you’re making. “i didn’t know you’d be… this into it,” he whispers, and that just makes your head spin more.

this guy. so shy but so fucking good at what he’s doing to you.

“jihoon, i’m gonna—oh my god!” you try to warn him, but he cuts you off.

“i know, just let go,” he encourages, voice softer now, almost reverent, as if he’s treating this moment like something sacred. his fingers slide back up to your clit

this is it. his eyes widen a little, and you can feel the way his heart races against your back. every flick against your clit sends a convulsion through your body.

you dissolve into a broken gasp, your hips moving against his hand instinctively as he works you toward that peak. please, please, just let me come.

and when he adds just a little more pressure, it’s like your whole body torches. you cum and cum, your body arching against him. “jihoon, fuck!” you cry out, a high-pitched gasp that fills the air as you feel everything shatter, your body clenching tightly around his fingers that they almost slip out.

nerd!jihoon who watches you, completely captivated, the way your body reacts, the way you’re lost in it. he doesn’t stop, though; no, he keeps moving, fingers working through your orgasm, gentle however persistent, making sure you feel every bit of that pleasure. he’s fascinated, eyes wide as he takes in the globs of cum covering his fingers, the slickness that only grows thicker the more he works you.

“jihoon, wait…” you manage to murmur, half-laughing, half-breathless. “s-sensitive.”

you melt on his chest, catching your breath, as his hand cups your pussy again, letting 'you' rest.

“that was—how do you even know how to do that?” it’s a genuine question, and you can’t help but admire him, the way he’s panting lightly, his cheeks flushed.

he chuckles nervously, looking away for a moment, then back at you shyly. “i mean… i just pay attention? it’s like… figuring out the math of it all, but way more fun.” his eyes sparkle, and you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at how nerdy he is, even in these moments.

“well, you know what they say about nerds,” you wink, reaching out to play with the ends of his shirt. “they can be really good at—”

“okay, stop,” he laughs, cutting you off.

“so, um… can i, like, do that again sometime?” he asks, his tone shifting to something softer, almost hopeful, and the way he looks at you makes your heart flutter.

“absolutely,” you say with a grin, leaning in to give him a quick peck, your bodies still tangled together.

“how about we switch positions next time? i think i could make you scream even louder.” he teases, but his red cheeks don't lie.

you freeze at his words, heart racing as you process what he just said. he’s learned way too quickly, “which one are you talking about?” you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice, even though your cheeks are flushed too.

“any one you want,” he replies, a in a shyly-confident smirk on his face. “i’m a quick study when it comes to this kind of stuff.” he smiles wider. “just tell me what you like, and i’ll make sure i learn it.”

you can’t help but laugh. “oh, is that so? you think you can handle it?”

“absolutely,” he says, hugging your body to him. “just say the word, and i’ll show you just how good i can get.”

[senanatheskenana]

Giyuu, Sanemi, and Rengoku With Baby Fever

TW: mentions of pregnancy, Sex, fem reader

Giyuu Tomioka

He hadn't put much thought into domestic life- after all, you were his first real relationship. However, when he lays eyes on your happy smile and the way you fussed over the three younger demon slayers, he can't help the feeling that pools in the pit of his stomach. A primal need for you, for a family. He's not particularly proud of the human weakness he currently experiences but each time he looks your way, his strength melts away, leaving only his desire to create life with you.

His smile is small but amused at how you motherly coddle Inosuke, attempting to wipe the mass of dirt off his face, despite his protests. Tanjirou seems almost as enamoured by your sweet behaviour as Giyuu is.

You can tell something is different with Giyuu- the way he holds your hand is just slightly tighter, the way he looks at you ever so slightly hungrier than you've seen. He stares off into space in contented silence, and you feel he is happiest in those moments. The idea made you curious as to what he was daydreaming about.

'Three children, maybe more' he thinks, pink tinging his cheeks at feeling so soft for you. He imagines what life outside of the corp- life with you- would be like. Blissful, peaceful, connecting but of course with moments of excitement and frustration that come from raising children. Maybe your children would have his hair and your eyes- or perhaps they will look the opposite, or exactly like you or him.

His cheeks once again flare up when another thought hits his head.

'And (y/n) would surely only become more beautiful over the years'

"Giyuu~." He is snapped out of his fantasy by your hand over his. "What are you thinking about?"

He gently squeezes your hand, looking deep into your eyes with humility as he thinks through the right words to say.

"We've been married for a year, and we haven't talked about it yet. I would completely understand if you object... but i have a request, that involves both of us." you listen eagerly to him.

"Sweetheart, i will always try my best to understand your wants, there's no reason to seem so nervous," you smile tenderly at him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks. The apples of his cheeks burst into flames at your touch, butterflies erupting underneath the skin of his shuddering chest.

"(Y/N) I love you. I will always love you... And if you will be so kind, I would like to start a family with you"

He sees your face break into a smile, which makes him smile. Before he knows it you're climbing into his lap and kissing him with a passion that fills him with a need he has never experienced.

Kyojurou Rengoku

Kyojurou was sure he wanted children at some point, and as your husband, he made you aware of this, in case it wasn't for you. For the most part, your husband had great self-control.

However, it always seems to slip away when his younger brother makes a comment, about how your baby would probably have bright hair like theirs. At first, it's just that thought, but soon he's thinking about baby names, daydreaming and kicking his legs behind him giggling. You easily notice your cheerful husband becoming even more giddy than usual- not to mention far more physically affectionate.

He finds every excuse under the sun to get you under him. He takes his time, forehead pressed against yours, enraptured in pleasure. Your legs are pressed to your chest; a new position for you. The sheer depth is enough to make you dizzy, even without moving.

Kyojurou looks deeply into your eyes before kissing you passionately, sensually, as if the world is ending.

"Honey, i think we should have a baby!" he huffs out in between languid thrusts. You thought he'd never ask.

"Me too, Kyo~"

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi doesn't not want kids. He just feels he would be a bad father given all of his hangups. He worries he won't be emotionally available for a child, or might accidentally scare them when he is angry.

So this feeling is conflicted within him. On one hand, he's utterly in love with you and the way you care for Genya is heartwarming to the point of actually convincing him he might be ok if you were by his side. On the other, he was terrified of being a bad parent.

Sanemi swears you look so pretty holding your friend's new baby. You hold it like you're accustomed to it like it was yours. And you just look so fucking happy like that. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if he- no, he couldn't just rush into these things. But you look so pretty he's having a hard time rationalising anything.

He sits beside you, peering down at the baby that tries to grasp at his fingers. It's actually sort of cute, he thinks. Then you look up at him, and he's caught off guard by a vision of you and your own baby. Your friend has to physically bite back giggles while she watches the motions of Sanemi's thoughts. She knows what's happening better than he does.

She sparks up a conversation with you to see how flustered she can make the hashira on this topic. "You know, past the halfway mark I gave up putting on my own pants- it got too annoying when I couldn't see over the bump and boobs. My husband had to help me instead!"

It seems to work like a charm. Sanemi almost zones out, thinking about how you would look pregnant. Without realising it he is salivating at the thought of your swollen chest and round tummy. 'fuck,' he thinks, 'that sounds good'

Half an hour later he's rushing to leave, hastily pulling your coat over your shoulders and waving goodbye to the baby. He didn't dislike being there in any way- he'd just rather be somewhere else with you. He tugs you down the road, looking at you with a strange new fervour, eyes darting to your lips and tummy.

Your friend closes the door behind you with a mischievous grin. "I'll give it a week before she's pregnant<3"

[its-avalon-08]

Hi. I was thinking of something with Lando Norris where Lando has been secretive and hiding his phone and everything and reader thinks he's cheating on her and feels miserable thinking she's not enough. And when she asks Lando about it he feels extremely guilty because he was actually planning to PROPOSE!!

new passwords and new surnames (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, miscommunication, tears, fluff

Y/N sat on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest as she absentmindedly scrolled through social media. Her heart wasn’t in it, not really. It hadn’t been for weeks now. She couldn't help but replay the small, almost imperceptible changes in Lando's behavior that had slowly eroded her peace of mind.

It started so innocently. One night, while they were lying in bed, she noticed Lando's phone screen light up with a notification. His hand shot out faster than usual to grab it, turning it face-down. He flashed her a smile, that easy-going grin she adored, but something was off.

"You okay?" she had asked then, her voice soft and questioning.

"Yeah, love. Just a text from the team. Nothing important." He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering a little longer than necessary as if to erase any doubt. But the doubt had settled in that moment and had been growing ever since.

Tonight, it was all too much. The weight of uncertainty sat on her chest like a heavy stone. She couldn’t ignore how distant Lando had been lately. He changed the password on his phone, something he hadn’t done in years. When they were out together, he'd tuck his phone away whenever she got close or make some excuse to leave the room to answer calls. He laughed it off when she asked why he was being so secretive.

And she wanted to believe him. Desperately. But each time, the gnawing ache in her gut got worse. She wasn't paranoid—she was trying not to be. But the constant second-guessing was eating her alive.

"What if he's seeing someone else?" The thought pierced through her mind, sharper and more painful every time she allowed it to surface. She hated herself for even thinking it, but she couldn’t stop.

Y/N blinked, her vision blurring as tears welled up. She swallowed the lump in her throat, willing herself not to cry. Not yet.

She replayed another moment in her head. A few days ago, Lando had left for a race weekend. He’d been unusually flustered before leaving, fumbling around their shared apartment, misplacing his keys and wallet, which wasn’t like him. He barely looked her in the eyes when he kissed her goodbye, murmuring a quick, "Love you," before disappearing out the door. And later that night, when she texted him, he responded hours later with a vague, "Sorry, busy."

“Busy with what?” she whispered aloud to herself, the silence of the apartment engulfing her. Her mind filled with images of him with someone else—someone better, someone who wasn’t her.

She wasn’t enough, was she?

The thought felt like a punch to her gut. Maybe I’m not interesting anymore. Maybe he found someone who gets him better. Lando was famous, rich, and could have anyone he wanted. She wasn’t special. Not in the way some gorgeous model or influencer could be.

Y/N shifted on the couch, pressing her palms against her forehead, trying to stop the spiraling thoughts. I should ask him. No, I can’t. What if I’m wrong? What if he’s not cheating? The internal debate was killing her.

Suddenly, she heard the familiar jingle of keys at the door. Her stomach dropped. Lando was home.

He walked into the living room, looking tired but smiling at her, his blue eyes lighting up in that way that used to make her heart race. Now, all she felt was a deep ache.

"Hey, babe," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Miss me?"

She nodded but couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. Instead, she fixed her gaze on her hands, now trembling slightly in her lap. "Yeah. How was the day?"

"Busy as hell. Meetings, more meetings, and then training," he chuckled lightly. "I could use a beer."

She nodded again, offering a weak smile. "I'll grab it for you." She needed to move, to do anything to avoid this unbearable tension.

As she stood up, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Lando’s eyes darted to it, but his expression remained calm. He watched as she crossed the room to grab his beer from the fridge, her movements stiff and robotic. The distance between them felt like an ocean.

Her hands were cold when she handed him the drink, and for a moment, she debated whether to say anything. Should she ask him now? Her heart raced with anxiety as she stood awkwardly, her fingers gripping the fabric of her shirt as though it could keep her from unraveling completely.

She took a shaky breath and finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, “Lando… is there something going on? Something you're not telling me?"

He froze, his hand halfway to his mouth, beer bottle in hand. His eyes flickered with surprise, maybe even guilt, and that tiny moment of hesitation broke her. She saw it, clear as day.

“What do you mean?” His voice was cautious, like he was trying to tread lightly.

Y/N swallowed hard. “You’ve been so secretive lately. You’re hiding your phone, leaving the room to take calls. You changed your password… You—” her voice cracked, the vulnerability bleeding through. “You’ve never done that before.”

Lando set his beer down on the table, his expression shifting from surprise to something darker. “Y/N, no—”

“I can’t keep ignoring it!” she interrupted, her voice louder now, the emotion bubbling up uncontrollably. “I’m trying to be calm, I’m trying to trust you, but it feels like you’re hiding something from me! And I—” She paused, taking a sharp breath as tears threatened to spill over. “I keep wondering if… if I’m not enough for you anymore.”

Lando’s eyes widened in horror, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to say something, but she kept going.

“Am I losing you, Lando? Is there someone else? Because if there is, just tell me, okay? I don’t think I can take this anymore. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

The tears finally slipped down her cheeks, and she quickly wiped them away, frustrated with herself for breaking like this in front of him. But she couldn’t hold it in any longer. It had been eating her alive.

Lando stood frozen, his mouth slightly open as if trying to form words, but nothing came out. Guilt flooded his features, and Y/N’s heart shattered a little more seeing it.

She had been right all along, hadn’t she?

And now, she was about to lose him.

Chapter Two: The Unveiling

Lando took a step closer, his expression shifting from shock to concern as he reached out, brushing his thumb against her cheek to catch a tear. “Y/N, no… You’re everything to me. I would never cheat on you. I promise. It’s just…” He hesitated, his eyes searching hers as if trying to find the right words. “It’s just been a lot.”

She looked away, trying to compose herself, but the knot in her throat tightened. “Then why all the secrecy? Why the phone? I feel like I’m losing my mind here.”

His gaze softened, and he took a deep breath. “I know I’ve been distant, but please, let me explain. It’s not what you think. I’ve just been… planning something.”

“Planning what?” Her voice cracked, the confusion mixing with the hurt that had been building for weeks. “What could possibly require all this secrecy?”

Lando stepped back, taking her hands in his, squeezing them tightly as if grounding himself. “Y/N, I’ve been trying to plan the perfect way to ask you something. And I thought… I thought if I could surprise you, it would be amazing.”

Her heart raced. “What do you mean?”

He paused, his eyes shining with emotion. “I wanted to propose to you, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. I thought I could keep it under wraps until the right moment. I was going to do it this weekend, and I’ve just been so caught up in making it perfect that I didn’t realize how my actions were affecting you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her mind spinning as she tried to process his words. “You… you wanted to propose?”

“Yes!” Lando exclaimed, his voice a mixture of relief and excitement. “I love you, Y/N, and I want to spend my life with you. I just got so caught up in the planning that I forgot how important it is to communicate. I never wanted you to feel this way.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, but the hurt still lingered. “But you were hiding things from me, Lando. It felt like you were pushing me away.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice earnest. “I was being an idiot. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but I ended up making everything worse.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I should have trusted you enough to share this with you. I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t enough, because you are everything to me.”

Y/N’s heart softened at his sincerity, but the tears still streamed down her face. “You’re really serious about this?”

“More than anything,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “You deserve to know how much I love you, and I should’ve told you sooner. You make me a better person, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Just as Y/N was beginning to comprehend the gravity of his words, Lando knelt down on one knee, taking a small velvet box from his pocket. Her heart raced, and her breath caught in her throat as she realized what was happening.

“Y/N,” he said, looking up at her with all the sincerity in the world. “Will you marry me? Will you be my partner in this wild life? I promise to never hide anything from you again. I want us to share everything, no more secrets.”

For a moment, time stood still. The world around them faded, and all that mattered was the two of them in this small living room filled with unspoken fears and newfound hope. She looked into his eyes, and all she saw was love—pure, unwavering love.

“I—” she began, her voice breaking as more tears slipped down her cheeks. “I thought I was losing you, Lando. I thought I wasn’t enough.”

“You’re more than enough, Y/N,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re everything to me. So, what do you say?”

She blinked, her heart swelling as she finally let the reality of his proposal sink in. “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Lando’s face broke into a huge smile as he slipped the ring onto her finger, a beautiful band that sparkled in the soft light. She gasped, lifting her hand to get a better look. It was perfect—simple, elegant, just like the love they shared.

