#here and there when our shifts briefly cross over

[swan-orpheus]

What I said about The Incident or the Conversation: I'm fine. It's nothing.

Me days later listening to the same song on repeat:

[muniimyg]

♡ 01: maybe it's all in my head

series m.list // taglist

note: hihiii ,, this jk has been rotting my mind for a while now ... time to ruin urs !!! enj the tension ,, (i miss being toxic) lmk what u guys think of their dynamic tho <3 excited to share their little story with u ,, mwaaaa

warnings: oc and jk are mean in this fic !!! pls don't comment being whiney abt it :') !!! oc overhears jk fucking someone ,, jealousy ,, banter

//

“oh. it’s you.”

leaning against the doorframe, jungkook looks at you half disgusted and half disappointed. his arms are crossed with one eyebrow lifted. he blocks your entrance.

“now, now,” you reach over and ruffle his hair. he shifts, dodging your touch. “don’t be so excited. i know your boring life just waits for my presence—oh. i get it. were you expecting someone? usually you’re thrilled to see me.”

jungkook’s expression doesn’t shift, though there’s a faint glint in his eyes. 

“thrilled is reaching, don’t you think?”

“is it?”

“yeah.”

you roll your eyes, brushing past him with a teasing smile. 

“right, so… which are you today? mr. save the dolphins or professor chem?”

jungkook scoffs at you.

“at least my marine conservation interest and organic chem major help the world. what’s your major again? yap-conomics or bitch-ology?”

“help the world?” you almost burst into laughter. “god, you are such a nerd.”

“nerd? i don’t know about you, but some of us care about—”

“yeah, yeah,” you wave him off. “are you waiting for a nobel peace prize or something? holy shit, jungkook. learn to relax a little. you’re so serious. it’s cute, really… but only when you aren’t so anal about it.”

cute?

jungkook feels his chest tighten.

before he can make a comeback, taehyung calls you to the living room.

“___? is that you? stop trying to edge jungkook! get in here! i need your data for our paper!” 

you stick your tongue out at jungkook before turning away and rushing to the living room. your lips curl into a smug grin as you saunter off, leaving jungkook muttering something under his breath. you catch him rolling his eyes just before you disappear around the corner, a small flicker of triumph igniting in your chest.

the living room is warm, filled with the faint hum of taehyung’s lo-fi playlist and the smell of old books—his aesthetic, no doubt. taehyung is sprawled on the couch, laptop open, an arm draped lazily over the cushions. his wide grin grows wider when he sees you. 

“i’m here!”

“finally! come on, genius. enlighten me,” he says, patting the seat next to him.

you plop down beside him, legs folded under you, your laptop balanced precariously on your knees. “genius? are you sucking up to me because you didn’t do your part of the project yet?”

“yup,” he says, shrugging, his head tilted lazily to the side. “if you don’t send me that data tonight, though, i might call you something less flattering.”

you laugh, the sound soft and light, and lean into the cushions, already pulling up the necessary files. 

“your boyfriend’s in a mood.”

“he always is when you’re around,” taehyung teases. “he only answered the door cos he thought it was his student. your face must’ve pissed him off.”

chuckling at his response, you ask another question. 

“where are the guys?”

“they’ll be home soon,” taehyung answers. “said they wanna eat out tonight after jungkook’s tutoring session. you coming with?”

“sure,” you agree. 

then, the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, bouncing ideas back and forth while taehyung clicks through your notes, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic remark or two that makes you nudge him with your elbow.

a few minutes later, you hear an unfamiliar laugh and footsteps approaching.

jungkook strides in, casual and confident as always, but this time a girl is trailing after him. 

she’s pretty. 

the two exchange a few murmured words before jungkook’s eyes flicker briefly in your direction. he raises a hand in a lazy acknowledgment, the girl following suit, and say hi. taehyung nods at them and then they’re gone—slipping upstairs in the blink of an eye. 

the sound of his bedroom door clicking shut echoes faintly.

and then, it rings in your ear. 

you blink, your fingers frozen mid-typing on the keyboard. something gnaws at your chest, sharp and unfamiliar, leaving a bitter taste at the back of your throat. taehyung, oblivious, scrolls through your notes, muttering about formatting errors.

but you… you’re somewhere else entirely. 

what was that?

no name?

no introduction?

did she think you were taehyung's girlfriend or something? that jungkook was all for her?

oh god.

there's a weird twist in your stomach. it feels like a prickle of irritation spreading across your skin like an itch you can’t scratch… you shake your head, trying to brush it off, but the image of jungkook—smirking as usual, leaning casually against the banister, that girl so effortlessly fitting into the space beside him—lingers, stubborn and unshakable…

what the fuck.

it’s not like you and jungkook are close. 

you’re frenemies, at best. 

unsure of when it started exactly—but it’s been happening long enough for it to be routine and well-known in the friendgroup. you two are the kind of people who throw jabs at each other during game nights and compete to see who can make the snarkiest comment without crossing the line. you’re always caught in this stupid cycle of one-upping each other, all for the entertainment of the group. sometimes, more for yourself. life gets boring pretty quickly, and jungkook is your fastest source of entertainment. 

yet, why does it feel like you’ve just lost some unspoken game?

your chest tightens, and you lower your gaze to your laptop, fingers hovering over the keys. you bite the inside of your cheek, a nervous habit you’ve never been able to kick… this icky feeling begins to take over and your mind races with reasons as to why.

maybe it’s because jungkook’s always been so good at getting under your skin. 

maybe it’s because, for all his teasing and relentless bickering, there’s this… comfort in knowing that he’s always there, right across the table, firing back at you like he knows exactly how to push your buttons.

and maybe that’s the problem.

because now, with someone else upstairs, laughing at something he probably said, you’re starting to realize that you might actually care more than you thought.

maybe you care because you’re not the one in his room he’s trying to make laugh.

after a few hours pass, everyone’s stomach beings to grumble. 

for the past 20 minutes, the guys have been begging you to go up and call jungkook down. he hasn’t been answering their texts and all argue that if they go up and knock; he’ll just ignore them. 

… but if you do it…

he’ll answer.

even if it’s just to insult you. 

you glance up at the clock, already mentally calculating the time. you're not really in the mood for another round of back-and-forth with him, but you know they'll just keep pushing you.

"please, please, please, ___!” taehyung cries, pouting. “i really need pad thai. like… so bad. like, i might die. please go get jungkook.”

you hesitate, your eyes flicking to the stairs. 

jungkook hasn’t come out at all. you don’t want to disturb anything and he’s a total grumpy-head when his study time is disrupted… what more if it’s a tutoring lesson? the last time you went up there, it ended with you calling him a dumbass and him tossing a pillow at you.

“i think you guys can go get him this time," you say, turning your attention back to your phone, pretending to scroll through a message.

"oh come on," jimin presses. "you know, at the end of the day… he only really listens to you." his voice drips with exaggeration, but it only makes you roll your eyes.

"yeah, that’s true…" hobi adds with a playful smirk, leaning back into the couch. "you’re like his… little bitch or something."

you shoot them both a look. “you think i’m his bitch?"

“either that or he’s your little bitch.”

you scoff at him. “please do not disgrace bitches by associating them with him.”

“fine, fine,” jin says with a dramatic sigh, raising his hands in mock surrender. “we won’t force you to go up… we’ll bribe you!”

your interest piques as you glance up at him, eyebrow raised. 

“bribe me? how much cash do you have today?”

yoongi and nam joon share a look. then, nam joon leans forward, his eyes twinkling mischievously. 

“milk tea," he offers, his voice low and enticing, like he knows exactly what will catch your attention. "… any boba store you want. any time… for a week, ___.”

you try to fight the grin that starts tugging at your lips. 

fuck it. 

you nod begrudgingly, slipping your phone into your pocket. 

“deal.”

taehyung bursts out laughing. “deal."

with a resigned sigh, you head for the stairs. 

as you climb up, you prepare yourself. 

you prepare yourself for his death glare and the innocent girl in the background. you prepare yourself for his snarky comments and his sweet tone of voice the minute he turns around to talk to her. you prepare yourself to feel sick to your stomach again. 

as you stand in front of his bedroom door and raise your fist to knock—you hear it. 

rather, you hear them. 

the unmistakable sound of his voice, muffled but clear enough that you can make out the low hum of his tone, followed by a girl’s laugh—a breathy, high-pitched laugh that makes your stomach twist.

you freeze, standing in the doorway, caught between disbelief and something you can’t quite name. your heartbeat picks up in your chest, your body tensing as the reality of the situation settles over you.

you’re not sure what exactly it is—maybe it’s the fact that it’s so casual, or maybe it’s the way the sound of it makes you feel like you’re intruding—but you feel a sudden flush creep up your neck and cheeks.

“oh my god, o-oh my g-god! t-that’s it, jungkook! oh god, baby… f-fuck!”

“fuck—you close, baby?”

“so close, baby. so fucking close. g-god, yes, yes, yes! nghh—fuck! so big, jungkook. oh my god, oh my god! fuck me, fuck me… j-just like that, baby. yes, y-yes–o-oh! mhmmmphhh—”

"shit, shit, shit..."

"fuck me harder, jungkook. please! o-oh? oh! oh my god! yes... yes! thank you, baby. thank you, thank you! ahhh... oh my god..."

you swallow, stepping back, retreating to the stairs. 

the guilt of overhearing makes your pulse race in an odd way, like you’ve been caught in something you weren’t supposed to see.

at the bottom of the stairs, you pause, your hand on the banister, unsure whether you should stay or go. 

you quickly decide. 

you’re already feeling the sting of something sharp and unfamiliar in your chest.

“guys,” you say quickly, trying to keep your tone light, but there’s an edge to it you can’t mask. "y-you know what? i think i’ll just head home. i’ve got a ton of work to do.”

they look at you, confused. taehyung blinks a couple of times, jimin frowning. 

“but we—"

"y-yeah,” you breathe. “i… i know. i just… it’s all good. you guys can go ahead without me,” you add, forcing a smile.

“slow down, ___. what—”

“i feel sick,” you confess. “okay? i feel sick.”

“okay… can one of us drive you home or something—”

“no. i’m good. thank you, though… i.. i gotta go.”

they all frown, their confusion morphing into concern, but you’ve already grabbed your things and hurried out the door before they can protest.

the cold night air feels like a slap to your face as you walk away, but it doesn’t quite shake the unsettled feeling in your stomach. 

you can’t stop thinking about it. 

about how you feel.

about what you heard.

about how much you fucking hate jeon jungkook.

it’s almost 10PM by the time you finish showering. your hair is still damp, hanging loosely around your shoulders as you brush it out in front of the mirror. the soft swish of the brush is the only sound in the room, your thoughts still lingering on what happened earlier. the image of Jungkook with that girl, the sound of their voices together, keeps replaying in your mind, and it won’t leave.

you shut your eyes and try to forget. 

taking a breath in—your moment is interrupted by a knock on your door. 

you frown, glancing at the clock before moving to the door, towel still hanging from your shoulders. it’s late, and you weren’t expecting anyone. 

heading towards the door, you wonder who it is.

then, when you open the door, you freeze.

there, standing in the hallway with a takeout bag in hand, is jungkook. his face is unreadable, but his eyes—those eyes—seem to be searching yours for something. you can’t quite figure out what.

you blink, caught off guard by the unexpected visit, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

“uh…” jungkook clears his throat, breaking the silence, his voice lower than usual. “the guys think i did something to piss you off… so i’m supposed to say sorry for… whatever i did.”

“you didn’t do anything,” you lie. “goodnight.”

just as you’re about to shut the door, he takes a step forward. 

“___,” he says, tone flat and annoyed. “don’t be a bitch. just tell me what i did so i can apologize, go home and tell them what i did wrong, and we can act like nothing happened—”

“okay,” you shrug. “you wore an ugly shirt today. there. say sorry.”

jungkook winces at you. 

“seriously?”

you shrug again. 

“what do you want, jungkook? i have nothing to say to you—”

“i don’t fucking understand where all this attitude is coming from. i didn’t do shit to you today. you know i didn’t… so, can you please use your tiny brain to make something up? something more convincing than hating my fucking shirt.” 

you nod, pretending to care. then, just as you reach for the door to shut it again; jungkook swiftly moves past you. he lets himself in. 

“they’re worried you didn’t eat,” he states. “did you eat?”

you groan at him. “why the fuck do you care?”

“i don’t.”

but his actions say otherwise. 

jungkook then takes off his shoes and heads to your coffee table. he sits himself on the floor and begins to unpack the food. silently, you watch as he does so and can’t help but feel like throwing up. 

“eat,” he commands. 

you glare at him. 

“get out.”

jungkook leans back against your couch. “eat, tell me what i did wrong, then i’ll leave.”

“leave first.”

“eat first.”

“get out.”

“holy shit,” jungkook scoffs. “are you even capable of forming a complex sentence, or is that too much for you? ___, this is called a conversation. you’re supposed to—"

“get out.”

jungkook sighs heavily. 

a silence falls upon you two. 

jungkook has had difficult days with you before.

this is nothing new… but for some reason, right now feels harder than the other days. partly because most days he knows when he’s being an asshole—but today? he has no clue. 

he’s in the dark. 

jungkook clears his throat. 

“i didn’t yell at you today,” he starts. “i didn’t call you names. you called me a nerd but that was it… your face ruined my day but i guess it made the others pretty happy since they were so pissed at me for being the reason why you left… so, hey… how about this? you tell me what i did wrong for the guys. not for me.”

you raise an eyebrow at him. 

his eyes plead. 

then, a moment passes. 

instead of answering him, you pick up your feet and sit on the floor beside him. you look at the door and take the utensils from the bag. poking at the food, you contemplate on telling him what’s going on in your head. 

just as you’re about to eat a spoonful of the food, you suddeny feel jungkook close to you. without saying a word, his fingers brush lightly against your cheek, making you hold your breath. his hand moves to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear, carefully pushing it out of the way so it doesn’t fall into your food. 

the gesture is so unexpectedly gentle that it catches you off guard, and for a second, you’re just left there, staring at him.

he looks at you sincerely. in his eyes, you can see his defeat. 

you don’t know if it was the gesture or the look in his eyes—but your words slip out of your mouth faster than you can think to stop it. 

“she was too loud.”

he tilts his head at you. 

“oh,” jungkook connects. his expression stiffens for a split second, then he schools it back into calm. “overheard, did you?” he asks, leaning in slightly, voice a low murmur. 

“oh, i definitely heard,” you reply, folding her arms, feigning thoughtfulness. “don’t act so cocky… she sounded like she was faking it.”

he stares, jaw flexing, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something challenging in his eyes. 

“that’s cute coming from someone who couldn’t even stay for dinner.”

suddenly that pang of jealousy again hits again. 

you know you should just brush it off… keep your cool and act nonchalant about it—but something about jungkook just makes you feel so off balance. 

“maybe i had better things to do,” you retort. 

“like what?” 

you shrug. 

“like leave.”

“you should’ve knocked,” jungkook smirks. “i would’ve opened the door. we don’t mind an audience usually.” 

there it is again. 

the sick, sinking, icky feeling. 

“you two fuck often?”

jungkook looks away, taking a moment to think. 

“yeah,” he admits. “what? surprised nerds get laid?”

you stay quiet. 

“i mean.. it’s not really any of your business…" he mutters, though there’s a tension in his voice that doesn’t match his casual shrug. you can tell he's trying to brush it off, but the way his jaw tightens betrays him.

you feel your stomach tighten, the words you threw out lingering in the air between you, each one heavier than the last. you weren’t expecting him to react like this—maybe a joke or a deflecting comment—but not this… 

tension.

"right," you reply, your tone softer than you intended. you glance down at your food, suddenly losing your appetite. the casual air you were hoping for is long gone, replaced by an uncomfortable silence that neither of you seems willing to break.

jungkook shifts uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck before clearing his throat. 

"look, it’s not like that," he adds quickly, but the words sound almost too defensive. "she’s just... i don’t know. it’s nothing serious."

you don’t respond immediately, still caught up in the strange mix of feelings his words stir in you. the way he said it—like it was nothing serious—feels too much like an attempt to distance himself from whatever was going on.

you’re not sure what you wanted from this conversation, but now all you feel is a growing knot in your chest.

"yeah," you mutter, trying to sound indifferent, but the weight of his words hangs in the air, making your throat feel tight. "whatever you say—”

“why do you care anyway?” jungkook’s voice is sharp now, a slight edge creeping into his tone as he looks at you, his expression shifting from defensive to something you can’t quite place.

you’re caught off guard by the question. 

you weren’t prepared for that, weren’t prepared for the way it makes your chest tighten. why do you care? it’s not like you have any right to, right?

you open your mouth, but the words don’t come out. Instead, you just shrug, trying to play it cool, but you can feel your pulse quicken. 

"i don’t. i just—"

"you just what?" he interrupts, his brow furrowing, as though he’s not buying the act. "you’ve never cared before. why start now?"

you clench your fists at your sides, feeling the sting of his words more than you want to admit. There’s a part of you that wants to tell him—tell him how seeing him with her, hearing them laugh together, makes something ugly twist in your stomach. 

but you can’t.

"i don’t know," you finally mutter, your voice quieter than before. “it's weird. like, of course i knew you weren't a virgin but... are you actually that good? then again… doesn’t take much to fake sounds like her.”

jungkook’s eyes flicker to yours, something unreadable passing through them before he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. then, he smirks. 

it’s more calculated, though… like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

"curious?"

"disgusted, actually."

a beat.

"what, you wanted it to be you?" he asks, his voice smooth, a challenge in his tone.

you almost choke on your breath, but you recover quickly. "me? sleeping with you? please."

he lets out a low laugh, but it’s not playful this time. 

it’s more mocking. 

“yeah, i mean, i don’t even want you that bad…" he takes a slow look at you, like he's mentally assessing you, deciding if you’re worth his time. "not even close."

the words sting more than they should, but you keep your composure. 

you try to look unbothered, but his next words twist the knife a little deeper.

“fuck you.”

"you wish i’d fuck you," he remarks, almost casually, like it's no big deal. "would make things easier, huh?"

your chest tightens, and something about the way he says it makes your blood run cold. It’s not just teasing anymore—it’s a jab.

but you refuse to let him see how much it affects you.

"i’m not interested in you," you shoot back, your voice betraying none of the discomfort you’re feeling. 

he leans in a little, eyes never leaving yours. 

"really?" 

“really.”

his smirk widens, and you can feel the tension crackling in the air. 

“guess what? i think you care more than you're letting on. you act like you don’t give a shit, but it’s so obvious you’re just pissed it’s not you in my bed."

you bite your lip, trying to keep your voice steady, but something betrays you in the way your heart races. 

"i’m not pissed," you mutter, the words coming out too quickly, like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him. "why would i be?"

jungkook watches you for a moment, taking in every little reaction. 

"i don’t know, ___," he says, his tone low and teasing, like he’s enjoying every second of this. "but it’s cute. you’re all flushed, trying to act like you don’t care, but i can see right through you."

you grit your teeth, wanting to snap back, but instead, you just look away. 

"shut up," you mutter, frustrated with yourself more than anything. "you’re such an asshole sometimes, you know?"

he laughs again, but this time there’s something darker in it, almost like he's reveling in your frustration. 

“i don’t think you’re as immune to me as you pretend to be," he says. "but hey, don’t stress about it, baby. i’m not that interested either. i mean, what’s the fun in fucking you? it’d be harder getting rid of you than getting in your pants.”

you feel the sting of his words hit harder than they should.

“are you done?” you mutter, forcing a nonchalant tone. "and don't call me baby. you called her baby. i don't want to be associated—"

"you think you'd fold as fast as she did?"

jungkook’s eyes flicker with something that could almost be amusement—or maybe something else. he clears his throat.

“shit, ___. i’m sorry—”

“yeah?” 

you don't know why, but something inside you snaps. 

you shift your body close to him. so close that you glance at his lips, then back up to his eyes, as if you’re weighing something—daring him to make a move.

jungkook’s body tenses, his breath shallow, like he's ready to close the distance… to make some sort of move. his lips part slightly as if he's about to speak, but before he can, you push him away. 

now, he’s tongue tied.

“shit, jungkook... i'm sorry," you mock him. "but you're wrong... this is fun."

[rafecameronssl4t]

What's ours || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: canon fic based off this scene in s4 ep6!!!!

Warnings: angst!!!

Word count: 2, 458

A/n: HAD to write abt this scene

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

"Rafey?" your voice rings out as you step out of the shared bedroom, the soft sound of your bare feet padding against the wooden floor. "'M out here on the porch," his voice calls back, low and calm, carrying just a hint of warmth. A smile spreads across your lips as you pick up your pace, excitement bubbling in your chest. Sliding the glass door, you step onto the porch, the late afternoon sunlight casting a golden glow across everything it touches.

There he is, lounging casually on the couch, his polo clinging to his broad shoulders and biceps in a way that makes your stomach flutter. "Hey, baby," Rafe greets, his smile wide and genuine, the kind that always has a way of making you feel like the most important person in the room. "Hey," you murmur, your eyes locking with his. You pause for a moment, giving him the chance to drink in the sight of you.

With a playful glint in your eye, you do a small twirl, letting the flow of your new dress spin out around you, the fabric catching the evening light. You watch Rafe’s reaction carefully, feeling a thrill at how his gaze moves down your figure. "What do you think?" You ask, the words soft but full of a quiet confidence. "It looks good," Rafe says after a beat, his eyes lingering on you for a fraction longer than you expect.

There’s a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his lips, and when he leans back against the cushions of the couch, his eyes never leave you. "You look good," he adds, his voice deeper now, like the words are heavy with more than just praise. You beam at his words, crossing the porch to close the distance between you. "Where you going lookin’ all pretty?" he teases, spreading his legs slightly as he pats his thighs, his grin turning sly.

The gesture is an open invitation, and you happily accept, settling onto his lap. Your arm slides naturally around his shoulders, and his hands find their place on your knee, the warmth of his touch grounding you. "Just shopping with the girls," you explain, playing with the collar of his shirt absentmindedly. "There's this new boutique that just opened up—" You’re cut off by the sound of the front door creaking open and a hesitant voice calling out, "Hello?"

Your brows furrow as you glance at Rafe. "Were you expecting someone?" you ask, your voice laced with curiosity. Rafe exhales a sharp breath, "Yeah," he admits nonchalantly. "Sarah." Your surprise is instant, and your voice reflects it. "Sarah? She agreed to meet up with you?" He chuckles, the sound warm and a little cynical. "Yeah, well… desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess." Before you can process his words, Sarah’s footsteps sound on the porch, slow but deliberate.

Your eyes shift to the doorway, and soon enough, her figure appears. She glances at you briefly as you move to sit beside Rafe, her gaze cool but not unfriendly, before turning her attention to Rafe. "Hey," he greets her with exaggerated enthusiasm, clapping his hands together with theatrical flair. "Thanks for showing up. Good work." Sarah doesn’t miss a beat, rolling her eyes as if she’s heard this act too many times. "Please, stop," she says flatly.

Rafe grins even wider, running a hand through his buzzed hair, clearly enjoying the reaction. You shift slightly, about to stand to give them space, but Rafe’s hand tightens gently on your waist, silently urging you to stay. "I don’t want to argue, Rafe," Sarah sighs, crossing her arms as she looks at him. Her tone is exasperated, but there’s something softer beneath it. "We already have enough people against us."

An awkward silence settles over the porch, the only sound being the occasional chirping of birds in the trees. The air grows heavy with the weight of unspoken things, a tension that seems to hum between them. You clear your throat, trying to ease the tension. "Can I get you something to drink? Iced tea, maybe?" you offer, your voice polite, even as your eyes flicker between Sarah and Rafe, sensing the undercurrent of frustration.

Sarah’s eyes meet yours, her gaze flicking over the space with an almost detached interest before she shakes her head. "No, thanks. I don’t plan on staying long." You nod, the smile on your lips soft but understanding. There’s something about the way she holds herself—tired, wary—that makes you feel a strange sense of empathy. It’s clear she’s not here for pleasantries.

"Kiara mentioned…" Sarah starts, her voice uncertain as she scans the porch, her eyes flitting from the furniture to the surroundings, clearly uncomfortable. "That you might be able to help." She directs the latter half of her sentence at Rafe, her gaze lingering on him, but there’s a hesitation in her tone, a quiet pleading buried beneath the words. Rafe pulls at the sleeve of his polo, his fingers tugging at the fabric.

He doesn’t look up immediately but instead turns his attention to the ground in front of him, gathering his thoughts. "Uh, no. No, not with the land stuff. You guys are on your own with that," he responds firmly, his gaze briefly flicking up to meet Sarah's. There's an almost apologetic edge to his words, but it's clear that he's drawing a hard line in the sand. Sarah’s expression falls, disappointment flashing across her face, her shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of unspoken words is pulling her down.

"Right," she mutters softly, the edge of frustration in her voice barely concealed. She pauses, taking a breath before looking back at Rafe. "Sorry," Rafe adds, his voice quieter, almost regretful, but the frustration is still evident. "But…" He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the papers scattered across the table before him, the flicker of something heavier passing through his eyes.

"But there's… there's something else I wanted to talk to you about," he says, his tone shifting. It’s not just business now—there’s a vulnerability that creeps in, something raw beneath the surface. You watch him, your eyes tracing the subtle movements of his hand as he runs his fingers across his lips, trying to gather the right words. You stay silent, your own gaze fixed on his profile, your heart picking up pace as you sense the shift in the air.

This is no longer just a casual conversation—it feels more like a breaking point, something much deeper. "So when…" Rafe starts, his voice faltering slightly, the words coming out with an almost painful deliberation. He takes a moment, his eyes lingering on the papers again, then he looks down at your left hand resting on his shoulder, his gaze momentarily softening when it lands on the ring you wear—the one his mother gave him.

"Dad died," he finally says, the words coming out like a slow exhale, as if speaking them is harder than he’d like to admit. You feel the change in his tone immediately, the sadness in his voice gripping you, and you instinctively start rubbing gentle circles on his shoulder with your thumb, your mind connecting the dots, knowing how touchy the subject of Ward’s death always is for Rafe.

"...the first time," Rafe adds, his voice quiet, as though even acknowledging that death was not the final one is too painful to process fully. "um, he said I got a quarter of what he had," Rafe continues, his voice distant now, lost in the past as he leans forward, flicking through the papers with a focus that feels almost obsessive. "Yeah, he said I got a quarter too," Sarah chimes in, nodding slowly.

There’s something tired in her voice, a recognition of the weight of their father’s legacy that neither of them ever truly asked for. "But you didn’t get it, did you?" Rafe’s words are sharp, his gaze intense as it locks onto Sarah. There’s a challenge in his eyes, a quiet demand for the truth. Sarah hesitates for a moment, the silence stretching longer than it should. You can see her thinking, weighing her words carefully before answering.

"No," Sarah says finally, her voice quiet but firm. "Yeah, well, good luck trying to get that from Rose's greedy paws," Rafe scoffs, the bitterness dripping from his words. "She's got that money locked down tight." Sarah’s brows knit together, "well, I keep trying to call," she retorts, her tone sharp. "She won’t even let me talk to Wheezie." She crosses her arms, her gaze flickering away as if saying it out loud makes the situation even more real.

Rafe leans forward, his elbows digging into his knees as his expression hardens. "Yes, yes, that’s what I’m saying," he says, his voice rising slightly. He locks eyes with Sarah, a fiery determination in his blue gaze. "We’re a family, and I’m not—" He cuts himself off, inhaling deeply as he shakes his head. "I’m not even allowed to talk to my own sister? That’s not fair, Sarah. You know that."

