#if you read this just know that i really really love you

[sarcosmiiic]

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love you realism in hermitcraft fanfics. I love you seasons in the hermitcraft I love you more animals in hermitcraft I love you real food and cooking and needing to drink water to live and non-minecraft mechanics I love you still being shaken up after respawning I love you proper days and nights and hot and cold and dreams and little moments. I love hermits changing clothes and making bowls and forks and trading with villagers and singing and dancing and being real. I love worldbuilding based on hermitcraft.

[pucksandpower]

The One Left Behind

Max Verstappen x Lewis Hamilton’s ex!Reader

Summary: your first love was a seven-time world champion with a chip on his shoulder who would stop at nothing to finally get that eighth … even at the expense of you. Your second (and last) love is a five-time world champion with racing in his blood who proves, once and for all, that he would give it all up for you without even being asked … and regret absolutely nothing

Based on this request

The rain taps softly against the glass walls of the penthouse. The lights of Monaco shimmer beyond the windows, reflections dancing across the polished floor like scattered stars.

You sit cross-legged on the oversized couch, Lewis sprawled beside you, his legs stretched out, an arm slung casually over the backrest. He’s scrolling through his phone, something about sector times and telemetry, but his attention isn’t fully there. Not tonight.

“Lewis,” you say, gently nudging his side with your foot.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t look up.

You nudge him harder, and this time he glances your way, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “What’s up?”

“I need you to focus for, like, five minutes.”

“I am focusing,” he says, holding up his phone as evidence. “Race prep.”

“On me, Lewis.”

That gets his attention. He sets the phone down on the coffee table, screen still glowing with data, and leans back, giving you his full, undivided gaze. “Alright, I’m all yours. What’s on your mind?”

You hesitate for a moment, fingers curling into the soft fabric of your sweater. The words are there, sitting heavy on your tongue, but saying them feels like stepping off the edge of something solid. Still, you’ve been together for almost six years. If you can’t have this conversation with him now, when can you?

“I’ve been thinking,” you start, your voice steady but quiet, “about us. About the future.”

Lewis tilts his head, curiosity flickering across his face. “What about it?”

You take a deep breath. “I want to get married, Lewis. I want to have a family. With you.”

His expression shifts, not into shock or annoyance, but something harder to read. He doesn’t respond right away, which only makes the silence stretch uncomfortably between you.

“I know the timing’s not perfect,” you add quickly, trying to fill the gap. “I know you’re in the middle of-”

“The most important season of my career?” He finishes for you, a wry smile softening his tone.

“Yeah, that.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Babe, it’s not that I don’t want those things with you. I do. You know I do.”

“Do I?” The question slips out before you can stop it, and you see the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“Of course you do,” he says, his voice low, almost defensive. “Six years. That’s not nothing.”

“I know it’s not nothing. But sometimes it feels like we’re stuck in the same place. Like we’re … waiting for something that never comes.”

Lewis scrubs a hand down his face, the faintest hint of frustration breaking through his calm demeanor. “It’s not that simple, love. You know how much this season means to me. Winning an eighth title, it’s history. Legacy. Everything I’ve worked for my whole life.”

“And what about after that?” You press, leaning closer. “What happens when you get it? Then what?”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, he looks almost … unsure. It’s a rare thing, seeing Lewis Hamilton unsure of anything.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’ve never really thought about it. Not in detail.”

“Well, maybe you should,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “Because I have. And I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with just being … your girlfriend forever.”

Lewis winces at the word, like it stings. “That’s not what you are to me. You’re everything. You know that.”

“Then prove it.”

He leans back again, running both hands through his hair as he exhales sharply. “God, you don’t make this easy, do you?”

“It’s not supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to be real.”

For a long moment, he just looks at you, his dark eyes searching your face like he’s trying to solve some impossible puzzle. Then, slowly, he nods.

“Okay,” he says, his voice steady now, resolute. “When I win this season — when I get that eighth title — I’ll retire.”