“Really? You mean it?” he asked, rising to his feet, his eyes shining with joy.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, laughter spilling from her lips as she hugged him tightly. “I can’t believe you were hiding this from me!”

“I know, I know,” he chuckled, holding her close. “I’m so sorry for everything. I promise to do better.”

As they pulled away, she looked into his eyes, the weight of her earlier fears lifting. “Just promise me one thing, Lando.”

“Anything,” he replied, his gaze intense.

“From now on, no more secrets, okay? We talk about everything.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you, love.”

With that, they embraced again, the tension that had filled their apartment melting away, leaving only the warmth of their love and the promise of a beautiful future together.

[0omillo0]

Always Listening

Jeongin x Reader ;༊๋࣭ comfort ♡

a/n: y/n is a certified yapper and jeongin loves her more than anything. but.. does she really annoy everyone by talking that much?

It was a lively evening, filled with laughter and celebration. You, Jeongin, and the boys had decided to go out to a cozy restaurant downtown to celebrate Jisung’s recent accomplishment—a project he’d been pouring his heart into for months had finally been completed, and the results were better than anyone had expected.

The table was buzzing with excitement, everyone chatting at once, exchanging jokes, and sharing stories. You sat beside Jeongin, your hand occasionally brushing against his under the table. From the moment you arrived, you couldn’t stop talking. Whether it was about Jisung’s project, the outfit you almost wore tonight, or the funny incident at work earlier that day, words spilled from your lips with your usual energy.

Jeongin listened intently, as he always did, his soft smile never leaving his face. His hand found its way to your knee beneath the table, a quiet gesture that said, I’m here. I’m listening.

“Wait, wait, so what happened with the barista again?” Jeongin asked, his tone warm and curious.

You laughed, recounting the story for what felt like the third time. “She misspelled my name so badly, I couldn’t even recognize it. I had to double-check that it was my coffee!”

The table chuckled, but just as you were about to continue, Seungmin’s dry voice cut through the laughter.

“Don’t you ever stop talking?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

Everyone laughed—it was classic Seungmin, known for his sarcastic humor. No one took him too seriously, and you usually didn’t either. But tonight, the words hit differently. Your laughter faltered for just a second before you forced it back, brushing off the comment with a weak smile.

The boys continued chatting, unaware of your sudden shift in mood. Jeongin glanced at you, his brows furrowing slightly when he noticed your silence.

“Babe, you okay?” he whispered, leaning closer so only you could hear.

You nodded quickly, not trusting yourself to speak. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you murmured, poking at the food on your plate.

But you weren’t fine. The noise of the restaurant, the laughter around you—it all felt overwhelming now. The comment replayed in your head, louder each time, until you couldn’t hear anything else.

Jeongin tried to engage you in conversation a few more times, but your responses were short, your usual enthusiasm dimmed. He didn’t push, but his hand stayed on your knee, his thumb rubbing gentle circles as if to reassure you.

When you couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, you excused yourself. “I’ll be right back,” you said quickly, not looking at anyone as you got up and headed for the bathroom.

The moment you were alone, the dam broke. Tears streamed down your face as you locked the door and leaned against the sink.

Why did it bother me so much? you thought bitterly, wiping at your cheeks. It was just a joke. Seungmin didn’t mean anything by it. But no matter how much you rationalized it, the sting remained. You couldn’t help but feel like maybe you did talk too much, like your excitement and chatter were more of an annoyance than anything else.

Once the tears slowed, you splashed cold water on your face and took a deep breath. Your reflection stared back at you, puffy-eyed and red-nosed. Determined not to ruin the night for everyone else, you fished a small makeup pouch from your bag and did your best to cover the evidence of your crying.

When you returned to the table, you forced a smile, slipping back into your seat as if nothing had happened. Jeongin’s eyes immediately searched yours, his concern deepening when he noticed the faint redness around them.

“Y/N, are you—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, your voice a little too bright. “What did I miss?”

The boys carried on, but Jeongin didn’t take his eyes off you.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, leaning in.

“I’m sure,” you lied, flashing him a smile.

Han wasn’t convinced. “You okay, Y/N? You’ve been quiet tonight,” he asked, his tone soft and concerned.

“Me? Of course!” you said with a laugh, waving him off. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

The night finally came to an end, and as the group dispersed, Jeongin took your hand, lacing your fingers with his. He stayed quiet on the way home, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as he mulled over how to approach the conversation.

Once inside, you sank onto the couch, your energy completely drained. Jeongin knelt in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees.

“Y/N, please talk to me,” he said softly, his dark eyes filled with worry.

You tried to shake your head, but the lump in your throat returned. “It’s nothing, Jeongin. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” he said gently. “You haven’t been yourself all night. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

His words broke you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you whispered, “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing that makes you feel this way is stupid,” he said firmly, reaching up to brush a tear from your cheek.

You took a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “It’s just… what Seungmin said. I know he didn’t mean anything by it, but it made me feel… annoying. Like I talk too much and no one cares about what I say.”

Jeongin pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “Y/N, stop that. Stop thinking that for even a second. You’re not annoying. You’re never annoying.”

“But—”

“No ‘but,’” he interrupted firmly. “I love the way you talk. I love hearing every little thing that’s on your mind. I love how excited you get about the smallest things and how you light up when you’re telling a story. Don’t let one joke make you feel like you need to change.”

His words cracked something open inside you, and you broke down completely, clutching onto him as you sobbed. Jeongin held you tightly, murmuring comforting words into your hair and pressing soft kisses to your temple.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Let it out, babe. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

When your sobs finally quieted, he guided you to sit back against the couch, brushing away the last of your tears with his thumbs.

“I don’t want you to hold back because of something someone said, okay?” he said gently. “Your voice is one of my favorite things about you. Don’t ever be afraid to use it.”

You nodded, your throat still tight. “Thank you, Jeongin.”

He smiled, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Always. I mean it, Y/N—I’ll always listen to you.”

You let out a watery laugh, leaning into his embrace. Jeongin stayed with you on the couch, holding you close and whispering sweet reassurances until you felt like yourself again.

And that night, as you lay in bed, his arms wrapped around you protectively, you knew you’d found the best boyfriend anyone could ever ask for.

tags: @hannamoon143 @intartaruginha

[amphitriteswife]

Empress

Pairing: Emperor Geta x wife! reader

Summary: Geta being depresso

Warning: shits ass but it’s my first time writing about him so i hope i’ll do well next time.

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Stepping into your own chamber, you were met with a quite…interesting sight. Emperor Geta was sitting on your bed, wearing only a robe held together by his hand. His face had it’s normal pale complexion and not the thick cakey make up that seemed as if he had no blood circulation. His eyes only had thin black lines around them unlike the dark circles that usually reached up to his eyebrows.

‘Emperor Geta? What a pleasant surprise.’

Your voice was laced with sarcasm. The two of you didn’t necessarily get along. You were blunt and often had criticism on how he handled things, claiming him to be unfit to rule an empire and questioning his choices and commands. Although you were harsh with him, he did trust you a lot. You didn’t seem to do things out of your own gain. You weren’t selfish. You knew what to do to fall into favor with the people of Rome. Hell they even cheered your name instead of his. It used to anger him. A lot. But really, who had he to turn to other than you? His brother gets violent with him sometimes. And he doesn’t trust any of the other generals. Especially not after some of the betrayals or the ones who contemplated it.

‘Empress…keep me company for a while.’

His voice sounded rather hushed and closer to a whisper than his normal voice. The redness in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you, and he probably knew that you knew too. A rather deafening silence hung in the air before you gave him a small nod.

‘Is something the matter, my emperor?’

Your voice made him sigh. He isn’t supposed to let anyone know that there is something that’s bothering him. He’s supposed to handle everything, he’s supposed to be strong and not show anything. It’s disappointing. He’s not enjoying the games, nor is he seeing any of the concubines anymore. He’s not wearing his usual confident and intimidating expression. You had noticed it but brushed it off as him just having a tantrum. Geta pushed himself off the bed. His hand holding onto his robe even more tightly. although it exposed most of his shoulders and collarbone.

‘I’m cold empress.’

Ah there it is. His famous line for saying ‘i feel sad, hold me please?’ He’s pretty sensitive. More than he likes to admit. Your arms wrapped around his body, he did feel rather cold compared to your warm body. His hands held you by your hips. Savoring the feeling of your body being pressed against his own. His head leaning onto your shoulder. He had a habit of filling his own desires by having many concubines and power over them. Yet he also always seemed to go back to you when something went wrong. Not that you minded, you had other matters to concern yourself with.

‘Did emperor Caracalla have an outburst again?’

‘He can’t help it, it’s because he’s sick.’

He’s right, he can’t help it. But that’s still not an excuse. The fact that Geta is used to it says a lot. It means he’s experienced it so much that in his minds it’s a normal thing, which it isn’t. The feeling of his fingertips digging into your skin made you jump a little. Perhaps he was just clingy? It wasn’t uncommon for him to sometimes have a vulnerable moment. He was insecure after all. His position was rather weak given the circumstances and the people of Rome, especially the lower class didn’t really like him that much. It was valid to be insecure, but the way he handled it didn’t strengthen his position. That’s when you came into the game. Being raised in a foreign land, in the same royal status has both its advantages and disadvantages. Luckily for you, you have experienced handling an empire and faced great rules. It was a blessing for Geta to have you as his wife, even if he doesn’t always show it.

Geta took a deep breath before standing up straight again, his robe was now loose due to his hands being on your sides. His eyes seemed even redder and his hair a little disheveled.

‘Are we crying? That’s not how an emperor acts.’

Geta wiped his own tears away. He doesn’t want to cry in front of you. Not In front of anyone. It’s why he usually hides his face into cloths when he feels like this. He hated feeling like this. He doesn’t understand why he feels like this. And your little teasing about him crying doesn’t help so much either.

‘He thinks i’m a traitor.’

Geta choked out in a sob. It almost wasn’t understandable. Well, it didn’t come as a surprise. Both Geta and his brother weren’t fit to rule an empire. And him thinking Geta is a traitor is bullshit, but it’s also expected that he would think that way. Geta at least listened to his people, even if it was to a narrow extent. Emperor Caracalla would rather just do things for his amusement and enjoy his luxurious, forgetting he has to feed a whole empire. It’s true that it’s because of the disease, but why on earth would he think that Geta is a traitor when they have always been together and looking out for each other. And besides, it’s a reason, not an excuse.

‘With all due respect, that’s blasphemy. It’s a false allegation with nothing backing it up except for some light words.’

‘Yes that may be the case. But my own brother thinks I’m a traitor. I’m trying, trying be please the people, trying to be an emperor, trying to be a brother! Why can’t I do this when the other emperor’s before me have managed to do so?’

Ah so that’s the case. Jealousy and self pity. It’s not new…but it’s not something he often expressed. Perhaps him getting called a traitor by his brother hurt him on a deeper level than you initially thought. Siblings bicker and siblings make up. But it seems that he really took Caracalla’s words to heart. It makes him even more insecure than normal. Even when you often joked about him being unfit, he never took it to heart and joked back by having your head. Yet now he seems to question his position and abilities. It makes him seem rather lonely…and pathetic.

‘Because you’re not the former emperors. It’s hard being an emperor. But an emperor never lets his head down, even when it’s tough you keep your head high and walk with pride. Besides you have nothing to worry about. You have me.’

‘Right… I have you.’

The words made him think, it seemed to give him some reassurance. It made him feel special. It made him feel…wanted? As if you saw him, not for being an emperor, for being a brother, for being a husband. But for him. Just him. It made him feel a little better to know that there’s at least someone there. To listen to him, to tell him the truth but also comfort him. To make him see reality but loathe in self pity. Perhaps he’s the lucky one the have you in his life. He can’t help but feel save with you, as if that nothing can happen to him if he’s with you. He couldn’t help but smile and hug you once again. Your body still feeling rather comforting and soothing his nerves.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too emperor’

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

Can I ask for Headcanons/Scenario with the crew members where it's a normal tulpar haul. But the reader is an extremely experienced captain of another ship,and they're older,more built and more strict. Like think 6'7,built like an extreme weightlifter,very classy and formal.

And they're on the tulpar to look after everything because it's an incredibly important shipment? What would the crew members reactions be to the reader appearing very strict,no-nonsense,cold and condescending. But once they get close, the reader is actually very nice.

also can it be a male reader? Thank you! I love your writing. <3

Melting the Ice away.

Crew Members x Male! Older! Strict! Reader. [ Reader is a high ranking captain of another pony express ship ]

a/n; this ask was basically buried deep in my inbox,i was just scrolling through and found it.

Tulpar! Captain,Curly.

Oh boy,and they used to say that curly was the most able employee at pony express. Clearly they lied,Cause LOOK. AT. YOU.

For the first time in his career,he felt intimidated.

The way you basically hovered over him,gave him chills ngl.

He admires you so fucking hard, your efficiency ,your capability, and your experienced nature. you need something? Grant Curly is on it!... He found himself trying to... Impress you???

He was basically always looking for your approval at things,no matter how small or trivial it was. He needed your opinion.

He was also starting to wonder wether or not the feeling of intimidation... was rather something else.

He is definitely feelin a lil somethin somethin.

When he actually got to know you,and saw how kind and sweet you actually were. This guy just fell,he fell guys,he just fell.

Co-Pilot, Jimmy.

Manz is PISSED.

He is freaking LIVID,as if Curly wasn't already enough,bossing him around.

He'll never ever admit it to anyone,but he was basically scared of you,of how... Domineering you were.

He is jealous of how put together you were,always effortlessly classy.

He couldn't decide whether he wanted to be you,or wanted to be with you.

He didn't even notice it,but you found him staring,so intently that it actually concerned you.

Whenever you would try to interact with him he'll make up an excuse and run away.

But he,too wanted to get on your good side.

He'll die before ever admitting it,but he was craving your praise so fucking bad.

He is just dying on the inside,he desperately wants to hear you call him a 'Good Boy'.

Maybe he'll have to impress you some other way,who knows?

Nurse, Anya.

Let's be fr,the first time Anya saw you,her heart skipped a bit. I mean c'mon! Can you blame her? She doesn't see handsome, capable, disciplined male colleagues on the regular,does she?

Cut her some slack for staring! She can't help herself for wanting to admire you!

Like the others,she also tries her best to live up to your expectations,to be on your good list. She tries to make sure all your needs are met,(which aren't even bothersome,you prefer to do things your own anyway) but she always insists upon helping you out!

You began to notice that no matter who else wasn't around,Anya was always there in the corner of your eye. Was she... Following you around?

By Gods,she can't help it! No other person on the ship is as pleasant to be around as you! She feels at ease when she's with you. And you don't mind.

When she finally gets to know the real you, the butterflies in her stomach settle down into something even more soothing and calming.

Her puppy crush is beginning to grow,maybe someday in the near future, she'll ask you for things, beyond the professional limit.

Mechanic, Swansea.

He is just glad that there is someone on this godforsaken ship who has the screws in their head straight.

He does feel a bit relaxed that he doesn't have to worry about things going wrong with you onboard.

He sometimes has you deal with Daisuke instead. More relaxation time for him.

He can count on you. And he likes you the best on the ship.

Doesn't shy away from praising you in front of others.

Intern,Daisuke.

"WOWZER MISTER YOU'RE SO COOL!".

He was a bit scared of you at first,but quickly warmed up to how refreshing you were.

You were strict,yes. But not as much as Swansea. You never scolded him,or complained about him to others.