Sarah’s jaw tightens, and she slowly nods, her lips pressed together as she looks down. "And then Rose," Rafe continues, his arm gesturing wide as his frustration boils over. "She just gets to keep all that gold for herself? What gives her the right? That’s not what Dad intended." His fist slams into the wooden coffee table with a resounding thud, causing Sarah to flinch in her seat. The tension spikes in the air, and you instinctively place your hand on his shoulder, your touch firm yet gentle, hoping to ground him.

"That’s not what Dad wanted," Rafe repeats, his voice cracking slightly as he pounds the table again. Sarah visibly recoils this time, her discomfort palpable. "And it pisses me off!" Rafe’s voice rises, his anger spilling out unchecked. But before his hand can connect with the table a third time, you reach forward and grab it, your fingers curling around his. "Rafe," you say softly, your voice calm but firm. His eyes dart to you, and for a moment, the fire in them dims.

He exhales sharply, leaning back slightly as he glances at Sarah, who keeps her gaze down, avoiding his. "That’s our money, okay?" Rafe insists, his tone quieter but still edged with frustration. Sarah lets out a shaky exhale, her hands fidgeting in her lap as Rafe sighs heavily, running a hand over his buzzed hair. The silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable, until you place your palm on Rafe’s thigh, your thumb brushing soothingly against the fabric of his shorts.

He glances at you, and you offer him a small, reassuring smile. He manages a faint one in return before looking back at Sarah. "I don’t know about you, but I really—I need that money," Rafe admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability. Sarah’s gaze snaps to him, her expression hardening. "And what about the gold cross you stole?" she counters, her tone sharp and accusatory.

"It was gold-plated," Rafe shoots back with a shrug, rubbing his eyes as if the conversation is draining him. "It was a good score. It’s not endless. It’s not like the Merchant gold, so..." His voice trails off, exhaustion creeping in. "I’m so sorry to hear that," Sarah says, her words laced with sarcasm. Rafe exhales through his nose, standing abruptly, "I don't know. I was just thinking, um." Both you and Sarah track his movements as he walks to the porch railing, gripping it tightly before turning to face her.

"You know, you and me," he starts, gesturing between them, "we try to get Wheezie back." Sarah’s eyes narrow in disbelief. "How?" she asks, her voice flat, as if she’s waiting for him to say something ridiculous. "I don’t know, but..." Rafe admits, pacing back to the table. He moves the glass in front of him before perching on the edge, leaning closer to Sarah. His proximity makes her shift uncomfortably, but she doesn’t move away.

"And then we try to get the money back," Rafe continues, his voice steady and resolute. You can see the determination etched into his features, the way his jaw sets and his eyes gleam with a fervour you know all too well. He pauses, his gaze fixed on Sarah. "Which is why we need to work together," he says, his tone almost pleading now. "Just like Dad taught us. We align our interests." Sarah’s lips press into a thin line, her eyes fixed on the table as Rafe quietly watches.

"I just thought, you and me," Rafe begins again, his voice softer. "We can get back what’s ours." There’s a beat of silence, the weight of his words hanging between them. Sarah bites her lip, her gaze darting to Rafe, then away again. "Look, I’m trying here—" Rafe says, but Sarah cuts him off, rising to her feet abruptly. "No," she says firmly, shaking her head. "I’m sorry."

She turns and strides off the deck, the sound of the front door slamming shut echoing behind her. You stand, moving to where Rafe is still perched on the table, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. Your hands find his shoulders, squeezing gently as he lets out a frustrated groan. "Can’t she see that I’m trying?" he mutters, his voice laced with annoyance. "Like seriously—" "Shh," you murmur, your thumbs massaging the tense muscles in his shoulders.

"I know, baby. I know you’re trying." You move to stand in front of him, slotting yourself between his legs as he rests his forehead against your stomach. Your manicured fingers run through his buzzed hair, the rhythmic motion calming him as he exhales deeply. "When will she realise that we’re on her side here?" he whispers, his voice tinged with despair.

"You just have to give her time," you reply softly, your fingers stilling for a moment. "She wants to trust you, but she can’t just yet, Rafe." He tilts his head to look up at you, his blue eyes glassy. "I’ve already lost Dad," he says quietly, his voice cracking. "I don’t want to lose her—I don’t want our family to fall apart." Your heart clenches at the raw vulnerability in his tone. You cradle his face gently, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as you hold his gaze.

"Listen to me, Rafe," you say, your voice steady and full of conviction. "You won’t lose Sarah, and your family won’t fall apart." His lips press into a thin line, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. "How can you be so sure?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just know," you reply softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "Because I believe in you."

[distantdarlings]

HAVE ME // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* When you are paired with Cormac McClaggen for a mid-semester project, he takes it as an opportunity to shoot his shot. However, despite your numerous rejections, he doesn't seem to want to let up. That is until Theo gets involved.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT, depictions of violence (a small fight, specifically), blood described very briefly, Cormac is hitting on reader and won't leave them alone, language, oral sex (perf. on reader), kissing, dom!Theo, fem reader, not proof-read

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Hotel - Montell Fish

---

The chatter around the classroom slowly dwindled as Professor Snape silently slipped through the door of his office. Everyone was waiting patiently for the results of his decision from yesterday. He mentioned that the mid-semester project would be partnered rather than solo. To you, that was bad news, but to others in the class, it was good. You worked best when you didn’t have to sort out the ideas getting bounced around aloud. But if you had to work with a partner, please let it be someone halfway decent.

“So,” Snape starts, “I have here the list of partners for the mid-semester project. As a reminder, you will be handling very toxic materials, so for the sake of all of our time, be careful with them.” His expression hinted at boredom, despite the unfortunate things he was referencing. Last year, someone nearly lost a hand with this project, and—to be quite honest—that was one of the reasons you were so excited about it. You liked the challenge and, even better, overcoming it. But you couldn’t do that with a shitty partner. Your fingers crossed beneath your open notebook.

“Malfoy with Weasley, Berkshire with Granger,” he began listing the names. Your hips shifted uncomfortably. He was pairing everyone with the opposite house. Surely he’d grant you some mercy with how well you’d been doing in this class?

“—Nott with Finnigan—” Your thoughts were briefly interrupted as Theodore’s name was called. That was an interesting pairing; however, you knew that Potions was one of Theo’s strong suits, and, granted they worked well together, the both of them would successfully keep their eyebrows intact. 

Your eyes found the older boy, tracing over every line on his face. You were friends, pretty good friends. His whole group of Slytherins were friendly with you, really. But there was something about him that had shocked you to your core from the first night you’d met him and started chatting at the Sorting ceremony when the both of you were eleven. He was quite literally one of the most attractive people you’d ever seen, and it seemed like he knew it too. The way he held himself down to the way he communicated with people, he just knew he was alarmingly alluring. 

He had a way of staring right into your eyes when you spoke to him, almost to the point it felt as if he was reading your mind. No matter what, he’d give you his full attention, even more so than his other friends, it seemed. Maybe you had always imagined it, but if you called his name, he was there. He would be waiting with his ear next to your lips, eager to hear what you had to say, no matter how you were feeling. Perhaps it was cliche, but you felt as though you could tell him anything, and you did. 

His eyes found yours suddenly. His lips parted into a crooked smile, his dazzling white teeth peeking through slightly. You returned the action, raising your eyebrows in an amused fashion at his partner for the project. He shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. He pointed at you and mouthed, ‘You’re coming up.’ You rolled your eyes and laughed silently as you brushed him off. You were laughing, but, in all seriousness, this wasn’t a comedic matter. Your Potions grade was potentially on the chopping block here, and you were getting nervous. Snape didn’t grade depending on who did what; he simply graded on the project's legitimacy. You could do this by yourself, but if whomever your partner ended up being fucks it up, you both were screwed. And, on top of it all, you would have to work with a Gryffindor, someone you likely barely knew. Perfect. 

Your name perked your ears as Snape paused for a moment, trying to decipher his own handwriting. Merlin, was he trying to tease you? You glanced around, wondering who hadn’t been selected yet. You hadn’t been paying attention. “Ah! With McClaggen.”

Your heart sank. You turned to glance over your shoulder at the showy Gryffindor sitting in the back corner of the classroom. He sent a wink and a small smirk your way, to which you replied by quickly turning back around. Did the universe hate you? It must. That was the only answer. Shit.

“Get to work,” he instructed, returning to his office and firmly shutting the door behind him. You weighed out the options in your head on how angry Snape would be if you asked to switch partners. You were sure he picked them for a reason…or maybe he didn’t? Merlin, help. Should you even bother with this? Maybe you could convince McClaggen to let you do all the work. He could sit patiently by and be quiet.

The classroom bustled gently as students were standing and finding their partners. Small groans echoed as everyone paired up. Apparently, you weren’t the only one that disliked your partner. Usually, you wouldn’t have expected Professor Snape to have paired Gryffindors with Slytherins. Who knew? Maybe he was trying something new.

You hid a wince and got to your feet. You collected your notebook and school bag and made your way over to the smirking boy. His hands were placed cockily behind his head, and one leg rested, crossed over the other. He maximalized every bit of space he took up, like a peacock. You repressed a groan and sat down in the seat next to him, neatly spreading your things out. 

“Well, hello,” he cooed. “I don’t think I’ve spoken with you before.”

“I don’t think so either,” you chuckled nervously, eyes finding the back of Theo’s head. He sat towards the front of the classroom, partnered with the clumsy Gryffindor. You wondered if he was having the same doubts you were. As if on beat, his head turned and made eye contact with you. He hid a smile at your current predicament and gave you a small wave with his fingers. You rolled your eyes and, with the hand farthest from McClaggen, pretended to choke yourself with it. Theo laughed aloud before turning back around when his partner tapped his shoulder.

“What’s so funny?” your partner asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Nothing,” you smiled, “how about we get started?”

Most of the class period was spent discussing the potion the two of you wanted to brew. The assignment was to pick one of the most difficult potions to brew and to make and document the experience successfully. All of the potions you were to choose from were in the very last chapter of your textbook, and the two of you flipped through the pages, unsure. 

Every so often, Cormac (you’d learned his first name was) would point at something on one of the pages and scoot ever so closer to you. He was so close now you could smell the peppermint candy he swished around his mouth. His arm rested alongside the back of your chair, and you were…immensely uncomfortable. Your back straightened so as not to come into contact with his arm. 

Throughout this whole experience, you’d glance Theo looking back at the two of you every so often and wonder if you could signal him to distract the boy. It wasn’t that you felt threatened; you just wish he’d back the hell up. If you had a personal bubble, it had long since combusted. His face was so close to yours, and no matter how far you leaned away, he’d get closer. Finally, you’d had enough.

“Cormac,” you laughed nervously. You placed one hand on his chest and slowly pushed him back toward his own seat. 

“What is it?” he asked. No matter what you did, that stupid smirk never failed.

“You are very close to me,” you explained, trying to remain as polite as possible. He shrugged and chuckled a bit, gaining on some of the space you’d placed between the two of you. 

“Well, that’s because I want to get closer to you,” he said. 

“Uh, no,” you tittered, “that’s okay. Let’s just do the project.” You tapped the textbook and pretended to immerse yourself back in the information, hoping he’d let it lie. He didn’t. His arm wrapped back around your chair, and your eyes slipped close in exasperation. 

“Cormac, please—”

“What? Don’t you want to get to know each other before we do a project together?” he asked, scooting closer yet again.

“No, I really don’t. I just want to get this done.” His face resumed its previous proximity to yours. He smirked at the closeness and you sighed, turning your face away from his, begging Theo to glance back again.

“Oh, I see…is he your boyfriend?” Cormac asked. Your face shot back to his.

“What? No! He’s just a friend,” you said.

“That was a very quick, rushed answer,” he laughed, “but if you say so, that’s even better for me—”

“Please, let’s just do the assignment,” you pleaded, “I’m really not interested.”

“Not even for a trip to Hogsmeade?”

“No, not really, you’re not my type.” You glanced back at Theo. He was finally looking back. Only this time, his eyes were locked on the boy beside you, with his face so close to yours. His eyes gleamed blood red, and his jaw clenched tightly. Your eyebrows furrowed, begging him to intervene somehow. If Cormac wasn’t too embarrassed to shoot his shot in the middle of class, surrounded by his peers, you were almost positive he’d continue to harass you outside of the classroom. Maybe even when the two of you were alone, and he might not let up at that point.

“What is your type?” he asked. “Brooding assholes in Slytherin?” He said this part a bit louder, making direct eye contact with Theo. You could feel the tension building slightly, and did your best to diffuse the situation. You partially blocked their gaze of each other.

“Please don’t say that about him.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend. Why are you defending him?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, but he is my friend, and I’d like you not to call him names,” you spoke sternly, eyes hardening on the boy. He was plucking the last strings of your patience. 

“Fine, I will—” you nodded at his promise “—if you let me take you to dinner.”

The bell signalling the end of class interrupted the conversation. Thank Merlin. You quickly gathered your things together and shoved them into your bag, praying he’d just drop the subject and let you move on with your day. You’d figure out a way to deal with him later. For right now, you just wanted to get your free period started as soon as possible. He stood right when you did. You ignored him and made for the exit, walking as quickly as looked natural.

You were the first out of the classroom and down the hall, trying your best to get away from him without completely abandoning Theo. A hand grabbed your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. It roughly spun you around, yanking a yelp from your throat. You stood before Cormac, who had a sinister look on his face. 

“You never answered me,” he said. “Let me take you to dinner…”

“No, Cormac, I don’t want to go,” you said, attempting to wrestle yourself out of his iron grip. What about your thousand answers was he not grasping? 

“Let go of me.” His hand did not release you, and it did not seem like he intended to, either. You slipped your hand between his and your shoulder, trying to edge it off. He made a sound of endearment before attempting to slide a hand around your hips. You squealed and squirmed away from him, trying to prevent him from wrapping his arms farther around you.

“Hey!” A voice shouted. The both of you began to turn, but before Cormac could get his head fully pivoted, a hand appeared on his shoulder and yanked him away from you. It was Theo, and he appeared to be fuming. His jaw was tightly clenched, and his eyes were wild.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, McClaggen?” he demanded. “She said no, you dick!”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business. She said you weren’t her boyfriend,” the younger laughed meanly, poking him roughly in the chest. You winced at the contact. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he hissed, pushing the boy back from him. Cormac stumbled a few steps before regaining his footing. It appeared he was as surprised as everyone else was at the sudden hostility. Cormac laughed cockily. 

He raised a hand and swung his fist at Theo as hard as he could, getting a good hit in. Theo’s head jerked to the side from the force of the punch, and you gasped sharply, hands shooting to cover your mouth in shock. Natural instincts told you to jump back, but you rushed toward Theo, who pushed you back gently behind him, squeezing your arm firmly. It didn’t hurt, but you knew it meant to stay put. 

“Come on, Slytherin!” Cormac shouted. “Show me what your reject house is made of!”

A crowd of other students had begun to gather around the two boys, curious to see what all of the commotion was. Adrenaline pumped through your veins like ice water as you watched Theo approach the other boy, cocking his arms and wringing any stiffness out of them. 

Before you could feel the exhalation of breath leave your body, Theo swung his arm at the boy, cracking him hard across the jaw. As if in slow motion, Cormac fell back and hit the ground with a hard thud. You imagined his tailbone would be quite bruised tomorrow morning. 

Theo fell down on top of the boy, legs resting on either side of his hips, and wailed on him. Fist after fist hit the boy’s face, pushing more and more blood out of him. You screamed in shock as you realized Theo had no intention of stopping. Around the same time you did, everyone else did too. They began throwing shouts of concern and pressing in on the two boys. Everybody loved a good fight now and then but nobody wanted to see someone get killed. 

Yet, nobody put their hands on Theo for fear of being in the same predicament as Cormac currently was. That was, until Enzo and Mattheo ran up behind the crowd. You heard them ask if that was Theo.

“Enzo!” you shouted his name, waving over the crowd. His eyes quickly found yours and in seeing the distress on your face, began weaving through the crowd. Mattheo quickly followed suit. 

When they breached the barrier of the crowd, their eyes widened, and they made for their friend. They grabbed his shoulders and pulled him away from the poor boy, his face a mangled mess. You looked away quickly, not wanting to see the damage that had been done in your favor.

Once pulled away, a gathering of students ran over to Cormac and covered him with a wall of their protection, trying to see if they could help him somehow. You turned to Theo, who was breathing heavily, a single dripping of blood pouring from his nose. You turned to the bottom of your uniform shirt, found the edge of the seam, and tore a small section of it. You could get a replacement sometime later.

You approached the boy with a murderous gaze and gently pressed the piece of shirt beneath his nose. He flinched slightly but never looked away from Cormac. Maybe that hadn’t been for you, and he’d just wanted to beat Cormac’s ass—which is understandable, but still. You weren’t totally sure why he did it.

“Theo?” you spoke gently. His glare didn’t waver. The fingers pressing the material against his bloodied nose tilted his face carefully to look at you. His eyes found yours, softening slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his chest heaving. “I couldn’t stand him touching you like that.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured. He didn’t seem convinced. How he looked at you with such concern and worry made you wonder if he thought you were mad at him. You shook your head at the question running through your mind. Obviously, he didn’t know what you had been thinking, but you hoped he’d understand somehow. 

You helped Enzo and Mattheo pull him to his feet and escort him away from the crowd before any of the professors showed up. Speaking of which, they likely should have been out here by now. 

As you helped the boys guide Theo toward the Slytherin common room, you were careful to avoid any obvious eyes that raced past them to see what the aftermath of the commotion was. Hopefully, nobody would notice them and they could deal with the whole situation later. The group turned the corner and stopped before the entrance to the dorm room. Enzo announced the password, and the lot of you headed inside, pulling Theo up the stairs and into the boys’ dorm room. He pulled away from them suddenly and sat on his bed.

“Alright, alright, I’m okay!” he declared. “I just got a sock to the jaw; my legs weren’t broken.”

“They’re just trying to help, Teddy,” you whispered, trying to place the cloth back on his nose that had started up its intermittent spurting again. He sighed and gently grabbed your wrist, holding it away from his face. He was never rough with you, despite how angry he was.

“I’m fine, I’m just wound up, I don’t need any of you to—”

“Nonsense,” you interrupted him. “Mattheo, Enzo, would the two of you mind running down to the hospital wing and asking Madam Pomfrey if she has anything to stop the bleeding. It’s not excessive, but it’s messy.”

“Is there not a spell or something like that?” Mattheo asked, clearly concerned for his friend.

“Not one that I know off the top of my head. Would you just go ask her, please?” you repeated yourself. The two boys seemed to hesitate but eventually worked their way out of the room with their destination in mind. Once they were gone, your eyes turned back to Theo’s. An amused glint lay suspended in his eyes.

“‘Nothing that comes to mind?’” he smirks. “If a spell comes to my mind and not yours, the world must be upside down.” You conceal a laugh. You knew a spell. You knew multiple healing spells, but you wanted Mattheo and Enzo out of the room for a second. You just wanted to speak with Theo about what had happened. 

“I’m sorry I lied to your friends,” you said. “But I really wanted to talk with you privately, and I didn’t want to wait.” His eyes keep a tight hold on yours. You swallow thickly. 

“Okay, what is it?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Anxiety pools in your stomach as you realize you hadn’t really planned anything to say. You wanted to know why Theo had done what he did and if it was for or because of you. Cormac had been bothering you, yes, but it could have just been that Theo really disliked him and wanted to intervene. 

“Why did you do that?” you ask. Probably the worst way you could have asked that, but it was what came out. You might as well own it at this point. 

“Do what?” he mused.

“Why did you stop Cormac?”

“That feels like a dumb question. He was laying his hands on you without your permission.”

“Would you have done that for anyone, though?” you stuttered through your interrogation.

“I suppose not….why do you ask?” he asked, the smirk never leaving his face. Your eyes fell down to his lips suddenly, noticing that there was a small amount of dried blood stained across them. A small gasp left your lips as you reached your hand out. You didn’t think through any of the following movements; you just allowed your body to do as it pleased. Your fingers gently cradled his jaw, and your thumb swiped slowly over his lips, collecting the bit of staining as it crossed. Your eyes found him again, and you realized he was intently watching you. His eyes were softened by hunger. The way they traveled down to your lips, his lips parting as he found yours, his hands clenching by his side. It sent a chill down your spine. 

“Theo,” you breathed. You could not pull your eyes away from his swollen lips. You wanted so badly to learn their taste and memorize it for eternity. Just one kiss and you could be satisfied for the rest of your days. 

“I kicked Cormac’s ass because he was laying his hands on you, and I have been desperate to do that for years…,” he whispered. “The difference between him and I, though? I ask permission.” A glimpse of a chuckle spreads over his lips, and you feel your stomach blush with heat. As if he could feel it happen to you, his nose bumped softly against yours, igniting the heat and transforming it into a flame. 

“I want you so bad,” he whispered, the air skimming your lips. “Please let me have you.”

“Have me, Teddy.” Your response was final. His hands gripped each side of your face firmly and pressed your lips together. Heat and light and everything in between exploded into your stomach, sending shocks of love into your heart. You could have melted on the spot, and you nearly did, if it weren’t for Theo wrapping one arm tightly around your waist and holding you up.

His tongue slid over your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You granted him access to every part of you with no push-back. All you wanted was to feel him everywhere and never to lose that feeling ever again. 

The both of his hands pushed around the back of your thighs and pulled them to either side of his bent knees. He settled you neatly onto his lap, you straddling his thighs against the bed. The action sent a lightning bolt of pleasure directly to your core as the space between his thighs urged gently against you. You sighed against his mouth, entangling your fingers into his hair. 

Everything about him was overwhelming. His smell, his taste, and his touch had you gasping for air. You had never realized how much you truly wanted him until this very moment. Without so much as a breath, he cradled your back with one hand and stood from his bed, lifting the two of you into the air. You squeaked from the sudden movement but relaxed instantly when he settled you against his bed. 

His lips detached from yours and quickly made alliance with your jaw and then your neck. His head worked down the frame of your body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every sliver of skin he could find. When he reached the waistline of your uniform skirt, he tapped his finger twice against the spot where your shirt was tucked in. You nodded so quickly, it was almost pathetic. He smirked and slipped his hands between the materials. He tugged your shirt out and began laying the same types of kisses over your bare stomach. You groaned at the feeling, noticing the ardor he placed into each press of his lips. You felt worshipped and it was addicting.

His eyes flicked up to find yours as he slowly pushed himself farther down, placing himself just in front of your core. Without question, your legs began to spread for him, allowing him access to anything he wanted. You just needed to feel him; you didn’t care what he did. 

Your eyes found his face once more and scanned over the entirety of it. A deep, sinister glance rested in his eyes, holstering a lust so dark, it almost frightened you. His lips were slightly parted in a teasing, smirking way, just waiting to place themselves against you once more. And his nose had…oh, it had begun to bleed again. You reached down and swiped your thumb beneath it, pushing the excess discharge away. A small twinge of guilt hit you again at the thought of Theo getting himself hurt for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, frowning at the sight before you.

“You never have to apologize to me,” he breathed, “you are perfect.” And with that, he’d flipped the edge of your skirt over your legs and sunk his face between them. His tongue found your core before you could even get a word out. A breathless moan spilled from your lips as your spine arched off the bed. Your hands immediately pushed down to wrap themselves in his curls, savoring every single swipe of his tongue. 

“So fucking good,” he moaned against you, the vibrations sending messages up to your very brain. You quaked beneath the feeling, your thighs shaking against the boy’s hold on them. It was nearly becoming too much. You weren’t going to last much longer. If he wanted to do something, he’d better get to it.

“Theo, I’m…c—”

“Not yet, baby,” he whispered, pressing two chaste kisses to the inside of your thighs. You could feel the wetness spread across his lips and chin smear against your flesh. You shuddered at the sensation. It definitely should not have turned you on as much as it just did. “I want it on my tongue.”

He separates himself from you and slides his hands beneath the crook of your knees. With a firm grip, he yanks you to the edge of the bed, where your hips are lying just over the curve. His hands find your hips and flip you over onto your stomach, careful to avoid hurting you in any way. Ever so gentle.

You could hear him kneel down again behind you. Your thighs shook in anticipation just before he pressed his lips back to you. His tongue swirled across you in the most delicate of motions, drawing every sound possible from your lips. Your fingers gripped the sheets as each of his movements drew you closer to the edge. You might finish any second. 

“Hey-o!” Mattheo’s voice came from just outside the door. You jumped up and glanced back at Theo as the both of you separated as fast as possible. Theo came up to sit beside you on the bed and made quick work of wiping his mouth off on his sleeve. You pulled your skirt back over your legs and stood at attention, waiting for the two boys to enter. Damn it. You had been so close. 

The two boys walked in, clutching a small vial of liquid. Mattheo raised it to show the two of them, both of whom quickly nodded, smiling innocently. Surely, they wouldn’t suspect anything of the two of you. You’d never really expressed any feelings toward the other before now. At least not publicly.

“Where do you want this?” Mattheo asked.

“If you would just take it to the bathroom, we’re headed in there so they can help me clean up the rest of the way.” Both of the other boys nodded and headed back out the way they came, moving toward the group bathroom. 

Just as they left, Theo slipped his hand beneath your skirt and traced his fingers along you, allowing one to insert itself to its hilt. You gasped sharply, trying your best to mute the sound. His hand began to pump against you, slowly rising in speed as he hit that perfect spot each time with ease. The sounds spilling from your lips became less and less controlled as he pushed you towards the edge, keeping you standing tall and refusing to let you lay back down on the bed.

“Come like this, baby,” he whispered. “Quickly, before they get back.” His finger pressed deeply up into you one last time, bruising the soft spot and forcing a rushing finish down on you. Your lips parted in a shocked moan as the proof of your end slipped down around Theo’s fingers. He worked you through the entirety of it, never tiring and never halting. He could do this all day. 

The sound of his friends heading back toward the dorm room pushed the two of you apart once again. Only this time, Theo had a telling, lustful expression imprinted on his face, and the remains of your ecstasy were still painted across his fingers. You swiped a hand between your thighs in an attempt to clean yourself off and brushed any concerns from Mattheo or Enzo off. The ‘Are you okay?’ and the ‘You guys look weird’ had nothing on the steel resolve the both of you kept planted on your faces. If Theo could fight someone for you, you could fight the urge to tell his friends he’d just let you fuck his face while they were out running an errand. Oh well, such is life. You laughed to yourself. 

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (31/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The promised back massage - and friends help each other.

Warnings: 18+ (thigh riding, inexperienced!reader)

Word Count: 3.6k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: I'm so proud. Charlie won his home race! I'm still crying. feedback is appreciated!

"So?" asks Charles as you move further and further away from the beautiful house. "What do you think of them?"

You smile at him. "You have a really great family, Charles. Maybe a little wild, but it's obvious how much you love each other."

He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road ahead. "I love them more than anything. Ever since my father died, we've taken every opportunity to spend time together." He swallows briefly. "We appreciate each other. And that's worth a lot."

You carefully reach for his hand, which is resting on the shift stick, and turn it so that you can interlace your fingers with his. You place it on your lap and stroke the back of his hand in gentle circles with your thumb. "Thank you for taking me here. It means a lot to me."

"Actually, I didn't have any other choice. I think my mother would have kicked down our front door if I kept you from her." Charles has to grin. "I definitely wouldn't have survived that."

"So that's how it is," you grin and let go of his hand with mock outrage. "So you only took me with you out of pure self-protection."

Before you can cross your arms in front of your chest, he grabs your hand again and brings it up to his mouth so that he can tentatively blow a kiss on your knuckles. "Do you believe me when I tell you that it's incredibly important to me that you know my family? And that you like them?"

You feel the heat rush to your face as he brushes his lips over the thin skin of your fingers. You take a quick breath and stare at him before nervously - and slightly turned on - looking away from him. "Maybe." You try to sound as nonchalant as possible and hope that Charles doesn't notice the tremble in your voice. "I'm definitely glad Arthur didn't do anything to you. I bet he was a kid back then who just bit other children."