Your breath catches. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says, a small, almost mischievous smile playing on his lips. “I’ll retire. I’ll hang up my helmet, put a ring on your finger, and we’ll start trying for that family you’ve been dreaming about.”

You stare at him, equal parts stunned and skeptical. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“Lewis, you can’t just say that to shut me up.”

“I’m not trying to shut you up,” he says, reaching for your hand. His fingers are warm, steady, and when he looks at you now, there’s no hesitation, no uncertainty. “I’m saying it because I mean it. When I win, it’ll be the perfect ending. The perfect time to step away. And then it’s just us. No races, no travel, no distractions. Just you and me.”

“And a baby,” you add, because if you’re going to dream, you might as well dream big.

He chuckles, the sound warm and rich, and pulls you closer until you’re half in his lap. “And a baby,” he agrees.

It feels like a promise, one sealed with the way he presses a kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you like they’re anchoring you to him.

But somewhere, deep down, a small, cautious voice whispers: what if he doesn’t win?

***

The suite is silent except for the faint hum of the minibar fridge and the muffled sounds of celebration filtering in from somewhere outside. It’s as if the entire world is rejoicing, but here, in the confines of this hotel room, everything feels like it’s crumbling.

Lewis hasn’t said a word since you got back. He walked in, dropped his helmet bag by the door, and slumped onto the edge of the bed, still in his team gear. His shoulders are hunched, his head bowed, his hands clasped tightly between his knees.

You stand a few feet away, arms crossed over your chest, unsure whether to approach him or leave him to his thoughts. The weight in the room is unbearable, pressing down on your chest until it’s hard to breathe.

“Lewis,” you say softly, testing the waters.

He doesn’t move.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Nothing. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

You take a tentative step closer. “I know it hurts-”

“Don’t,” he says sharply, cutting you off. His voice is hoarse, raw from the screams and protests he let out over the radio hours ago. He still hasn’t looked up.

You flinch but press on, refusing to let the conversation die. “I’m just trying to help.”

“There’s nothing to help,” he snaps, finally lifting his head. His eyes are bloodshot, his expression a mix of devastation and barely restrained fury. “It’s done. Over. What’s there to say?”

Your heart twists at the sight of him like this — so broken, so unlike the unshakable man you’ve always known. “I just thought-”

“Don’t you get it?” He interrupts, his voice rising. He stands abruptly, towering over you, his frustration bubbling over. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to sit here and dissect how it all fell apart. I want to forget.”

You step back, your own emotions starting to fray at the edges. “You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. You need to face it.”

“And what good would that do?” He shoots back, pacing the room now like a caged animal. “Would it give me my title? My win? Would it change the fact that I got robbed tonight?”

His words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

“Yeah,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Me too.”

The silence stretches again, but this time it’s different. More fragile. You can feel it cracking under the weight of what you need to say next.

“Lewis,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “About what we talked about. Before …”

He stops pacing, turning to look at you with a frown. “What?”

“A few weeks ago,” you clarify, taking a shaky breath. “You said when you won, you’d retire. That we’d start … building a life together.”

His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking as he stares at you.

“I know you didn’t win,” you continue hesitantly, “but does that really change anything? Can’t we still-”

“Don’t,” he says sharply, holding up a hand. His expression is hard now, a stark contrast to the vulnerability he showed earlier. “Don’t do this right now.”

“Why not?” You ask, frustration creeping into your tone. “Because it’s not convenient? Because it’s easier to bury yourself in racing than deal with what’s happening between us?”

“That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice rising again.

“Isn’t it?” You challenge, taking a step closer. “You made me a promise. And now, what? You’re just going to pretend it didn’t happen because things didn’t go your way?”

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You don’t get it. You’ve never understood. Racing isn’t just something I do — it’s who I am. Walking away now, without that eighth championship … I can’t. I won’t.”

Your chest tightens, and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “So what about me? What about us? Do we just stay on pause forever while you chase this thing that might never happen?”