Instead you always, efficiently taught him how to do things properly.

The way you spoke,the way you presented yourself. He didn't find it strange how his other, older, colleagues were swooning over you either.

Grew to like you the best on the ship as well,always right by your side.

He does think you're hot,but is intimidated pretty easily.

[rachalixie]

can’t get you off my mind

all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 4k

it starts at a bar. 

or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.

but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face. 

“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways. 

“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”

you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then. 

“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”

“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”

“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later. 

he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.

–

he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face. 

a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you. 

the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span. 

your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it. 

another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar. 

“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”

“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?

“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”

the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention. 

by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.

changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat. 

“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it. 

“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”

“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”

“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”

“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable. 

“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return. 

“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”

“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”

“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”

the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work. 

— 

he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door. 

god, is everything about this man endearing? 

he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through. 

he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console. 

“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile. 

“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time. 

four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair. 

“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”

“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him. 

“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”

“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”

he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here? 

it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing. 

“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”

he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little. 

“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide. 

“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”

“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”

“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that. 

“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground. 

“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”

you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night. 

–

your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years. 

you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it. 

you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it. 

you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him. 

“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”

it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold

onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again. 

“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand. 

“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home. 

“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce. 

chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other. 

“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”

“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck. 

—

your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have. 

chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan. 

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”

“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?” 

“but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch. 

“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?” 

“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over. 

“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”

you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind. 

he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times. 

as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one. 

the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer. 

you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday. 

you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

—

your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible. 

he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him. 

he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at. 

you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature. 

he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you. 

“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”

“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior. 

“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”

he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues. 

“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”

“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”

he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.

“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting. 

“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”

[bi-writes]

I feel like now that MOB and Simon are comfy together and truly utterly unbelievably in love, they'd maybe wanna have a wedding. Not in the traditional, big church tons-of-guests way, but like in the dress up, say vows, and show off your love to your loved ones (no matter how few) way. Not cause they need it or cause they feel pressured, but just cause it's be sweet. A beautiful memory for them (and an excuse for MOB to see Simon in a suit and for Simon to see her in a wedding dress yknow?)

mail-order bride

you're nervous.

more nervous than you felt on the way to this house for the first time. sitting in the back of that taxi, one suitcase in the trunk and the cat in the seat beside you, even then, even knowing you were heading to meet a stranger, you did not feel this type of nervousness.

it's deep in your belly. a taut force that tangles your insides, and you try to hide the shake in your hands as you close the small book that holds your vows and pick up the small bouquet on the dresser.

they're daisies, from the garden. simon picked them for you this morning, had woken you up by tucking one of the stems behind your ear. you made sure to add a few to your hair before dressing.

the silk sits perfectly. that shop on the main street had kept your measurements, and when you asked if they could make you something a little more special, you could not have envisioned anything more beautiful.

structured bodice to hold you in, draped in silk that fell over every curve and every line like falling water, in an elegant white that made the sentiment of what today would be all too real.

he's leaning against the doorway to the backyard when you open the bedroom door. you're barefoot, quiet, so it takes him a minute before he notices you.

both of you pause at a reasonable distance when you finally get a good look at each other.

simon looks so handsome. he's all made-up in his dress uniform, a faded green jacket buttoned over slacks with a khaki shirt underneath, but it is tailored to perfect, and the belt around his waist makes him look all the more formal. what really has you swooning is the lovely medals on his chest--lined up in beautiful rows, glinting in the sunlight as he tips the beret he's wearing to eye you carefully.

"christ," simon murmurs, taking both his hands out of his pockets. he clears his throat, shifting in his boots, and he finally holds a hand out for you, beckoning you forward. "wot a bloody sight y'are, luv."

you pad forward, smiling, and when your hand fits in his, you both squeeze, staring at one another with grins that won't fade. he leans forward to pressing his face to yours before making his way outside with you.

there's a seat under the tree, with a small table beside it. there's flowers everywhere, petals across the grass, and you follow simon under the shade as he takes a seat, guiding you into his lap so you both can sit there for a moment.

it's quiet. there's a light breeze making the leaves fall, but the sun is peeking through the clouds, and you can see the cats in the window, staring at you both as they chew between nips of cat grass. you set down your bouquet on the table beside you, settling in simon's lap as you hold the notebook to your chest.

"can...can i go first?" you ask, and simon reaches up to brush a few strands of your hair out of your face. he nods, adjusting you in his lap, and you try not to focus too hard on how much your hands shake as you flip open the little book you're holding.

the first few pages are your first few drafts, scribbled out with messy pen strokes. you settle where your real words begin, somewhere in the middle, jumbled between messy handwriting since you spent so long perfecting it all.

"simon," you start gently, and you relax a little when you feel his hand settle on your lower back, soothing you gently as he listens. "i had no idea what i was getting myself into all that time ago. my entire life, it's felt like...i've felt like i've just been running. running from the things i've always been afraid of. from people that i didn't trust. from the things that have happened and the things i thought might happen. in fact...i felt like if i didn't keep running, something terrible would catch up to me."

one of your hand falls, and simon covers it with his own. the shaking settles, and you continue.

"and then i came here," you whisper. "i-i..." you swallow. "i-i came here, and i ran right into you." you notice a few wet spots on the pages, and you steady your breaths, trying not to focus too much on the wetness you feel along your cheeks. "a-and you caught me."

you look over at him, and he's smiling, dark eyes trained on your clasped hands in your lap. he squeezes, bringing your hand up to his mouth, and you have the courage to keep going when you feel him kiss your knuckles.

"i don't know how we found each other. i-i don't know who knew that this house was mine. i don't know who understood that there was an empty place inside that belonged to me, but i'm here now. a-and i'm not...i'm not going anywhere."

you bend, leaning forward, and you press your forehead to his temple.

"no one has ever loved me the way you do, simon riley. and i-i promise i will try until forever t-to do the same for you."

it hurts. there's a place in simon's chest that physically aches, like a tender wound, squeezing against his ribs as he hugs you close to his body. the time with you is precious. he fears the moment he knows that there is not much left, but that time isn't now, and he cherishes that fact.

he has always carried a sense for those kind of things. he can tell when there is little left, like knowing there is nothing more to drink in canister without shaking it. it's a feeling, one he knows well, but he doesn't feel that with you, not yet, and he will consume every breath he can that he shares with you until then (because when he feels the time waning, he will give you every breath of his that remains if it means you get just one more second of this life).

simon reaches into his jacket, pulling out a small paper. he unfolds it gently, still holding you close, and you cling to the lapels of his jacket as he talks to you in that low, soothing voice of his.

"'m not sure where t'start," simon chuckles. "was hard for me to think of wot t'say t'ya." he takes a small breath before kissing your forehead. "'s hard ta think about wot it was like before i had ya 'ere. only eatin' because i had to. only leavin' the house because the job demanded it of me. like the whole world was a terrible fuckin' grey. so fuckin' quiet, i could hear this nasty ringin' in my ears."

simon crumples the paper a little, and you wrap a hand around the back of his neck to anchor him.

"honest...i thought the job would 'ave me. tha' i'd go out in some reckless sort of way, or maybe i'd just...let it take me with it one day. and when i knew y'were comin', i still thought tha' was how it would be. tha' i'd settle in it alone, on my own, like i always 'ave."

you close your eyes, and you can hear nothing besides his voice.

"thought i'd run outta luck. thought crawlin' out of my fuckin' grave was the last thing that they'd ever give me," he mutters, and you suck in a shaky breath when you hear the paper crumple sharply. "i don't know wot i ever did to deserve someone like you, luv. 'm not good. never 'ave been. the things i've done, wot i've seen, i wasn't meant for good things."

you pull back a little and open your eyes, and simon's own are full of pain. he grips your waist a little firmly, digging his fingers into you there.

"'n ya aren't just good. y'r perfect. like y'were made in my dreams. and still y'r 'ere, and ya haven't left, and..." he swallows. "nothing else matters, swee'eart." his eyes meet yours. big, brown ones, sadness so permeable, striking, an unnerving kind. "family is oll that matters." when your foreheads touch again, you can't stop yourself. his voice is low, gravelly, weighed down by some kind of pain that you'll never understand. simon has pieces of himself that are missing. people from a past life that he tries to keep finding, things that he knows should be here, but will forever disappoint him by no longer being real.

when he puts his hand over your heart, you can't see him anymore, not really. your tears blur your vision.

"y'r all that matters."

when you cut the cake in the kitchen, you feed each other small bites of decadent chocolate, and when you finish, you gift each other the vows you've written, to tuck away somewhere special, to read when the world gets too loud or when the colors of life get washed out by meaningless distractions.

the dance in the kitchen has lasted for minutes or hours, you can't remember. the music is soft, and you're swaying, but time is meaningless when you're looking into simon's eyes.

it is a part of him that will never change. you memorize how they look, because you want to recognize them in every place that you see them. you want to remember them everywhere, now, soon, until time rots the plants above the sink and kills the vegetables in your garden and makes threadbare the kitchen towels on the counter--you want to remember them.

so you can find him in this life, and every other one that comes after.

[salemrph]

"A Hunter's Christmas Hustle" Sylus x MC

Summary: With Christmas around the corner, you’re on a mission to find the perfect gift for everyone, that's included Sylus, a famously tricky person to shop for. You asked for help but can the twins really help you? Sometimes the effort is the best part of the holiday magic.

Character: MC x Sylus

Genre: holiday comedy, slice-of-life, fluff | Pet names : Kitten, Sweetie, Miss Hunter.

| Word count: 3.916 | Reading Time: 16 min |

A/N: Since this is the first Christmas of Love and Deepspace, at least for me, I'm looking forward for a special Event and have a cute moment between Sylus and MC.

Second part🌲: A Hunter's Christmas Hustle: X-mas morning

You lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It still feels a bit strange staying at Sylus’ place on your days off. Well, it was mostly his doing— he’d insist or come up with some random excuse or side mission to make you stay. So, at the end you agree to come visit him without needing to drag you in dirty business. It's cozy here, even if you’re not quite used to it yet.

Like always you scroll through your phone, noticing you getting a lot of Christmas ads. You squint at the screen, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the holiday promotions. Suddenly, you glance at the date on your phone. Fuck! Christmas is in 1 week. And you haven’t prepared anything. Weren’t there also a Party coming up with the team? No, no, no! You go trough the calendar. There is it: 24 of December. Christmas Party with Team.

You need to go shopping, ordering stuff now would only arrive too late. 

“Okay, okay,” you mutter, trying to make a mental checklist. “I need a present for Tera, flowers for Grandma’s and Clab’s graves...” You pause, feeling a bit emotional at that thought. You take a deep breath and continue, making a list out loud.

“Then there’s Zayne, Xavier, and Rafayel…” Your head starts spinning as you realize just how much you have to do. 

How could you forget? Have you really been that busy lately? It’s not like the whole city isn’t decked out in lights, giant Christmas ads, and festive music playing in every store. 

You realize with a sigh that maybe you’ve been spending way too much time in the N109 Zone, far from the holiday cheer.

“What can I get for the twins...?” you mumble to yourself. Luke and Kieran can be annoying sometimes, but you do like them. Why not bring them a small gift? Then again, you hesitate. If you get something for the twins, Sylus will definitely bother you about it until the end of your days, asking why he didn’t get anything. You're starting to sweat. Maybe he locks you up again in the basement, just for fun. Or worse, he could show up at the Hunters' Association and declare that you are his lover or something. A shiver runs down your spine. This man can be terrifying. 

You know very well how to please your friends and colleagues but Sylus… What do you bring to the man that has everything? 

“Why is he even so fucking rich?” you mutter under your breath, looking around the guest room. The guest room of course has the style of the rest of the mansion. Black. You roll your eyes, feeling a mix of annoyance and admiration. You flop back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it holds the answers. You need something unique, something meaningful... but what could that be? 

You scroll through your phone frantically, searching for bundles, deals, and last-minute gift ideas. In just an hour, you’ve managed to check off most of your list.

Tera: A relaxing spa voucher—she could use a break.

Zayne: A pack of his favorite macarons, winter edition—he’ll love them.

Xavier: A cozy new sweater—you’ve told him a million times not to fall asleep everywhere. You sigh, picturing him dozing off on some random spot.

Rafayel: A unique shell you found on a mission weeks ago. You haven’t had a chance to give it to him yet, but now’s the perfect time.

Flowers: Ordered, check.

You tap your phone, thinking about the twins, Luke and Kieran. What would they like? You decide on some kind of gadget or toy—they’re like two overgrown kids sometimes, and they’ll appreciate anything they can mess around with.

Another hour passes, and you’re still glued to your phone, opening and closing tabs like a mad person. Your brain is starting to fog up from the overload of gift ideas.

“No... no... lame... oh god, definitely not.” You swipe through a blog about gifts for wealthy people and somehow end up on a page titled “Top 10 Gifts for Your Rich Boyfriend.” Your cheeks go bright red as you skim the list: sexy underwear, romantic getaways, candlelit dinners...

“NO!” You throw your phone onto the bed like it’s on fire, covering your face with your hands. What am I even doing?

You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Maybe you could ask Luke and Kieran for help. They’re close to Sylus and probably know more about his preferences than you do. Plus, he did say you could “use” them whenever you wanted. Why not use them as counselors and pack mules?

Since you don`t want Sylus sniffing around you, you think about a small lie. Or maybe just ask without giving information. The same way he always does 

...

"I need Luke & Kieran for an important mission, can you borrow me them?"

Sylus looks up from his desk, his red eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. He leans back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he regards you. 

"Mission? What are you planning, kitten?" Sylus raises an eyebrow at your words.

"Nothing… jus- they will come back in one piece."

He studies you for a moment, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. He seems to be enjoying your vague and cryptic request, and he's clearly intrigued by what you might be up to. 

"…Alright. You can take them for whatever this 'important mission' is. But they better come back in one piece, or I'm holding you responsible, sweetie. And you don't want to pay the price...“ he snaps his fingers. Both appear immediately. As if they had been hiding in the office. 

"Luke, Kieran, the kitten needs you for a... mission. Do as they say. I expect impeccable work."

"Yes, boss!“ They say in unison.

"Let’s go, guys." I lead them out of the office. "See you, Sylus!"

That was easy. Maybe to easy.

He laughs after the door closes. Wondering how you're going to surprise him this time. He's learned to just go with the flow even though he might have the answer to your little secrets. He just smiled, turning back to focus on his paperwork.

“What are we going to do, miss?” Luke asks with a mischievous grin.

You roll your eyes. “I told you, just call me by my name.”

“Are we blowing something up?” Kieran blurts out, making an exaggerated explosion noise with his mouth.

“Or… cleaning up a messy murder scene?” Luke chimes in, smirking.

“Maybe torture someone!” Kieran’s eyes light up, clearly getting way too excited at the thought.

You sigh, regretting this decision already. They’re like two hyperactive hamsters—deadly, but still hamsters.

“No, no, and no!” you say firmly, waving your hands for emphasis.

“Uuuhhh...” They groan in unison, visibly disappointed.

“We have a better mission,” you declare, crossing your arms. “Change into something decent. We’re heading back to Lincoln City.”

Finally, you’ve arrived in the city. It’s strange seeing them without their usual uniforms and masks. Dressed in casual clothes, they look more like model college boys than the deadly assassins they actually are. Most of the girls passing by can’t help but glance their way, clearly debating whether they should approach the handsome twin brothers.

You snort to yourself. Probably they would’ve attracted less attention in their usual assassin gear.

You’re standing in the middle of the bustling shopping district, the holiday decorations casting a festive glow around you. Luke and Kieran are busy taking in the sights, clearly amused by the sudden change of scenery. You clear your throat to get their attention.