Charles has to laugh at that. Loudly and fervently, and you don't know if he does it on purpose, but he presses your hand firmly against his muscular chest and holds it there. You feel the vibration under your fingertips and air rushing through his lungs, and his laughter is so infectious that you can't help but join in.

When he finally lets go of your hand, he wipes the tears from his face. He takes another deep breath before letting out one last laugh and then places his hand on your thigh like it's the most normal thing in the world. The warmth of his skin almost burns through the fabric of your clothes. You try not to let it show. "Believe me, mon amour. I should even have a scar from his teeth somewhere."

When you stop at a traffic light, Charles leans forward a little and pushes his back through. When you hear a few of his vertebrae crack, you grimace. "Does your back hurt?"

"A little." He leans back into the seat again, but stretches his neck to the side. "Not being able to lean back for hours is more uncomfortable than you think." When he glances at you out of the corner of his eye and smirks, you lightly punch his shoulder. 

"You idiot." Charles laughs in response. "You're just after a back massage!"

"You take what you can get." His hand squeezes your thigh. 

You roll your eyes. "You could have just asked for a massage, you know? I imagine the stool isn't the most comfortable piece of furniture."

Charles shrugs. "I didn't want it to be weird in any way."

Your gaze focuses on his slender fingers on your leg. "Do you mean because of this morning?" you ask meekly. 

"Actually -" Charles clears his throat. " Because of Arthur, actually. He was hinting at something and - I don't know." He steers the car onto the street where your apartment is. When he takes his hand off your thigh to change gear, you miss his touch. Without another word, he parks the Renault in the building's underground garage and without looking at you, you take the elevator to your apartment. 

The silence between you is a little awkward. The fact that you brought up the incident from this morning has somehow killed the mood and you'd like to slap yourself for it. You could have left it at that - after all, you had spoken to each other and agreed that everything was fine between you - but you had stupidly cast it in a different light.

You get ready for bed in separate rooms in silence. While Charles brushes his teeth in the bathroom, you change in the bedroom and slip into comfortable shorts and a shirt that you're not sure if it belongs to you or Charles. When you run into each other in the hallway, you don't look at each other, but pass each other with lowered eyes. 

In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face and are about to bang your forehead against the porcelain of the sink. Until just now, the day had been wonderful. You met his wonderful family, had a fun evening and although you had a little slip-up this morning, Charles and you got on really well. Your friendship hasn't been tarnished and apparently you've been so good to each other that the Leclerc family think you're a couple. 

That's another thing you need to sort out. Between the two of you and definitely with his family. Even though you've only got to know the Leclercs properly since today, you've already grown fond of them and it doesn't feel right to fib to everyone. Above all, it doesn't feel right to Pascale, who has invited you into her home and insists that you spend Christmas with them. Pascale, who has such a big heart and didn't hesitate for a moment to take you into the family. 

It's not fair to her - even if a small part of you wants to keep things the way they are. Even if it doesn't reflect reality, the word girlfriend doesn't ring false in your ears. The thought of it makes you feel warm and somehow the blood tingles in your veins. 

You blame it on the long day you've had and the fact that you're too emotionally exhausted to put one and one together. How crazy would it be if you were actually Charles' girlfriend?

You immediately push the thought aside when you return to the bedroom and see Charles lying on the bed. He continues to scroll through his phone without looking at you and doesn't even glance at you as you slip under the covers on your side of the bed. 

You want to press your face into the pillow and scream, but you can't do that because it definitely wouldn't ease the tension in the air. You could also cry quietly to yourself, but Charles would notice even that. But you could also -

"Am I still getting the back massage?" Confused, you look over at your friend, who puts his cell phone aside and looks at you. He shrugs and then runs his hand through his hair. "You said I should just ask. And I thought I'd try my luck." His hand wanders over the comforter and when he finds yours, he intertwines your fingers. 

"Charles -" you begin, but you don't know how to finish the sentence. You're relieved that he doesn't take offense at your comment and wants to ease the situation by pretending nothing happened. You would love to kiss him for it. The thought sends a warm shiver down your spine.

"Sorry," Charles apologizes as he mistakes your awkwardness for hesitation. "It was a stupid idea. I just thought -"

"It's okay," you interrupt him and squeeze his hand, whereupon he squeezes back twice. "Apparently the stool was super uncomfortable. And friends help each other, don't they?" 

The Monegasque returns your gentle smile. "Friends help each other," he repeats, his gaze flickering briefly from your eyes to your lips and back again. " 'Um - should I take my shirt off? I think that would be smarter, don't you?"

Before you can say anything back, his hand disengages from yours and in one elegant movement he pulls the garment over his head and throws it to the other end of the bed. You watch the muscles in his back flex as he slides down the bed a little and lies on his stomach without hesitation, as if he can't wait another second. 

You have to strain to tear your gaze away from him. "I think I still have some body lotion somewhere." You quickly run back to the bathroom, where you spot the cream on the shelf next to the door, and sprint back to Charles, who has put his head in his hands and is smiling at you. You stand uncertainly in front of the bed, swaying from one foot to the other. "Where - I mean - how -?"

"Just sit on my legs," he says gently and pulls the blanket off him so that you can sit on top of him. "I think that's easier than from the side. Isn't it?"

"I - I don't know," you reply quietly and stop in your tracks. Of course, it would make more sense to sit astride his legs, but then you would also be sitting on him. And you definitely don't want things to get weird between you again. 

"Just sit down, please. I won't bite." Charles reaches out and grabs your hand to pull you towards him. He doesn't let go until you swing your leg over his and get comfortable on the back of his thigh. "See? It's not so bad, is it?"

You're glad he can't see how hard you're swallowing. The fine hairs tickle the soft skin on the inside of your thighs and heat shoots into your face as you slide your butt around to find the best possible position. When you finally find it, you remove the cap from the body lotion. "Careful, it might be a bit cold."

"It's okay, it can't be that bad - oh fuck!" Charles exclaims as you pour the contents of the bottle onto his back. Goosebumps immediately spread across his back and arms and you have to stifle your laughter. "Don't you dare laugh at me. My goodness, you could have warmed up the cream in your hand!"

"Sorry," you grin and close the bottle again before placing it on the bed next to your knee. "I thought it would be easier this way."

"It's definitely meaner," Charles replies, glancing over his shoulder at you. "You owe me a longer massage for that. At least half an hour." 

"No problem," you smile. You hope he doesn't notice your hesitation, because it takes a few seconds before your head commands your hands to rest on his broad back and spread the cream. With your fingers spread apart, you glide over his spine, his shoulder blades to his neck, where you feel the first lump under your fingertips. Slowly, but firmly, you press your thumb over the spot. 

And Charles moans shamelessly. "Fuck, that feels good." He closes his eyes as you continue to work on his neck. "I think you've missed your profession."

"You think so?" you ask softly. Your fingers glide to his hairline, his muscular neck and back over his shoulders. "Maybe I wouldn't be unemployed right now."

"I'd hire you in a heartbeat." As you press the side of his left shoulder blade with your thumbs, he exhales audibly. "Yeah, right there."

Smiling, you look at him before returning to your task. "I think you're too old for that stool. I'll sit on it next time."

"You're only saying that because you're hoping for a massage too." Charles' voice sounds rough and deep, completely relaxed. With his eyes closed, he enjoys your touch and misses you biting your lower lip. 

Your mouth goes dry at the thought of feeling his hands on your bare skin. You'd be only too happy to repeat this morning's incident if it meant that nothing would change between you. That you would remain friends. 

Nervously, you slide around on his legs. "Maybe."

You don't receive an answer. In comfortable silence, you run your hands over his back, pressing certain points in his muscles that make the Monegasque hum and moan softly. It's nice to know that he can let himself go with you and that you seem to be doing him good. 

Your hands wander down to the hem of his shorts and before you can really think about it, your thumbs slide just underneath so that you can massage the marks the shorts leave on his skin too. Charles takes a gasping breath and for a moment you think you've gone a step too far, but Charles doesn't even open his eyes as he speaks. 

"I miss this."

You tilt your head, even though he's not looking at you. "What do you mean?"

"Being touched," he answers your question quietly.

You pull your fingers out from under the hem and let them glide over his spine. "We touch each other."

Charles lets out a sigh. "I know. But - I don't know." His mouth twists into a thin line. "That's something else."

"Explain it to me." 

"It's been months since I've touched anyone, or vice versa. And I'm not talking about friendly touching. What we do," he explains. You don't know why your heart tightens as if it has heard bad news. 

Your fingers trail over his shoulders and then down his arm. Goosebumps spread under your fingertips. "Okay."

"Not that I don't think it's nice," he tries to get his act together. "I love it when I hold your hand or when we cuddle in bed. That's not even up for debate." When your fingers reach his wrist, he grabs them and squeezes them twice. "I don't know how to describe it." 

"What exactly do you mean by 'touch'?" you try to draw him out. "I mean, apparently there must be a difference between what you mean and what we do."

Charles shrugs and lets go of your hand so you can continue. "I miss having my hair played with. Or having my legs rubbed." Lying down, he runs his hand through his hair once, "I don't know."

You chew the inside of your cheek. "Do you mean - I don't know - like more intimate touching?" When you hear yourself say that, you try to turn it around again. "I mean - I'm not talking about sex. But rather that emotional connection? That you feel close to someone and touching them, like playing with your fingers or rubbing your arms, feels different?"

Charles turns his head in your direction so he can look at you. "I miss being touched more intimately. I really crave it." He turns under you so that he is now lying on his back. He leans on his elbows. You don't know where to put your hands, which is why you hold them strangely in the air. You try to fix your gaze on his face, but it flickers briefly to his abs. Something that doesn't escape Charles' notice. "What about you?"

"What about me?" 

"My relationship went down the drain months ago. It's obvious I'm touch starved." He sits up straight and reaches for your hands, placing them tentatively and hesitantly on his chest. "I can't stop thinking about this morning."

You can feel his heart beating under your palm and there's a sparkle in his beautiful green eyes. "We're friends," you state the obvious. The one you agreed on. 

Charles nods. "And I don't want that to change either. I really don't." He exhales and you feel his warm breath on your face. "But don't you miss it? Being touched? Being touched intimately?"

As he licks his lips, your brain shuts down for a moment. "I've never - I don't - I -" you stumble over your words and heat rushes to your cheeks. You don't know why you're confiding in him. You don't know why your hands are wandering from his chest up to his shoulders. The only thing you can feel is Charles' arm around you, pulling you closer to him. His one leg slides between yours so that you're sitting on his bare thigh. You just hope he can't feel your arousal pooling in your shorts.

"Mon amour," he whispers and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear with his other hand. From there, his fingers glide along the soft skin of your neck, over your collarbone, along your arm, until your fingers intertwine again. "Your shorts are pretty thin." He leans forward slightly and lays a feather-light kiss on your neck. You blow all the fuses. "I can feel you dripping for me. Let me help you." His hand settles on your hip and gently he pushes you back a little on his leg, but only to pull you forward again. Electricity shoots through your veins as you moan shamelessly into his face. "Friends help each other. All you have to do is say yes."

Something primal flares in his eyes as he brings your hand to his mouth and places his lips on your knuckles. A gentle gesture that is in complete contrast to how you feel inside. Fire blazes under your skin, heat coursing through your whole body as he places your hand against his cheek, then presses a kiss to your palm. "Nothing changes," you murmur, to which Charles nods. 

"Nothing changes," he confirms. "We stay friends." His hands slowly slide under your bottom, under the hem of your shorts. You feel his hot skin on yours as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh. "I promise."

Your crotch rubs against his leg with such relish and when the hem of your shorts catches on your clit, you burn out all your fuses. "Yes."

Charles' lips find your neck as his hands cup your ass and guide you over his leg. With your mouth open and your eyebrows furrowed, you dig your fingers into his shoulder blades. Pleasure pulses through your body as his mouth moves over your neck, sucking lightly on the thin skin but not lingering long enough to leave a mark. Each kiss is gentle, the complete opposite to his grip on your ass and the way he rubs you over him. 

"Charles." Your voice is little more than a sigh and you think you can feel his raging boner against your leg, but the thought quickly fades as one of his hands pulls away from you. Instantly you miss his touch, his skin on yours, but before you can do anything, his fingers reach into your hair to gently pull your head back. 

"I'm here, mon amour," he breathes against the newly won space on your neck. Gently, he sucks where your pulse is, and you think you feel his teeth against your skin for a moment. "I'm here."

You don't know where to put your hands, so you just use them to press his face closer to you. You feel his tongue at the point where your neck meets your shoulder and arch towards him. "Please."

You don't know what you're asking for, but Charles knows all the better for it. He rocks you over his leg, which is wet and slippery from your arousal, and as your knee gently bumps against his cock, he moans into your ear. 

Absently, your hands disengage from his hair and scrape down his chest to the hem of his shorts, but before you can go an inch further, his thumb and forefinger curl around your wrists. "Mon amour, today is about you," he murmurs, kissing your cheek as he notices your disappointed look. "Don't pout. Otherwise we'll stop here and now." 

You move over his thigh on your own and, without taking the chance, you nudge his boner again with your knee. "But you said -" you begin, but Charles lets go of your hands, only to hold them behind your back. 

"Nuh-uh." His lips find their place against your collarbone. Apparently he notices that you close your eyes, because his free hand rests gently against your throat. "Look at me, mon amour." His voice is no more than a gasp as you open your eyes and look up at him pleadingly. You want him closer, want to feel his lips on yours, his cock splitting you in half. You want him to ruin you for any other men.

You approach the cliff, willing yourself to plunge down it, but when you close your eyes again, Charles merely presses your lap against his leg, preventing you from moving any further. You look at him in shock. "Charles."

"Fuck, I love it when you say my name." He holds you tight, chest to chest, and you try to move somehow, to rub against him. And he lets you. His hand loosens from your wrists while the other continues to rest on the column of your throat, but doesn't squeeze. "Look at me, mon amour," he repeats to himself, shamelessly sliding his hand inside your shorts so he can cup your ass. With one final movement, he pulls you forward, the hem of your shorts rubbing perfectly over your swollen bundle of nerves and white lightning flashes through your veins. "Look at me when you come for me."

And you do.

[cherryxbooo]

Okaaaay I can't resist on sending in another idea ❤️😊 I just loved the previous imagine too much!

Maybe some more Tim angst, where he's dating another officer for a while now and they're really happy. Then someday they get into an argument about something stupid, so she keeps ignoring him for nearly the whole shift. Later he hears over the radio that one officer got shot during a call and he already has a bad feeling. Just then his phone rings and Grey confirms his fears that it was you.

At the hospital it's not sure if you'll survive and Tim fears losing you without apologizing. In the end you survive of course and it's all just cute and fluffy in the end 🙊

We’re in this together

Summary: A police shift goes wrong, nothing out of the ordinary for an officer, but it hits differently when you’re losing the love of your life, and your last interaction was a fight.

Reader x Tim Bradford

Genre: fluff/angst

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the small kitchen as I leaned against the counter, cradling my favorite mug in both hands.

The first sip sent a warmth through me that was only rivaled by the sight in front of me.

Tim sat at the table, hunched over, tying his boots with the same care and focus he brought to everything he did.

Sunlight poured through the window, framing him in a soft glow, and I couldn’t help the way my lips tugged into a smile.

“Another day, another shift,” I teased, my voice gentle as I took another sip of coffee.

He glanced up at me with a crooked smile that never failed to make my heart flutter.

“Another day of you trying to boss me around.”

I raised an eyebrow, setting my mug down as I sauntered toward him.

“You love it when I boss you around.”

Tim chuckled, his hands pausing on his laces as he gave me a look that was all warmth and affection.

“You might have a point, sweetheart.”

He tugged the laces one last time and stood, towering over me in that way that always made me feel both small and completely safe.

“But I think I deserve a little credit for putting up with you.”

“Putting up with me?” I repeated, crossing my arms but unable to stop the grin spreading across my face.

“Who’s the one who burned breakfast again last week? Pretty sure I’m the patient one here.”

Tim stepped closer, his hands finding their way to my hips as he leaned down just enough to press a kiss to my temple.

“I burned breakfast because you distracted me,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, sending a little shiver through me.

I rolled my eyes, laughing softly as I rested my hands on his chest.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re perfect,” he replied without missing a beat, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that was sweet and unhurried.

He pulled back, just enough to look at me, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek.

“Ready to head out, or should we take another five minutes to ‘discuss’ who’s the patient one in this relationship?”

I laughed again, giving his chest a gentle shove.

“Grab your jacket, Bradford. We’re not showing up late just because you can’t stop flirting.”

Tim grabbed his jacket and slid it on, but not before stealing one last kiss, quick but lingering enough to leave my heart racing.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured as he opened the door for me.

“You make it too easy.”

The drive to the station was filled with the kind of soft, easy conversation that came with knowing someone inside and out.

Tim reached over at one point, his hand brushing against mine where it rested on the console.

Without a word, he intertwined our fingers, his thumb tracing gentle circles over my skin as we drove.

“Think Cap will still be in that mood again today?” Tim asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.

“Probably,” I replied with a grin.

“You know how he gets when things don’t go perfectly. Angela said he spent half the night poring over those reports. Sounds almost like you.”

Tim shook his head with a soft laugh, his eyes briefly meeting mine.

“He needs to take a page out of your book and learn how to relax. Just like how you thought me.”

I smirked, squeezing his hand. “I’ll let him know you said that.”

“You would,”

he replied with mock exasperation, but his grin softened as he lifted my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles, his lips warm and gentle.

“That’s why I keep you around, you keep everyone on their toes.”

My cheeks warmed at the affection in his voice, and I leaned back into the seat, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment.

With Tim, even the drive to work felt like something special, like a little pocket of peace in the chaos of our lives.

As we pulled into the station’s parking lot, Tim shifted the car into park but didn’t move to get out just yet.

Instead, he turned to me, his gaze soft and adoring.

“What do you want to do on our next day off? Our day off is sacred, you know.”

I tilted my head, pretending to think, even as a smile tugged at my lips.

“How about a picnic? Somewhere quiet, just us. You bring the sandwiches, and I’ll bring dessert.”

His smile widened, and he leaned in to steal one last kiss before we stepped out into the world of uniforms and chaos.

“You always know how to make a day perfect,” he murmured against my lips.

“So do you,”

I whispered back still not believing I've got the grumpy Tim Bradford wrapped around my finger.

The precinct was already alive with its usual controlled chaos when we arrived.

The familiar hum of ringing phones, clacking keyboards, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air.

Officers walked around, exchanging case files, refilling coffee mugs, and prepping for the day ahead.

Tim and I stepped through the front doors together, the click of his boots against the tiled floor perfectly in sync with mine.

Ever the gentleman, Tim held the door open for me, his hand brushing lightly against the small of my back as I walked in.

The gesture was small but grounding, one of those quiet moments of affection that felt uniquely ours.

We didn’t make it three steps inside before Lucy’s voice rang out, full of teasing energy.

“Oh, look, it’s the power couple gracing us with their presence!”

she called, grinning from ear to ear as she leaned against her desk.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.

“Good morning to you too, Chen.”

Angela was quick to join in, an amused smirk playing on her face.

“Wait a second... is that a smile on Tim’s face? What did you do, bribe him with something?”

I turned to Tim, arching a playful eyebrow.

“See? They think you’re less grumpy. Guess I’m rubbing off on you after all.”

Tim let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he slid his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not that grumpy,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him by twitching upward.

“Oh, sure,” Angela replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“And I’m the King of England.”

I laughed, giving Tim a quick wink as we moved toward our desks.

“Don’t worry, Bradford. I like you grumpy. Keeps things interesting.”

He shot me a mock glare, but there was no hiding the warmth in his eyes as he pulled his chair out and settled in across from me.

The morning briefing was the usual mix of updates and assignments, with Grey running through the day’s agenda in his signature no-nonsense tone.

Tim sat beside me, his leg brushing mine under the table, a quiet reminder of his presence that made my heart skip despite the mundane nature of the meeting.

When the captain finally dismissed us, Tim leaned over, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

“You zoning out on me, sweetheart?”

I smirked, tapping my pen lightly against my notepad.

“Nope. Just wondering how you manage to look so serious all the time.”

He tilted his head, a playful gleam in his eye. “It’s a gift.”

“Must be exhausting,” I teased, standing and grabbing my notes as we joined the others heading toward the bullpen.

The rest of the morning passed in a comfortable rhythm as Tim and I fell into our usual routine.

Working together had become second nature after months of finding our rhythm.

We didn’t need words to communicate half the time, a shared glance or the slightest tilt of his head was enough to tell me what he was thinking.

But as the hours ticked by, the warmth of the morning started to shift.

Calls came in one after another, each one more demanding than the last.

The weight of the job pressed down on us, and the lighthearted banter that carried us through most days began to fade.

During a brief moment of reprieve, Tim appeared beside me, holding out a steaming cup of coffee.

His expression was softer now, more serious, but the affection in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Thought you could use this,” he said simply, his voice quieter than usual.

I took the cup, my fingers brushing his for just a second longer than necessary.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I said softly, meeting his gaze.

He gave a small smile, one of those rare, genuine ones that he saved just for me.

“Don’t mention it. You’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours. Always.”

It was moments like these, tucked between the chaos and the noise, that reminded me how lucky I was.

With Tim, the hard days felt a little less heavy, and the good ones felt extraordinary.

Tim and I rarely fight, but if we did, we were quick to make up. But this time I wasn't so sure about that.

It began in the shop during a lull between calls, one of those rare, quiet moments when the hum of the engine was the only sound filling the air.

The city seemed unusually still, as though even it were taking a breath.

I glanced out the window, watching the sunlight play off passing buildings, when the thought struck me.

“Hey,” I said casually,

“we’re out of supplies in the first aid kit.”

Tim, who’d been focused on the road, flicked his eyes toward me briefly.

“You forgot to restock it, didn’t you?”

His tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried an edge that immediately put me on the defensive.

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Me? You’re the one who used it last.”

He let out a short breath, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, and I told you to refill it afterward.”

“You told me?” I shot back, incredulous.

“No, you mentioned it in passing, and I assumed you’d take care of it since, you know, you used it.”

Tim’s jaw tightened as his gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead.

“It’s not about who used it. It’s about being prepared. What if we get a call and need it? Are we supposed to improvise because you didn’t think to check?”

His words, laced with frustration, hit a nerve.

My temper flared, and I turned in my seat to face him fully.

“Oh, so now it’s my job to clean up after you? Got it. I’ll just add that to the list, right after making sure you remember to pack your lunch and not leave your coffee mug in the car.”

He scoffed, shaking his head.

“This isn’t about me leaving my mug. This is about you taking responsibility for something important instead of deflecting every damn time.”

The way he said it like I was careless or didn’t pull my weight, sent a sharp pang of hurt through me.

“Wow, Tim,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Thanks for the lecture. I’ll be sure to put it in the suggestion box right after I file all the other things you think I should be doing better.”

“Forget it,”

he muttered, his tone curt as he turned his attention back to the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

I crossed my arms, glaring out the window as silence fell over the car.

The warmth and ease of the morning were gone, replaced by an icy tension that made the air feel heavier.

By the time we pulled up to the next call, the tension had settled in so thickly it felt like another passenger in the car.

Neither of us spoke as we stepped out and approached the scene, our usual rhythm replaced by clipped movements and short, professional exchanges.

For the rest of the shift, I kept my responses to Tim short and curt.

If he asked for status updates, I gave him the bare minimum.

If he cracked a joke to try and lighten the mood, I didn’t even spare him a glance.

It was petty, but I wasn’t ready to let it go.

I could feel his frustration growing with every brush-off.

The way his jaw clenched or the flicker of annoyance in his eyes when I avoided meeting his gaze only confirmed it.

By mid-afternoon, he stopped trying altogether, the usual back-and-forth banter between us replaced by strained silence.

Finally, during a rare quiet moment back in the car, Tim broke the silence.

His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

“You going to keep this up all day?”

I didn’t look at him, instead staring out the windshield at the street ahead.

“I don’t know,” I said flatly.

“Are you going to stop being an ass?”

He sighed, long and heavy, the sound of someone grappling with his own frustration.

“Fine,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Have it your way.”

But even as he said it, there was something in his tone that softened the edges of my anger.

I stole a glance at him out of the corner of my eye, catching the faintest flicker of hurt in his expression.

It wasn’t like Tim to let things fester, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d pushed too hard.

Still, my own stubbornness held firm, and I looked away before he could catch me staring.

The silence between us stretched on, heavier now than it had been before.

The next day arrived, and the tension between Tim and me hadn’t eased.

With us both being too stubborn to give in.

We were back at the station for our next shift, with the two of us still clearly not on speaking terms.

The air was thick with unspoken words as we went through the motions of starting our day.

Tim was focused, doing his job with the usual precision, but the distance between us was palpable.

Angela and Lucy exchanged looks as they watched the two of us, sensing that something was off.

“So,” Angela started, leaning against the counter with her coffee cup,

“what’s going on with you two? You guys usually can’t keep your hands off each other, and today—”

She gestured between us, her eyes wide in disbelief. “Nothing?”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, glancing between Tim and me.

“You two seriously not talking?”

I glanced at Tim briefly, but his attention was fixed on the paperwork in front of him.

I sighed inwardly, turning to face my friends.

“It’s just... a disagreement,” I said, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.

Angela looked unconvinced.

“A disagreement? You’ve barely looked at each other all morning. Come on, you can tell us. What happened?”

I didn’t know how to explain it.

The argument from yesterday still felt fresh, and I wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet.

“It’s fine,” I said, shrugging it off. “We’ll work through it.”

Lucy wasn’t convinced either, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Right, because it’s so obvious you two are just fine.”

I forced a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Now, we’ve got work to do, right?”

Tim didn’t seem to notice our conversation, too absorbed in whatever report he was reading.

I glanced at him again, feeling the weight of the silence between us.

Part of me wanted to reach out, to say something, but the other part was still too angry to make the first move.

The next few hours felt like a blur of cases and calls, my mind distracted by the unspoken words lingering between us.

At least I was scheduled to go on patrol with a rookie today, which meant I’d be away from Tim for a while.

The rookie, Aaron, seemed eager enough, though I could tell he was still finding his footing.

I was relieved, in a way, I didn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of being in the same shop as Tim while we were still this... distant.

Late in the shift, the radio crackled to life, breaking the silence.

“Units 23 and 45, we have a report of a suspected robbery crew holed up in an abandoned warehouse. Multiple units responding. Proceed with caution.”

I immediately grabbed my gear, my heart rate spiking slightly.

This was serious.

Aaron, looked at me, his face a mix of excitement and nervousness.

“You ready, Officer?”

I gave him a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes.

“Just follow my lead.”

The ride over was quick, the weight of the situation settling in as we pulled up to the scene.

The warehouse loomed in front of us, abandoned and desolate, like something out of a movie.

Officers were already moving into tactical formations, their expressions tense as they communicated through earpieces.

My stomach tightened as we got out of the car, the sound of officers shouting commands echoing through the air.

We were assigned to clear the second floor of the building.

I glanced up at the stairs, the darkened interior of the warehouse giving off an eerie vibe.

My instincts kicked in, but I pushed the thoughts aside, there was work to do.

Aaron and I moved cautiously up the stairs, checking our corners as we went.

The silence was deafening, the only sound our footsteps on the dusty floor.

It was too quiet.

As we reached the top of the stairs, I motioned for Aaron to take the left side while I covered the right.

We moved slowly, staying low to the ground.

My hand hovered near the grip of my weapon, but something felt... off.

And then, a single gunshot shattered the silence.

The sound was deafening, ringing in my ears, and before I could react, pain exploded in my side.

I gasped, the force of the impact knocking me to the ground.

My breath hitched as I tried to focus, feeling the warmth of blood soaking through my uniform.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay conscious. “Aaron…”

My voice was shaky, but I could still hear the panic in his voice as he called for backup.