His face twists with something you can’t quite place — anger, regret, maybe both. “This isn’t just about you,” he says, his voice dangerously low. “I’ve given everything to this sport. Everything. And I’m not quitting until I finish what I started.”

“So I’m just supposed to wait?” You ask, your voice cracking. “How long, Lewis? Another year? Two? Five? When is it going to be enough?”

“I don’t know!” He shouts, the words bursting out of him like a dam breaking. “I don’t know, alright?”

The room falls silent again, the weight of his outburst settling over both of you.

“I can’t do this,” he mutters after a moment, shaking his head. “Not right now.”

Before you can say another word, he grabs his jacket from the back of a chair and heads for the door.

“Lewis, wait,” you plead, your voice trembling. “Don’t walk away from this. From me.”

He pauses, his hand on the doorknob, but he doesn’t turn around. “I just need some air,” he says, his tone clipped.

And then he’s gone, the door slamming shut behind him with a finality that makes you flinch.

You stand there for a moment, frozen, staring at the door as if willing him to come back. But the only sound is the muffled celebration outside, a cruel reminder of everything that’s been lost tonight.

Finally, your legs give out, and you sink onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears come. They’re hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks as sobs wrack your body.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. None of it. You were supposed to be celebrating together, planning your future, looking ahead to the life you’d been dreaming of for so long.

But instead, it feels like everything is slipping through your fingers, and no matter how hard you try to hold on, it’s all crumbling around you.

You don’t know how long you sit there, crying into the silence, but when the tears finally stop, you’re left with an emptiness that feels even worse.

And for the first time in six years, you wonder if maybe Lewis Hamilton isn’t the man you thought he was. Or maybe he is, and that’s the problem.

***

One Year Later

The glass facade of the clinic looms above you, pristine and intimidating. Every time you glance at the sign — Centre de Fertilité de Monaco written in bold looping letters — your stomach churns. You’ve been standing outside for almost fifteen minutes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed tightly against the chill in the air.

The city is alive around you, luxury cars humming down the streets, the faint sound of waves crashing against the marina in the distance. But you feel like you’re in a bubble, trapped in your own swirling thoughts.

This is what you want. You’ve thought about it a hundred times, planned every detail, read every article, and filled out every form. And yet, your feet refuse to move.

“Just go inside,” you whisper to yourself, though the words feel hollow.

You take a step toward the door, but your hand falters just shy of the handle.

“Y/N?”

The voice is familiar, low and slightly accented, and it stops you in your tracks. You turn to see Max Verstappen standing a few feet away, a look of surprise etched across his face. He’s dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, but there’s no mistaking him.

“Max,” you breathe, startled.

He takes a step closer, his brows knitting together. “What are you doing here?”

You glance at the clinic sign and then back at him, your heart hammering in your chest. “It’s, uh … personal.”

Max’s eyes narrow slightly, curiosity and concern mingling in his expression. “Personal enough that you’re standing outside looking like you’re about to throw up?”

Your face heats, and you instinctively wrap your arms around yourself, as if that could shield you from his gaze. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” He pauses, studying you. Then his eyes flicker to the sign again, and something seems to click. “Wait … are you-”

“Yes,” you blurt, cutting him off. There’s no point in pretending now. “I’m here to get artificially inseminated.”

Max blinks, clearly not expecting that answer. “Oh.”

You look away, embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal. Lots of women do it.”

“Without anyone here to support you?” He asks, his tone soft but pointed.

You shrug, your voice defensive. “It’s my decision.”

Max doesn’t respond right away, and when you finally look back at him, he’s frowning. “Why?”

The question catches you off guard. “Why what?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want a baby,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And you can’t … I don’t know, meet someone?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Right, because it’s that easy.”

Max shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re serious about this?”

“Yes, Max,” you snap, your patience wearing thin. “I’ve been serious about this for a long time. Just because my relationship didn’t work out doesn’t mean I should have to give up on what I want.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he says quietly, “So you and Lewis really broke up.”

You nod, swallowing hard. The mention of Lewis still feels like a punch to the gut, even after all this time. “Yeah. A while ago.”