“Alright, listen up,” you say, trying to sound authoritative. “The mission is...” They lean in, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Shopping” you declare.

“Shopping?” they repeat in unison, voices filled with disbelief.

Luke looks like he’s trying not to laugh, while Kieran’s expression twists into mock horror.

“Wait, wait,” Kieran says, holding up a hand. “You dragged us all the way out here... for shopping?”

“Yes, and you’re going to help me,” you reply.

Luke smirks, giving you a playful nudge. “You sure this isn’t just an excuse to spend time with us, Miss?”

You shoot him a glare. “Call me by my name, Luke.”

“Right, right,” he says, grinning.

“I actually need your help for...” you trail off, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. You look away, rubbing the back of your neck. “Christmas is around the corner, and I wanted to buy Sylus something. I’m not sure what it should be, so...” 

Before you can finish, Luke and Kieran burst into giggle. They exchange a quick, knowing glance, clearly delighted by your admission.

“Oh, so you want to buy our boss a present, huh? That’s pretty cute” Luke teases, smirking.

Kieran nudges him with his elbow, grinning from ear to ear. “And you’re asking us for help? Luke, maybe she does have a soft spot for boss after all.”

You feel your cheeks flush, but you roll your eyes to cover it. “Are you two going to help me or not?”

Luke straightens up, placing a hand on his chest with a mock-serious expression. “If you’re serious about buying a gift for the boss, then you’ve definitely come to the right place. We don’t call ourselves his right-hand men for nothing.”

You exhale, feeling a bit relieved now that they seem genuinely eager to help. “I want something special. Something he wouldn’t expect, but that he’d actually like.”

Kieran tilts his head, pretending to think deeply. “Something unexpected, huh? Well, that’s tricky. Sylus pretty much has everything.”

“Yeah, exactly,” you say, feeling a bit helpless. “I was thinking about getting him some records, but he already has so many...”

Luke and Kieran nod in agreement, their expressions thoughtful. 

“It’s a good start. He does love his music. But you don’t want to give him something he already has, right?” Luke asked. 

“How about something more personal?” Kieran suggests, tapping his chin. “Something that shows you put a lot of thought into it. A gift only you could give him.”

You bite your lip, considering it. “Personal... but how?”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be anything fancy,” Luke says, shrugging. “The boss isn’t as complicated as he looks. He’d appreciate anything that comes from you.”

Kieran gives a playful smirk. “You could just wrap yourself up with a bow, and he’d be over the moon.”

“Kieran!” you gasp, your cheeks turning red as you lightly smack his arm. He laughs, dodging away with a wink. 

Luke chuckles but gives you a more genuine smile. “He’s joking—mostly. But seriously, boss isn’t the kind of guy who cares about expensive gifts. He’d value something that reminds him of you, or a shared memory.”

You pause, mulling it over.

Kieran nudges Luke, a sudden spark lighting up his eyes. “Hey, what about that old record shop on the Avenue? They’ve got vintage records you can’t find anywhere else. You could look for a rare one, maybe something with a story behind it.”

Luke nods, his eyes brightening as well. “Yeah, and you could pair it with a handwritten note. Tell him why you picked it. He’d love that.”

You smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. “That’s... actually a great idea. Thanks, you two.”

Kieran gives you a thumbs-up. “No problem, but you owe us for this.”

Luke grins. “Yeah, and don’t forget to give us the credit when he’s showering you with kisses later.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine, fine. Now let’s go before I change my mind.”

The twins laugh, and the three of you set off down the busy shopping street, feeling a new wave of excitement. Maybe this gift hunt wasn’t going to be so impossible after all.

In the end, you managed to buy everything for your friends—even for Captain Jenna, who isn’t exactly easy to shop for. But as you wandered through the record store, flipping through album after album, nothing stood out. Everything felt generic, impersonal. And you know Sylus well enough to realize that giving him something half-hearted would just fuel his endless teasing for weeks. 

By the end of the day, the twins delivered you at home after treating them for dinner. You're tired and leave all your bags in the living room of your apartment. You throw yourself down on the couch and take out your phone. Maybe you were overthinking this. A nice accessory or a bottle of whiskey could work—he has a taste for the finer things, after all. It wouldn’t be anything cheap, either; you can afford something like that with your Hunter salary.

The day passes, only 2 days for Christmas and you still have nothing. 

Desperate for ideas, you even tried bringing it up with Tera over lunch. That turned into a chaotic disaster, though. It was exhausting dodging her barrage of questions:

“Who’s the gift for? Why are you even so worried? Wait, do you have a new boyfriend? I demand to meet him!”

You had to laugh it off, making up half-baked excuses until she finally dropped it—though you could tell she didn’t believe you.

And then there was Sylus himself. Yesterday, he sent you an invitation to a Christmas dinner. You wanted to say yes, but you had already committed to the Hunters’ Association Christmas party that same night. You tried to decline, but after some back-and-forth, you reluctantly agreed to meet him afterward.

Now, sitting alone on the couch, you can’t help but replay that conversation in your mind. The way his voice softened when you said you couldn’t make it, the slight pause before he insisted on seeing you later anyway—it made your chest tighten. He sounded almost... disappointed. And that’s what makes you want to find something truly meaningful, something that will show him how much he means to you without you having to say it out loud.

You look at your reflection in the darkened screen of your phone, feeling a mix of frustration and anticipation. You’re running out of time. If you’re going to surprise him with something from the heart, you need to figure it out now.

With a new sense of determination, you push yourself off the couch and grab your coat. Maybe you won’t find the perfect gift sitting around here. It’s time to get back out there and keep looking, because if there’s one person you want to make smile this Christmas, it’s Sylus. But be honest, you´re not going to admit that. Not yet. 

...

It’s Christmas! The party with your unit is small but cozy. The space is filled with the warm glow of twinkling lights, the scent of spiced wine, and the sound of laughter echoing off the walls. You drink, you eat, and you feel a rare sense of contentment as you watch everyone enjoying the night. It’s moments like these that remind you why you love this chaotic, ragtag team.

The gifts you bought last minute seem to have gone over well. Captain Jenna grinned when she unwrapped the sleek new knife you picked out for her—a practical gift, just like she’d like it. Xavier looked genuinely pleased with the soft, oversized sweater you chose, already pulling it on and joking about how he wouldn’t fall asleep everywhere now. Tera hugged you tight, eyes sparkling as she held up the spa voucher. “You really do know me,” she said with a teasing smile.

Earlier in the morning, you made a quick stop by the hospital to drop off the bag of special winter-edition macarons for Zayne. And you place the flower on the graveyard. Pray for them and wishing that you could spent one more day with them.

You glance at your watch. It’s getting late, and you promised Sylus you’d meet him after this. You take a deep breath, excusing yourself quietly from the party. Tera shoots you a knowing look as you head for the door, but she doesn’t say anything—just gives you a little wave, as if to say, good luck. 

You pull your coat tighter around yourself, clutching the gift in your hand as you start walking. There’s a mixture of excitement and fear bubbling up inside you.

Suddenly your watch vibrates urgently and flashes a warning: MetaFlux Fluctuation Detected. Your heart skips a beat. A Wanderer? Now?! You glance around, scanning the quiet street for any signs of danger. The distant sound of a woman’s scream breaks the silence, and without hesitation, you sprint in the direction of the noise, already reaching for your weapon. 

The first Wanderer lunges out from the shadows, its distorted form shifting and writhing in the dim light. You don’t waste a second. One precise shot, and it disintegrates into a cloud of shimmering dust.

„My child! Where is he?“ the woman cries out, panic in her voice. You look around fast, this is not over. 

„Mom!! Help!“ You hear the voice of the kid nearby and run over. You bolt towards the sound, pushing your legs harder. You reach the boy just in time, shielding him with your body as another Wanderer lunges forward. The creature’s claws slice through the air, narrowly missing you. You fire three quick shots, each one hitting its mark. The Wanderer lets out a guttural screech before it vanishes into thin air, dissolving into the night.

"Are you okay?“ you ask, your voice softer now, concerned. The boy nodded. His mother rushes over, wrapping her arms around him and thanking you over and over, her voice thick with emotion.

The mother and child thank you from the bottom of their hearts before leaving. You tell them to please stop by the hospital, just in case. You wave goodbye to the boy. Sigh. What a night!

"Where's my bag?" you mutter, scanning the area. You spot it lying on the ground, right where you dropped it before sprinting into action. Relief floods through you—until you notice the dark, wet stain spreading across the fabric. 

"No, no, no! Please no," you whisper, crouching down and unzipping the bag with trembling hands. The bottle of whiskey you were hunting down the last two days. Is shattered in thousand pieces.

Your heart sinks. This wasn’t just any whiskey—it was a rare, vintage bottle from a small distillery he’d mentioned once, in passing, when he thought you weren’t listening.

„Fuck!" 

You stand up, clutching the soaked bag, and check the time on your watch.

22:30.

You’re supposed to meet Sylus in half an hour, and you’re still a good fifteen minutes away from his place. Panic bubbles up inside you. Maybe you can find a late-night shop that carries something similar. Maybe there’s still a chance to fix this.

"I can make it," you say aloud, more to convince yourself than anything.

…

You finally arrive at the meeting point—a lookout near the water. It’s the same place where you spent last winter with him, watching the fireworks together.

“Kitten, you told me you were at a party, not a battlefield. What happened?”

“Eh?”

You’ve been running around for the last 30 minutes trying to find that stupid bottle and make it on time to meet Sylus. A little embarrassed, you attempt to fix your clothes and smooth your hair. Your cheeks are flushed from the effort. Sylus stands there in his black coat, looking amazing as always. Your heart beats hard in your chest. He watches you, trying to piece together what happened, and then a smile tugs at his lips.

“Even on days like this, you don’t get a break, Miss Hunter?” He runs his hand gently across your face. You flinch slightly, wincing in pain. “You’ve got a small cut. So... are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Nothing, just a Wanderer. It will heal,” you say with a shrug. He sighs softly.

“Careless as usual.” He pulls a small band-aid from his pocket. “Stay still.”

“Why do you have something like that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It so happens that I have a kitten who never pays attention to their injuries,” he teases.

You make an exaggerated offended grimace, but inside, it feels like a small gesture of affection. He places the band-aid gently over the cut.

“I’ll consider this your Christmas gift,” you joke.

He laughs. “Oh no, sweetie, that wouldn’t be enough. But I’m impressed with your minimalist idea of happiness.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out an envelope.

“You didn’t have...”

“Open it up. And thank me later.”

You take the envelope cautiously, slowly peeling it open. Could it explode? You shake your head at the silly thought. When you finally look inside, your eyes widen, and you let out a soft squeal of excitement.

“Are you for real? This tickets has been sold out for months. How did you…?”

“I have my ways, sweetie,” he replies with a smug smile.

“Thank you,” you whisper, genuinely touched.

“It’s always a pleasure making you happy.”

But your excitement fades quickly as the realization sinks in. He’s managed to make you immensely happy again, while you stand here empty-handed. You have been looking for the perfect gift and you have screwed up at the last minute. On top, you haven't found a replacement for the bottle. 

"I wanted to give you something too for Christmas...“ you started. Closing the envelope and putting it in your pocket. "but... it broke while I was protecting a kid from a Wanderer.“ You look down at your feet, feeling small and pathetic, your shoulders slumping under the weight of disappointment.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Sylus gently lifts your chin with a finger, guiding your gaze back to him. He smiles, that soft, understanding smile that always makes you feel seen. Without a word, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a warm embrace. The chill of winter seems to disappear in his hold, replaced by the comforting heat of his body.

“The best gift is having you by my side, kitten.” he whispers into your ear, his voice low and sincere.

You feel your heart beating faster.

"Actions speak louder than words"

You agree with Sylus that both would be more honest with each other. Maybe now is the time to show him just how important he is to you. You spent so much time looking for something to buy that you forgot that the simplest gifts are often the most meaningful, especially when they come straight from the heart.

"Sylus… I actually have something else."

"Oh, is that so?“ 

„Can... I borrow your face?" He loosens his grip slightly and steps back, taking your hands in his, warming them up. He looks at you, amused and curious, and leans down.

"Close your eyes..." you whisper. He doesn’t say anything but does as you ask, his smile softening as he relaxes his face. You take a deep breath, feeling your heart race, each beat echoing louder in your chest.

The world falls silent for a moment—it's just the two of you, suspended in time. The anticipation tingles through you as you lean closer, closing the distance between you.

You press your lips gently against his cheek, and the warmth of his skin against your lips is electric. It’s a simple kiss, but it carries all the unspoken words you couldn’t say out loud. A silent confession. You linger there for just a heartbeat longer, feeling him inhale sharply, as if caught off guard by the intimacy of it. As you pull back, the first snowflakes begin to fall, drifting slowly from the sky. The soft touch of snow melts against your skin, but Sylus holds you close, not letting the moment slip away.

„Now... that’s a present only you could have given me." He gives you the most tender smile. "Thank you."

He looks like he wants to say something else but remains silent. Instead, he pulls you into a deeper embrace, burying his face in your hair as the snow continues to fall softly around you. You’re more than fine with that. No, you’re happy—grateful for this sweet moment.

You realize you’re a step closer to falling for him completely, accepting that the connection between you two is stronger than you ever imagined.

“Merry Christmas, Sylus.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling with genuine joy.

“Merry Christmas, kitten.”

Second part🌲: A Hunter's Christmas Hustle: X-mas morning

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 1

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, mild smut (at the end), threesome 

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.9K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“God my head fucking hurts,” you whine, sitting up to rub your eyes. “That wine really hit out of nowhere.” Your head pounds, it has to be part of a hangover. The last thing you remember before drinking yourself to sleep was getting fired. Your boss hadn’t even had the decency to let you know face to face. An HR representative and your manager requested a zoom call at the end of the day and politely told you to ‘clean your desk.’

After nearly three years of work with the same accounting firm, it was weird to not wake up early and head into the office. The worst part really was that your performance was still stellar, the firm was just hemorrhaging money after several questionable expansions. 

Despite the pounding headache and sensitivity to light, you force yourself to open your eyes. “What the fuck?!” Glancing around the room frantically, you panic as you realize you weren’t waking up in the comfort of your room. You had to be the subject of some prank reality tv show because the decor was undoubtedly some renaissance festival shit. The walls were brick with large tapestries decorating the stone. You were laid in the center of a giant four poster bed, black and red canopies flowing.

Slipping from the tangle of sheets and blankets, you pad towards the door. “Okay,” you call out, “you got me. Very funny.” 

Silence. 

“This is so weird” you murmur, pushing the door open as gently as possible to peak out. A woman rushes by you, dressed in some kind of drab linen and an apron. “Excuse me!” you shout, attempting to get her attention. 

The short woman slowed down, stopping to curtsy quickly at the sight of you. “My lady, forgive me. I didn’t you see you there!”

“My lady?” You asked. “What are you talking about? This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, my lady,” she replied quietly. “Please don’t tell your wife I was making jokes! I swear I meant no harm-”

“My wife?!” Everyone has officially gone off the deep end. First this medieval times shit, now apparently you have a wife.

The woman’s eyes go wide, “Your wife, Queen Rhaenyra. My lady, are you unwell?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I have no idea what’s going on. I lost my job. I don’t know where I am or apparently who I am. I just want-” You choke off into sobs.

“Let me help you back to your room,” she offered, taking your elbow. “I’ll let the Queen know you’re unwell.”

You nodded, letting her lead you back into the room. The woman helped you into a steaming bath and left you to soak while she fetched your wife. “Can’t believe someone made an honest woman of me,” you laugh.