But all I could focus on was the searing pain in my side and the growing sense of fear that gripped me.

At that moment my mind went blank and the last thing I could think about was... Tim

Meanwhile,

Tim was still at the precinct, sitting at his desk, his mind occupied with the usual paperwork and the hum of the station around him.

It was a rare quiet moment, one of those in-between times when the calls had slowed down, and officers were catching their breath.

He barely noticed the radio crackle to life at first.

But then, a voice came through, sharp and urgent:

"Officer down. Requesting medical assistance."

His stomach dropped.

A cold wave of dread swept over him, his breath catching in his throat.

The world around him seemed to slow as he stared at the radio.

He was trained for these moments, for the harsh reality that could hit at any moment.

But this? This felt different.

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he looked around the bullpen. His heart was racing.

The words replayed in his head. Officer down.

The feeling of helplessness, of not knowing who hit him like a freight train.

But he had a feeling who it was, otherwise he wouldn't be reacting like this right?

"Who is it?" Tim's voice was low but desperate, laced with an emotion he wasn’t willing to admit.

The other officers in the room exchanged glances, but no one had an answer.

The station seemed to be holding its breath as everyone waited for more information.

Tim didn’t wait.

His eyes locked on his phone as it began to ring, the screen lighting up with a name he’d never wanted to see in this context: Grey.

His heart pounded harder, a sickening sense of dread seizing him.

He grabbed the phone with shaking hands, swiping it to answer.

"Grey," he said, his voice tight, barely holding it together.

There was a pause on the other end. A heavy silence.

Then, Captain Grey’s voice came through, thick with an emotion Tim couldn’t place.

“It’s Y/L/N, Tim,” Grey said, his tone grim.

“She’s been shot. They’re taking her to St. Joseph’s.”

Tim froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow.

Y/n has been hit. He couldn’t breathe.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one a blur of terror and disbelief.

His hand tightened around the phone, his knuckles white as he struggled to keep it together.

“Tim…” Grey’s voice softened, as if he could sense the storm raging inside him.

“Get to the hospital. They’ll need you there.”

Tim didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.

He just slammed the phone down, his body already in motion, his heart racing like it might beat out of his chest.

The sound of his boots pounding against the floor was deafening in the silence of the station.

He didn’t think. He didn’t ask questions.

His mind was consumed by one thought, one single, unrelenting impulse: Get to you.

He grabbed his keys off the counter, his fingers fumbling as he rushed to the door.

He didn’t stop to grab his jacket, didn’t hesitate for a second.

His eyes were wild with panic, his breath shallow as he sprinted out of the station.

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity. Every second that ticked by felt like a hundred years.

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his grip so tight it was painful.

The sirens of other emergency vehicles echoed in the distance, but they only made the dread in his chest grow deeper.

What had happened? Were you okay?

His mind raced with questions, but every time he tried to focus on the answers, the fear crept back in.

He couldn’t let himself go there, not yet.

He didn't even get to apologize, to hold you, to tell you how much he loved you.

The hospital loomed ahead, its lights flashing in the early evening dusk.

Tim didn’t slow down as he pulled into the parking lot, his car screeching to a halt.

He was out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop, barely registering the cold night air as he rushed inside.

His heart was pounding in his ears, the noise around him a blur as he darted through the hospital’s hallways.

He had no idea where he was going, but he didn’t care. He just needed to get to her.

Finally, he reached the ER. The doors swung open, and he froze for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he scanned the room.

Nurses and doctors moved quickly, their expressions grim as they passed by.

"Sir," a voice called from behind him, and he turned to find one of the paramedics who had been at the scene and knew about Tim's arrival.

“She’s in surgery.”

Tim’s breath hitched, and he felt his knees go weak. Surgery.

The word felt like a punch to the gut.

“Is she…” His voice cracked, but he couldn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t want to hear the answer.

The paramedic’s eyes softened, but there was no comfort in them.

“We don't know yet, the bullet went deep making it a dangerous operation. They’re doing everything they can.”

He was out of breath, his chest tight, his mind spinning.

He couldn’t shake the image of you he created in his brain, lying on the floor of that warehouse, the pain in your eyes, he wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there to protect you.

He walked over to the waiting area, collapsing into a chair, his head in his hands.

His body felt like it was made of stone, but his mind was all fire, anger, guilt, fear, tearing him apart.

All he could do was wait. And pray.

Tim sat in the sterile, quiet hospital room, his fingers gently tracing the back of your hand, his eyes fixed on your face.

The soft beeping of the machines monitoring your vitals was the only sound that filled the space, but even that felt too loud, a reminder of the fragile thread that you were hanging on.

Tim had barely been able to breathe since he’d received the call about you.

The news had come like a punch to the gut,

'Officer down.'

It was all a blur after that, the frantic rush to St. Joseph’s, the sterile scent of the emergency room, the doctors giving him no guarantees.

They weren't sure you’d make it through.

Those words had haunted him, repeating in his mind over and over, and no matter how many times he told himself you were a fighter, the fear never quite went away.

He never told you that he loved you properly that morning, never had a chance to make it right.

The argument from the day before still felt raw, and the thought of not getting the chance to apologize tore at his heart like nothing else could.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Tim whispered softly, his voice barely audible.

“I should’ve told you I loved you before. I should’ve… I should’ve been better. I’m so sorry.”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, as if his touch could bring you back to him.

Your hand felt warm in his, but the stillness of your body only made him feel more hopeless.

What if he’d never get the chance to make it right?

What if this was the last time he’d hold your hand, the last time he’d be able to tell you how much you meant to him?

Angela and Lucy arrived not long after, their faces a mix of concern and support as they entered the room.

Tim hadn’t moved, hadn’t even looked away from you.

Lucy tried to lighten the mood, cracking jokes to get him to smile, but it felt impossible.

How could he laugh when you were lying there, so close to slipping away?

She offered him a drink, trying to give him space to breathe, and as soon as she left to go down the hall, Angela stayed behind, sitting beside him in the chair.

“You know, you don’t have to do this alone,”

Angela said, her voice soft but firm, as if trying to remind him he didn’t have to carry the weight of everything by himself.

“You’ve got people who care about you.”

Tim swallowed hard, running a shaky hand through his hair.

The guilt was suffocating, and the uncertainty of what would happen to you next made his chest ache.

“I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her, not after everything. The last words we said to each other… they weren’t even good ones. We fought. I fought with her, and now… now I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to make it right. What if she… what if she doesn’t wake up?”

Angela reached over, gently placing a hand on his arm, her eyes full of empathy.

“Tim, she knows. She knows you love her. She knows you’d never want to hurt her.”

“I should’ve told her that,” Tim muttered, looking down at his hands, his voice thick with regret.

“I should’ve told her before. She deserves to hear that from me, not after everything's already gone wrong. What if... What if she doesn’t know how much she means to me?”

Angela squeezed his arm in reassurance.

“She does, Tim. You just have to believe that. And when she wakes up, you can tell her then. You’ve still got time to make it right.”

“I just wish I’d made more time… before all this happened,”

Tim whispered, his voice barely above a breath, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud.

As the hours dragged on, Lucy came back with a drink, and the two women left, sensing that Tim needed some space.

They both exchanged a concerned glance before making their exit, but their presence, their words of support, had offered Tim a little comfort.

Still, as the door closed behind them, he was left alone in the room again with you.

His heart beat painfully in his chest, and the room felt colder now that the comforting voices of his friends were gone.

He sat back down in the chair beside your bed, his hand still holding yours as if he could keep you anchored in this world with his touch.

Then, something unexpected happened.

Your fingers twitched, and Tim's heart skipped a beat. His gaze snapped to you, not daring to blink, as he saw your eyelids flutter.

For a moment, he thought he might be imagining it, but then you blinked again, and this time, your eyes fluttered open, groggy but focused.

Tim didn’t know what to do first. He could barely breathe as he leaned closer, his hands shaking.

“Y/n?” His voice cracked, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

His hand moved to your cheek, gently caressing it as if to make sure you were real, that this wasn’t some dream he was having.

“Baby, you’re awake?”

Your eyes met his, blurry at first, but then clearer as you seemed to recognize him.

A small, weak smile spread across your face, and Tim felt the tight knot in his chest slowly start to loosen.

“Tim?” you whispered, your voice soft, hoarse from the intubation, but still full of recognition.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he breathed out, his voice thick with emotion.

He couldn’t stop himself from leaning down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tim called for the doctor immediately, unable to tear himself away from your side.

His heart raced as he watched you, feeling a mixture of relief and fear.

What if you didn’t make it through this?

What if you slipped away again before they could get to you?

But then the doctor arrived, checking your vitals, and gave them the good news.

You were stable. You had pulled through.

“You’re going to be okay,” the doctor said.

“You’ll need to stay here for a few days, but you’re out of the woods.”

Tim let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

He felt a sense of relief that he hadn’t felt since the moment you were shot.

You were here.

You were with him.

I let out a small chuckle, despite the pain, trying to lighten the mood.

“Thought I was in heaven when I opened my eyes and saw all these lights.”

Tim couldn’t help but laugh, his hand tightening around yours.

“Please never scare me like that ever again." He said now much more seriously, before speaking up again.

"I’m so, so sorry, babe. For the argument, for the way I talked to you, for everything.”

My smile faltered, my eyes full of vulnerability.

I reached out with my free hand, gently cupping his face.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I never should’ve let us get so angry. I love you, Tim. I just… I just want you to know that.”

“I love you too,” Tim replied, his voice shaky.

“I love you more than anything. And I promise, I’ll never let something like that happen again. I won’t take you for granted. I’ll fight for us, always.”

My voice cracked as I spoke again, tears spilling from my eyes.

“I don’t want to fight anymore, Tim. I don’t ever want us to be apart again.”

Tim kissed my hand, his lips brushing over my knuckles, the tears still flowing freely from both of us.

“I swear, babe, I’ll make it right. I’ll spend every moment from here on out showing you how much I love you.”

“No more fights. No more leaving things unsaid. Let’s never do that again.”

Tim smiled, pressing his forehead against yours as he whispered the words that had been stuck in his heart all along.

“No more fights. I promise. We’re in this together."

"Always.”

In that moment, everything felt right again.

I was alive. I was here, with Tim.

And nothing, no matter what, would ever break us apart again.

The end

[aventurineswife]

Between Logic and Passion

Summary: You navigate the delicate balance between Kaveh's emotional idealism and Ratio's sharp intellect. Though they often clash, you help them realize how their shared passions make them stronger together. As the three of you reflect on your relationship, a quiet harmony settles over your lives, promising a future built on love, creativity, and understanding.

Tags: Kaveh x Reader x Ratio, Emotional Bonding, Found Family Dynamics, Mutual Pining to Domestic Fluff, Reader as the Emotional Anchor, Banter and Gentle Humor, Hurt/Comfort (Subtle).

Warnings: Light mentions of financial and emotional stress, Subtle references to self-doubt and overworking, Alcohol briefly alluded to (Kaveh’s coping mechanism, not depicted).

[Req by/inspo]

Kaveh had always been a whirlwind of emotion, while Ratio was a storm of intellect, a calculated force that could dismantle an argument with precision. You, however, had always seen how the two mirrored each other more than they would ever admit. Perhaps that was why you had found yourself at the center of their unusual, sometimes chaotic, yet undeniably tender relationship.

Tonight, you sat in the alcove of Kaveh's latest project—a breathtaking garden terrace filled with fragrant blossoms and intricate stonework. Ratio stood nearby, analyzing the structural integrity of a carved archway. Kaveh, by contrast, lounged on the soft cushions next to you, gesturing animatedly about his vision for the space.

“Can you believe he questioned my choice of materials?” Kaveh huffed, shooting Ratio a pointed look.

Ratio didn’t even glance up. “Marble is inefficient for the load-bearing pillars, given the humidity here. My calculations are sound.”

You smiled at their familiar banter, interrupting before it spiraled into another heated debate. “Both of you bring something unique to the table. Ratio, your precision ensures the structure lasts for centuries. And Kaveh, your artistry ensures people will remember it for just as long.”

Kaveh leaned closer to you, his eyes softening. “You always know how to make everything sound so balanced.” He paused, a teasing smirk creeping onto his face. “But let’s be honest, you’re on my side, right?”

Ratio finally turned his attention from the archway, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Don’t put them in the middle of this.”

You laughed, leaning back against the cushions. “I’m on our side. I’m just saying that both of your strengths work best when you complement each other.”

Kaveh tilted his head, his expression shifting to something more thoughtful. “You know, they’re right. As much as it pains me to admit it, your critiques do push me to do better, Ratio.”

Ratio’s lips curved into a faint smile. “And your emotional investment reminds me why these creations matter in the first place.”

It wasn’t often that the two of them shared such open affection, and it made your chest warm to see them acknowledge their similarities. Kaveh’s idealism and Ratio’s determination were two sides of the same coin—both driven by a deep passion for bettering the world in their own way.

As the night wore on, the three of you found yourselves huddled together, sharing quiet laughter and whispered musings about dreams and ambitions. Kaveh’s head rested on your shoulder, his golden hair soft against your cheek. Ratio sat on your other side, his arm draped over the back of the cushions, fingers brushing yours in a rare display of vulnerability.

You spoke softly, your words cutting through the gentle hum of the night. “The two of you are more alike than you realize. You both care deeply about leaving the world better than you found it—Kaveh with beauty, Ratio with knowledge.”

Kaveh chuckled, his voice low and warm. “And you, dearest, hold us together when we’d otherwise tear ourselves apart.”

Ratio’s hand briefly tightened over yours. “It’s true. Without you, I doubt either of us would have found the balance we needed.”

In that moment, the harmony between the three of you felt unshakable. As Kaveh drifted into a soft slumber against you, Ratio leaned closer, his steady gaze meeting yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For understanding us.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “Always.”

The moonlit terrace seemed to shimmer with the quiet promise of a future where the three of you—so different, yet so deeply connected—would continue to build something extraordinary together.

[thehereticdiaries]

Protective Instincts: TXT

Summary: Your best friend shows his possessive nature when another man harasses you

Warnings: Misogynistic comments, intimidation, threats of violence, if I missed anything lmk

These turned out a little longer than intended but whatev. Edited to change the header image ^^

Protective Instincts Masterlist

Choi Soobin

Your friend, Ji-woo’s birthday party was in full swing and you were highly satisfied with yourself for pulling off the surprise. You leaned against the wall, watching her flit between the small groups that formed around your parents’ house (which they graciously allowed you to use for the night). You grinned when one of her classmates popped a ‘birthday princess’ tiara on her head. 

The front door opened as a few stragglers trickled in. Almost all of the people you invited showed up, at least for a few minutes. At the tail end of the newcomers was someone you definitely did not invite. He scanned the room briefly, settling on you, making your blood run cold. His neutral expression morphed into a predatory smirk. 

You pushed off the wall, quickly escaping to the kitchen where you knew Soobin liked to hang out when things got too loud. He sat on one of the barstools that surrounded the island, which was packed full of snacks. He looked up from his phone upon hearing approaching footsteps. He smiled brightly, but it immediately fell at the panic in your eyes.

“What happened?” He asked as you pressed yourself between him and the counter.

“Soobin, he’s here.” His jaw tensed, needing no further explanation. “I don’t even know how he found out about the party. I haven’t had a shift with him in almost two weeks.”

“It’s okay, just stay calm and stay close to me.” Soobin shuffled you around so you were caged between his legs, hiking a foot onto a higher rung of the stool so his thigh acted as a shield in front of you. The unwanted guest, your shithead coworker, Matthew, appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, striding over to you like it was his house. Your posture stiffened, somehow shifting even closer to Soobin. You squeezed his forearm to ease your growing nerves.

“Jeez, Y/N, some host you are, running away instead of welcoming everyone.” Your coworker ‘playfully’ scolded as he moved closer to you and Soobin. He was met with a tense silence. “Damn. Tough crowd. I was joking, ease up a bit.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Hi.”  You mumbled, resisting the urge to hide your face in your hands. “H-how did you know about Ji-woo’s party?”

“You and Katie were talking about it. I overheard you guys talking in the break room.” He stood way too close for comfort, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Oh…”

“Come on, you should introduce me to your other friends,” he demanded with a sly grin, assuming you’d agree so you didn’t look rude.

“She’s not interested,” Soobin refused, leveling your coworker with an icy stare.

“Yeah? Who the fuck are you, anyway?” Matthew puffed his chest out, trying to look intimidating but failing royally.

“I’m her fucking boyfriend.” His free hand skimmed across your lower back to rest on your hip. 

“Boyfriend?” He scoffed, turning his glare from Soobin to you. “Sorry to break it to you, man, but your girlfriend’s a goddamn whore.” You flinched, shrinking in on yourself. Soobin, on the other hand, felt anger flare up in his chest.

“Choose your next words very fucking carefully,” he borderline growled, digging his fingers further into your hip. Matthew raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“She’s never mentioned you and she flirts with me all the time-”

“Are you serious?! I do not flirt with you!” You snapped, finally finding your voice. “I’m civil with you because we’re coworkers. We are not friends and frankly, I don’t like you.”

“God, you’re such a bitch sometimes. You’re probably not even dating,” he provoked harshly.

“Oh, classic. What? Are you expecting us to prove our relationship to you, pervert?” Soobin fired back with a sneer. 

“Yeah, actually, I do.” He narrowed his eyes at the two of you. “I think you’re lying cus you don’t want me to out you as an attention whore.” Soobin ground his teeth together. Your eyes flicked between your best friend and your coworker, unsure of how far this would go. 

“Fine,” Soobin agreed, flipping from pissed off to cocky in less than a second. He hooked a finger under your chin, turning you to face him. He mouthed ‘trust me’ to you before pulling you in by the back of your neck. You stifled a tiny squeak of surprise when your lips connected in a heated kiss. With one hand squeezing your hip and the other cupping your jaw, Soobin’s touch turned possessive in a way that made your head spin. You don’t know where this Soobin was hiding all this time. In the two years that you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him so aggressive. It was exhilarating, drawing a flush to your cheeks as he ran his tongue across yours. You whined involuntarily when he pulled away.

“He’s gone,” Soobin noted as he forced himself to check around the kitchen. 

“I, uh. I’d like to stay here, if that’s okay with you?” Your fingers curled around the hem of his shirt. You tried not to look too excited at his grin.

“Of course you can.”

Choi Yeonjun

Beomgyu found a new arcade in town and he made it his personal mission to drag you and the other boys there as soon as possible. It didn’t really take much convincing once he started listing all the games it housed. Retro, rhythm, shooters, racing, pretty much anything you could think of was in this arcade. The six of you moved through the games, your competitive nature increasing by the minute. You and Kai were trying to one-up each other in the Walking Dead game. Kai groaned dramatically when his character died, resulting in your win and celebratory cheer. 

“Dude, where did the guys go?” You asked, spinning in a small circle, unable to find them nearby.

“They got freaked out by the zombies,” Kai said while looking at his phone. “Soobin texted the group chat.”

“Boo, those scaredy-cats. Walkers aren’t even the scariest zombies,” you loudly complained.

“Come on, I told them to meet us at the snack stand,” he tapped your arm and turned to the back corner of the arcade. “You can sit down if you want, I’ll get everyone’s food.” You nodded, plopping down at one of the little tables and pulling up instagram. 

“Hey there,” an unfamiliar voice stole your attention from your phone. A guy, standing way too close, smiled at you with his hands tucked in his hoodie pockets.

“Uh, hi?”

“I couldn’t help but notice you sitting here all by yourself. It’s kinda rare to see a girl in an arcade, you know.” There were four other girls within ten feet of the table. You raised a brow at him.

“I see f-”

“Wait, wait. Let me rephrase,” he interrupted. “It’s rare to see a hot girl in an arcade. Look at them. 3, 4, 4, 2.” He pointed to each of the nearby girls as he said each number.

“Are you seriously rating them? That is such a dick move,” your lip curled up in disgust. 

“Chill, I was complimenting you.”

“By insulting other people. Real mature.” You rolled your eyes and stood to push past him. 

“I’m still talking to you, bitch.” His hand hit your sternum, shoving you back into your seat. You seriously regretted picking a corner table right now. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You tried to keep your voice level despite your growing anger.

“Me? What’s wrong with you?” He sneered. “I’m over here just trying to have  a conversation and you’re losing your shit.”

“You came up to me and immediately started insulting other girls. Why the fuck would I want to talk to you?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he started, leaning down to place one hand on the back of your chair, the other on the wall behind you. Anger shifted to fear as you realized you were trapped. “I’m much bigger and much stronger than you. How are you gonna stop me all by yourself?” The sinister grin on his face sent a shiver down your spine. Your eyes widened as you pressed yourself into the wall.

“She’s not by herself, asshole.” Yeonjun’s voice cut through the tense silence. You released a shaky breath, but quickly went rigid again when the guy slammed a hand into the wall. 

“Back off, man. I was here first, go find your own bitch.” You gaped at him, stunned that he talked about you like you were an object right in front of you. Yeonjun yanked the guy back by his hood. His anger was visible on his face, mouth pulled into a deep scowl. He never got angry like this, but with your safety on the line he couldn't hold himself back. 

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Yeonjun snapped at the guy, who was now trying to mask his own fear. 

“Hey, take it easy. I was just giving the girl a compliment,” he immediately backtracked. Yeonjun tilted his head, brows furrowed and hand still tangled in his hood. 

“Why should I? You didn’t ‘take it easy’ when you tried to intimidate her,” Yeonjun questioned, slightly tightening his hood around his neck.

“B-because-”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed. I’m much bigger and much stronger than you. How are you gonna stop me all by yourself?” His face blanched as his own words were thrown back at him. Yeonjun easily towered over him.

“P-please just let m-me go,” he pleaded, now noticing the other boys standing a few feet away. You were suddenly very thankful that you had such tall friends.

“What do you think?” Yeonjun turned his attention to you. “What should I do with him?”

“Just,” you sighed heavily, drooping down in your chair. “Just let him go. He’s not worth the trouble.”

“You’re lucky she’s so nice. Because we,” he gestured to the others with a nod. “Are not so lenient. Get the fuck out of here.” Yeonjun shoved the guy away, watching closely as he scurried out of the arcade. 

“Yeonjun… thank-” You were cut off when he pulled you up, wrapping you in a tight hug. Your fingers curled into his shirt, still slightly overwhelmed by what just happened. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I’d never let anyone hurt you.” His hand moved to cradle the back of your head, holding you close to his chest. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as a few stray tears fell down your cheeks.

“I know.”

Kang Taehyun

You could think of many words to describe Taehyun. Sweet, caring, funny, great at magic (okay, that’s a few words, but still). Intimidating? Not so much. At least until today. His sister’s birthday was quickly approaching, so he recruited you to help him find a gift. Somehow you knew her favorite bookstore and Taehyun didn’t, which you teased him about relentlessly. You scanned the shelves, searching for a book on his sister’s GoodReads list. You didn’t notice when Taehyun drifted toward a display of tabletop games. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a man stand next to you. You didn’t think much of it, figuring he was looking for a book on the same shelf, until he opened his mouth.

“Wow, I’d never expect such a pretty girl to be into historical fiction.” You turned to him, thrown off by his odd comment.

“Uh, I’m not. I’m looking for a gift for my friend,” you hesitantly replied. 

“Ah,” the guy sighed in disappointment. “I should’ve known better. You’re probably only like romance, like every other girl in here.”

“What’s wrong with liking romance?” You narrowed your eyes at him. He waved a hand, dismissing your question.

“Don’t go putting words in my mouth. I never said liking romance is a bad thing. It’s just that females only seem to like reading when it involves sex scenes.”

“Excuse me? Females?” You crossed your arms, now irritated with this random asshole’s commentary. “That’s a bold assumption, dude.”

“God, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline. Before you could retaliate, his hand squeezed down on your shoulder. 

“Hey-”

“Relax, sweetheart. Why don’t you show me your favorite scene and I’ll make it real for you.” 

“Are you shitting me?! Did you really think that would work?” You hissed, smacking his hand away from you. “Leave me the fuck alone, creep.”

“Creep?” He scoffed. “You wanna see a fucking creep?” His hand shot out to grab your bicep, fingers digging into your skin. You tried to yank your arm back, but he tugged you closer to him, his other hand landing low on your hip. 

“Let go,” you demanded, your voice dropping lower in your throat. He smirked, pushing you into the shelf behind you. Panic flooded your mind. “Let go!” 

“Awe, poor thing. Should’ve thought about that before you insulted me.” You struggled against his grip, stomping your foot on his as tears stung the back of your eyes. “Fucking behave and this will go much easier.”

“Don’t. Please don’t-”

“Oh shut up.”

“What the fuck,” Taehyun appeared by your side, crushing the guy’s wrist in his hand. “Do you think you’re doing?” The guy ripped his arm away, glaring at Taehyun as he hid you behind him.

“Ow, fuck! Are you insane?! You could’ve broken my goddamn wrist,” he was close to shouting at this point. You silently hoped an employee would hear and kick him out. 

“That was the point, dumbass,” he glared at the stranger, literally looking down at him. You pressed closer to Taehyun, resting your forehead between his shoulder blades and gripping his shirt with shaky hands. He could feel you trembling against his back. His anger flared, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Taehyun’s hand dropped to your hip, his touch reassuring and his thumb brushing away the lingering feeling of the strange man’s fingers. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man sarcastically apologized. “I didn’t realize there was a line. Her pussy’s that good, huh?” Taehyun inhaled sharply.

“I am giving you five fucking seconds to walk away,” he seethed. If looks could kill, this guy would be dead ten times over.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll break your goddamn fingers.” You knew that Taehyun was protective of his friends, especially you, but you’ve never heard him threaten someone like that. 

“Try me, asshole.” Your panic spiked again when the guy took a step towards you. Taehyun went rigid, fist curling at his side. There was a very real possibility of him beating the shit out of this guy. As satisfying as that would be, you really didn’t want to have to bail him out of jail. So you wrapped your arms around his middle, hands resting on his stomach.

“Tae, please,” you whimpered into his shirt. This seemed to knock him back to reality. He took a shaky breath, moving his free hand to rest on yours. 

“Man, she’s got you whipped. What happened to all that big talk, hot-shot?” This guy just didn’t know when to stop.

“Excuse me, is there an issue over here?” An employee asked from the end of the shelves. “I’ve had other customers complain about shouting.”

“Yes, actually. This man harassed and put his hands on my friend,” Taehyun told the employee. She sighed, turning to him with the most unimpressed expression on her face.

“Sir, leave them alone or I’ll be forced to remove you from the store,” she stated, tilting her head at him. 

“Whatever,” he scoffed and walked away, hands shoved in his pockets, the employee following behind him. Once he was out of sight, Taehyun relaxed and spun around to hold your face in his hands.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry I left you alone,” he scanned your body for injuries, stopping at the bruises forming on your arm. 

“I’m okay, just a bit shaken up.” His lips pressed into a thin line as he brushed his thumb across your cheek. He quickly kissed the crown of your head before turning his attention back to the books, linking your pinky with his as you ignored the butterflies that erupted in your stomach.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

[aboutcustardcreams]

Time Ticking, Patience Thinning

Here’s another chapter that I hope you enjoy 🫶🏼 please lemme know if you do~ would make my day!

previous chapter

“What’s your name again-? I didn’t quite catch it the first time.” 

When the boy opened his mouth to answer Agatha’s question, your gaze instinctively shifted to him. What happened next took you by surprise. As he began to speak, a shimmering sigil materialized above his lips, silencing his voice entirely. Your brows furrowed in confusion as your gaze slowly shifted to Agatha. 

“Interesting,” that’s all she said. 

"What do you mean?” 

“Nothing to shout about,” she waved it off, giving you the hint of keeping that detail about Teen a secret for now. “Anyway, I can’t promise I’ll remember your name.” 