Max hesitates, his hands shoved into his pockets. “And now you’re just … what? Picking a random donor from a catalog and hoping for the best?”

The words sting, and you glare at him. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” He presses, his voice still calm but insistent. “You deserve more than that. You deserve more than a child fathered by some random man you only know as lines of descriptions on paper.”

That’s the moment you break. The tears you’ve been holding back for weeks, maybe even months, come flooding out. You cover your face with your hands, trying to stifle the sobs, but it’s no use.

“Hey,” Max says quickly, stepping closer. “Hey, don’t-”

But you can’t stop. It’s all too much — Lewis, the clinic, the choices you’ve had to make on your own.

“I just want-” you choke out, but the words dissolve into another sob.

“Come here,” Max says softly, wrapping an arm around your back and gently tugging you closer. You collapse against him, your face buried in his shoulder as the tears keep coming.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just holds you, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles over your back. His hoodie smells faintly of cologne and something clean, like fresh laundry.

After a while, your sobs start to quiet, and you manage to pull back, wiping at your face. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” Max says, his voice low. He tilts his head, his blue eyes soft but serious. “You’re clearly not in the right state of mind to be making life-changing decisions.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.

“Look,” he says, “I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this. I’m saying maybe today isn’t the day. You’re upset. And I don’t think you should do something this big while you’re feeling like this.”

You hesitate, his words sinking in.

“My apartment is just around the corner,” he continues. “Why don’t we go there? We can talk, or not talk. Whatever you want. But at least give yourself a little time to think.”

You hesitate, glancing back at the clinic. The weight of the decision presses heavily on you, but so does the thought of going through with it now, like this.

“Okay,” you whisper finally.

Max nods, a small, reassuring smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Come on.”

He keeps his hand on your back as he guides you down the street, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel entirely alone.

***

Max’s apartment is modern, sleek, and surprisingly warm. The large windows overlook the Monaco skyline, the twinkling lights of the city reflecting off the sea in the distance. You sit on the plush gray couch, clutching a mug of tea Max handed you just moments ago. The ceramic is warm in your hands, grounding you as the weight of everything presses down on your chest.

Max settles in the armchair across from you, his long legs stretched out, one elbow resting on the armrest as he watches you carefully. He hasn’t said much since you got here, and you’re grateful for it. But now, with the tea steeping between your fingers and his steady gaze on you, you feel the urge to fill the silence.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max shrugs lightly, a faint, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “Start anywhere.”

You exhale shakily, staring into the dark liquid in your mug. “Lewis and I were together for six years. Six years of my life … and for a long time, I thought we wanted the same things.”

Max’s brows knit together, but he stays quiet, letting you continue.

“I thought we were building something together,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “I wanted to get married. I wanted kids. He said he did, too. But there was always something in the way — another season, another championship, another goal. And I kept waiting because I believed in him, in us.”

Your voice cracks, and you take a sip of the tea, letting the warmth soothe your throat. Max leans forward slightly, his blue eyes fixed on you with an intensity that’s both comforting and unnerving.

“And then last year …” You pause, trying to steady your voice. “He promised me that if he won his eighth title, he’d retire. That we’d finally start the life we talked about. And I believed him. I really believed him.”

Max’s jaw tightens, his knuckles pressing against his chin as he listens.

“But he didn’t win,” you continue, the memory still fresh, still raw. “And instead of keeping his promise, he said he couldn’t walk away. Not without that eighth.”

“Unbelievable,” Max mutters under his breath, shaking his head.

You glance at him, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “I thought maybe I could wait. Maybe I could put my dreams on hold for him a little longer. But it wasn’t just about the title — it was about him always choosing racing over me, over us.”

Max leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “So you broke up.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say, your voice trembling. “I couldn’t keep waiting for someone who would never choose me.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unspoken. You’ve said them to yourself before, in the quiet of your bedroom, in the midst of sleepless nights, but saying them out loud now feels different. More final.

“And now you’re here,” Max says after a moment, gesturing faintly toward the direction of the clinic outside the windows.