At some point, the entire situation stopped feeling like a prank. Maybe it was watching the maid fill the tub painstakingly bucket by bucket, or the significant lack of electricity. Either way, your situation was beginning to feel more and more real. You grab the bar of soap and lather up a cloth, scrubbing furiously at your skin. 

“That’s weird,” you murmur as you notice that your skin seems far too perfect. You usually had a couple scars littering your arms and legs, leftovers from frequently crashing your bike as a kid and general clumsiness. They all seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but perfectly smooth, supple skin behind. “Okay, I’m officially going crazy.”

You see a small mirror on the ledge next to the tub, and reach out with shaky hands. You sigh in relief as you glance into the mirror and see that you look the same. At least you have something familiar here.

“Admiring the view? I know I am.” A deep voice purred from behind you.

Tossing the mirror back, you swiftly cover your chest and pray that the water obscurs the rest of you. “What the fuck?!” You yell, turning to confront whatever pervert decided to interrupt your bath. A tall man towered over the tub, his white hair practically glowing as the candlelight reflected off of it.

“I’m trying to have an existential crisis in here,” you hiss. “Can you come back later or something?”

He snorted a laugh, stalking forward to grab a brush from the side table and sit behind you. “And miss this opportunity? I should think not, my love.” He gently began detangling your hair and brushing it out. 

“My love? You do know I’m a married woman?” You retort.

“You never let me forget,” he replied, kissing the top of your hair. 

“I mean I have a wife, asshole!” You twist around to snatch the brush from his hands, but he lifts it out of your reach.

“What a coincidence,” he purrs, blatantly staring at your breasts. “I do too. Two, if I’m not mistaken.” His eyes dart down to your left hand, as if he knows something you don’t.

You glance at the ring that’s been there since you woke up. The black metal has a dragon insignia that looks awfully similar to the embroidery on this man’s shirt. “Fuck.” 

The man’s brows furrow, “what’s wrong?” He sets the brush down, grabbing a sheet and pulling you from the bath. He wraps you up and sits you in his lap. The warmth seeping into your skin feels so familiar and you feel yourself begin to break. Tears stream down your cheeks, and you burrow your face into his neck to hide them. 

Warm hands rub up and down your back soothingly. “My love, I cannot fix whatever is wrong if you don’t tell me.” He hums. “You don’t even have to tell me. Just give Rhaenyra a name and I will ensure whoever made you cry will never breathe again.”

You laugh at the irony. “I don’t know who Rhaenyra is. I’m not sure I even know who I am.” 

Before he can respond, a door slams. “Daemon, thank Gods you’re here. The maid said y/n was acting ill and didn’t rememb-” 

Your head peaks up over the man–Daemon’s shoulder to see the woman who ran in. Her hair is just as white as Daemon’s and her clothing adorned with the same dragon insignia. This must be Queen Rhaenyra.

“Y/n?!” Rhaenyra rushes over, kissing your cheek before she hugs you tightly. 

“My queen,” Daemon greets, leaning in for a kiss. You find yourself pressed between the two, and as much as you don’t want to admit it….the warmth and pressure feels comforting…like home. 

“I hate to break this up,” you say, wiping the last of your tears away. “But can someone tell me what is going on. The last thing I remember was being fired, getting wine drunk, and going to bed early.”

“Fired?” Rhaenyra looked confused and immediately started inspecting every exposed inch of your skin. “Did you try to feed Caraxes again? He’s a temperamental old man, just like his rider.”

“Who is Caraxes? Do ya’ll have a dog or something?”

“Dog?!” Daemon sounded almost offended. “A dog?! Rhaenyra we should fetch a maester. Our little dragon is either begging for a punishment or in need of a healer.”

Rhaenyra attempts to cover her laugh. “Caraxes, Daemon’s dragon? You insist on telling him a goodnight story at least once a week.”

“He’s a dragon of war for fucks sake,” Daemon mutters. “You’ve been making him soft.”

“Dragon?!” Your eyes go wide. “You’re joking. You’ve gotta be fucking me right now.”

“We are most definitely no-”

“We certainly could be-”

Daemon and Rhaenyra spoke at the same time. You would have laughed, but the implications of Daemon’s words were starting to settle in.

“Wait,” you being. “So if Queen Rhaenyra is my wife….and Daemon has two wives…and you two seem to be close…that means-”

“That you both are all mine,” Daemon purrs.

“Daemon, we must call for the maester. This seems serious, she doesn’t even remember us.”

“What year is this?” You ask, not sure if you want the answer.

“125 AC.” Rhaenyra responds.

“And where are we?”

“The red keep.”

“What, is that like England or something?”

“We are in Westeros.” Rhaenyra feels your forehead. “Daemon, put y/n to bed while I have the maids summon the maester.”

You yelp in surprise and Daemon stands up, holding you close to his chest. He carries you to a vanity, setting you gently on the bench before rummaging through some drawers. “Arms up, love.” He says, pulling a white shift over your head. You stare of into space as Daemon gently braids your hair. 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” You ask as he ties a ribbon at the ends of the braid.

“You and Rhaenyra are quite the demanding duo when you want to be,” he snorts. “The staff might revolt and establish Rhaenyra’s cunt of a half-brother as king if I bothered them everytime you both needed your hair done.”

“Language,” you chide. Daemon rolls his eyes before he sweeps you back up into his arms. He carries you to the bed, depositing you in the center before he climbs in. Daemon sits up, back against the headboard as he pulls you in to lean against his chest. 

“Do you really not remember us?” He asks. 

“How long have we been married?” 

“Five years. We were married in the old ways. Your High Valyrian wasn’t as good back then though.” Daemon laughs. “But it was perfect, and I wouldn’t trade you both for anything.”

“So if Rhaenyra is queen, what does that make you?” You ask. He had to be King, right?

“A lucky man.”

You laugh, and lightly hit his chest. “No, really. I don’t remember anything. Help a girl out here.”

“Prince consort.” Daemon answers. You nod, so Rhaenyra must be in charge around here.

“So how’d I end up married to Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Daemon?” You ask in the poshest British accent you can muster.

“You threw yourself at my feet saying ‘Please Rhaenyra, I cannot live without you! You are the sun that brightens the sky and the stars that guide ships home!’” Rhaenyra teased. You sit up to see that Rhaenyra isn’t alone, she brought back some balding man with her. 

“I didn’t say that-” You protest.

“Really?” Daemon laughs. “My queen, it’s not proper to toy with someone who is ill.”

“You’re one to talk,” Rhaenyra says, raising a brow. “You seemed rather close when I came in earlier.”

You groan. How did you manage to survive these two for five years. 

!!SMUT BELOW!!

PREVIEW FOR PART TWO

“No,” Daemon scolds, clasping your hands together in his larger one and wrenching your body into his. “You’re not in charge here. You’re going to listen and obey like a good little girl.” You whine in response, nodding furiously in agreement. Suddenly, Rhaenyra’s warm body brushes up against your back. She nibbles lightly at your ear before kissing and licking her way down your neck.

“No need to be cruel,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Our little dragon is just begging for attention the only way she knows how.”

You whimper, canting your hips into Daemon’s. He slides a thigh between yours, pressing it up against your cunt. Your eyes roll back and you moan at the friction. “Please,” you breathe out, your teary eyes meeting his. 

NOTE: Hey all! I'm not dead, sorry for disappearing! Life happened (new job, had to travel home for a funeral). But, I got my shit back together after taking some time for myself and I'm ready to give y'all the stories I've been cooking up. I have some steamy and inspiring requests I'm working on for Feyd Rautha (so if you requested...they're coming). Glad to be back and BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR PART 2!!!! - Lacie <3

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[tlou-reid]

Finishing Gifts ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

♡ SUMMARY: after a few days of ignoring him, Aaron makes an effort to get your behavior to return to normal

♡ WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, female and male masturbation, phone sex, mentions of watching porn, sex toys, drinking, small mentions of criminal minds-esque themes and violence, pretty much porn with very little plot, this is not edited like at all

♡ NOTE: something about writing aaron masturbating makes me go brrrrrr

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You had thought you were keeping your cool. Honestly, truly, you had thought no one would notice the small changes in your behavior. You had tried to be subtle in dodging Hotch, doing it slowly and over time. It had started with piggybacking Spencer’s theories in the field, which led to pushing to go look at a crime scene rather than to the police department with Hotch. Then evolved into getting deep into conversation with JJ as you approached the jet, using it as an excuse to claim a seat next to her rather than your normal position between Hotch and the window.

These acts had gone unnoticed, or, at least, you’d thought. In your determination to avoid them, you hadn’t noticed the strange looks Derek and Morgan had thrown each other, and then Aaron, as you relaxed next to JJ. You missed Garcia questioning what had been up with you as you extended your time making coffee before a briefing, just so you didn’t have to walk behind Hotch into the room.

But, your latest change to avoid your unit chief definitely didn’t fly under the radar. This one was loud and clear, and absolutely threw off the entire BAU.

You’d just completed, by all possible metrics, a very successful case. It was a rare one, looking at terrorism in the DC area. A group of people who were planting explosives around the city, in unsuspecting areas. Instead of targeting political buildings or memorials, they focused on smaller-scale destruction. The team had been able to put the perpetrators away with no more casualties than those that were gone before the team landed. All in all, it was incredibly stressful, but a win for the team.

So, after Emily’s suggestion and Derek’s reminder that it was an extended weekend due to a government holiday, the team was getting ready to head to the bar. You had begged to go home to shower, promising you’d take an Uber (so you could, in Penelope’s words, “get fucked up with the girls”) and meet them at the bar in about an hour.

You put on your best outfit, showing an appropriate amount of cleavage, and did your makeup to the best of your abilities. After you’d cleaned up, you went to open your Uber app, excited to have a night to relax.

However, you were cut off when a phone call overtook your screen. “Aaron” the contact name read, indicating it was your unit chief, and that he was calling from his personal cellphone. You let ring a few times before picking up, not wanting to seem too eager to talk to your boss.

“Hellooo,” you practically sung into the phone, too excited to be worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him. He simply replied with a formal “hello,” followed by your name. “Please don’t tell me you’re ruining my longggg weekend,” You said to him, and he swore he could hear some of jewelry shaking. You couldn’t keep your excitement in, shaking your wrists, which made your bracelets make noise.

He chuckled a bit at your reaction to him calling, “No, no. I was just calling to see if you had left yet.” You smiled against the phone, knowing where this conversation was going. “Nope! I was actually ordering my Uber when you called,” you informed him. “So, you haven’t ordered it?” He questioned again, to which you replied with a “uh-uh”.

You couldn’t tell but your excitement about going out with your friends was essentially oozing through the phone, causing Aaron to maintain a bright smile on his face. You weren’t aware of how your vibe, your energy, was able to lift a weight off of Aaron’s shoulders that had been there for as long as he could remember.

“I also had to run home before meeting the team. If you’d like, I can pick you up.” Your smile, somehow, grew even bigger. Any excuse to see Aaron was a good one, you’d thought.

However, your face quickly fell when you reminded yourself that you were supposed to be avoiding him. You felt a pang in your heart as you said, “Thanks, but I have a few things to finish up here! I appreciate the offer, Hotch.”

With a quick, formal goodbye, the called ended. Aaron tried to ignore the fact that you lied to him as he drove the rest of the way. You had said you were about to call your Uber, and he heard your jewelry, meaning you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit. So why wouldn’t you accept his ride?

He tried to ignore the blow to his chest when you called him Hotch. Something about the use of his last name made him feel as if he’d done something wrong. Not that it was unusual for you, or anyone really, to call him that. It was the emphasis you’d put on it. As if you were trying to make it known he was Hotch and not Aaron.

Aaron tried to turn off his profiling ability, but it was proving to be had as all of his thoughts were currently encompassed by you.

The night, and the whole weekend if you were being honest, went by in a blur. You could tell Aaron had noticed the change in your behavior. You were standoffish at the bar, pretty much avoiding any conversation with him. You just hoped by the end of the long weekend it would be forgotten, and you’d be able to continue work as normal.

This dream was quickly demolished as Aaron was summoning you into his office before you had the chance to even put your bag down and unpack your files.

The sound of calling your last name both frightened and intrigued you. You couldn’t help but be attracted to the authority in his voice, even if it could mean you were going to be in trouble.

As you stepped into the voice, Aaron didn’t even look up. He mumbled a “shut the door, please,” as he finished recording some notes on an opened file in front of him. You stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for some kind instruction or reasoning from him.

“Please,” he gestured to the seats in front of his desk. You nodded, clumsily making your way to them. “I didn’t mean to scare you or make you uncomfortable by calling you in here,” he began.

You weren’t sure if you were more scared by being called into his office, to have a conversation that required you to both sit down and shut the door, or the intense eye contact he was maintaining as he introduced whatever discussion you two were about to have.

“I just couldn’t help but notice,” he paused for a second, trying to find the right words to say, “a recent change in your behavior.” You hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes went wide, knowing you’d been caught. You didn’t have to ask what he was talking about to know you’d been caught, but you did anyway, “What do you mean?” You thought you were playing your part well, furrowing your eyebrows to truly emphasis your fake confusion.

“It feels as though you’ve been avoiding me.” Aaron says. His tone isn’t angry or even authoritative, but rather, disappointed. There’s a slight huff in the way he spoke. He didn’t give you a chance to defend yourself before he continued, “Which is fine if you so choose to do so. I would just like to know if it was because of something I did and if I could fix it. I want the team to function as well as it can, and I feel as though it would not if there was conflict between you and I.”

Aaron had to find a professional spin to throw his statement, knowing the professionalism of this situation was debatable at best. “Oh, sir,” you blushed, not really knowing what to say, “I don’t believe there is any conflict between us.” Your voice was formal, too formal. It was obvious you were under pressure. “So, what is it then?” He questioned.

You could feel yourself growing small under his intense stare. You could also feel the wet patch growing between your legs, making you slightly uncomfortable.

“You, uh, you kind of make nervous.” With your quiet voice and stutter, and the way your thighs squeezed together, it was easy for Aaron to pick up on the reason he made you nervous. His cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink instantaneously. “Oh,” his voice trailed off, followed by your quiet, “yeah.”

There was a few beats of silence before he cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad to hear there’s no issues between us.” You nodded with his words, growing even more nervous. Your mouth was moving before your brain could catch up, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to, it’s just been a minute since I’ve, ya know, and I know you’re boss but I will be completely professional and this will not effect my work in or out of the field.”

While you mean to be assuring your boss that your attraction to him was no detriment to your work, you just admitted that it’s been a minute since you’ve had an orgasm. You needed to end this conversation quickly.

“If that’s all,” You said as you stood, “I have a few more reports to finish.” Aaron simply nodded, dismissing you back into the bullpen. You made a break for the bathroom, hoping to have a few minutes to collect yourself before facing the race of the team. You felt exposed, knowing you were entering a room of profilers after since a painful experience. You needed some time alone.

After a mini-breakdown, and cleaning up your messed up mascara, you made your way to your desk. Calm and collected. That’s all you had to be. Calm and collected.

Serial killers and other criminals had quieted down for the week, in an unlikely turn of events. You’d only had to travel for one day, quickly solving a kidnapping case and the finding the perpetrator. The week flew by swimmingly. Nothing odd had happened.

Until you opened your door Saturday morning.

You hadn’t ordered anything, that much you were sure of. Even if you did, you tended to shop at places with bright packaging that made you feel like you were opening a gift when it was delivered. This unsuspecting, plain box was not here on your accord, yet it had your name and address on it.