Her words caught you off guard, and it took everything in you not to burst into a cackle. Even so, a tiny puff of air escaped your nose, almost sounding like a snort. Agatha turned to you then, her composure always impeccable, infuriatingly so. 

“We better get going now,” she brushed past you towards the front door, or rather, the spot where it used to be.

You smacked your lips at her nonchalance. If you weren’t in such a rush, you’d invade her personal space right there and now, capture her lips with yours to wipe off that knowing grin from her face. 

Instead you only said, “I drive.”

She didn’t object to that. In fact, she preferred it when you were the one behind the wheel. It gave her the liberty to let her hands wander over your skin. 

As you slid into your car, Teen's eyes sparkled with the hopeful anticipation of claiming the shotgun seat, but Agatha cut off his enthusiasm rather quickly. 

“Be a good pet and sit in the back, will you?” 

The boy shot you a sideway glance and you muttered a soft ‘sorry’ in his direction. Resigned, he slid into the backseat, clicked his seatbelt into place,and slouched in quiet defeat, arms crossed over his chest, reminding you of his young age. 

“Maybe on our way back you two can switch-”

Agatha didn’t even let you finish, “Or maybe not,” she muttered sarcastically. 

You sighed and started the car, with no clear destination in mind just yet, “very mature.”

She didn’t respond to that and simply hummed.

“So, where are we going?” Teen asked after a bunch of minutes. 

You looked at him from the rearview mirror, “for starters we do need a Coven to walk the Road.” 

He looked like a child on Christmas day, “you’re taking me to your Coven?” 

With your eyes back on the road, you hummed, “Uhm, not exactly.”

“We never had one,” Agatha clarified, “I mean, not for long anyway.” You glanced at her briefly, wondering what she might say to the boy next. For a fleeting moment, you thought she might blurt out the entire truth right then and there. But it wouldn’t be like her, so you brushed the thought aside almost as quickly as it came to you. 

“They annoyed me,” she said with a dramatic tut, “so one day I woke up, feeling inspired, and turned them into dust.”

You nearly veered into the opposite lane when she said that, your knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t entirely a lie either. Yes, she had killed her Coven, of that there was no dispute. But what she left unsaid were the reasons that forced her hand, reasons that probably nobody knew, that’s why people were so quick to come up with the ‘witch killer’ nickname. 

Teen looked terrified and uncertain what was to say next. And Agatha, being Agatha, looked quite pleased with it. 

"That’s not exactly how it went,” you mumbled, giving away the hint that there was more to say, without actually saying it. You stole a glance at Agatha, her smile teasing, slightly amused by the familiarity of the situation. There you were, once more, doing your best to clean up her reputation. She told you many times you didn’t have to do it, but you couldn’t help it. “What I can say is this: they’ve blown the whole ‘witch killer’ thing way out of proportion. Agatha isn’t a bad person.” 

Sure, you couldn’t deny the fact that Agatha killed witches, more than a few. But survival had a way of sharpening its edges, forcing impossible choices. She killed to save herself when no one else would. She killed to save Nicky. And later on… she killed to find a way to save you. It’s long overdue that people knew the truth, yet you knew it wasn’t your place, at least not only yours, to spill it. 

When Rio sent the Furies after you, they took possession of your mind, twisting reality until it was unrecognizable to you. Their voices inside your heart hurt in the most inexplicable way, but you resisted, you vowed to. You never fully understood how your condition affected Agatha and Nicky, because whenever you had a fleeting moment of clarity, they chose to savor the time together rather than tell you how much it hurt them to see you like that. During that time, Agatha’s killings increased but you wouldn’t know. She didn’t need to kill witches to heal Nicky, though. The moment you used your magic to bring him back to life, the curse had been lifted and with it, Nicky’s illness. But your magic had come with an unexpected price to pay. Rio had warned you, but you refused to listen. 

Noticing the way your eyes dimmed, Agatha slid her hand above your knee. She knew you too well to figure out exactly where your thoughts had gone. You were blaming yourself again. And she couldn’t let you do that. 

“Don’t listen to her, Teen. She has the tendency of picturing me softer than I really am,” despite her serious tone, the way her hand squeezed your knee, told you a whole different story. All she wanted was for you to let go of your sense of guilt. “When it comes to survival, you’ll do whatever it takes— anything. I hope it never comes that far for you.” 

Teen considered those words in silence. Your version compared to Agatha’s and it all just clicked. You were protecting her and she was protecting you. In that moment, he decided the rumors about the two of you didn’t matter, whether they were true or not. From now on, he would form his own picture of you both by living in the present and watching you do your thing. 

“I think it’s sweet that you found each other and stuck around for all these years. Centuries, I presume. In a way you form a Coven of two–” 

Your heart warmed up at Teen’s words. It was kind of cute to think of it that way. Your lips spread in a smile and so did Agatha’s, but more because she was amused by the whole thing he just said. Sure, she agreed with him- the fact that there was a bond between you two was true. An understatement, to be frank. You went through so many things together that the sole thought of parting ways for whatever reason felt now like a complete idiocy. You belonged to her like she belonged to you. 

“Teen, I’m sorry to cut your enthusiasm, but she and I are in a relationship. That hardly makes us a Coven.” 

“It makes us a family, though,” you pointed out. 

You caught something flickering in Agatha’s eyes, a shimmer of emotion, maybe even vulnerability. Had it been just the two of you, she might have let it linger, but with the boy in the car, she felt uneasy. So she averted her eyes, focusing on the passing landscape to her right. 

Noticing her hand slip away from your thigh, you pouted. Stubbornly, you reached out and placed it back where it belonged and when she turned, your lips curled up once again in a mischievous grin. Agatha snorted. That sass of yours— 

“There’s no time to be namby-pamby, my love. I need you to be focused.”

You rolled your eyes, but chuckled, “Fine. Wouldn’t want you to lose your only chance at surviving against the Salem Seven.”

Agatha's expression twisted into an exaggerated version of your own, mimicking your tone as she repeated the words you just said. The effect was immediate and both you and Teen burst into laughter, incredulous on your part. 

“I don’t sound like that!” 

“You do,” she insisted, lips twitching in a smirk. 

“I think she did a pretty good ‘you’”, Teen added, only fueling your mocking disbelief and Agatha’s enjoyment. 

“Whatever, I’m done with you two.” 

Your eyes squinted towards a peculiar building standing in the middle of nowhere to your left. You decided to try your luck there, took a rapid turn and parked right in front of the building, your instinct telling you there was a potential witch in there. The faded sign hanging above the door caught your eye, and you read it aloud: Madame Calderou’s Psychic Readings. 

Agatha clasped her hands together, before rubbing them as if she was plotting something mischievous, “Right. Seems like we are here.”

Teen’s interest piqued once again, “You think there’s a real witch in there?”

Before you could respond, Agatha preceded you, “we shall see if she knows the witchy handshake first.”

“Oh my God– there’s a witchy handshake?”

You let out an exasperated sigh while Agatha giggled to herself. It was so easy to play with that boy. “Teen, she is pulling your leg. There’s no such thing as a witchy handshake. Honestly that would be so demeaning.”

“Such as flying brooms or pointy hats,” she agreed with you. 

“I like flying brooms,” you retorted, as you three walked up towards the building. 

Agatha draped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a squishy, however affectionate embrace, “Course you do,” she purred, “next you’ll be telling me you want to adopt a black cat as familiar.” 

“I already have a familiar, thank you very much,” you pointed out, “a nice turtle that your bunny keeps bullying shamelessly.”

Agatha gasped dramatically, but you knew it was just an act, “he doesn’t! Take it back–” 

“He does,” you chuckled. “And no, I won’t.” 

“Uhm, we are drifting off here,” Teen interjected, with an awkward smile. He pointed at the building, making both you and Agatha shift your attention back to the reason why you were there. Gather a Coven of Witches. 

“Right,” she took a mental note to return to the subject another time. 

You nodded, stepping forward to open the door. Holding it wide, you gestured for Teen to go in first. He slipped inside without a word, rather excitedly actually, and as Agatha approached, she brushed past you, but not before her fingers slid into yours, her hand fitting perfectly in your grasp. 

A small, teasing grin tugged at your lips. “I thought we didn’t have time for sappy moments.” 

“Don’t be such a brat,” she whispered into your ear, in a cheeky tone, you didn’t miss. Couldn’t, if you tried. 

*

“You’ve been under the influence of another, haven't you? Someone you hurt,” the clairvoyant started, her voice solemn as she took in Agatha’s blue eyes. The smirk of confidence that had tugged at Agatha’s lips faded as soon as she realized that Lilia Calderou wasn’t a fraud and knew who she was. You gave Agatha’s hand a tentative squeeze, a way to let her know you were there– that everything was okay. Her fingers tightened around yours in response. 

“And she paid the price, too. They took your agency, but not hers,” she continued, her eyes landed on yours as you frowned uncomfortably. You never blamed Agatha for anything and you certainly wouldn’t start now just because a clairvoyant said so. “I feel it, your magic. It’s restless, volatile and quite dangerous. It should not exist.” 

You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms over your chest, “Here we go again,” you muttered, voice laced with dry sarcasm. Agatha snorted out a low chuckle in response to Lilia’s words, “You know nothing about her talent, so I’d suggest you to be quiet about it.” She never cared about what other witches thought about her, but whenever it came to you, she would completely lose her mind, if someone dared to judge who you were, basing their opinion on a prejudice as old as the world. 

“So you’re a witch?” Teen’s question came in a hopeful tone.

“Divination witch is my guess,” you replied before Lilia could. 

A mischievous grin tugged at Lilia’s lips. “If you intend to overstay your visit, I’ll have to charge you again.” 

“Oh, I think you can grant us another ten minutes of your time,” Agatha groaned, “It’s not that there’s a line in here or something.”

In response, you saw Teen bow his head to wipe the grin off his face. You, on the other hand, made no effort to hide yours. 

Annoyance was evident in her eyes, as she retorted, “whatever you want from me, I’m not interested,” Lilia stood up and without another word, she stood and disappeared behind the curtain at the back of her shop. 

You and Agatha shared a knowing glance. 

Teen appeared more disappointed than concerned, “Now what?” 

“Now we persuade her.” 

To preserve Agatha’s life, it was essential to gather some magic and you would have, no matter what. So you stood, eyes flashing with a newfound calm mingled with determination. Agatha noticed and smiled. She loved you for so many things and that behavior of yours, was just one of those characteristics that reminded her of why she chose to stick by your side so many years ago. 

She gave you a nod of her head and followed you, as you took the lead. On the other side, you found yourself in what could loosely be called an apartment. A single room stretched before you. To the left stood a corner kitchen, its countertops cluttered with mismatched utensils, jars of herbs, the faint glimmer of copper pots, and a kettle she just turned on, probably to make herself some soothing tea. 

“Join us,” Agatha insisted, as you and Teen kept looking around. “Honestly the way you live is kind of disappointing. You deserve more and better than whatever this place is…” Her gaze drifted to the far end of the room, where a mattress leaned against the wall, probably to save up space. 

You wondered if there was a toilet hidden behind it. How low could a witch go?

The clairvoyant’s gaze flickered with hesitation, her lips pressed into a thin line as Agatha’s words sinked in. The shrill whistle of the kettle cut through the silence, drawing her attention and causing both you and Agatha to roll your eyes, when she spun around. 

“Lilia–”, you couldn’t do this all day.  

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” when she turned to face you, her eyes locked onto yours, sharp and intense. You could tell she was conflicted, exasperated even. “I won’t make the same mistake and fall into Agatha’s manipulative ways. They say you endured the Furies’ wrath because you did and yet here you are, still standing by her side. I don’t understand that.”

To say you were shocked was an understatement. 

She had no idea what she was talking about– Agatha had nothing to do with the Furies. For some odd, infuriating reason, nobody knew a thing about Rio Vidal, instead: the true cause of everything. Instead, according to the stories, it had always been you and Agatha all along, so whatever bad thing came your way, Agatha bore the brunt of the blame. You were sick of that. 

Teen was in shock too, he didn’t speak, but a part of him ached to defend both you and Agatha. He’d read about the Furies, knew the torment you endured for years, but not for a second had he ever believed Agatha was responsible for it. It just didn’t sit right with him. It couldn’t be.  Not when Agatha looked at you the way she did, as if you held all the stars in the sky just for her. As if you were everything she had left.

Watching you from her peripheral vision, Agatha recognized clear signs of your struggle. Your jaw clenched tightly, your hands curled into fists at your sides, and your lips pressed into a thin line, “If you really think Agatha is somewhat responsible for what happened to me, which by the way is none of your business, maybe you lost your talent–”, your words hung in the air, adding to the already tense atmosphere lingering in the room. 

Lilia looked somewhat self-conscious about what she said and how they affected you, yet she didn’t apologize. However, she held herself back from responding to your bitter remark about her.

Agatha’s lips stretched into a sad, tight smile the moment her fingers brushed against your forearm, and you failed to meet her eyes, “hey– don’t go there again. It’s not worth it,” she cooed, voice firm, yet veiled with the usual fondness she only reserved to you. You clenched your eyes shut for a moment, your magic sparkling at the tips of your fingers. Lilia was right about one thing: your talent could be dangerous especially when wielded by a witch emotionally distressed or simply pissed off, like you. 

“You’re right,” you sighed, “Look, we are going to walk the Road. The Witches’ Road. And we need a divination witch, but the choice is yours. You can keep living your eternal life in this kind of shack you call home or try to go back on top. Be a witch again.”

Lilia’s mouth almost dropped, then. “The Road is a death wish.” 

“I survived,” Agatha waved with a grin. 

“And yet you’ve got no power.”

“That’s why I need to walk the Road, again. To restock.” 

Lilia swallowed thickly. The offer was appealing and yet, she was uncertain. Agatha was, after all, known for having betrayed her entire Coven, at a very young age too. “How can I trust you won’t take my power at the earliest opportunity?”

Before Agatha could say anything, you stepped forward. “She won’t. I guarantee it for you.” Despite your growing distaste for Lilia at this moment, your principles held steadfast: no more witches would die because of Agatha. Or you. That was a promise you intended to keep. “You seem to know very well what Agatha’s capable of, but my question is, are you just as familiar with my talent?”

Lilia almost found it amusing that you’d question her knowledge about witches of your kind. “I do. At least to some extent,” she clarified, “I know what a necromancer witch can do. And I also know you’re not a killer,” she finished on a softer note. 

“Agatha isn’t either,” you pointed out.

“Well, isn’t your loyalty sweet–”

Your lover took a step ahead, stretched out a hand, and moved you behind her, the moment your magic intensified around you and her, “Look, you’re right, I’ve got a reputation, I can’t help with that–” she trailed off, gesturing animatedly while doing so. “I don’t have time to persuade you into believing my intentions are genuine. Time’s running out and if you’re not willing to tag along, then fine. I’ll still Walk the Witches’ Road, restore my powers, and get my life back. Just remember that the path you’re currently on leads nowhere.” 

Her words were convincing enough, but it was the small piece of paper she was holding that truly caught Lilia’s attention. You hadn’t noticed it before, nor were you sure where it had come from, but the realization struck quickly. A smirk tugged at your lips as everything suddenly fell in place.

That was an eviction notice.

“Even if I were to accept, you’d still need more witches.”

Agatha had a solution for that too. She grinned from ear to ear, “I was hoping you’d use your witchcraft to come up with a list of names. You can do that, can’t you?” 

It was a rhetorical question, she knew she could. 

Lilia’s lips stretched into a defiant smile, “give me that,” she said, snatching the piece of paper from Agatha’s hands, along with a pen that lay on the table. She didn’t even have to think about the names, they were already there, poised on the tip of her tongue or rather, the pen. 

When she handed the paper back, both you and Agatha went as pale as a sheet. It couldn’t be. At the top were your name and Agatha’s, followed by Lilia Calderou, Jennifer Kale, Alice Wu Gulliver, and, finally, Rio Vidal.

[1117-yungi]

MOONSTRUCK. park seonghwa x gender neutral!reader [1.9k]

on a quiet rooftop under the moonlight, two strangers who have crossed paths countless times finally connect. as the night deepens, their magnetic pull becomes undeniable — they realize they might not need to navigate life’s uncertainties alone under the stars.

genre. neighbor!seonghwa, neighbor!reader, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

warnings. lowkey angsty, swearing, seonghwa has glasses, secret mutual pining, unprotected sex, kind of vanilla in a way, he does choke reader briefly, he's unbelievably cute and gentle with reader its sickening, reader is lonely. pet play? idk bunny used as a pet name. size kink, praise, rushed ending, implied monster cock seonghwa tbh, slight body worshipping, probably more...

note. i have been obsessed with moonstruck by enhypen so this is kinda based on that song and i broke the text where the smut starts so its optional guys...

the quiet hum of the city fades as you step onto the rooftop, the air crisp and cool against your skin. above you, the moon hangs impossibly bright, spilling silver light across the skyline. it's your escape, the place you go when the noise of life becomes too much. your apartment seemed suffocating at this moment, providing anything but comfort — maybe from the thought of finals approaching. it was quiet as always on the rooftop. but tonight, you're not alone.

he's there, leaning against the railing with a look of quiet wonder, as if he's never seen the stars this close before. you don't know his name, only that you've passed him in the halls of your building, shared shy glances in the elevator, and felt a strange pull whenever his gaze lingered a second too long. the idea of making conversation with him during those minimal interactions, if you'd even call them that, was overwhelming.

to your surprise, he makes that conversation. "you come here often?" he asks, his voice soft but carrying in the stillness. god, it was such a line and it made you crack a smile.

you nod, hesitant. "it's peaceful. feels like the world stops spinning for a while."

he smiles, mimicking your own and it's as if the moonlight shifts just to illuminate him. the slight shadow casting over him makes him look just that more attractive. "i get that. sometimes, it feels like we're all just… lost satellites."

the conversation flows effortlessly, surprising you both. you talk about the constellations, the city lights, and the quiet dreams you've kept locked away. there's something magnetic about him, something that feels both familiar and completely new at the same time.

as the night deepens, the gap between you closes. there was once a distance between the two of you, but he changed that. he takes a step closer, then another, until his shoulder brushes against yours. you can feel the warmth radiating from him, a stark contrast to the cool night air.

"i've seen you before," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "but i've never known how to start a conversation. you seemed… untouchable, like the moon itself."

you laugh softly, the sound caught somewhere between disbelief and vulnerability. "i'm not the moon. i'm just as lost as anyone."

his eyes lock with yours, and for a moment, the world truly does stop spinning. "maybe we’re not meant to find our way alone."

and then, with the stars as your witness and the moon as your accomplice, he leans in, and the universe tilts in your favor.

for the first time, you're not just stargazing — you're falling, and the descent feels like coming home. you don't pull away. for a moment, neither of you move, as if the world outside the rooftop had disappeared entirely. it's just you, and him, and the soft murmur of the city below, distant yet somehow alive, like a quiet heartbeat. his breath is warm against your skin, his presence steady, like he’s been waiting for this moment, too.

the sound of a car horn blares far below, and you realize you're both still standing there, caught in the quiet hum of the night. your hand brushes against his, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world to reach for him — to hold on to whatever it is that's growing between you. his fingers are warm, his touch hesitant at first, but it's enough. just enough to feel real.

"is it always this easy?" you ask, your voice almost lost in the wind. you half-expect him to laugh or back away, but he doesn't. his eyes are soft, patient, like he's waiting for you to figure out what comes next.

"maybe we're just lucky," he says, his voice low, almost intimate. "or maybe we were meant to find each other tonight."

the words hang between you, like a secret shared under the stars. it feels like a thousand possibilities are unfolding in this one single moment, and yet you both stand there, just existing in it. there's no rush. no need for anything more. just the quiet connection that’s formed in the spaces between your words, in the way your hands fit together so perfectly.

you shift slightly, turning to face him more fully, and for the first time tonight, you meet his gaze with the courage to hold it. his eyes are deep, and you find yourself lost in them, like a new constellation you want to learn by heart. it's an unspoken question between you — about who you are, what brought you here, what you both want. but there’s no need for it to be said aloud. not right now.

"i didn’t think…" you begin, but the words stall in your throat. "i didn't think i'd meet anyone here."

"yeah," he says with a small, almost imperceptible grin. "i didn’t either. but maybe that’s the point. sometimes, the things we're not looking for are the things we need the most."

you smile then, the kind of smile that feels like it's been waiting for years to be released. it's not just about the words; it's about the quiet certainty that somehow, in the stillness of the rooftop and the light of the moon, you both understand each other more than anyone else could.

the breeze picks up, ruffling your hair, and you close your eyes for a brief moment, listening to the night. for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel like you're just waiting for something to happen. the world feels full — full of possibilities, full of moments yet to come.

"i guess we're not alone after all," you whisper.

he steps closer, if that was even possible, his breath warm against your ear, and the space between you is no longer a distance to be crossed. he leans down, just enough to make the air around you both thrum with something electric.

"seonghwa," he whispers. you frown before realizing that you hadn't even known his name. you whisper your name back, making him smile. he repeats it, as if it was a new flavor he hadn't tried before.

his lips brush against yours.

it's soft. a gentle connection. but it lingers, like the promise of something more. the moment doesn't feel like the beginning of something fragile, something that could easily slip away. it feels like the start of something solid, something you can build with each other. your arms wrapped around his shoulder and tugged him deeper into the kiss, offering a more passionate take.

you were breathless after a few moments. as you pull back, your fingers still tangled with his, you know — the city below, the stars above, none of it matters. this moment is enough. it's all you need. you and a stranger.

"you're right," you say, finally finding your voice again. "maybe we weren't meant to find our way alone."

"no," he agrees, smiling like he’s been waiting for you to say that. "we weren't."

the night stretches out before you, wide and endless. next thing you knew, he was guiding you towards his apartment, just down the hall from yours. you had grown so familiar with the front door that seeing the inside was strange. seonghwa was neat, more neat than you had expected.

words didn't need to be spoken between the two of you anymore. his lips found yours with ease; your lips were like a drug and he was becoming an addict, needing another fix. you raised your hands to cup his face, deepening the kiss. the tension had finally boiled over into a heated passion and lust between the two of you, with seonghwa pushing you down onto his couch, not sparing another moment as his large hands begin roaming over your body, worshipping your skin as you made out.

breathy sighs escaped your wet lips, and your gaze drifted along his body before tugging on his shirt, signaling you wanted it off. he let out a breathless chuckle from his throat. "as you wish," he whispered before removing the fabric.

wow.

your hands reached out to touch his abdomen, grazing each defining line on his stomach. he shivered at your touch, melting slightly. and soon enough all of the clothes creating distance between your bodies were removed.

seonghwa reached down, rubbing his hard dick up and down your entrance, attaching his lips to yours once again.  he kissed along your neck as a distraction as he started to slowly to push in, testing the waters, watching your face as he stretches you out. "fuck," you whispered. he was so patient. he watched your reactions and each facial expression you made carefully, making sure he wasn't hurting you in any way. "you okay?" he asked after kissing your temple, making you so overwhelmed with feelings and more importantly, pleasure. it had been a while since you had sex.

he kept placing gentle kisses on your forehead temple, keeping himself still until you give him the okay. you eventually nod against him, your face still buried in his shoulder, holding him to you.

setting a slow pace, he watches your body with an intensity you weren't familiar with. you had never felt so cared for; a strange feeling erupted from your chest. but after hearing your moans start to gradually increase, he picks his pace up, hitting something so deep inside of you that it makes your head fall back. he takes the opportunity to graze his plush lips against your neck as it becomes more exposed.

he's hitting that certain spot inside you, sending a euphoric feeling through your abdomen that makes your thighs shake deliciously. it was like your entire body is infatuated by him. the care, the attention, the fondness, even the angle of his hips as they snap against yours.. it all has your mind floating on cloud nine. and god, you don't want it to stop, you don't ever want this feeling to end. you needed for him to hold you close, to have him in your blood, even. you know addicted just like he was; you've had a taste of him and you knew it was him. just him. fuck, you were moonstruck.

"seonghwa," you moaned in a pornographic way. he visibly shook at the sound, his eyebrows and face contorting for a moment. "fuck, bunny, don't say my name like that, you're gonna make me come," he groans, lifting his head up while adjusting his glasses that had fallen to the tip of his nose. the same hand moved up, applying a slight pressure to your neck that made your head fuzzy with pleasure and emotions.

you barely even registered his words as he spoke. a chuckle erupted from his chest, repeating it. "are you close?" he asks, and you could only muster up a whimper in response, holding tight onto his biceps. "you make me go crazy over you," he says, his upper body falling down on top of yours again, as he holds you close. and then you come, the warmth and safety his body is giving you making you release, every part of your being comforted by the man above you as he orgasms as well, shooting his load deep inside of you.

and for the first time, as seonghwa breathes quietly on top of your sweaty body, you know that whatever happens next — whether it's the pull of a final exam or the quiet moments shared on a rooftop — you won’t be facing it alone. the city hums, but you're no longer lost. you've found your place in it. and maybe, just maybe, it's with a stranger you met under the stars.

[tikosblogg]

Night In

Summary: You and your best friend Noah have a criminal minds marathon night, but he seems to be having a hard time focusing.

Warning: smut. Pure filth. Dom!Noah, fingering. Swearing.

A/N: best friend Noah has me in a fucking choke hold. SOMEBODY SEDATE ME!!!🤪 it’s literally 2AM and this scenario popped into my head. I had to get it out before I went to sleep, because I definitely would have forgotten it by the time I woke up. Please enjoy. Let me know what you think 😉❤️

The sound of the water cascading down the tiled walls enveloped the bathroom like a warm hug, steam rising to blur the edges of the world outside the small sanctuary. I sighed contentedly, enjoying the solitude after a hectic day of work. The rhythm of the water was soothing, and I closed my eyes, allowing my mind to drift.

“Hey, Noah!” I called out, leaning my head back into the cascading water. “Can you come in here for a sec?” I heard his footsteps approach, the familiar creak of the bathroom door creaking open, punctuating the hush of the steam-filled room. “What’s up?” he asked, his voice smooth as it always was.

“Are you down for a Criminal Minds marathon tonight?” I asked, grinning to myself. It had quickly become a ritual of ours, binging on crime dramas and rolling our eyes at the absurdities of the plotlines while eating popcorn and drinking a few. “Yeah I’m down,” his voice had a slight edge to it, like he was only half-listening. I peeked through the steamed up glass, briefly catching a glimpse of him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking especially relaxed in his faded gray t-shirt.

“Great! I can’t wait to see The way you squirm at the creepy parts. It’s priceless,” I teased, letting out a laugh. Noah chuckled, but there was something else behind that laugh—a lingering silence that felt heavy in the air. I glanced over, curiosity piqued, and noticed he was staring, his gaze fixed on the glass shower walls where steam mingled with droplets of water.

“Hey, you okay?” I asked, playfully splashing water in his direction. He blinked, suddenly like a deer caught in headlights, the blush creeping up to his cheeks evident even from where I stood. “ yeah, just… can we talk when you get out? I’m literally getting hard watching you shower right now.” he admitted, bluntly. Scratching his head, his eyes darting away, though they lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary.

The realization of what he’d said hung between us, thick and charged. My heart raced, a cocktail of embarrassment and exhilaration flooding through me. “Oh,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, the steam turning us both a little breathless.

“Sorry, it’s kind of hard not to,” he laughed. “You know, the fog and you look a little too good.” He smirked.

“Thanks?” I said, unsure of how to respond, a nervous laugh escaping me. He turned away, but not before I caught the evidence of his arousal pressing against his jeans. The tension shifted, electrifying the air around us, and I couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement there too, blurring the lines we’d always kept between us.

“Okay, I’ll be quick,” I assured him, suddenly hyper-aware of my own body and the droplets that clung to my skin. It felt like we had crossed an invisible threshold, yet neither of us was ready to acknowledge it just yet.