The FBI agent side of you flipped into protection mode, racing to grab your phone and dial up the one person you knew that could tell you what to do if there happened to be a bomb inside of the box. Derek Morgan. “Pretty girl, why are you facetiming me at 8:27am on a Saturday?” He teased with a smile on his face. No matter what time it was, Derek was ready to listen.

“I got this box and I don’t know what it is. I just want someone to be around when I open it.” You informed him, sitting down next to the box. You should probably be standing, just in case you had to make a run for it but you were too worried about getting it open to think that far ahead.

“Alright,” He said, urging you to open it. You nodded to him, setting up the phone so he could you see and the box in the frame. You carefully tore off the tape, and let out a sigh of relief when nothing happened when it moved. You lifted the flaps slowly, taking a loud gasp when you saw it was. You hoped Derek didn’t see, and moved quickly to pick up your phone to hang up before he could.

“It’s not a bomb! I’m good, thanks Derek!” You rushed, hanging up before he could say anything. Your eyes didn’t leave the box as you let your arms fall to your sides. Sitting inside of it was a small, pink rose toy. A vibrator. That you definitely didn’t order.

You grabbed the box, hoping none of your neighbors saw it. It’s not that masturbation was wrong or immoral or that you didn’t partake, it was just weird if the people around you were aware of your toys.

So, you made sure your door was tightly closed before putting the box on the table and digging through it. There was all the normal things, the vibrator itself, large bubble wrap, and a paper receipt with the name of the product: Intimately GG Rose Suction Simulator from Pink Cherry.

However, there was another piece of paper at the bottom of the box. It was a typed note that read, “I hope this helps us go back to normal. A.H”. You knew exactly one person with the initials A.H. so it wasn’t rocket science to figure out who had ordered you this sex toy.

You weren’t sure if you were more turned on or embarrassed.

Aaron was your boss. Your kind, protective, strong, hot, sexy, boss. But still your boss. You wondered if this is something he would’ve done for someone like Emily or Penelope if they’d been in your predicament. It clicked quickly that it definitely wasn’t, and that made you special in Aaron Hotchner’s eyes.

So, you made a mental note to give him a call, after you tried out your toy. Luckily, you had your cleaning solution and an old bottle of lube from your past encounters. You made quick work of getting the toy clean and finding a video to help you get yourself off.

Of course, the man in the video was a white man who was bit older, with broad shoulders and black hair. No coincidence there.

You started with your boobs, taking time to massage each one before pulling on and pinching them to get yourself warmed up. Between the sounds coming from the video and the excitement of finally having time to yourself, your hands didn’t take long to move downwards, tracing along the length of your body. One hand continued caressing your side as the other made its way to your core.

The thought of Aaron going out of his way to help you get off and the visual of a man who looked similar to him getting his dick sucked had you borderline dripping on your bedsheets as you used your hand to start toying with your clit. You started with small circles, matching the speed of the girl sucking Aaron’s lookalike’s dick.

You stayed like this for a while, allowing yourself to go slow, really take your time pleasuring yourself. The guy in the video had already finished on the girl’s tits by the time you reached for your rose toy. You didn’t need the visual anymore, perfectly crafting dirty scenarios of your unit chief in your head.

You started on low. There was gentle sucking on your clit as you imagined the way Aaron would kiss. He’s experienced, you know that for sure. You could imagine the way he’d start gentle, maybe even cupping your face as he pulled you close. He’d let you feel like you were in charge, before his tongue made its way inside your mouth. His dominant side would take over, using his body to press you against whatever surface you were sat on.

As you fantasized about his dominant side, you cranked up the toy to the next level. You let out a loud moan at the new feeling. Your free hand moved back to your breast, squeezing, while you did your best to imagine Aaron’s large hands doing it instead.

You could feel the coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as you imagined Aaron slowly stripping your body, dragging his hand along each and every curve. With a sharp pinch to your nipple and a cry of Aaron’s name, you came undone all over your rose toy.

You could feel your slick dripping down your hand as you worked yourself through your orgasm, making sure to enjoy it for as long as you could. You wished you could savor this feeling. It was the strongest, best orgasm you’d ever had. Nothing could compare to the euphoria you felt right now.

You flicked the toy off and sat it to the side once the feeling became too much. You couldn’t bring yourself to move from your position. “Fuck,” you breathed out, trying to relax the hard rise and fall of your chest.

Once you were able to relax, you made your way to the shower. You knew you had to call Aaron, but you needed to be much more relaxed than you were right now to have that conversation. The sting from the hot water helped ground you, allowing you to clear your mind. After you cleaned yourself, you cleaned the toy and put everything in your nightstand drawer for future use.

Then, you reached for your cellphone. You quickly found Aaron’s personal number and hit the call button before you could overthink what you were doing. He picked up on the second ring. “Hotchner,” he said, probably out of habit. “Hello, Aaron,” you smiled. This is the conversation you’d had with him in a while that didn’t make you feel nervous. “Hello,” he echoed with your name. You didn’t know, but he was smirking on the other side of the phone. He’d been waiting for this call.

“You sent me a gift?” You asked. “I did. Have you received it?” He wasn’t sure what grew more, his smirk or his cock. “I have. I’ve opened it and took it for a test run as well.” The way you two were beating around the bush was a turn on, but the way he sounded so self-assured, as if he knew what you were going to say, had you clenching your thighs together.

“How did it perform?” Aaron questioned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table in front of him. This tightened the dress pants he was wearing against his hardened cock. “Very well,” You smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. I hope this is the end of all of your weird behavior.” Aaron chuckles. Just the sound of his laugh has you reaching your hand to squeeze the fat of your thighs.

“What weird behavior, Aaron?” You questioned, teasingly. This conversation is very different than any you’d had before, and it was turning you. You didn’t think it was possible with the strong orgasm you’d maybe an hour ago. But, Aaron was a special individual. He had that effect on you.

“You were avoiding me,” He scoffed. “I don’t know if I was. I think it was self-control,” You smiled, knowing you were baiting him. Without missing a beat, he took the bait, “And why did you need to practice self-control?”

Aaron leaned back in his chair, opting to press his hand against his cock instead of using the soft fabric to provide some kind of friction. He needed more, that much he knew.

“Because I was trying not to jump your bones, Aaron.” You breathed out. Your words had him squeezing his bulge, feeling like he could bust just from knowing you were attracted to him. “Fuck,” Aaron groaned into the phone. You giggled at his reaction, moving to press your hand against your core, again.

“Tell me about your toy,” He demanded, finally using the authoritarian tone that helped you get into this situation in the first time. “So you can touch yourself while I do?” You questioned, assuming he was in the same position as you. “Is that okay?” He questioned. “Of course it is, Aaron.” You promised, and used your permission as an excuse to unbutton his pants, and shove his hand under the waistband of his boxers.

As you started talking, he spread the precum, that’s been oozing from his pretty pink tip since he saw your contact name, along the length of his dick. “It was so good, Aaron. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah?” Aaron encouraged you to keep going as he started stroking his cock. “Yeah,” You whined out, “I wish you could’ve seen me. My legs were shaking and I was leaking so much.” You smirked as you heard him groan in to the phone. His strokes had quickened in length. All he could picture was you spread out on his bed, cumming around his cock.

“What did you think about while you came?” You were surprised he was able to get the question out, especially because he only stuttered once. You wished you could see the way he squeezed his eyes together as he tugged on his cock. “You, obviously. I was thinking about your lips and your hands. I finished before I could get to the good part. I wanted to picture you fucking me from behind, pressing my face into the mattress.”

You were going to continue describing your fantasy to him, but he cut you off with a “Fuck!” as he came down his hands.

The line was silent for a few minutes before you spoke, “Hey, Aaron?” He hummed out a “yeah?”, before you asked, “Do you want to come over?”

“Give me ten minutes,” He promised, “and have the toy out.”

Well, you couldn’t refuse that.

[pucksandpower]

Come Undone

Day 26 → Cum Marking 💋 Charles Leclerc

Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent, and somnophilia

Kinktober Masterlist

Charles can’t remember the last time he’s been this agitated. The tension has been building for days, coiling around his chest like a tight wire, and it all seems to be connected to one thing — or rather, one person.

You.

He stands in the Ferrari garage, arms crossed, leaning against a wall with his eyes trained on you. You're talking with Lewis again. That familiar laugh escapes your lips, the one Charles loves, but now it grates against his nerves.

Lewis is close, too close, and Charles can’t help but notice the way Lewis’ hand brushes your arm as he talks. It’s subtle, probably innocent, but it still sends a spark of irritation through him.

“Everything alright?” Joris asks, coming to stand beside him. His tone is casual, but there’s a knowing look in his eyes.

Charles doesn’t answer immediately, jaw tight as he watches you laugh again at something Lewis says. “Yeah,” he replies, but his voice is strained, even to his own ears.

Joris raises an eyebrow, following his gaze. “You sure about that? You’ve been glaring at Lewis like he’s the second coming of 14-year-old Max.”

Charles lets out a huff of air, half-laugh, half-sigh. “I’m fine,” he insists, though he can’t tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of him.

Joris just smirks, nudging him with his shoulder. “You know, if you stare any harder, you might just set him on fire.”

Charles finally looks at Joris, who is grinning like he’s thoroughly entertained by this. “I’m not-” he starts, but Joris cuts him off.

“You’re not what? Jealous? Possessive? Both?” Joris teases, but there’s no malice in it.

Charles sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just … he’s always around her.”

“Maybe because she’s your girlfriend and he’s trying to be friendly?” Joris suggests, but Charles shakes his head.

“There’s something about the way he looks at her. It’s not just friendly.”

Joris considers this, then shrugs. “Maybe. But you know, she’s with you. Not him. And she doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual, does she?”

Charles glances back at you, still deep in conversation with Lewis, completely unaware of the turmoil in his mind. “No,” he admits reluctantly. “She doesn’t.”

“Then maybe you’re overthinking it.” Joris claps a hand on his shoulder. “But if it’s bothering you this much, maybe you should talk to her.”

Charles frowns. “And say what? ‘Hey, I think my new teammate is flirting with you, can you please stop talking to him?’ That sounds ridiculous.”

Joris laughs. “It does when you say it like that. Just … I don’t know, make sure she knows how you feel about her. So there’s no room for doubt.”

Charles nods, but his eyes drift back to you. The way Lewis leans in slightly as he talks, the easy smile on his face … it’s driving him crazy. Joris is right — you’re with him, not Lewis, but that doesn’t stop the uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

“Thanks,” he says, though his voice lacks conviction.

“Anytime,” Joris replies, patting his shoulder before walking away, leaving Charles to stew in his thoughts.

He knows he should focus on the race tomorrow, but all he can think about is how Lewis seems to find every excuse to be near you. At first, he thought he was imagining it, reading too much into friendly interactions. But as the days went on, it became harder to ignore. The casual touches, the lingering looks, the way Lewis always seems to find you when Charles isn’t around … it’s all too much.

Charles doesn’t want to be that boyfriend — the one who’s insecure, who reads into things that aren’t there — but every instinct he has is screaming that Lewis is interested in you. And the worst part? You don’t even seem to notice.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your voice. “Charles?”

He blinks, realizing you’re standing in front of him now, a concerned look on your face. Lewis is nowhere to be seen, and Charles feels a small surge of relief at that.

“Yeah?” He replies, trying to shake off the tension.

“You okay?” You ask, tilting your head slightly as you study his face. “You seem … off.”

He forces a smile, but it feels tight. “I’m fine.”

You don’t look convinced. “Are you sure? Because you’ve been acting weird for the past few days.”

He hesitates, wondering how much to tell you. Part of him wants to just brush it off, to avoid any potential conflict, but another part of him — the part that’s been simmering with jealousy and frustration — wants to tell you everything. Maybe Joris is right; maybe it’s better to be honest with you, to clear the air before this eats him alive.

“I’ve just … I’ve noticed how much time you’ve been spending with Lewis,” he says, trying to keep his tone neutral.

You blink, clearly surprised by the direction the conversation has taken. “Lewis? What do you mean?”

Charles rubs a hand over his face, feeling a little foolish now that he’s actually saying it out loud. “It’s just … he’s always around you, and it feels like he’s flirting with you. And I don’t like it.”

Your eyes widen slightly, then you frown. “Lewis isn’t flirting with me. He’s just being friendly.”

“Maybe,” Charles concedes, “but it doesn’t feel that way to me. He’s always touching you, always finding excuses to talk to you …”

You stare at him for a moment, then shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “You’re being ridiculous. Lewis is just … Lewis. He’s like that with everyone.”

Charles feels a flicker of irritation at how easily you dismiss his concerns. “Not like this,” he insists. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. “And how does he look at me?”

“Like he wants something more,” Charles says, the words tumbling out before he can stop them.

There’s a beat of silence, and then you laugh — a short, incredulous sound. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious!” Charles snaps, more frustrated by your reaction than anything else. “I know what I’m seeing, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Your smile fades, replaced by a look of confusion and something else — hurt, maybe? “Charles, I’m with you. I love you. Why would you think for a second that I would be interested in someone else?”

“It’s not that,” he says quickly, regretting his tone. “It’s not about you. It’s about him. I just … I don’t trust his intentions.”

You stare at him, and he can see the gears turning in your mind. “So you’re saying you don’t trust me?”

“No,” he replies, but the word comes out too quickly, too defensive. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

You sigh again, rubbing your temples. “Charles, I don’t know what you want me to say. I can’t control how other people act. And if Lewis really is flirting with me — which I don’t think he is — then he’s wasting his time because I’m with you. You’re the only one I want.”

He wants to believe you, and deep down, he does. But the jealousy is still there, a dark cloud that refuses to dissipate. “I just … I don’t like it,” he repeats, feeling like a broken record.

You step closer to him, reaching out to take his hand. “Then talk to me about it, okay? Don’t keep it bottled up until you’re this upset. We can work through it together.”

Charles squeezes your hand, grateful for the gesture even if the tension hasn’t fully left him. “I will. I promise.”

You smile softly, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Good. Now, can we stop worrying about Lewis and focus on the race tomorrow?”

He nods, but his mind is already racing, thinking about what he can do to make sure Lewis knows you’re off-limits. It’s not enough to just talk to you about it, he needs to take action, to show both you and Lewis that you’re his and his alone.

After the race, he tells himself. After the race, he’ll do something to make it clear to everyone — including Lewis — that you belong to him.

And this time, he won’t hold back.

***

The hotel suite is quiet, save for the soft rustling of the pages as you flip through your book. Charles can hear it from where he stands near the window, staring out into the darkened city. The lights outside blur together, a sea of neon and streetlights that fail to hold his attention. All he can think about is you — lying in bed, lost in whatever story you're reading, completely unaware of the turmoil still swirling in his mind.

He turns away from the window, glancing over at you. The lamp on your nightstand casts a warm glow, illuminating the relaxed curve of your body under the sheets. Your face is serene, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you read, and Charles feels a wave of affection that is quickly followed by a surge of something more primal, something that has been simmering under the surface all day.

He walks over to the dresser, where the hotel has placed a few empty glasses, neat and pristine in a row. He picks one up, the cool glass smooth against his fingertips, and his mind is already racing with thoughts of what he’s about to do. It feels a little crazy, maybe even a little wrong, but the idea has taken root, and he knows he won’t be able to shake it.

You don’t notice when he slips into the bathroom, the door clicking shut softly behind him. The light is harsh, and it jolts him slightly, making him take a deep breath as he stares at himself in the mirror. His reflection looks back at him, eyes dark with the need he’s been trying to suppress all day.

He sets the glass on the counter, steadying himself with another deep breath. His thoughts are consumed by you — by the way you laughed with Lewis, by how oblivious you seemed to the effect it had on him, by how badly he wants to remind you that you’re his.

Slowly, he reaches down, undoing the button on his pants. His hands are shaking slightly as he lowers them, along with his boxers, the cool air of the bathroom hitting his skin. He closes his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath as he wraps his hand around himself.

It doesn’t take much to get him going. He’s been half-hard all day, the tension of jealousy and desire building up inside him. His mind drifts back to the way you looked at him earlier, the concern in your eyes when you asked if he was okay. He thinks about how soft your skin is under his touch, how you feel when he’s inside you, how you moan his name in the dark.

His strokes are slow at first, deliberate, as he imagines you on the bed, waiting for him, completely unaware of what he’s doing. The thought only heightens his arousal, and he bites his lip to stifle a groan as his hand moves faster. He can picture it so clearly — coming back into the room, seeing you lying there, trusting him completely.

The pressure builds quickly, and he has to brace himself against the counter with his free hand, his breathing ragged as he nears the edge. He forces himself to keep quiet, to not alert you to what he’s doing, but it’s difficult when the pleasure is so intense, so all-consuming.

Finally, with a choked gasp, he spills into the glass, his body trembling as he comes down from the high. He stands there for a moment, catching his breath, before he carefully sets the glass down on the counter. The sight of his release, warm and viscous, in the clear glass sends a thrill through him, a reminder of what he’s about to do.

He cleans himself up quickly, adjusting his clothes and wiping the outside of the glass clean. Then, with one last look in the mirror, he picks up the glass and exits the bathroom.

You’re still in bed when he comes back, your book now closed and resting on your chest as you lie with your eyes shut. You look so peaceful, so relaxed, and he feels a rush of tenderness mixed with the lingering heat of his arousal.

He sets the glass on his nightstand, careful not to draw your attention to it. “You still awake?” He asks softly, moving closer to the bed.

“Mm-hmm,” you murmur, not opening your eyes.

He hesitates for a moment, then sits down on the edge of the bed. “You look tired,” he comments, reaching out to gently stroke your arm. “You should get some rest.”

You smile slightly, eyes still closed. “Just winding down. It’s been a long day.”

He nods, even though you can’t see it, his fingers tracing small circles on your skin. “I was thinking …” he starts, his voice low and careful. “Maybe I could give you a massage? Help you relax.”

You hum in response, a pleased sound that makes his heart skip a beat. “That sounds nice,” you reply, shifting slightly under the covers to give him better access to your back.

Perfect, he thinks. His plan is falling into place.

He reaches for the glass on the nightstand, his movements slow and deliberate so as not to alarm you. You’re still lying with your eyes closed, completely unaware of what he’s about to do, and the thought of it sends a fresh wave of excitement through him.

“Just relax,” he whispers, leaning over you as he carefully pulls the sheets down to expose your back. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You nod slightly, your trust in him evident, and it only fuels his determination. He dips his fingers into the glass, coating them in the warm cum before setting it back down. His heart races as he leans over you, his hand hovering above your skin for a moment before he finally makes contact.

The feeling of his release on your skin is electric, sending a jolt of arousal through him. He starts at the base of your spine, his fingers gliding smoothly over your skin, spreading the liquid across your back. You sigh softly, completely unaware of what he’s using, just enjoying the sensation of his touch.

He takes his time, his movements slow and deliberate as he works his way up your back, his fingers kneading the tension out of your muscles. The room is filled with the soft sounds of your breathing, the occasional murmur of contentment escaping your lips, and it drives him wild.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “How does that feel?” He asks, his voice rough with need.

“Good,” you reply, your voice sleepy and content. “Really good.”

He smiles, a mix of pride and possessiveness swelling in his chest. “Good,” he echoes, his hands still moving over your skin, spreading his mark across every inch of you.

His touch becomes firmer, more insistent, as he moves higher up your back. You shiver slightly under his hands, but still, you don’t open your eyes, completely trusting him. It’s intoxicating, the power he feels in this moment, knowing that he’s marking you as his in a way that no one else ever could.

He dips his fingers back into the glass, gathering more of the cum, and starts working on your shoulders. The thought of his release mingling with the natural scent of your skin is almost too much for him to handle, and he has to take a steadying breath to keep from losing control.

You let out a small moan as his fingers dig into a particularly tight spot, and he can’t resist leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your neck. “You’re mine,” he whispers against your skin, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

You don’t respond, and for a moment, he worries that he’s gone too far, that you’ve realized what he’s doing. But then you sigh contentedly, shifting slightly under his hands, and he realizes that you’re still half-asleep, blissfully unaware of what’s really happening.

The realization sends a thrill through him, and he resumes his ministrations with renewed fervor, his hands moving over your skin with purpose. He wants to cover every inch of you, to make sure that there’s no part of you that hasn’t been touched by him, that hasn’t been marked as his.

He’s lost in the sensation, in the feeling of your skin under his hands, in the thought of what he’s doing. The rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, and he knows that he’s never wanted you more than he does right now.

Finally, when he’s satisfied that he’s covered every inch of your back, he pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders. He’s breathing heavily, his heart racing, and it takes a moment for him to gather his thoughts, to come back to reality.

You’re still lying there, your eyes closed, completely unaware of what he’s done. He feels a rush of possessiveness, a fierce need to protect you, to keep you all to himself. He knows that what he’s done is risky, that it could backfire if you ever found out, but in this moment, he doesn’t care.

You’re his, and now there’s no doubt about it.

He leans down to press another kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering on your skin for a moment before he pulls back. “You should get some sleep,” he says softly, his voice low and rough.

You murmur something in response, too tired to form coherent words, and he smiles, pulling the sheets back up over you. He watches as you settle into the pillows, a contented sigh escaping your lips, and he feels a surge of satisfaction.

He moves to the other side of the bed, slipping under the covers beside you. You instinctively curl into his side, your head resting on his chest, and he wraps an arm around you, holding you close. The warmth of your body against his is soothing, grounding him after everything that’s happened tonight.

As you nestle closer, you mumble, “Whatever lotion you used feels amazing.”

He swallows hard, his heart racing all over again, but he manages to keep his voice steady. “I’m glad you liked it,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You sigh contentedly, already drifting off to sleep, completely unaware of the truth. And as Charles holds you in his arms, he can’t help but smile, knowing that tonight, he’s left a mark on you that only the two of you will ever know.

***

The sun has barely begun to rise, casting a soft, golden light over the Monaco skyline as Charles stands in the kitchen of your shared apartment. The place is quiet, the kind of peaceful that only comes in the early hours of the morning. He’s dressed in a simple t-shirt and shorts, barefoot on the cool tile floor as he busies himself with breakfast.

There’s a calmness to this routine, a tranquility that he cherishes. It’s just the two of you here, no prying eyes, no tension — just the comfort of home. But even in this serene setting, a part of him is buzzing with anticipation, a subtle undercurrent of the possessiveness that he’s been feeling more and more of lately.

On the counter, among the fresh fruit and yogurt, sits a small glass, nearly identical to the one he used just a few nights ago. It’s filled with the same substance, warm and opaque, waiting for the moment when he can mix it into something that you’ll consume. The thought of it sends a thrill through him, a reminder of the secret he’s been keeping, the private bond he’s been nurturing in ways only he knows.

He’s almost lost in thought when he hears the soft pad of your footsteps approaching from the hallway. You enter the kitchen, still sleepy-eyed and wrapped in the comfort of an oversized sweatshirt, your hair slightly tousled from sleep. There’s something about seeing you like this, so natural and unguarded, that makes his chest tighten with affection — and with that familiar, possessive need.

“Morning,” you murmur, your voice still soft with sleep as you come up behind him.

He turns to greet you, a smile already playing on his lips. “Morning, mon amour,” he replies, pulling you into his arms. You melt into his embrace, your head resting against his chest, and he holds you there for a moment, savoring the feeling of you in his arms, so close, so his.

You’re warm against him, the scent of your skin mingling with the fresh coffee he’s brewed, and it’s all he can do to keep from letting his hands wander, to keep from pulling you even closer. But he knows he has a plan to stick to, so he leans down to kiss the top of your head instead, a soft, lingering gesture that makes you hum contentedly.

“I was thinking about making smoothies,” he says, his voice casual as he pulls back just enough to look down at you. “You want one?”

You nod, eyes still half-closed as you lean into him, not fully awake yet. “Yeah, that sounds nice,” you murmur, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, fingers idly tracing the fabric of his shirt.

He gives you a reassuring squeeze before gently disentangling himself from you, turning back to the counter. “Sit tight. I’ll have it ready in a few minutes.”

You wander over to the kitchen island, pulling up a stool and resting your head on your folded arms, watching him with sleepy eyes. He glances over his shoulder at you as he starts gathering ingredients — the yogurt, the fresh berries, a banana — carefully setting each one on the counter in front of him.

“You sure you’re awake enough for this?” He teases, his tone light, though his mind is already on the next step, on the glass sitting just within reach.

“Barely,” you admit with a small laugh, your eyes closing as you rest your chin on your arms. “But I’ll manage. I could use something refreshing.”

He grins, a soft chuckle escaping him as he reaches for the blender. “This should do the trick, then.” He starts adding the ingredients, layer by layer, taking his time to make sure everything is just right. The kitchen fills with the sound of fruit hitting the blender, the soft clink of the yogurt spoon against the glass, the low hum of the machine as he blends it all together.

And then, with a practiced ease, he reaches for the glass, the one that holds his release, and adds its contents to the mix. The thick liquid disappears into the smoothie, blending seamlessly with the other ingredients, leaving no trace of what he’s done. It’s the perfect secret, hidden in plain sight, and the knowledge of it sends a shiver of excitement through him.

He caps the blender, turning it on once more to make sure everything is thoroughly mixed, and then pours the smoothie into a tall glass. It’s a vibrant, inviting shade of pink from the berries, the kind of drink that promises sweetness and freshness, and he can’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction as he walks it over to you.

“Here you go,” he says, setting the glass in front of you with a smile.

You sit up, blinking your eyes open as you reach for the glass. “Thank you,” you say, your voice still soft with sleep, but there’s a warmth in your tone that makes his heart swell.

He watches, his breath catching slightly, as you take a sip. Your lips wrap around the straw, and for a moment, he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of you drinking, the subtle curve of your mouth, the way your throat moves as you swallow. It’s such a simple thing, but knowing what’s in that glass, what you’re consuming, makes it feel like so much more.

“Mmm,” you murmur after a moment, pulling back with a pleased smile. “This is really good.”

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice a touch huskier than he intended.

You nod, taking another sip, completely unaware of the deeper meaning behind the drink. “Yeah, really good. You always make the best smoothies.”

His heart swells with pride, even as the possessiveness lingers, wrapping itself around his thoughts like a vice. You’re his, in every way that matters, and this smoothie is just another reminder of that fact — a reminder that only he knows about.

“Glad you like it,” he says, leaning against the counter as he watches you take another drink. “I put a little extra care into this one.”

You laugh softly, setting the glass down as you meet his gaze. “I can tell.”

For a moment, the two of you just look at each other, a quiet connection passing between you that feels almost electric. There’s a warmth in your eyes, a softness that makes him want to reach out and pull you into his arms again, to hold you close and never let go.

But instead, he pushes off the counter, walking back over to where you’re sitting. He places a hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin in a slow, deliberate motion that makes your breath hitch just a little.

“Do you have any plans today?” He asks, his voice low, intimate.

You shake your head, your eyes half-lidded as you look up at him. “No, not really. Just thought I’d relax, maybe read a bit.”

He nods, his hand sliding down your arm to intertwine his fingers with yours. “Good. You deserve to relax.” He lifts your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering against your skin.

You smile, a soft, contented smile that makes his chest tighten with emotion. “What about you?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve got some training later, but nothing too crazy,” he replies, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I was thinking we could spend some time together before that, though. Just the two of us.”

You nod, your smile widening as you squeeze his hand. “I’d like that.”

He feels a warmth spread through him, a deep, satisfying contentment that comes from knowing you’re his, that you’re here with him, that you trust him completely. It’s a feeling he wants to hold onto forever, to keep close to his heart.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling back to look into your eyes. “Finish your smoothie,” he says, his tone gentle but insistent. “I want you to be well-fed before we start our day.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you pick up the glass again. “Okay, okay,” you say, taking another sip. “Bossy.”

He grins, his heart swelling with affection as he watches you drink, knowing that with every sip, you’re taking in a part of him, a part that only he can give you.

And as he watches you move around the apartment, smiling and laughing, completely unaware of the deeper connection you now share, he can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction, a certainty that no one else could ever have what you have with him.

You’re his, in every way that matters. And he’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

***

The late afternoon sun casts a warm, golden light across the Monaco apartment, bathing everything in a soft glow. The air is filled with the distant hum of the city below, but inside, all is calm, quiet — a perfect oasis for the two of you.

Charles moves around the spacious bathroom with purpose, the sound of running water filling the air as he prepares a bath for you. It’s been a long few weeks, with races and travel and the endless demands of his career, but now, finally, there’s a moment to breathe, to relax. And Charles is determined to make sure you do exactly that.

He watches the water fill the tub, swirling with bubbles from the bath salts he added, filling the room with the soothing scent of eucalyptus. But even as he sets the scene for a moment of peace, his mind is elsewhere, focused on the next step of his plan, the one that’s been playing out in quiet, secret moments ever since that night in the hotel.

He glances at the door to the bathroom, half-closed, knowing you’re just in the other room, curled up on the bed with a book, completely unaware of what he’s about to do. His heart beats a little faster at the thought, that same possessive thrill coursing through him, mixing with the tenderness he feels every time he looks at you.

The water’s almost ready now, the tub nearly full, and he knows it’s time. With a practiced ease, he reaches for the waistband of his shorts, slipping them off and setting them aside. He’s already half-hard, the anticipation of what he’s about to do sending a rush of heat through his body.

He moves to the edge of the tub, positioning himself just right, and with a deep breath, he lets his hand drift lower, closing around his length. The sensation is immediate, a familiar pleasure that he’s come to associate with these moments, these secret acts of intimacy that only he knows about.

His thoughts are filled with you, with the image of you sinking into the bath, the water wrapping around your body, warm and soothing. He strokes himself slowly, his eyes fixed on the water, imagining how it will mix with his release, how it will touch every inch of your skin, marking you as his in a way that no one else will ever know.

It doesn’t take long before he’s spilling into the water, his cum clouding the surface, disappearing into the bubbles. The sight of it sends a shiver of satisfaction through him, a sense of completion that’s as much emotional as it is physical.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, to let the last remnants of pleasure fade before he straightens, pulling his shorts back on. The water is ready now, the bath perfect, and he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips as he turns to leave the bathroom, ready to call you in.

“Mon cœur,” he calls softly, stepping out into the bedroom. “Your bath is ready.”

You look up from your book, your eyes lighting up at the sight of him. There’s a softness in your expression, a trust that makes his heart ache with affection, and he crosses the room to you, holding out a hand to help you up.

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Thank you,” you say, your voice warm and full of gratitude as you follow him back into the bathroom. “This is exactly what I needed.”

He leads you to the tub, the water steaming gently, the scent of eucalyptus wrapping around you both. “Just relax,” he murmurs, his hands finding the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head. “Let me take care of you.”

You nod, your eyes closing as he helps you undress, his touch gentle, reverent. There’s something almost ritualistic about the way he moves, his hands sliding over your skin as he removes each piece of clothing, until you’re standing naked before him, your body bathed in the soft light of the setting sun.