“Take your time,” he said teasingly, as he turned to walk out, pausing at the door. “But unless you want to be the one who has to explain why I’m walking around with a boner, I’d suggest you hurry.”

As the door clicked shut, I couldn’t help but laugh, a blend of nerves and something else bubbling beneath the surface. After rinsing away the day's fatigue, I stepped out, the warmth of steam swirling around me as I wrapped a towel snugly around myself. I glanced around, ensuring I was alone, a smile creeping onto my face at the thought of having the house to myself with Noah.

I rummaged through the pile of clean clothes thrown haphazardly on the counter and pulled out one of Noah's oversized t-shirts. It fell delightfully to my mid-thigh, the fabric soft and comforting against my damp skin. As I slid on a pair of underwear, I took a moment to admire my reflection in the mirror, feeling a sense of warmth at how casually sexy the ensemble was.

When I emerged from the bathroom, a wave of confidence washed over me. I found Noah lounging on the couch, the glow of the television illuminating his features as he flipped through the streaming options, searching for our show. His eyes flickered to me, and for a brief second, he froze, his brows raised in surprise before a smirk broke across his face.

“Nice shirt,” he teased, his gaze lingering on me, undeniably captivated.

I smirked back, walking over to where he sat. I could feel the weight of his attention on me as I settled down beside him, nestling into the cushions of the couch. The familiar opening credits of Criminal Minds began to play, and I grabbed the remote, easing into the comfort of the moment.

Noah’s laugh was warm, drowning out the eerie music of the show, and my heart soared as he pulled me closer, wrapping an arm around me. As the episode unfolded, I couldn’t shake the sensation of being completely at ease, my worries melting away like snow under the spring sun.

An hour passed, and I felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere as I found myself feeling sleepy. I shifted slightly, laying my head on Noah’s lap. His fingers instinctively began to run through my hair, a gentle and rhythmic massage that made me sigh contentedly.

The show continued in the background, but my focus blurred with every gentle stroke of his hand. It was surreal how strangely intimate we were being. We’ve always been pretty affectionate with each other, but this felt different. His touch sent a tingle down my spine, every movement igniting a sense of want that hung between us, unspoken yet palpable.

Noah looked down at me, his expression softening. “You know, you look really cute in my shirt,” he murmured, a hint of mischief dancing in his voice.

I smiled, meeting his gaze. “Maybe I should wear it more then,” I teased, running my fingers along the hem of the fabric as if weighing the option.

His laughter rumbled through his chest, and I could see the way his eyes sparkled. “Good. It looks better on you anyways.”

I chuckled softly, shifting to get more comfortable, feeling the warmth radiating from him. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the television casting playful shadows across the walls. The warmth of Noah's body provided comfort as I lay on the couch, my head resting on his lap while we both immersed ourselves in the latest episode of our favorite show. The world outside felt miles away, and for this moment, everything else faded into the background.

As his fingers tangled gently in my hair, an intimate motion that sent pleasant shivers down my spine. I closed my eyes, relishing the way his fingers moved. His fingers suddenly began tracing a path from my hair down my side. The sensation was feather-light, almost teasing, until they reached my hip. I held my breath as his fingers played with the edge of my underwear, a trail of heat left in their wake.

My heart raced at his touch. I couldn't help but subtly squeeze my thighs together, a simple reaction, but one that betrayed the flutter in my stomach. I felt the tension between us crackle like static electricity in the air.

"Y/n" his voice a soft whisper, breaking the spell for a moment. My name rolled off his tongue like honey, sweet and addictive. I rolled onto my back, gazing up at him, my head nestled comfortably against his thighs, practically blinded by the sheer intensity of his gaze.

He stole a glance at my bare thighs, a fleeting moment that made me feel exposed yet thrillingly alive. "What's wrong?" he asked, his brow slightly furrowing as if he was clueless at what he was doing.

I looked away, heat pooling in my cheeks blushing, perhaps, in both embarrassment and excitement. How could he be so nonchalant about this? His hand found its way up my stomach, slowly inching beneath my shirt, and I stifled a gasp, the softness of his touch causing the world around us to blur.

"Nothing," I murmured, though my voice was barely a whisper, betraying the whirlwind of emotions brewing inside me.

"Come on," he coaxed, his fingertips dancing just below the hem of my shirt. "What is it?"

A soft whine slipped from my lips without my permission, the weight of his teasing hanging heavily in the air between us. "You’re teasing me," I whimpered, frustration mingled with desire.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating in the quiet room, both comforting and maddening. "I’m not teasing...." The playful glint in his eye, combined with the authoritative way he pressed his finger over the front of my underwear, sent sparks through my core.

“What if I like it?” I blurted, the honesty spilling out before I could reel it back in.

His expression shifted, surprise giving way to something deeper as he leaned down closer, the air between us thick with unspoken words, and for the first time, I sensed that this moment was filled with endless possibilities .

With his finger still teasing me, he smirked, his warm breath ghosting over my face.“Then I won’t stop.”

Everything around us faded into silence, the television now just a distant hum.

His hand slid under my head, lifting it up slightly, as he leaned down capturing my lips into a heated kiss and it felt as if time slowed. The evening sunset filtered through the curtains, casting a soft orange glow over the living room. I was nestled comfortably on the couch, my head resting gently on Noah's lap. The hum of the world outside felt distant, as if time had slowed just for us. I could hear the steady beat of his heart, echoing the warmth that enveloped me.

His lips were warm and inviting, enveloping mine as if they were made for each other. I surrendered completely, allowing his tongue to glide against mine. It was an intoxicating rhythm that drew me deeper into the moment. I could barely catch my breath as his fingers swept under the hem of my panties, teasingly slow, until they found their way to my core.

I gasped against his mouth, breathless and desperate. My thighs instinctively fell open, making room for his hand, craving more. I whimpered his name, a plea wrapped in desire.

“What is it baby?” he murmured against my lips, his voice low and husky, igniting a spark of anticipation within me.

The teasing question sent my heart racing. I could sense the care behind his touch, but the intensity of the moment was almost overwhelming. In that instant, I wanted to drown in him, to abandon all reservations. I pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. He looked at me, a mixture of curiosity and longing in his eyes.

“I just... I want you,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. It felt liberating to admit it, to articulate the pounding desire that coursed through my veins.

He smiled, a teasing glint in his eyes, and his fingers continued their gentle exploration, igniting a fire that smoldered just beneath the surface. “You have me,” he assured me, his voice rich with promise.

With newfound confidence, I leaned into him, pressing my lips back to his, craving the connection that was building between us. His fingers continued their teasing, each touch sending ripples of pleasure spiraling through me, coaxing out soft gasps that mingled with our kisses.

His tongue licked into my mouth, tasting me. I knew we were stepping over an invisible threshold, reaching for something deeper, but I was ready for it. As his fingers stroked through my soaked folds, he finally sank two of them into me. He pumped his fingers slowly in and out, as I softly ground my hips against them.

His eyes left my face, focusing on his fingers now coated in my arousal, slowly disappearing over and over into me. His other hand left the back of my head, pulling my shirt up above my breasts letting them free. My nipples instantly hardened as the cool air hit them. Noah’s eyes raked up my body, until they landed on my heaving chest.

His big tattooed hand, groped my tits squeezing them , and rolling my nipples between his fingers. I groaned, slowly losing my mind. “You’re so fucking beautiful baby….your pussy is so fucking wet.” As soon as those words left his mouth, his fingers sped up. He crooked them up, hitting that spongy spot, as more pleasure bursts through me.

I gasped and whined, as his palm hit my sensitive clit over and over. “Noah please.” I begged, sounding breathless. “Please what baby? What do you need?” He asked, his voice soft but mocking. “I- I need to cum.” I stammered, as my end was nearing. His bottom lip disappeared behind his teeth, as his bit hard before speaking.

“Then cum y/n, cum on my fingers.” He groaned, trying so hard not to lose control. Without another word, I moaned out my hips stuttering against his fingers, as they fucked me through my orgasm. He removed his fingers, and pulled me upright, his eyes meeting mine with such an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

“Come here,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that resonated deep within my throbbing core. I complied, eager yet shy, straddling his hips as I felt the heat radiating from his body. My face instinctively buried into the crook of his neck. The familiar scent of him—a mix of musk and something distinctly Noah—wrapped around me like a warm blanket, grounding and intoxicating at once.

His large hands gripped my hips firmly, guiding my movements as I instinctively began to grind against him. I could feel his hard dick pressing against me, igniting a deep fire within. He was huge. I whined softly, the sound muffled as I nuzzled deeper into his skin, desperate for more of this moment, more of him.

“Noah…” I breathed, feeling both exhilarated and vulnerable. He pulled my head back gently, his large hand wrapping around my throat in a possessive grip that both thrilled and terrified me. His eyes bore into mine, dark with desire and something deeper I couldn't quite place.

“Fucking look at me,” he said, his voice almost a growl, and full of command. His hips softly bucked up against mine, the material of his sweat shorts causing a delicious friction against my sensitive core. I met his gaze, my heart racing, captivated by the raw intensity of the moment.

And then, without warning, he closed the distance, capturing my lips in another heated kiss. It was a collision of want and urgency, igniting every nerve ending in my body.

His hips thrust upward again, drawing me closer, forcing my core against his in a way that sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. I moaned into his mouth, lost in the rhythmic grind of our bodies, the world outside completely forgotten. All that existed was him, me, and this intoxicating connection that burned brightly between us.

He pulled away, grabbing the hem of my shirt, and pulling it off swiftly. His eyes landed on my tits. His face dropped to my chest, teasing both of my nipples with his lips. My hands flew to the back of his head, gripping his short hair tightly.

He pulled back, wasting no time releasing his hard dick from his shorts with a soft sigh of relief. I almost drooled at the sight. He was definitely huge, and so so beautiful. The tip was bright red, already leaking. He must’ve seen the slight hesitation in my eyes, as his hand cupped my cheek, bringing my eyes up to his.

“You’re gonna take it right baby? And you’re gonna ride me, until I cum in that pretty little pussy right?” He groaned, his gazing burning into mine. The butterflies in my stomach were going wild with this new dominant side coming out of him. I nodded my head quickly, practically begging for it.

He shook his head at my lack of words. His hand now cupping my jaw, pulled me into him closer. “Say it.” He growled. Not moving until I spoke. I whined, my hips grinding harder against him. “Yes sir.” He smirked at my reply, pecking my lips softly. “Good fucking girl.”

He gripped my hips, pulling me up to hover over his dick. I gasped, as soon as the tip entered my core. It already felt amazing. He slowly pulled my hips down, further and further until he was completely bottomed out inside of me. “That’s it baby, just like that.” He moaned, pausing to let me adjust.

Before I knew it, his hips thrusted up, making me see stars. “Ohhh fuck Noah.” I whimpered, gripping his shoulders tight. He thrusted up again, his hips going at a steady fast pace as I bounced on his lap. “Fuck baby, you feel so good.” He moaned breathlessly.

He grabbed my hands, pulling them down, and forcing them back and crossing them behind me, as he held them together with one hand, he guided my hips with the other. My chest fell against his, as I gasped and moaned into his neck. His thrusts were hard, and fast. Almost knocking the breath from my lungs.

The hand holding my wrists tightened, as he bit down on my shoulder. “Noah fuck, please I’m gonna cum.” I groaned, as his hips sped up even faster. “Do it baby, please. Be a good girl and cum on my cock.” He panted, into my neck. That was all it took, my pussy instantly tightening around him, as I came for a second time.

I pulled my face from his neck, attacking his lips in a feral kiss. His thrusts became sloppy, as he finally came. His grip on my wrist tightened, the pain of it not even registering as I was too lost in the pleasure. He continued thrusting slowly as he fucked himself through it. His lips never leaving mine.

After a few short moments, he released me. Bringing my wrists to his lips kissing them gently. “I’m so sorry if I was too rough.” He whispered, against my skin before finally looking into my eyes. I smiled sweetly, cupping his cheeks. “I loved every fucking second of it.” He grinned, pressing his lips to mine, in a sweet kiss. “Me too.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 6

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: mentions of physical abuse. probably cursing, but idk. insecurity and vulnerability. I'm sure there are typos.

Words: 2825

The One I Want Masterlist

Jake’s eyebrows pinch in confusion at the shifting expression on your face, then he follows your line of sight over his shoulder. Though he’s still yards away from you, you hear the soft ‘damn it’ that leaves his mouth. He’s out of his seat in the next half-second, Rooster quickly joining him. 

“How is she here?” Jake asks as you ease behind him. 

“I have no idea,” Bradley says.

Sifting his hand through his hair, Jake curses again as if the woman making her way toward the group is a ticking bomb they’re running out of time to dismantle. “Can you and Millie take her back to the apartment?”

“Your girl?”

“Yes. I don’t know what Brit will say, but I don’t want it directed at her. When Brit realizes she’s my roommate—”

Rooster nods. “Enough said.”

“Thank you.” Jake whips around and his head jerks back in surprise—his mouth parts. A new shade appears to travel up his neck to his cheeks, but the pinkish hue could easily be mistaken for the fiery glow of the bonfire reflecting off his skin. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Just a minute,” you say. “Who is she?”

Nat and Bob pull up on either side of you and you notice how all sets of eyes are glued to the woman who is still too far away to identify properly. Though, despite her distance and that you’d asked Jake for confirmation, she’s no mystery to you. She’s undoubtedly the woman from the gift shop. What you don’t understand is the intensity of everyone's reactions. 

Nat crosses her arms and with a frown, says, “Jake, how does she know you’re here?”

It’s a question that goes unanswered, but you suspect it’s not one that has an answer. They’re all shocked; no one pilot more or less confused than another. 

Ignoring both your question and Nat’s, Jake places his hands on your forearms to regain your attention. “Rooster and Millie are going to take you back to our place, alright?”

“Jake, why—”

“I just need to deal with this,” he interrupts, a barely detectable plea hidden within his tone. “I’ll get rid of her and then I’ll be home.”

Your breath catches at his wording. Get rid of her. You suddenly don’t care about the irritation swirling around the group or the stress on Jake’s face. Time slows. You’re shot back to a life you’ve been trying to forget. A life that had you so often discarded you'd learned to rid people of yourself before they could do it for you. 

“Does she deserve to be gotten rid of, Jake?” you ask, just above a whisper, for him and only him.

He flinches as if you slapped him, but he doesn't release you, and a bulge briefly forms in his throat before, bit by bit, the hurt infects the features of his face. He looks down to where his fingers are wrapped around your arms and squeezes, so light and gentle that were you not sensitive in the moment--hyperaware of every movement and sound--you wouldn't have felt it.

His hands slide down to your fingers, the pads of his fingertips resting under yours, his thumb grazing along the nail of your index finger. When his eyes flick up to yours, he says, “I’ll explain later."

The woman is close enough now that you can see the harsh scrutiny in her gaze as she looks you up and down. It morphs into a glare when she notices Jake’s hands on you, and she picks up in speed.

“If we’re going, it needs to be now,” Rooster says. “Baby,” he calls out for Millie, “We gotta go.”

She leaps up and rushes over to take his hand. The smile she directs at you is forced. “I was gettin’ tired anyway.”

—

Rooster and Millie drop you off with matching tense faces that look misplaced on both of them; appearing so odd you can’t help but stare hard at the crease in Rooster’s brow reflecting back at you in the rearview mirror. Despite only getting to know these people tonight, you suspect the mood filling this car is uncommon, especially when these two are within a foot and a half of one another while their hands are clasped and resting on the center armrest. 

“Jake will be back soon,” Rooster says as you exit the vehicle.

Then Millie adds a syrupy sweet, “I loved meetin’ you. If you ever wanna get together, let me know. I could use another friend in this town.”

Momentarily, you forget Jake in favor of the redhead smiling at you through the rolled-down passenger window. You could use another friend, too. Someone who isn’t so perfectly formed from the outside world's perspective. Someone who might be able to understand you. 

“I’d like that,” you reply. 

Rooster waits until you’re through the door of the building before peeling out of the lot and back down the street. 

When you make it into the apartment, you’re not entirely sure what to do. Everything you could do to distract yourself, whether it be cleaning or reading or watching TV, you won’t be able to put any heart into. They’d be useless distractions. You opt instead to take a seat on the couch and wait. But then the waiting grows boring, so you start to think. 

Get rid of her. Get rid of her. Get rid of her. 

There’s a layer of bitterness coating the roof of your mouth that you can’t swallow.

You just started settling into the idea that Jake could be different—good. His heart isn’t something he appeared to hide from you and the more time you spend around him, the more honest you’ve sensed him to be. Your resistance has yet to deter or turn him sour. Regardless of how you act, he still smiles at you every morning. He still makes you coffee and picks you up from work and wants you to spend time with his friends. He tries to integrate you into his life, but now you’re not sure for what purpose if this is how he views women. Disposable. 

You can feel it begin to crush you from all sides as you imagine the day Jake will look at you differently. The way he looked at her. 

Jake is worn down when he enters the apartment and finds you on the living room couch, your spine locked pin-straight. His eyes have lost their light, there is potentially a new fine wrinkle across his forehead, and his lips are pulled so tight they almost disappear. He’s so altered from the happy man of an hour ago. In fairness, you are as well. 

When he sees you, Jake smiles softly, weakly. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “You alright?” he asks.

You hadn’t considered a plan for addressing the event Jake didn’t allow you to witness, so it is your unprocessed emotions from the last hour that have you ignoring his question in favor of fueling what next comes out of your mouth. “She’s your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

Jake’s brow pinches as he crosses his arms. There’s no anger behind it; almost disappointment that you’ve reached such a conclusion. “What makes you say that?”

“I saw the mug in the trash. She got it at the gift shop where I work. A shirt, too, that matches.” 

The strain of his shoulders releases and his head falls back a bit, like that knowledge was the very last thing he needed you to have. “Fuck,” he groans, straightening his neck. “Of all the goddamn shops in this town…” His head shakes, then his eyes lock onto yours. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Was your girlfriend.”

“Not that either. She’s just…She lived here. Before you.”

Your hands tighten into fists that lightly press into the couch cushions. “Did you kick her out?”

“Not exactly,” he says. “She was month-to-month, and the month was up.”

“That doesn’t explain the mug, or the shirt.”    

Your words are spewing so fast, every held in question breaking out, and you don’t dare stop yourself. You need to know if you’re correct. You need the explanation he promised you to confirm your suspicions. You need it. 

“You were sleeping with her, right?” You ask, though you’re already positive that’s what birthed the issues between him and that woman. “You slept with her and now she has feelings for you so you won’t let her stay here anymore…Right?”

The hurtful look that you’d caused at the beach reforms on his face, and it’s a deep stab into your chest, a mix of frustration and regret. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Sounds simple to me,” you snap. “Is this what you do? You sleep with women until it’s no longer convenient for you?”

“No! God, no. It’s not like this is my thing. She lived here and we got involved for three months. That was it,” he explains in a rush. “It wasn’t ever going to be anything more than sex, not to me, and when she realized that, she lost her shit, Ok? Broke things. Threw things. Hit me. I couldn’t let her stay here forever. I’m not some heartless dick, it just got out of hand.”

When he’s done, his chest is rising and falling like a man just off a five-mile run. He swallows hard, dragging a hand down his face in the silence that follows. 

It’s not a silence you know how to break. It’s a silence that demands you feel the full force of that stab wound in your chest, now shoved deep enough into your body to slice you right down the middle. Frustration is gone, easily overpowered by regret.

In a matter of ten seconds, Jake flipped over everything you had prematurely decided about the story between him and the woman. When you saw how she looked at you tonight and heard what Jake said, you thought you identified with her, that you’ve felt what she feels, that only you could see a swirling well of pain under her layer of anger. But as Jake stands before you, exhausted and desperate for you to understand, you realize you never considered that it’s with him you identify. Maybe it’s why pushing him away is much harder than anyone from your past. Maybe it’s why you want to believe he is good and genuine and kind. And maybe it’s why you’re realizing with each passing day that if you leave this town, you might not get away without also leaving a bit of yourself behind. Over the past months, you have—by subconscious mind or soul—connected with Jake Seresin through the pain you didn’t even know he’d faced. 

Jake steps around one of the chairs opposite the couch and his body falls into it like a ragdoll. 

“Does–” you begin, testing your voice. It’s meeker than you would like. “Does your team know what she did? Is that why they were so bothered when she showed up tonight? Everyone went into hyper-defense mode.”

He sits up, more at ease now that you’ve let go of your accusations. “They know she gave me trouble. They don’t know she would smack me or break my shit whenever I refused to treat her like my girlfriend.”

“Why?”

“If I told them while it was going on, they would’ve been pissed that I was letting her stay for a couple more weeks. They would’ve shown up at my door with a net to toss over her and drag her out,” he says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. His hands clasp and one thumb runs back and forth over the other. “And I don’t tell them now because, even though it's over, the lecture would last days.”

“With everything she was doing, didn’t you want her out as soon as possible?”

“Of course I did, but she didn’t have anywhere to go yet,” he says. “Eventually, I found her a place and paid for six months in advance. She’s got about three more months before she has to take over the lease.”

As he speaks, a dash of hypocrisy weasels its way into your system. A defensiveness that you’ve never used to protect yourself instantly latches on to Jake. 

You want him to tell his friends about what he’s been through, though you refuse to toss him the measliest crumbs from your own story. You want to explain to him that he shouldn’t have sacrificed himself in his effort to remove that woman from his life, while also ignoring the fact that self-sacrifice is the only option you’ve ever chosen. You want him to tell you everything he’s ever felt so he can remove the boulder from his back, as long as he doesn’t request the same of you. But you know Jake doesn’t work that way. With a given inch, he goes for a mile, and you can’t risk that. 

“Does she bother you often?” you ask. 

“There are days when she shows up out of nowhere, not unlike tonight, either pissed off all over again about everything that went down,” he nudges his head in the direction of the trash can, “or sickeningly sweet and asking to come back with gifts in hand.”

From that alone, you know Jake Seresin is stronger than you. He stands firm in one place despite the chaos that sporadically comes and goes from his life. He stakes his claim, choosing to remove the problem rather than consider that he is the problem and must be the one removed. But you can see, no matter how strong, it takes its toll on him.  

What comes over you next, you’re not quick enough to stop. You stand and find a new seat on the glass coffee table across from him, not fighting the closeness that gives your knees no choice but to be tucked between his. When your touch lands atop his clasped hands, they immediately untangle and, much like your legs, your hand becomes encased. Were you with anyone else, you’d feel trapped, one step away from prisoner. But here, now, with Jake, your body isn’t pulling away. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Though his head is lowered, he nods and you catch a hint of his half-hearted smile. Then he flips his hand so your palm is face-down on his, and with his other hand traces the edges of your fingers, from thumb to pinky and back. You try to ignore the zips and tingles that shoot up your arm from his soft motions. You fail. 

“Jake, why do you even bother with a roommate? I know you can afford this place on your own.”

“I don’t like to be alone,” he says, still lazily running his touch up and down the curves of your fingers.

“How come?”

That finger ceases its gentle tracing and he looks up. He’s suddenly much closer. Less inches remain between your nose and his, your eyes and his, your lips and his. “How about this…” His breath holds a heat that brushes your cheeks. “I tell you something; you tell me something.”

When you instinctively lean back a few inches, you swear he moves forward, like a magnet chasing after its partner. Your hand starts to slip and his palm shifts so his fingers can curl up through the spaces between yours.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Something about you.”

His eyes hold yours, that increasingly intoxicating shade of mossy green unwavering. His touch seems to extend past the warmth of his grasp, now flowing through you from head to toe. 

“What do you want?” you let out an awkward chuckle to distract yourself, and hopefully Jake as well, from the heat flushing your cheeks. “My favorite color?”

“Your favorite color is green,” he says. “I want to know something more than that, if you’re willing to share it.”

You search for any meaning behind what he says other than the one you know he’s after. He doesn’t just want something more, he wants something that means more. Something deeper that will put a crack in your shell. Something that will bring you closer to him.

To your surprise, it’s not a thought you immediately banish. Giving him more would, in theory, aid the budding connection you're not sure you want to break. But what you have to give might very well break that connection anyway. It could bring him a clarity you’d rather he not have as to why you are the way you are. If your story is too much for him to accept without altering how he sees you, you will pack up and leave solely for the escape, to avoid witnessing the rapid change of his treatment of you. And whatever he has to share in exchange couldn’t possibly have you viewing him as negatively as he might view you. 

“It’s a fair trade, don’t you think?” he says, “So, what do you say?”

---

A/N: Sorry if your favorite color isn’t green. I just picked one.

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath @townmoondaltwistle

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 14

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, smut eluded to briefly, mentions of typical BAU type stuff. If any of y’all are my ao3 ppl, bless you & thank you for all the extra comments & chatting about this story! I absolutely love hearing all your thoughts/opinions/what you think is gonna happen. Like, yes please, send me your full book reports! Everybody gets an A++

After last chapter; for anyone who might want to look into more Heather Dunbar, all her works can be found here

Your eyes twitched, daring to open long before you wanted them to and you stifled a yawn, shifting slightly in the bed. As your senses came to you could feel Heather’s arm very loosely thrown over your waist, though it wasn’t an act of intimacy and definitely wasn’t cuddling. You’d accidentally fallen asleep in her bed the night prior before she could even bring you a bottle of water, exhausted from the heat and sun and thoroughly fucked. She stayed up for another couple of hours before turning in herself and sometime during her sleep had rolled over closer to you, her hand flopping across your hip.

The chirping out the window became too much and you knew you weren’t going to get anymore sleep, no matter how hard you tried. Your eyes cracked open, looking at the clock on the nightstand, at least it was already past nine, you’d gotten a little bit of a sleep in. Tossing Heather’s arm off you, you groaned softly as you sat up, stretching out your body and rolling your neck, a couple of joints cracking as you did so.

“Why the hell are you up?” She grumbled, burying her face into the pillow.

“Our flight’s at noon.” You yawned, “I’ve got to start packing.”

“I own the fucking plane. We take off when I say we take off.”

“Check out is also at noon.” You chuckled, swatting at her hip as you stood from the bed, beginning to collect your clothes that were scattered across the floor.

“You really think I didn’t already pay them off for a three p.m. checkout?” She finally opened her eyes, rubbing at them as she looked up at you and you laughed softly again.

“Then sleep. I need to shower and pack and probably get a few things ready for the week, we were so focused on the retreat I know I must’ve been missing a few things back home.” You crossed through the open door back to your room.

“God.” She huffed, dropping onto her back into the pillows as she picked up her phone, “it better not be fucking snowing back home.”

“Heather please, it barely snows in D.C.” You laughed as you hastily folded the clothes in your hands, dropping them into your open suitcase as you glanced around the room. “Hey, is Rob still off on Sundays?”

“Yeah.” She called back, “he said something about wanting to make a late dinner tonight.”

“You think you can ask him to meet us at the jet?”

“Why?” She sat up, holding the bedsheet to her chest as concern took over her face, knowing just how much a week of travel and this amount of sun exposure could affect you, “are you feeling sick? I need you for that merger meeting.”

“I’m fine.” You cast a look over your shoulder as you wrapped a towel around you, “I’ve just got a date with Prentiss on Wednesday.”

“Sweetheart, you’re in the clear.” She assured and it was your turn to chuckle.

“Heat… how many people are you currently fucking?”

“In D.C?” She asked and you nodded, “three not including Rob. But you know I don’t let them fuck me and I don’t share toys.”

“Not the point. It was in the contract I signed and Rob is far faster and more convenient than me taking time off my precious and very important job to see my gyno.”

“I will call him and tell him what time to meet us.”

“Thank you.” You shot her a smile, digging through your suitcase for classy yet comfortable clothes for the plane ride home.

“If you’re going to all that effort you may as well come back in here for one last round.”

“Go back to sleep Heather!” You called back, disappearing from the doorway and Heather heard the shower starting a moment later, letting out a sigh as she dropped back into the bedsheets.

**

Emily could not wait a second longer to get out of this hell hole and back home, preferably without a stop at the BAU first. Every case was teetering the line on rough, things that no normal human would be okay with witnessing or being around and this one was no different. This time there was the added affect that no matter how hard the team tried, they were always a second too late, never finding a living victim, an hour behind the unsub every step of the way until they’d finally baited him into it. Not only was she exhausted and not looking forward to the amount of paperwork that was going to come across her desk because of this week, but she really didn’t want to get the lecture she knew was coming from Bailey.

She stashed her bag into one of the cupboards, retreating to the back of the jet to drop down into the corner seat, letting out a weary sigh as she ran a hand over her face, pinching at the bridge of her nose. She just needed to get home and she would be able to handle this. Thankfully no one else really wanted to socialize either, finding more private spots on the jet, curling up in seats and couches until the plane was at cruising altitude and most everyone was asleep. She dozed off a bit herself, thankful for the rest though she wished it was more when she stirred in her seat, eyes cracking open to find they were still another few hours from Washington.

A fresh mug of steaming and very welcomed coffee found itself on the table in front of her as Tara hovered in the aisle beside the quad of seats.

“You okay?” She asked gently.

“Yeah.” Emily replied with a huff, picking up the mug, “that just… fucking sucked.”

“Man it really did.” The other woman groaned, dropping into the seat across from her, “but remember…we got him.” Her hand reached out, squeezing at her knee, “he won’t hurt anyone else.”

“I just really wish we’d clued in earlier, could’ve saved a lot of people a hell of a lot of hurt.”

“I know.” Tara replied, “so do I.” With another squeeze of her knee she settled back into her chair, taking a sip of her coffee, “we’ll do better next time.”

“Mmm.” She nodded.

“Thanks, for the extra days off by the way.” Tara commented, noting that while they were heading home on a Sunday that Emily had made the call the BAU wouldn’t be functioning until Wednesday.

“You guys need it.” She sighed, “after a case like this, everyone needs time to disassociate and pretend like there’s nothing wrong in the world.” Her gaze drifted out the window, “JJ needs to see her family, spend time with them, hug them so tight it’s like she’ll never let them go. You better be going to see Rebecca; remember why we do what we do to keep the world safe….”

“And what about you?” She asked after a quiet moment, watching the way Emily’s face twitched as she stared out the window a moment longer before turning back to her and waving her off.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been doing this a long time.”

“I know you have, and I’m not profiling, I’m doctor-ing, so you can’t lecture me.” Tara leant in on the table between them, “deny it all you want, but you have someone right now who means something in your life. It could be a new friend and that’s it, but it also could be something more and I don’t need to know any details right now, but I want to make sure you’re not just going home alone to a bottle of wine tonight.”

Emily huffed, taking another sip of coffee, “she was out of town this week, I’m not even sure when she’s back.”

“Hey…” Tara’s hand slid across the table, squeezing at her own, “whatever change you’ve made recently? It’s been a good one. You’ve been happier, more energetic, getting out of work on time and spending your weekends actually doing something. I haven’t seen you do anything other than work since we came back, so call her please… for me?”

“I’ll think about it, but I’m not making promises. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork and god knows Bailey’s gonna be blowing up my phone once he hears about the case.” She sighed,  though her lips curved up into a soft smile and Tara relaxed into the seat across from her, giving her a knowing look before Emily’s gaze drifted out the window again.

**

Once home you began the usual post travel routine, make sure to immediately unpack, dumping clothing directly into the laundry and setting aside those that needed to go to the dry cleaners. You sorted through your work bag, filing everything correctly, stashing half away in your home office and packing the rest back up to have on the go. A quick clean out of the fridge, tossing anything that had unfortunately gone bad over the course of the week before putting in a grocery order and deciding to rely on take out for dinner. Finally, it was time for a luxurious everything shower. It didn’t matter how expensive or fancy the resort was, you always preferred your own shower, the water pressure and temperature was perfect, you had all of your own skin and hair products and didn’t have to worry about taking too much time or how many other people’s feet had touched the tub.

You wandered back downstairs just in time for your dinner to arrive, making sure to leave a hefty tip for the driver as it was much later than you’d normally order and the weather was starting to turn. Not even waiting to fully unbox everything you dug a fork into the chow mein, your stomach growling heavily already, stuffing a few forkfuls into your mouth. When you turned to grab a bottle of wine your eyes landed on the practically overflowing recycle bin and glancing over to the calendar you let out a groan, it was getting picked up in the morning, but only if it was in the alley.

With an annoyed sigh, you grabbed a sweater, shoved on a pair of slip-ons and grabbed the bin to trek through the yard and dump in the appropriate place. Back inside you locked the door behind you, a shiver moving through you at the chilly air lingering in your kitchen as you washed your hands and finally poured out a glass of wine. A sip of that and another mouthful of noodles and there was a knocking coming from the front door. A quick glance to your phone confirmed you hadn’t missed anything so you padded over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open to find Emily on the other side.

“Hey.”

Your voice broke her out of her trance of worry, fully registering that she actually had shown up at your door in practically the middle of the night. Her eyes flicked over your form, her shoulders relaxing at just how cozy and at peace you looked, leggings and loose sweater, your hair still damp and messily braided to keep it out of the way while your face was bare of any make up.

“Hey.” Emily replied, mimicking your soft smile. Her ears picked up the sound of laundry going in the distance and she spotted your work bag sitting right inside the entry, eyes flicking up to the kitchen to your barely touched take out and she suddenly put it together, wincing, “oh shit! I’m so sorry, you just got back.” She couldn’t help it, glancing over her shoulder as if it would be a better idea to retreat to her car, “this is outta line, I should’ve called. I just… man today really fucking sucked…”

You practically snorted at the out of line phrase, your hand reaching out to pinch at her elbow, waving her into your home, “it’s fine, come on in.”

You lead her into the kitchen, urging her to take a seat at the island as you stripped off the sweater, now back in the warmth of the house. “Wine?” You asked, opening the cupboard, “or something stronger?”

“Something stronger, please.” She grumbled, running a hand over her face. She glanced up at the sound of you sliding a tumbler of bourbon over to her and her eyes landed on the cotton ball stuck to the inside of your arm, “are you okay?”

“Hmm?” You asked, looking over your shoulder to her as you stashed the bottle back in the cupboard and she gestured to your arm. “Oh,” you let out a small huff of a laugh, ripping the band aid off and tossing both into the garbage, “yeah, just had some blood taken.” You slid back onto your stool, picking up the carton of noodles and gesturing to the others, “you hungry?”

“No, thank you.” She let out a weary sigh, taking a long drink of her booze.

“Emily… are you okay?”

She glanced up at you, her eyes flitting between your oh so cozy aura, the barely touched food, prime wine that you were trying to enjoy and she let out a huff, nearly pushing back from the island. “god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have just shown up like this.”

You managed to catch her hand before she had managed to actually push her stool back, “Em… I said it was fine.” You squeezed gently, urging her to sit back down and she did.

“It’s just.. I’m not exactly.. uh.. up to my normal caliber and definitely not in the headspace for our normal activities…” She nearly avoided your gaze and you let out a soft laugh.

“And that’s perfectly fine.” You reassured her, nudging her glass closer toward her, “compensation doesn’t always have to be sexual. There’s an entire other dynamic to it, companionship means support too. Contrary to what you may think, I do actually enjoy spending time with you and that will always include outside the bedroom.”

She let out a deep breath, “my brain is still trying to sort out the whole sugar baby situation and I think I’m just overcomplicating things. I kind of figured it was a sex for money but make it…morally legal.” She nearly laughed at her own words, pulling a small grin from you.

“There are plenty of sugar baby relationships that don’t even involve sex. Some people are just lonely, or scared of doing things by themselves so they have someone go with them to lunch, movies, opera, the theatre. Hell I’ve heard of a few old married couples where the wife has a passion for arts and the husband would much rather sit at home with the game on, if he doesn’t have to suffer through it himself, he has absolutely no qualms with a much younger man escorting his wife.”

“So I really am overthinking things?” She asked, looking back up to you with a soft smile and you chuckled.

“Yeah.”

“I still feel bad about intruding on your evening.”

“It’s not like I had much planned.” You shrugged, “now c’mon, help yourself to food, I’m definitely not going to finish it all.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Em..” you warned, “when was the last time you ate? Truthfully.”

“Before we got on the jet.” She winced and you cast her a glare.

“We’ve got noodles, rice, beef and broccoli or ginger chicken.” You pushed the containers toward her, “help yourself.”

She picked up a fork and the container of rice, taking a couple of bites while a comfortable silence took over the room and she was finally able to relax a bit. It was then that she started to realize more of the meaning behind your words, and why she was so drawn to showing up at your house in the first place (and why Tara had been so insistent on it). If she had just gone home she would likely be pouring over case files and attempting to get as much paperwork done as possible to get ahead before Bailey got into things with her. Sleep wouldn’t have been an option until it was all done, she definitely wouldn’t have eaten and a bottle of wine would have been her best friend. Instead being inside your kitchen felt warm, welcoming, simply having another human in the same room made her remember that there was so much else to life than just work. Things didn’t have to be so dreary and boring all the time.

“How was Florida?” She asked after a few moments.

“It was decent.” You shrugged, “secured a good amount of supporters, got some up and comers onto our ideas, reminded myself I’m not actually terrible at tennis and managed to only have my ass grabbed four times while congressmen tried to teach me how to golf.”

“Ew.” Her nose crinkled and you laughed, “I hope this doesn’t sound bad, but do you… have to like, play dumb a lot around them?”

“Oh no, I actually am completely horrible at golf. And you only get one chance to truly play dumb around them before they realize how much potential you could or do have and only certain ones feed into the dumb, some see right through it.”

“So you’ve got to know how to read them even quicker?”

“Yup.” You took a sip of your wine, “Heather always said it’s best to slide in with a hint of sensuality, let that be the bait and you have a matter of minutes to figure out whether you’re going low or high status to get them wrapped around your finger. The guys, it was go low. Do I have a very successful career with one of the highest ranked Senators in the country? Of course, but that completely slips their minds on a retreat like that when I’m wearing a cute outfit serving them drinks filling the role of cart girl.”

“Huh.” She replied, digging through the container before taking another bite and silence took over the room again. Though this time there was something lingering in the air and after a few minutes you chose to speak up.

“I take it your week wasn’t as good?”

Emily let out a heavy breath, “just a really bad case. I don’t want to drag you down with details but it was one of the worst we’ve seen in a while and in the end we barely caught the guy.”

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it? I promise I can handle the gory details; Tony never holds back; I actually think he over exaggerates to make himself sound cooler…”

“Tony?” Her brow furrowed.

“Agent friend.” You replied with a shrug.

“Ah,” she poked around at the rice again, “and no, but thanks. I think I just really didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Alright.” You cast her a warm smile, closing the lid on your take out as you stood from the island. You were full and Emily had done nothing but play with her food for a while now, you were sure she wasn’t going to eat anything else. “How about we take the bottle of wine upstairs then?”

“Oh, but I—” she stumbled over her words and you laughed softly, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.

“I’m not going to pounce on you, don’t worry. The tv in the bedroom’s nicer and it’s getting late, may as well fall asleep in the bed rather than have to drag ourselves from the couch later.”

She let out an awkward laugh, closing the rice container and sliding it over to you, “oh, right.”

You looked back at her, reaching your hand out as she slipped off her stool, “C’mere.” Tugging her to you she let out a little ‘oop’ as your arms wound around her, wrapping her into a tight hug. A wave of relief crashed over you as she let out a content sigh, relaxing into the embrace and the tension in her shoulders finally began to drip away. You pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head, squeezing at her once more before gently pulling away.

“Thank you.” She murmured softly, giving you a tired smile.

“Anytime.” Your hand trailed down her arm, curling around hers as you turned to the staircase, “now come on, you need some good cuddles and sleep, number one recommendation from doctors after a rough week.”

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @divergentalwaysandforever-blog

[baby-yongbok]

4:26 am

Best friend!Bang Chan × Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: You love your boyfriend Minho, but lately your best friend has been on your mind.

Warnings: Cheating, Chan is a tiny bit manipulative, Car Sex? (That should be all, sorry if I missed anything!)

A/N: This might might, be the last of Chan's birthday posts. I have one more that I prepared awhile ago but I might save it. Who knows lol. I hope that you enjoy! I'm trying to start writing again and it's been hard so I'm sorry if this is a bit rough 😅

✨️Masterlist✨️

 “Tell me again why we're parked in an abandoned parking lot at 4:26 am.” Chan asks quizzically. I sighed, running my hands over my face. 

“I needed someone to vent to.” My gaze stays fixed on my lap, I don’t know if I can look at him, I don’t know what I’ll do when his eyes meet mine. He’s my best friend and I know I can tell him anything, hell, he picked up the phone in the middle of the night and came running to me. So I know that I can trust him but right now the thought of looking him in the eye with these thoughts running through my head is dizzying.

“Well I'm here, start when you want.” He leans forward, crossing his arms and resting them on top of the steering wheel. I run my hands through my hair as I try to gather my thoughts.

“Okay so, uh, Minho came home early tonight and he surprised me with this really cute home date and ya know… we had sex and it was good, really it was, but I just don’t feel… I haven’t been feeling…” My heart is beating a mile a minute, Chan and I are extremely close and we talk about our sex lives all the time but this time it’s different. 

“Unsatisfied?” Chan asks with an eyebrow raised. I nod my head, thankful that he finished the sentence for me. Talking about Minho behind his back feels so wrong but I suppose it’s not as wrong as what I plan to confess next.

“Yeah, unsatisfied and I've been… thinking of someone else.” I swallow hard as I play with the zipper of my hoodie, desperate to pay attention to anything but the look on Chan’s face. I know him, I know that he’s looking at me with semi wide interested eyes and he’s waiting for me to look back at him but I just can’t. 

“Who do you think about?” If I were in a hospital right now the nurses would go crazy because I am almost certain that my heart stopped, exploded even. I knew that he’d ask me that question but hearing it actually come out of his mouth sets off a whole new type of panic. Should I tell him the truth? I’m in a relationship, a beautiful and loving one at that, I shouldn’t go around confessing these things. But on the other hand, the thought of my fantasy coming true is too inviting to ignore. It’s now or never and I choose now.

“Well, it depends on the day. It could be Hyunjin, Seungmin, but… I mostly think of you. I guess it’s because of our connection or some shit like that, I don't know” My nerves got to me half way through my confession, shit, he must think I’m fucking with him. The silence around us lasted far too long for my liking, causing me to look over at the man in the driver's seat. His eyebrows were slightly raised and there was a red tint to the tips of his ears but other than that he seemed completely cool and collected. 

“Okay, uh, you think about me in what way? Like, do you daydream about me and kind of dissociate from Minho or do you pretend that he's me?” His brows knit together briefly before relaxing again. He shifts in his seat, leaning back completely and bringing his crossed arms to rest over his chest. He’s clearly trying not to show the effect that my confession has on him.

“I imagine that he's you, that his hands are yours and that you’re the one fucking me, it's better when I pretend.” I look back down at my lap as a deep blush creeps onto my cheeks. 

“Do you come faster? More intensely?” My head jolts up quickly and my eye’s find his immediately, the look of disbelief written all over my features makes Chan grin. He chuckles a bit and that's when I realize that he's messing with me. I sigh dramatically, relaxing into my seat before flashing my middle finger in his direction.

“Fuck you, don’t taunt me.” He smiles wider, looking down at his lap.

“I just want to know for my own personal records.” He licks his lips before looking back up at me  “It's fun hearing what I do to you.” 

At this point I’m sure that my brown skin is as red as a rose. Why did he have to look at me like that? Is he trying to ruin me? 

“I called you because I need to vent.” I remind him as I turn to look out of the passenger window, anything to avoid his gaze for a second. 

“Sorry sorry, continue.” I clear my throat and unzip my hoodie just a bit, is it getting hot in here? Why does his car suddenly feel so small?

“He falls asleep after sex all the time, I mean how could I blame him? Three rounds every night for four or five days a week is a lot on top of working and all of the other stuff that he does in a day. But no matter how many times we do it I’m still not satisfied afterwards, I watch porn and use my vibrator on the bathroom floor, every time.”

“Did you do that tonight?” His eyebrows knit together in curiosity, I open my mouth to try to answer him but when I look back in his direction I get distracted by the sight of his strong arms. He leaned back in his seat a bit more than he was a minute ago, his fingers intertwined and tucked behind his head giving me the perfect view of his biceps and everything that matches it. 

“No, I called you instead. I just needed to talk to someone. I feel like I'm going crazy, I keep wanting more and more sex. This can’t be normal.” Chan chuckles lightly and I can’t help but to roll my eyes. Is he even taking this seriously?

“Well either you're a sex addict or you aren't satisfied because you want someone else. In this case that person would be me.” He moves his hands from behind his head and rests them in his lap lazily.

“So, what? I fuck you and it goes away? If anything I'll keep wanting it.” I scoff, shaking my head in an attempt to erase the thoughts.

“You'll never know unless you try.” My eyes meet his quickly, I open my mouth to reply but no words make sense in my head. Is he serious? He’s messing with me… right? 

“I couldn't cheat on… I can't.” 

“Haven't you already though? Thinking of another man inside of you while he is? Imagining that you're with me.. your best friend. If he were thinking of someone else while he fucked you would you call that cheating?”  I turn away from him as if I'm physically trying to run away from his words. This is all too much to handle. The man that I can’t stop thinking about is basically offering himself to me. But I can’t do that to Minho, he’s been nothing but good to me for all of these years, he’s loving and attractive and he shares all of my values… but so does Chan and right now my best friend has one up on my boyfriend when it comes to intimacy. Is this really worth it? Is sex really worth potentially ruining my relationship to start a new one with Chan?

“I'm single, Y/n, if I screw you no one will care. But you, you're in a relationship. If we fuck you'll either feel guilty and confess everything to him or you'll feel so amazing that you'll call me at 4 am every night, The choice is yours.” Silence surrounds us and it almost feels heavy on my skin. What should I do next? I could tell him to take me home or I could get in the backseat and let him fuck me until I’m satisfied. I glance over at Chan to find that he’s already looking at me, his relaxed gaze is raking over my frame slowly but that’s not what did it. It was the way he licked his lips as his eyes met mine, like he could already taste me. Like he already had me. 

“Fuck it.” I blurt out, making up my mind all at once. It’s like every system in my brain shut off at once. I'm not really even thinking anymore, every move is now driven by desire. “Let me see your dick.”

 I maintain eye contact so that he knows that I’m serious. A smirk plays upon his lips and his eyebrows raise instantly.

“That escalated quickly.” He chuckles and I try my best to hide my giddy grin, Am I really doing this? Maybe I can take it back?

“Show me.” Chan takes a deep breath, hooking his thumbs into the waistline of his sweats before giving me a glance. I can tell what he’s trying to say with his eyes, he’s asking me if I’m sure about this and to be honest that answer is no, I’m anything but sure. All I know is that part of me is desperate to see if he really has this effect on me or if it’s all in my head. I nod to him and without another word he lowers the hem of his gray sweatpants and his cock springs up, resting against his clothed stomach.

Fuck what I said before, I don’t want to take it back. The mere sight of his dick, makes my mouth water. It takes every ounce of control that I have in my body not to lean forward and take him in my mouth. I want to taste him, to feel him, to use him.

“No underwear?” I tease with a smile and he shrugs.

“You said it was an emergency, I rushed over to you. Threw on the first thing I could find.”

“Mm maybe that's a sign.” He furrows his brows slightly as he watches me with curious eyes. I unzipped my hoodie completely, revealing the lingerie that I had put on for Minho tonight and never changed out of. 

“Fuck.” Chan says in a breathy sigh, bringing his hand up to his cock.

“Is it still cheating if I don't touch you?” I slip off my silk sleep shorts and turn my body towards Chan so that my back is against the passenger door. I open my legs to give him a full view of my cunt, reaching down to spread my arousal over my folds. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, babygirl” His tone is a bit deeper than before, the soft and playful tone replaced with a deep and husky one. He holds his hand out towards me and I nearly moan at the words that follow.

“Get it wet for me?” A low hum vibrates from my throat as I lean forward, pursing my lips and spitting into his palm. He coos at me, a quiet ‘good girl’ leaving his lips as he watches me. His eyes don’t leave mine as he takes his hand back and spreads my spit over his leaking tip mixing my saliva with his pre-cum. Slowly, his eyes trail down my body until they fix on my dripping pussy. He slowly starts to stroke himself, exhaling heavily when he rubs over his tip.

“Play with yourself for me, yeah?” At this point the only thing going through my head is Chan. He’s all I can remember, all that I want, all that I need. I feel drunk off of the sight of him sitting across from me, cheeks flushed and his long fingers wrapped around his hard cock. How could I possibly want to do anything but please this man?

I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly through parted lips, my eyes stay trained on him as I slowly trail my hand from my neck to my stomach. I watch his expression as he grows a bit impatient from my teasing, his dark gaze warning me to give him what he asked for. 

“Does it look like I want you to tease me, baby?” The tone of his voice sends chills down my spine, his words are breathy and challenging and it makes me hungry for more. What would he do to me if I kept teasing? How would he punish me? 

“Why would I give you what you want right away?” I run my fingers along my inner thighs, smiling at him as his gaze drops from my eyes to my core, watching my hand carefully. “That would be boring.”

“Touch yourself or I'll do it for you.” A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine him getting impatient with me and taking control, using his long fingers to fuck me. Why do I feel drunk off of that thought? It hasn’t even happened and yet I feel like I’m on cloud 9. 

“Fuck.” I hiss as I run my fingers between my folds brushing against my clit and circling it. Chan strokes himself a bit faster as he watches me, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. 

“Put a finger inside.” He looks up from my cunt and my eyes follow his meeting for a second. My pussy clenches around nothing, desperate for something, anything, him. “Pretend that it’s me” 

He nearly sounds like he’s pleading me to do it, like he’s desperate to see how I fuck myself. Desperate to see what the thought of him does to me. I nod, slowly obeying his command and slipping my middle finger deep into my cunt.

“Oh fuck.” My back arches up off of the passenger door once I start fucking myself, increasing the pace gradually as I start to become desperate for more. I pressed the palm of my hand against my clit, trying to add as much stimulation as possible. He watches in awe as my hips buck into my hand a bit. 

“Add another.” I quickly obey his command, adding my ring finger inside, eliciting a groan of pleasure to fall from my parted lips. I try my best to keep my eyes open, I want to watch him, I need to watch him. His strokes are much faster now, small grunts and sighs leaving his parted lips, his head thrown back in ecstasy. I take in the way that his jaw clenched as he builds himself closer to the edge, his right leg slightly bouncing, it's a masterpiece that I wish I could become a part of. 

“Chan.” His name passes my lips in a breathy moan and he looks over at me as he strokes the head of his dick, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip at the sensation. “I need you so badly.” 

“Your choice.” He groans out as he throws his head back again squeezing his eyes shut. “ Better make up your mind, I’m so close, babygirl.” 

I sigh heavily as I try my best to fight the urge to climb over and ride him until I pass out. I focus on my own pleasure again, Imagining that it’s Chan rubbing tight circles on my clit while his long fingers reach spots that I didn’t even know existed. I imagine that it’s him bringing me closer and closer to the edge, I wish it was him. The wet sounds of Chan stroking his cock mix with my moans as we both draw closer to the edge. I watch his hand as he pleasures himself, I wonder if he’s imagining that, that’s me. I wonder if he feels that same way. Does he touch himself to the thought of me at night? Thinking of all of the times that we were play fighting and his fingers grazed my bare skin, all of the tight hugs that we shared, my chest pressed up against him. Does he think about me?

“Shit, oh my god” I squeeze my eyes shut and arch my back at the thought of him wanting me just as much as I want him, maybe even more.

“Fucking cum for me, babygirl.”  Chan groans “I'm so fucking close for you.”

Those words alone throw me over the edge, one of my fantasies is coming true right in front of my eyes.

“Oh my- I'm gonna..” Before I could get another word out my orgasm rushed over me, breathtaking and mind fogging.  I clamped my legs shut and arched my back off of the car door. My moans filled the space around us but I couldn’t hear them, the pleasure was deafening. 

“Fuck, Y/n.” My name fell off of his tongue in a sweet moan and my pussy clenched at the sound of it, sending another wave of euphoria through me. “Oh shit, I'm cumming.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut, his strokes becoming shorter but still just as fast. A rush of adrenaline hit me and suddenly my vision changed. I felt like a rabid animal who was desperate for food. Suddenly, I forgot about everything that was looming over my head. All of my thoughts about Minho and saving our relationship were gone. All that I could think of was pleasure and I was absolutely driven by it, so much so that after the first stream of cum came leaking from Chan’s tip I leaned forward, getting on my knees in the passenger seat and running my tongue up his length. He moved his hand quickly, clearly surprised by my sudden confidence. I licked up to the head of his cock and then took the rest of his length down my throat. His seed spilled into my mouth in warm and delicious spurts, painting my throat with his sticky arousal. Every bit of him tasted like heaven and in this moment I swear that I would do anything that anybody asks as long as I get to stay here. As long as I get to feel him. 

“Y/n” His hand lightly lays on the back of my head, stroking my hair slightly. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” I bob my head a couple of times, milking his arousal from him until I’m sure that I’ve got every last drop. Once he’s come down from his high I sit up, releasing his cock from my mouth with a faint ‘pop’ and licking my lips. I sit back into my seat, settling in a bit while we watch each other. Chan’s chest is rising and falling heavily and there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, once he seem to have composed himself a little the tiniest chuckle falls from his lips as he begins to tuck himself back into his sweatpants

“Do you think that fulfilled your lust for me?” 

“Not even close.”

[bookuce]

WIP -- MARRIAGE COUNSELING

Marriage Counseling

The atmosphere in Dr. Morrison’s office was thick with tension. Two accent chairs sat five feet apart from each other, a preference made by Jasmine. She leaned into the right side of her chair, her body resting against the boxy armrest. Her arm tingled from the pressure applied to her elbow from the weight of her head resting on her palm. It was falling asleep, but she didn’t care—her eyes were fixated on the outside. It was currently raining.

The clock on the wall loudly ticked, forcing her to count the seconds. Fifty-eight…fifty-nine… It was now five minutes after four in the afternoon. A throat cleared from across the coffee table, drawing her to the sound. Dr. Morrison's eyes flitted from left to right at the couple across from him. They had been sitting in silence for several minutes now. As much as he enjoyed listening to the sound of the heavy rain beating down on his ceiling, he wasn’t getting paid by the hour to do so. “So,” He breathes, crossing his right leg over his left. “What seems to be the problem?” He asks. No one would speak up to answer the question, leaving the doctor hanging. 

“Alright…” He says quietly. “Let me rephrase then: When did everything start going wrong?” He asks. Jasmine shifts from her current position, lifts her head, and allows her arm to rest flat against the chair. She’d purse her lips at the questions, her gaze now on her husband.

“Great question. When was the last time you were home? March?” She asks, her voice laced with bitterness. Joe slowly turns his attention towards her, his thick brows knitted in annoyance. 

“I was—.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s been months.” She finishes, sweeping her hand at him. Joe huffs, sitting up in his chair. He looks toward the counselor, his eyes wide as he gestures at her.

“See! Every time I try to talk—.”

“If I wanted to hear excuses, Joseph, I’d ask one of the twins about you.” He lifts his hands in disbelief, his mouth agape at her words. 

“Oh my God,” He mutters, lifting his hand to rub at his brow. The room would fall into silence once more. Jasmine folds her arms over her chest, now staring past the therapist at the painting on the wall above his head. Doctor Morrison looked between the pair once more, slowly lifting his pen to write. This was going to be an interesting couple to work through that’s for sure. 