He guides you to the edge of the tub, helping you step in, and you sink into the water with a contented sigh, the warmth enveloping you, easing the tension from your muscles. Charles watches you, his gaze fixed on you as you settle back against the tub, your eyes closing in bliss.

“How’s the water?” He asks, his voice low, intimate.

“It’s perfect,” you murmur, your lips curving into a soft smile as you lean your head back. “So warm … feels amazing.”

He smiles, a wave of satisfaction washing over him at your words. “Good,” he says, kneeling beside the tub, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “You deserve to be pampered.”

You open your eyes, looking up at him with a gaze so full of trust, so full of love, that it nearly takes his breath away. “I’m lucky to have you,” you say softly, your hand reaching up to touch his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin in a tender caress.

His heart swells at your words, at the sincerity in your voice. “I’m the lucky one,” he replies, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to memorize the feel of you, the scent of you.

He pulls back slightly, his hand moving to the edge of the tub where a bottle of shampoo waits, carefully placed within reach. “Let me wash your hair,” he offers, his voice gentle, almost a whisper.

You nod, your eyes closing again as you relax back into the water. “That sounds nice,” you say, your voice soft, almost drowsy.

He reaches for the shampoo, pouring some into his palm, the familiar scent filling the air. But as he moves to work it into your hair, he pauses, his eyes flicking to the small cup he’d placed on the floor behind him earlier, hidden just out of sight.

With a quick glance at you to make sure your eyes are still closed, he reaches back, his fingers closing around the cup. He moves carefully, mixing its contents with the shampoo in his hand, watching as the two substances blend together, the color and texture indistinguishable from the original.

His heart beats a little faster as he begins to work the mixture into your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp with a practiced ease. The scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam rising from the water, filling the room with a heady aroma that makes everything feel even more intimate, more connected.

You sigh softly as he works, the tension melting from your body with each gentle stroke of his fingers. “That feels amazing,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions — love, possessiveness, satisfaction. “I’m glad,” he replies, his voice low, soothing. “I want you to feel good, to feel relaxed.”

You hum in response, a sound that’s almost a purr, and he can’t help the way his chest tightens at the sound, at the sight of you so vulnerable, so trusting under his care.

As he continues to wash your hair, his fingers moving through the strands with gentle precision, he feels that same familiar thrill, the knowledge that he’s marking you in a way only he knows about. It’s a secret bond, a connection that runs deeper than words, deeper than anything else.

He finishes rinsing the shampoo from your hair, his hands cradling your head as he pours the water over you, careful to keep it from getting in your eyes. You let out another contented sigh, your body sinking deeper into the water, your skin glowing in the soft light.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your eyes still closed, a smile playing on your lips. “You always take such good care of me.”

His heart skips a beat at your words, a rush of warmth flooding his chest. “I’ll always take care of you,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

You reach up, your hand finding his, your fingers intertwining with his in a gesture that feels as natural as breathing. “I love you,” you whisper, your voice filled with a depth of feeling that takes his breath away.

He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a tender caress. “I love you too,” he replies, his voice steady, but there’s an intensity in his gaze, a fierceness that speaks to the depth of his feelings, to the possessiveness that’s only grown stronger over time.

As you relax back into the water, your eyes drifting closed once more, Charles watches you, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and possessiveness, satisfaction and desire. You’re his, in every way that matters, and with every secret act, every hidden gesture, he’s reminded of that fact.

And as he sits there beside you, his hand still holding yours, he can’t help but feel a sense of completion, a certainty that no matter what happens, you’ll always be his, in ways that no one else could ever understand.

***

The room is quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and the rhythmic hum of the city outside. The moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the bedroom, creating long shadows that stretch across the floor. The air is cool, a gentle breeze slipping through the cracked window, stirring the fabric of the curtains ever so slightly.

Charles lies beside you, his body still as he watches you sleep. The steady rise and fall of your chest, the soft flutter of your eyelashes as you dream, the way your lips part slightly with each breath — it’s all mesmerizing to him, a sight he never tires of. There’s a peace in this moment, in the quiet intimacy of sharing a bed with you, knowing you’re safe, warm, comfortable, that you trust him completely.

But there’s also something else — a restlessness, a need that’s been simmering beneath the surface, growing stronger with each passing day. He’s been patient, careful, methodical in the way he’s been marking you as his, but tonight, that need has reached a peak, a point where he can’t ignore it any longer.

His gaze drifts down to your lips, the soft curve of them, the way they part slightly with each exhale. An idea takes root in his mind, one that’s as thrilling as it is intimate, and before he can talk himself out of it, he’s already moving, slipping out from under the covers with a practiced ease that keeps the bed from shifting too much.

The room is still cool as he stands, his bare feet silent on the hardwood floor as he walks to the foot of the bed. He pauses there for a moment, his heart beating a little faster as he considers what he’s about to do. There’s a thrill in the secrecy of it, in the knowledge that you have no idea what’s coming, that you’re completely at his mercy in this moment.

With a quiet breath, he moves to the other side of the bed, his hands reaching for the waistband of his shorts. He slips them off, the fabric pooling at his feet, leaving him bare in the dim light of the room. His body responds immediately, the anticipation sending a rush of heat through him, his desire hardening almost instantly.

He looks down at you, your face still peaceful, unaware, and he knows he has to be careful, gentle, if this is going to work. He lowers himself onto the bed, positioning himself over you with practiced care, his body hovering just above yours. He leans in close, his breath warm against your skin as he brings himself closer to your lips.

Your eyelashes flutter, a soft murmur escaping your lips as you start to stir, but before you can fully wake, he moves, pressing the tip of his length against your mouth, the contact so light, so delicate, it’s almost like a dream.

Your lips part instinctively, a reflexive action born of years of being together, of knowing each other so intimately. Charles’ breath hitches as he feels the warmth of your mouth, the softness of your lips as they brush against him. He’s careful not to move too quickly, not to startle you awake, but even this small touch sends a shiver of pleasure through him.

“Shh, mon amour,” he whispers, his voice low, soothing. “Just relax. It’s okay.”

You murmur something unintelligible, your head shifting slightly on the pillow, but you don’t wake. Your body is still relaxed, still trusting, and that trust sends a wave of possessive satisfaction through him, a reminder that you’re his in every way that matters.

He presses forward slightly, just enough to let the tip of himself slip between your lips, careful to keep his movements slow, deliberate. He watches your face, the way your brows furrow slightly in your sleep, the way your lips instinctively close around him, the warmth of your mouth enveloping him in a way that makes his breath catch.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just like that.”

He moves carefully, slowly, guiding more of himself into your mouth, each inch sending a thrill of pleasure through him. The sensation is almost too much, the combination of your warmth, your softness, and the knowledge that you have no idea what’s happening, that you’re completely at his mercy in this moment.

But he’s not doing this just for his pleasure. There’s a purpose to this, a plan that’s been forming in his mind ever since he started marking you, ever since he realized how much he needed you to be his in every way. He wants you to associate this with feeling good, to connect the taste of him with pleasure, with satisfaction, even if you don’t fully understand why.

His free hand moves to your thigh, gently caressing the soft skin there, his touch light, reassuring. “You’re doing so well,” he whispers, his voice soothing, even as his heart races with the intensity of the moment.

You stir again, your lips tightening slightly around him as your body responds to his touch. He can feel the tension in your muscles, the way your breathing changes as you start to wake, but he doesn’t stop. He’s careful, precise, his movements designed to keep you on the edge of consciousness, just aware enough to feel the pleasure, but not enough to fully wake.

“Just let go,” he murmurs, his hand trailing up your thigh, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin there. “I’ve got you.”

Your breathing quickens, a soft moan escaping your lips as your body responds to him, even in sleep. He can feel the way your muscles tense, the way your hips shift slightly, as if seeking more contact, more pleasure.

He keeps his movements slow, controlled, his own pleasure building with each careful thrust, each soft sound that escapes your lips. He watches your face, the way your brows furrow, the way your lips part around him, and he knows he’s close, so close to the edge.

But he doesn’t want to finish yet, not until he’s certain you’ve felt it too, that you’ve connected the taste of him with pleasure, with satisfaction. He moves his hand higher, his fingers brushing against the warmth between your legs, finding you already wet, already ready for him.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of affection and possessiveness. “That’s my good girl.”

He strokes you gently, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles, his touch just enough to push you closer to the edge, but not enough to wake you fully. He watches as your breathing quickens, your body responding to his touch, to the combination of sensations he’s giving you.

It doesn’t take long before he feels you start to tense, your muscles tightening, your breathing becoming more erratic. He can see the pleasure building in you, can feel the way your body is reacting, and it’s almost too much for him to handle, the intensity of it sending him right to the brink.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his voice filled with satisfaction as he watches you, as he feels you. “Just let go, mon cœur. I’ve got you.”

And then, with one final thrust, one last stroke, he feels you fall over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your climax. The sight of you, the feel of you, sends him over the edge too, his own release spilling into your mouth, the pleasure almost overwhelming in its intensity.

He stays there for a moment, his breath ragged, his heart racing, as he watches you slowly relax, your body sinking back into the bed, your breathing evening out as you slip back into a deeper sleep. He’s careful as he pulls away, as he adjusts the covers around you, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you’re warm.

He watches you for a moment longer, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and possessiveness, satisfaction and desire. You’re his, in every way that matters, and with every secret act, every hidden gesture, he’s reminded of that fact.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment as he whispers, “Je t’aime,” into the darkness.

And then he slips back under the covers, his body curling around yours as he holds you close, his heart still racing with the intensity of what just happened, of what he’s just done. But there’s no regret, no second thoughts, only a deep, abiding satisfaction, a certainty that you’re his, in every way that matters.

As he drifts off to sleep, his hand resting possessively on your hip, he knows that he’ll continue to mark you, to claim you, in all the ways that matter, in all the ways that only he can. Because you’re his, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you that way, forever.

***

The night air is thick with celebration. Monaco is alive with the sounds of revelry — cheers and laughter drifting up from the streets below. It’s late, but the adrenaline from Charles’ latest victory keeps you both buzzing. You’re in your shared apartment, the lights dimmed low, the atmosphere electric with the thrill of his win. Champagne flutes sit abandoned on the table, half-full and forgotten in the wake of more pressing desires.

Charles can’t take his eyes off you. You’re draped in his suit jacket, the oversized fabric slipping off one shoulder, revealing the curve of your collarbone, the delicate line of your neck. There’s a flush to your cheeks, the result of both the champagne and the heady excitement of the night. You’re beautiful, radiant in the aftermath of his success, and he feels a swell of pride, of possessiveness, as he watches you.

The victory tonight was sweet, but what’s even sweeter is knowing you’re his. Completely his. He’s trained you well — his perfect, responsive lover — and tonight, he’s going to show you just how well that training has paid off.

“You’re happy,” he says, his voice low, tinged with satisfaction as he watches you lean back against the sofa, your eyes bright with joy.

“Of course I am,” you reply, your smile wide, genuine. “I’m so proud of you. You were amazing out there.”

He steps closer, his gaze intense as he takes in the sight of you, his fingers itching to touch, to claim. “I couldn’t have done it without you, you know.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I’m pretty sure your skill had something to do with it.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a whisper as he reaches out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “But I’m serious. You’re my good luck charm.”

You tilt your head, leaning into his touch, your eyes softening as you look up at him. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he replies, his tone firm, leaving no room for doubt.

He moves closer, his body pressing against yours as he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss. It’s slow, deliberate, his mouth moving against yours with practiced ease. He knows exactly how to kiss you, how to make you melt beneath him, and he feels that familiar thrill of satisfaction as you respond, your lips parting to let him in.

But tonight, he’s not just interested in kissing you. Tonight, he has something else in mind, something he’s been working towards for weeks.

He pulls back slightly, his breath warm against your lips as he murmurs, “I have something for you.”

Your brows furrow in curiosity, your lips still tingling from the kiss. “What is it?”

He doesn’t answer, not with words. Instead, he takes your hand, guiding it down between your bodies, letting you feel the hard evidence of his arousal. Your eyes widen slightly, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you realize what he’s implying, what he’s about to do.

“Charles …” your voice trails off, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty coloring your tone.

“Shh, mon amour,” he whispers, his voice soothing as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Trust me.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your head up slightly, positioning you just right. And then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he guides himself to your lips, the tip of his length brushing against your mouth, warm and inviting.

You hesitate for a moment, a flicker of surprise in your eyes, but then your body remembers the way he’s been with you, the way he’s trained you, conditioned you, and that hesitation melts away. You part your lips slightly, allowing him to slip into your mouth, your breath catching as you taste him, as you feel him.

It’s a taste you’re familiar with by now, a taste that’s been ingrained in your subconscious over weeks of careful, methodical training. But this time, it’s different. This time, you’re awake, fully aware, and the intensity of it hits you like a tidal wave.

Your eyes flutter shut, a soft moan escaping your lips as he presses deeper, the familiar warmth and saltiness of him filling your senses. There’s something about it, something intoxicating, and you can’t help but respond, your body instinctively seeking more, craving the pleasure that’s become so closely associated with this taste.

Charles watches you, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and satisfaction as he sees your reaction, sees the way your body tenses, the way your breath quickens. You’re perfect, absolutely perfect, and the knowledge that he’s the one who made you this way, who trained you to respond like this, sends a rush of possessive pride through him.

He moves carefully, his hips shifting slightly, allowing him to press deeper into your mouth, his hand moving to the back of your head, holding you in place. He’s careful not to go too fast, not to overwhelm you, but there’s a thrill in knowing that you’re so close, that he’s about to push you over the edge.

You whimper softly, your lips tightening around him as the pleasure builds, as the taste of him floods your senses. It’s almost too much, the intensity of it, the way your body responds so instinctively, so powerfully to this simple act. You’re teetering on the edge, so close to falling, and you can feel it, the tension building in your core, the overwhelming need for release.

Charles watches you, his own breath ragged as he feels your body’s response, as he sees the way you’re teetering on the brink. “You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, with desire. “My perfect girl.”

And then, with one final thrust, one last push, he feels you fall over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your climax. The taste of him, the feel of him, it’s all too much, and you can’t hold back, can’t stop the wave of pleasure that crashes over you, leaving you gasping, shaking, lost in the sensation.

He holds you there for a moment, letting you ride out the wave, his hand stroking your hair gently, soothingly. He can feel the way your body shudders, the way your breath hitches as you come down from the high, and it fills him with a deep, satisfying sense of accomplishment.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice filled with affection as he gently pulls away, his hand still cradling the back of your head, holding you close. “You did so well.”

You’re still breathing heavily, your body trembling slightly as you look up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and wonder. “Charles … I …”

“Shh,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay. You’re perfect. You’re mine.”

You nod slightly, your breath still shaky, but there’s a look of understanding in your eyes, a recognition of what just happened, of how far you’ve come, of how much you’ve changed. And Charles knows, without a doubt, that you’re his, completely his.

He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as you both settle back onto the sofa, the aftermath of the moment settling over you like a warm, comforting blanket. There’s a sense of peace, of contentment, as you rest your head against his chest, your body still humming with the afterglow of pleasure.

Charles strokes your hair, his fingers gentle as they move through the soft strands, his heart filled with an overwhelming ove for you. He’s proud of you, of how perfect you are, of how well you’ve responded to his training. And as he holds you, he knows that this is just the beginning, that there’s so much more to explore, so much more to experience together.

“You’re mine,” he whispers again, his voice filled with a quiet, possessive satisfaction. “And you always will be.”

You don’t respond, not with words, but the way you snuggle closer to him, the way your body relaxes in his arms, says it all. You’re his, in every way that matters, and there’s no place you’d rather be.