The wife appears to be extremely bothered by her husband’s absence. The husband is frustrated he can’t explain himself. He writes on his clipboard. The doctor clears his throat, glancing up at the couple once more before letting his eyes settle on Joe. “Why haven’t your wife seen you since March?” He asks. Joe looks up at the question, removing his hand from his face. 

“My job is demanding. I’m always on the road for shows, doing interviews, and charity work, and when I’m not doing that, I try to make it home—.”

“Tries—.” She scoffs.

“Mrs. Anoa’i, please,” Morrison says, glancing briefly in her direction. “Go on.” He nods once. Joe rolls his eyes at her, shaking his head slightly. She peers over at him, her lips pressed in a thin line. He was lucky she was being silenced. Morrison clicks his pen, going in to write more. 

“I try to make it home when I can, but sometimes things happen that prevent me from doing so—a change of plans with my job. When that happens, I offer to fly her out or bring her on the road with me.” He explains.

“And when you propose these alternatives, what is the response?” The Doctor asks.

“If there was a response, Doc, we wouldn’t be here.” He answers.

“Being married to Roman Reigns isn’t exactly a walk in the park.” She says. “Our home is the last place we have privacy. I value our peace and I know he does too. 

[yesimwriting]

Promise

a/n yes im using the princess! reader who's about to be forced into a political marriage with anakin again,, and what about it the vibe is so fun to me, also i love jealous anakin

warnings: 18+!!! smut (he broke me down) written by someone whose only experience comes from fanfics, so pls be nice,, also written in 1st person bc that was the vibe when i started and i didn't realize this was going to get smutty (i'm sorry yall😭 it's still my best tense)

Summary: As a princess, your future is set in stone. You'll marry someone your father picks for you to aid your country. All of this you've accepted...until you befriend Anakin Skywalker, who was originally assigned to guard you during a time of political unrest on your home planet.

----

He's still near the door, arms crossed and expression as stoic as it was when he first interrupted my meeting to escort me to an urgent consultation with my father.

I understand that publicly we need to remain as indifferent as physically possible and that any sort of friendliness we display needs to seem completely surface level. But we're not in public anymore and usually the transition from appropriate indifference to something much warmer is instant.

"...How urgent is urgent?"

The question is more for our sake than anything else. I want to hear his voice outside of the stiff way he interrupted the meeting with that last suitor. He had barely looked at me as he mumbled something about my father. I want it to feel light the way it usually does between us. I want him to make one of those jokes that always has me rolling my eyes or to smile or--or to do anything that makes him feel like Anakin.

The urge to study him begins to make it hard to just stand there so I turn towards my vanity. What I'm wearing isn't exactly inappropriate for a closed door meeting, but it's more formal than I'd like and a little itchy. If I have time to change into something more standard, I'll take it. "If I call Raina in here I can be in something a lot more comfortable in five minutes."

No response. I smooth my hair back with my palms, eyes subtly shifting towards his reflection in the mirror. Anakin's taken the slightest step forward. "Anakin?"

His head tilts downwards, eyes briefly meeting mine in the mirror before darting away. There's something about the way he's holding himself that would feel bashful it was less stiff. "There is no meeting."

"What?" My head instinctually snaps in his direction. Anakin's already watching me. "You--you made up an emergency?"

This is--Anakin interrupted a meeting with the first suitor that didn't make my skin crawl. I wouldn't have been thrilled to walk down the aisle with him, but I could have likely learned to be content with him. At least he believes that women can do more than just be brides and raise children. He'd allow me to participate in some community work to bond with his people and I'd be able to visit home.

But that's besides the point. He could have been the most repulsive candidate my father had found for me and it still wouldn't have justified what Anakin did. I don't walk out of meetings. Ever. If my father finds out about this...

"Do you have any idea what my father will do if he finds out?" I sit the edge of my vanity's seat with a tired sigh. There has to be some excuse. I could blame it on sickness or a misunderstand or--

"Then I'll take the blame." Anakin's words pull me out of my thoughts. His voice is still stiff and lacking its usual warmth in a way that only adds to my unease. Why is he acting like this? "I'll tell him that it was my fault and that I misunderstood your schedule debriefing."

My fingers dig into the soft fabric of my dress that's pooling over the seat. "Don't." My voice sounds so small, so vulnerable I have to hate myself for it. "He might take that the wrong way and--" I exhale slowly, forcing myself to cling to rationality. "And he might arrange your removal."

Anakin scoffs. What is his issue? "Like that'd bother you."

My throat tightens. After everything we've been through, after telling him things that I've never been able to tell anyone...How can he just dismiss all of it? And why is he being so mean? "What?"

"You've found your ideal suitor and now you can get married and be sent away and never--" Anakin cuts himself off, eyes tearing away so quickly like there's painful about looking at me. "You don't need me anymore."

Oh. That's what this is about. "Anakin." He's staring at some distant point on my wall. "That's not true. You know it isn't."

Everything about him remains stiff. "You were smiling." He briefly glances at me, eyebrows drawn together so sharply it tugs at something in my chest. "A real smile, not your practiced one." Anakin lets out a sigh that feels as pointed as a sarcastic laugh. "And you laughed."

"What?" I'm not miserable in one meeting and now he's acting like I hate him. "I--I might have been making the best of it because he's the first suitor who didn't spend the entire time listing off the requirements for his bride, but that isn't the same as liking him." And even if I liked him, would that be such a terrible thing? Would it really undermine our entire friendship if I found a way to be married and not miserable? "I'm going to have to marry one of them at some point, and I d--"

"Don't marry him." Anakin blurts the sentence out in one wavering breath. The letters run together so closely it feels more like a single word.

For a moment, all the shaky request does is sit between us. I've been on several outings and meetings with potential suitors and Anakin's never reacted like this. What was so wrong about this last one? "Don't marry him? What do--"

Anakin's eyes finally meet mine. The way he's looking at me stings, all glossy eyes and a pouty frown that's trying its best to be harsh. He seems more pained than angry and that's somehow worse.

Don't marry him. The words too strained and small to be about just the man from earlier. Don't marry him means don't marry any of them.

Oh.

I scratch the back of my wrist as Anakin's eyes drop to the ground. He knows that I have no interest in marrying for my father, but even if I did, why would that bother him?

With a sigh, I push myself to stand. Why it upsets him doesn't matter. So much is already weighing on him.

Anakin doesn't look up as I start walking towards him. "I--I can't promise that." My nails dig into the skin of my palm. "I wish I could." The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. "But it doesn't matter." Anakin's rigid as I carefully extend my hand and bend my fingers against his forearm. "You're always going to be important to me."

He pulls his arm forward instinctually. My hold on him loosens, but before I can take my hand back, Anakin adjusts his to squeeze mine. He's holding on just tight enough for it to feel uncomfortable, but I don't mind it. It's grounding.

"Until you're married." He's staring at where our hands sit between us. There's something I should say, something comforting and easing. Nothing's coming to mind. The reality of the situation is set in stone. I'll have to marry eventually and that--that will change things. But it'll never change the way I feel about Anakin.

Anakin, who always listens when I need to purge all of the resentment about the rules that control my life. Anakin, who sits with me when I can't sleep. Anakin, who has the worst sense of humor that can always pull a smile from me even when it feels impossible.

He moves our hands, releasing my hand at my side. The brief loss of contact makes my ribs feel cracked. "No." It's instinctual. "It's--" I reach forward, hand reaching for his arm. "You're the only person I can tell anything to, the only one that never expects anything from me and just--just likes me for who I am."

The realization that Anakin might be the only true friend I've ever had hits me hard and fast. All of that and a part of me has always been selfish enough to imagine what it'd be like to live in a different world that could allow for more. Though, that's barely been a thought that I've allowed myself to have. Neither of us are in a position to get attached to anyone in that way, and even if we were, Anakin wouldn't see me that way. Besides, his friendship is no small thing, so it definitely takes the sting out of the impossible.

"Who wouldn't?" The comment comes out so soft, so absentminded I nearly melt on the spot.

A lifetime of being a daughter instead of a son has a reflexive a lot of people attempting to crawl up my throat. I swallow the bitterness like bile before I can make this about me and settle on a much lighter, "You'd be surprised."

Any lift in his expression falls again. "You don't see it."

I do try to think about it, but nothing that makes sense comes to mind. "See what?" Anakin pauses, lips pressing together. I'm expecting some kind of response. Instead, Anakin shakes his head once dismissively. "Tell me." His lack of response has me gently shoving his shoulder. "I thought we didn't keep secrets."

He lets out a small breath, we're so close I can feel the warmth of it against my skin. "It's nothing." When my only reaction is to glare, he reaches for my hand. "I don't want to talk about them anymore."

Strange. What does whatever he's talking about have to do with what we were talking about? Yes, the suitors want to court me but they want me the same way they want an ornament or my father's leniency in a business deal. Before I can remind him of this, his hand finds my shoulder.

If Anakin notices the way I freeze, he gives no indication of it, he just trails his thumb up and down the start of my collarbone. It's not the first time he's done this, but until now the gesture has been reserved for late nights when I can't sleep. I'm so used to it being soothing that it immediately gets rid of any fight in my system.

"You've had more meetings recently."

I nod, still too focused on the feeling of his hand on my shoulder. "It's a busy time...celebration season is always elaborate, and things are...tense."

He nods. If there's one thing he knows about, it's the precariousness that seems to be reaching everyone these days. But my time with Anakin is limited. He's been assigned to be my personal guard during the celebration season since the year a political protestor took my mother's life. The season always feels like it will be long, but time always slips away quicker than it should when it comes to Anakin.

I know I shouldn't do this. He doesn't need any type of encouragement after what happened at today's meeting, but something's clearly been weighing on him and I do miss him. The additional events, the public outings, the suitors...all to save face as the threat of war continues to become a more pressing issue. "My father had most of my afternoon blocked off in case that last suitor wanted extra time."

Anakin frowns, his thumb stopping its outlined path across my shoulder. He is so dramatic. "I shouldn't be telling you this because it might sound like I approve of you making up an emergency, but if you don't have anything to do, we can catch up."

He tilts his head, a hint of a smile turning up the corner of his lips. "Catch up? We're together all day."

I extend an arm, gently pushing him. First, he basically throws a fit because he convinced himself it was possible for me to like a suitor more than him, and now that I want to do something with him, he's trying to make fun of me. "I mean about before you came here. We've barely had time to talk since you've gotten back."

"Okay," his thumb brushes back down where my collarbone meets my shoulder, "We can talk." He squeezes my shoulder before retracting his hand. "The garden or the library?"

Our two most frequented spots. I grin. "The garden, the weather's nice today." He smiles, taking a step back. "Give me a minute to change. I turn away from him, walking towards my closet. "I've been ready to take off this dress since Raina put me in it this morning."

Raina spent longer than a minute trapping me in between scratchy fabric and a stiffly structured top. All of those ties and buttons that I still can't reach. Ugh. I wonder if calling Raina in will lead to more attention being drawn to the fact that I left early. Technically, the official meeting would likely be over by now but my father wanted it to go well. He kept things open in hopes of it lasting a little longer.

It's probably better not to ask. Drawing any attention to me and Anakin isn't the best idea in general. We're good friends, which is okay in front of some people but wrong in front of others. Raina is a little skeptical. It's nothing personal against Anakin, she just knows me too well, which means she reads into things.

I stretch my arm back as far as it'll go and manage to undo the bottom of the lacing and a few buttons. Anything that's more than halfway up my back is impossible to get to. I twist and turn and push and I can't reach.

"Everything alright?"

Anakin's voice carries through the short hall. I sigh, giving the fabric one last desperate tug. "Everything's fine I just..." I squeeze my eyes shut before pinching the bridge of my nose. "Can you come here?"

A brief wave of silence that leaves my face burning lingers until the sound of footsteps ends it. Anakin appears in my closet's doorway. "You're okay?"

"Yeah," I mumble, "Yes, I just--I can't get the buttons." As if to make my point, I try again in vain, trying again to reach the tiny clasps.

"You need help?" Anakin's voice comes out lower than usual.

Maybe he feels just as awkward about this. "If it'd be easier, you could just call in Raina."

"No," I can hear his weight shifting off the doorframe, "I can do it."

He takes a few steps forward. Before I know it, he's directly behind me. Anakin smooths a hand over my hair before gently moving it over my shoulder. The way heat begins to crawl up my neck makes me glad that my back is to him. His hand settles against my back.

I pull my arms forward, crossing them in front of my chest. He takes over, fingertips grazing against my back. The longer he works, the looser the dress begins to feel. I should be feeling cooler now that I'm getting closer to just being in my thin layering dress, but all of my earlier warmth and discomfort is now rising up my face.

"Raina put you in this this morning?"

I nod, "Raina woke me up earlier than usual today to make me up." The final button is pulled apart. I have to keep an arm at my chest to keep the dress from pooling at my feet. "I think this might have taken longer than my hair."

The comment is meant to be lighthearted. Instead of taking it that way, Anakin lets out a breath as his hand settles against my hip. "Won't things be easier when you don't have to worry about finding a husband?"

Now it's my turn to sigh. I make a point of pulling his hand off my side. I wander further into my closet. "You know I want nothing to do with this." My grip on the dress tightens, my sudden movement making it harder to keep the heavy dress on. "And if you honestly think I find any joy in being packaged in suffocating fabric and bodices so structured that they stab into my ribs every time I breathe, then you don't know me."

I turn around and let go of the dress, allowing the gown to pool at my feet. I step out of the puddle of fabric before reaching for one of my hangers, a casual day dress that I've barely looked at.

"I didn't mean it that way." His voice comes out low, almost reluctant. It's not enough to ease me, so I make a point of scoffing. Something warm pulls on my forearm. Before I know it, I'm facing with him. Oh. Anakin's closer than I thought he'd be. "I'm sorry." He exhales, voice tight, "Don't be mad, princess."

I keep my expression neutral. Though I'm in no mood to be reminded of my title, Anakin has a way of making it feel like a term of endearment. "If you're bothered by my situation, I understand that." He's staring me with such intensity I have to make the conscious choice to not look away. "I really understand that, but do not treat me like this is my choice. Not all of us are meant for more and can do whatever we want."

"Not whatever I want," he whispers, voice strained.

Now it's my turn to wish I had bitten my tongue. Anakin's told me enough of the stories for me to know that while sometimes the fact that he gets to leave and be an active source of good makes me wish my life was different, his isn't exactly easy.

His eyes hold mine for a beat before drifting downwards. For whatever reason, that makes me aware of the fact that this is likely the least dressed I've ever been in front of anyone. Sure, Anakin's seen me in pajamas and casual wear, but the silk dress under my gown is thin and low cut.

"And don't say that this is what you're meant for." He pulls my arm down with his hand, letting his fingers interlock with mine. "I've seen you in meetings and the way that you care about your people. You don't need to do this."

Again, it's like he's trying to convince me to change my mind. Like this is something that I want. I don't understand what he's trying to convince me to do. "Try telling that to my father."

I'm not sure what it is, but something about Anakin's expression looks a little flatter. Maybe even disappointed. I get it, this isn't exactly a fun topic, and we have no reason to dwell on it now. It's not like I'm getting engaged tonight. And I rarely get time to just be around Anakin, my future marriage has already taken enough from me, it doesn't need to take this too.

"Why are we still talking about this?" I pull my hand back, ready to grab my dress. "It's not like anything's happening now, let's just go to the garden like we--"

Anakin reaches forward before I can turn around, his hand finding my shoulder.

"I--" He cuts himself off, "There's been a rise in meetings with potential suitors, it's not as easy to ignore as it used to be."

I know exactly what he's talking about. All of my energy has been focused on not thinking about that. But that's because it's my inevitable future. How could this possibly matter this much to Anakin? "Ignore what?"

"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to know what they're feeling? What they're thinking about you?" Anakin's breath catches itself in his throat, his thumb slipping beneath the strap of my dress. "What they're thinking about doing to you?"

Heat rushes to my face. I try to swallow to clear the lump in my throat but my mouth has gone dry. "Anakin?"

"I've spent so long trying to let you go."

What? Is he--is he saying that he-- "What?"

He tilts his head downwards, "You don't need to do this. I--"

"Don't say it." My hand is quick to grab the one he has on my shoulder. Push him away, I should push him away. My hand won't move. The one person I've always known I won't ever be able to have.

"Why not?" He asks the question so innocently, like he couldn't ever fathom a reason for me to shut this down. After a moment, his eyebrows pull together, a small frown playing at his lips. "You don't want me?"

If this was any less serious, that would have made me laugh. That is, most definitely, not the issue. "That's not true."

He relaxes slightly, his thumb trailing down my shoulder. Before I can explain issues that we both are definitely aware of, he leans impossibly closer. His weight on mine is nearly enough to make me forget the concept of logic entirely.

"Anakin," it's meant to be a warning. The breathiness of my voice takes away all of its severity. "We can't." I'm arguing for more my sake than his. He already knows all of the reasons that we need to agree to remain just friends before things get any more complicated. "What I want doesn't matter. Nothing I've wanted has ever mattered." He hasn't moved away, but at least he isn't trying to get any closer. "And even if it did, it's not like we'd suddenly be able to be together."

Anakin's hand adjusts on my shoulder, his grip tightening. He has the audacity to look like he's not sure what I'm talking about. "The Jedi code?" He blinks, still giving no indication of understanding why everything about us is impossible. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you why that matters, chosen one."

He scoffs. "I don't care."

I place my free hand on his chest, willing myself to create some distance between us before my judgement finally lapses. "You can't--you can't say that." My eyes squeeze shut, "I know that it's unfair, but time will pass and you'll feel rational again, and it'll be easier."

"Don't do that." The harsh quality of his voice nearly makes me step back. "Don't treat this like it's a political compromise."

Something about me trying to keep things together the only way I know how is hurting him. I don't know how to get through this without taking the emotion out of it. Still, I don't want to make this harder on him. My hand moves up his chest and rests on his shoulder. "I didn't mean it like that."

He nods slowly, visibly relaxing at my touch, "You're only pushing me away because you're afraid."

"What?"

Anakin's thumb drags across my skin. "You're afraid that if you let yourself even admit that you might want something that your father hasn't decided for you, and that if you're selfish for even a second, your entire world will fall apart."

If it came from anyone else, I'd be offended, but coming from Anakin, it just makes the real reason why I can't just say it and give in hurt more. "That's not it." Anakin doesn't respond. He wants me to say more and I'm not sure that I can. "It's--" What I'm afraid of is that I let myself admit that I want Anakin out loud, I'll have to decide whether or not I want him more than everything I've been working towards my entire life and that I won't like my own answer.

"It's that," I start over, staring at my hand on his shoulder in case looking at him directly will make the confidence I've gathered to wither away. "That if I let myself think about it, about you--like that--for longer than a moment, I might want you more than any of this."

He pauses, likely thinking through his words. Maybe he'll try to promise me that he wouldn't make me choose while not understanding that being with him at all makes that decision for me. Or maybe the amount of care I'm implying will scare him into second guessing this.

His hand slowly moves off of my shoulder. If my deep, dark secret has finally gotten him to understand why we're better off as we are, then maybe it's worth how hard it was to get out.

His fingers settle against my jaw. Slowly, he gets my head to turn. I look at him, expecting some kind of rejection to be written across his face. Instead, all I see in his eyes is a pool of emotion ready for me to drown in. "Would that have to be a bad thing?"

This time, the softness of his question doesn't feel like an attempt to dismiss our reality. It's so genuine it turns into a physical ache between us.

I'm reminded that despite all of his talent, confidence, and sense of humor that I've tried so hard to enjoy less, he's still a boy who's experienced so much heartbreak. The council constantly dismissing him and refusing to grant him the title he deserves, the loss of his mother, all of the expectations on his shoulders...

Would it be such a bad thing to want him more than anything else? To love him more that much?

I tilt my head back, just enough to press my lips against his. Anakin's quick to reciprocate, turning the barely there press of lips into something else with no warning. He shifts his weight so that he's fully against me. My back hits the wall of my closet before I realize what's happening.

It's heavy, my bottom lip being pulled between his teeth. The hand that's not still cupping my jaw settles on my hip, the silk of my slip dress crumpling between his fingers. I pull my head back, Anakin attempts to follow, teeth tugging on my lip one last time before letting us separate.

He doesn't let me get far, resting his forehead against mine as we both struggle to catch our breaths. "I'm sorry, I should have--"

"Don't be sorry," I manage between slow pants, "Not for that."

Anakin smiles, and for once, I don't mind feeding his ego. "I can feel how much you need me." The urge to squirm away and hide any potential embarrassment is strong, but I have no way to act on the impulse. I'm pinned between Anakin and the wall of my closet. He slowly pulls my dress, exposing another inch of skin. "Do you think any of your suitors could make you feel like this?"

I shake my head, "No." That's an easy thing to get out, "Only you."

Another tug that has more fabric pooling around my waist. "Promise you won't marry him." His head dips forward, his lips brushing against the end of my jaw. "Any of them."

My eyes instinctually shut. I need to hold it together. "You--you know I can't just--" He places an open mouthed kiss against my neck. "Anakin."

"Promise." An order.

I exhale, struggling to focus. "It's not--" Another kiss. "It's not f--air." My voice cracks on the last syllable as Anakin moves further down my neck. "You know I'd never break a promise I made to you."

"What's not fair is having to watch you meet with men who look at you and to know that this..." He pulls the strap of my dress off of my shoulder, exposing more skin that he immediately presses his lips against. "Is what they want to do to you."

What? I had never thought that my suitors fantasized about anything, everything about those meetings always feel so cold and political. I'd question it if I could bring myself to care about the revelation with Anakin's teeth pressing into the pulse point of my neck. "To have to watch them look at what's mine."

"Anakin..."

One last shift of fabric and the hem of my dress is now over my hips. His hand leaves my jaw and skims the waist of my underwear. "Promise."

His fingers finally reach where I need him most. My eyes instinctually shut at the sensation, a wave of pleasure I've never felt before nearly making me jump. Noticing my tension, he presses a gentle kiss against my cheek.

I have to give him something, and maybe that'll be enough to at least put this conversation off until I'm in a position to negotiate. "I'm yours." My ability to form sentences is quickly fading as his finger presses into me. "Can't that be enough?" A small part of myself hates how easily I'm cracking. "For now?"

Anakin does the meanest thing imaginable, he stops. "Promise me."

A pathetically desperate whine escapes me. He can't be serious. He won't walk away now just because I can't immediately promise to never marry anyone.

He straightens enough to pull away from the crook of my neck. "Anakin." I meet his gaze, and behind the harshness of his eyes, I see that he means it. "You know I--I can't--"

"We can work it out." That genuine side of him returns, softness bleeding back into his expression. "All that matters is that you want to."

"Of course I want to."

He leans forward again, forehead pressing against mine, "Then promise me..." Anakin's eyes briefly shut, "Promise me you won't marry anyone else."

I let myself take him in, how it feels to let him consume me entirely. It's too late for me, anyway. I wouldn't be able to will myself to walk down the aisle the same way I couldn't force myself to push him away. "I promise."

His lips are on mine in an instant. When I don't part my lips fast enough, he hooks two fingers between the waistband of my underwear and tugs them down my legs in one, swift motion. I gasp, giving him all the access he needs to drag his tongue against mine.

He moves back, beginning to press his lips against my jaw. "Anakin."

"Say it again." His fingers find the spot that makes me see stars. "Promise me that you're mine."

A whiny breath slips past my lips, "I promise." His teeth drag against my throat and my nails instinctually dig into his shoulder, "Only you."

A rough sound escapes from the back of Anakin's throat. He removes a hand from my hip to adjust his own robes. I'm too distracted to realize what he's doing until it's obvious. "Again."

I reach my hand forward until my fingers are wrapping around his length. "Only you, Anakin." He groans. "I--I won't marry anyone else." Anakin places his hand over mine, guiding my hand up and down his length. "I'm yours."

He buries his face in the crook of my neck, "Maker, you're--" The rest of the sentence is murmured into my skin at a pitch that I can't make out.

His fingers press into me even harder. "Anakin," my whininess would be embarrassing if I wasn't so distracted by the coiling feeling in my stomach, "I--I--"

"Tell me," he lifts his head enough to speak the words into my ears, "Tell me that you want me."

My eyes screw shut, "I--It's more than want." It feels like a confession. "I need you."

Another strangled breath escapes him. Anakin pulls away enough to line himself against my entrance. He presses in slowly, the feeling in my stomach reaches a height I didn't think possible. "Anakin."

"You're so," he's getting the words out through gritted teeth, "Tight." Anakin pushes in even more. A gasp escapes me. "Say it again." I'm too lost in what I'm feeling to form the words. He pulls back before pushing his entire length in with no warning. Anakin shows no reaction to the pitchy whine he forced out of me. "Again."

"It's--it's only--you," I pant. "I won't marry any-one else--just--just please, Anakin."

His thumb presses against where my nerves are at their most on edge. I can't breathe or focus on anything. "Please what?"

"I need you."

He rubs tight circles against me and picks up the pace. My head falls against his shoulder, eyes squeezing tight. "Look at me." I--I can't keep my head up. Anakin's hand tugs at my hair, forcing me off of his shoulder. "Look at me."

I force my eyes open. "Anakin."

"Feel good, hm?" All I can do is nod. "Can't even talk anymore?" His lips find their way against my jaw. "What would all your suitors say if they could see how easy it was for me to get you like this?" His lips find a spot on my neck that leaves me dizzy. "First breaking all the rules and now you can't even talk." It's hard to focus on anything that isn't how he feels. "Who has you like this?"

I take a shaky breath, "You, Anakin." My voice is shaky, "Only you."

His lips press against mine. Hard. I give in entirely and it's all teeth and wanting a closer that doesn't exist. He pulls away just as quickly, "I've got you, princess," he exhales, "come for me."

My body knows what to do more than I do. I cling onto him. Anakin's thrusts become less even without losing speed. He continues until an all consuming pleasure has my body practically shaking. My orgasm hits so fast and hard I can barely hold myself upright.

"Oh, you're squee--" Anakin cuts himself off, pulling out before he can finish inside me. "Maker, you're perfect."

After it ends, I expect to be filled with some kind of regret or remorse. Instead, all I feel is a sense of peace as I recover with my forehead pressed into Anakin's chest. He keeps his arm around me loosely. "It's just you and me, princess."

I nod against him weakly, desperate to accept what he's saying. "Just you and me."

He smooths circles against my back. "We'll figure it out together."

It's not an easy thing to believe, but trusting Anakin is natural. I finally lift my head to look at him, "We have time." I don't know how much time, but it's definitely not happening today, and if I can push this until our political crisis becomes the ultimate concern, my father won't bring it up until this is resolved. Maybe if I prove myself as a leader, he'll see that I can be more. "I'm tired."

He smiles lazily, "You're saying I tired you out?" I roll my eyes. "Come on, we have some time before you have to meet with your advisors." Anakin squeezes my shoulder, thumb soothingly tracing a pattern against my collarbone. "Stay with me?"

I have to bite my tongue to keep a much too emotional always from coming out, so I just nod. He takes my hand and leads me into my bedroom. Anakin helps me into bed before laying next to me.

Drowsiness pulls at my eyelids. I fight against the exhaustion as best as I can, but Anakin's gentle touches and whispered terms of endearment aren't making it easier.

"You can sleep," he finally whispers, "I'll make sure you're awake with enough time to get ready for your next meeting."

It's tempting, but after all of this, all I want is to be near him and to--to talk to him and absorb his presence before I can't. "But--"

"I'm not going anywhere," he says, reading my hesitance easily, "We have time."

My eyes are already closed, "Promise?"

Anakin's head dips forward as he presses a chaste kiss against my temple. "I promise."