You nod, tears pricking at your eyes again. “I still want a family. I’ve always wanted that. And after everything with Lewis, I realized I can’t keep putting my life on hold for someone else. If I want a baby, I have to make it happen myself.”

Max stares at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I get it,” he says finally. “I do. But … I don’t know. It just feels wrong. Like, you shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

“I don’t have a choice,” you say, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Not everyone gets a happy ending. Some of us just have to make do with what we have.”

He shakes his head, leaning forward again. “That’s not what I mean. I mean someone like you shouldn’t have to settle for this. You’re smart, beautiful, caring. Any guy would be lucky to have you. Hell, if it were me-”

He stops abruptly, his face coloring slightly as if realizing what he’s about to say.

“If it were you, what?” You ask, your voice softer now, curious.

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “If it were me, I wouldn’t have made you wait. I wouldn’t have let you go, period. I would’ve dropped everything the second I got out of the car in Abu Dhabi.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut — not because they hurt, but because they’re so unexpected, so honest.

“You don’t mean that,” you say quietly, though your heart betrays you, fluttering in your chest.

Max’s gaze is unwavering. “I do. You deserve someone who sees you as their priority, not as something they’ll get to when it’s convenient. If I had someone like you …” He trails off, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t need anything else.”

The room falls silent, and you don’t know what to say. Your hands tighten around the mug, and you feel your cheeks flush under his intense stare.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment, leaning back. “That probably crossed a line.”

“No,” you say quickly, surprising even yourself. “It’s … nice to hear. I guess I just don’t believe it.”

“Why not?” He asks, his brows furrowing.

“Because if that were true, Lewis wouldn’t have left,” you admit, your voice breaking. “If I were really worth all that, he wouldn’t have walked away.”

Max shakes his head vehemently, leaning forward again. “That’s not on you. That’s on him. He couldn’t see what he had. That’s his loss, not yours.”

You blink back tears, his words cutting through the doubt and self-blame you’ve been carrying for so long.

“Look,” Max says softly, his voice gentle now. “You’re not alone in this, okay? I know it feels like it, but you’re not. And whatever you decide to do, just … don’t rush into it because you think you have to. You’ve got time, and you’ve got people who care about you.”

The sincerity in his voice almost breaks you all over again. You nod, unable to speak, and Max offers you a small, reassuring smile.

“Finish your tea,” he says, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll grab us something stronger. Tea’s good for a talk, but this feels like a whiskey kind of conversation.”

You laugh softly, the sound surprising you. For the first time in a long time, the weight on your chest feels just a little bit lighter.

***

The first time you showed up at Max’s apartment unannounced, it was a particularly bad day. The ache in your chest had been unbearable, the quiet of your own place suffocating. You hadn’t even thought twice before texting him: You home?

His response came within seconds. Always. Door’s open.

You found him lounging on the couch, his two bengals sprawled out lazily beside him. When he saw you, he didn’t ask questions. He just stood, grabbed two Red Bulls from the fridge, and let you curl up on the floor to play with Jimmy and Sassy while he sat nearby, chatting about nothing in particular until the knot in your chest loosened.

It became a ritual after that. On the days when life felt too heavy, you’d make your way to Max’s. Sometimes you’d talk, sometimes you wouldn’t. But more often than not, you’d end up on the floor with the cats while Max watched with quiet amusement.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Jimmy pounces on the feather toy you’re dragging across the rug, his sleek body moving with a precision that reminds you of Max on the track. Sassy, the more aloof of the two, lounges nearby, watching her brother with disdain until she decides to join in.

You’re lying on your back now, laughing as the two cats leap over you, chasing the toy you’re holding above your head. It’s the first time you’ve laughed all day, maybe all week, and it feels good.

“Careful, Jimmy,” Max calls from the couch, his voice warm with affection. “She’s not a scratching post.”

You tilt your head to look at him, still holding the toy above you. He’s sitting sideways, one arm slung over the back of the couch, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Jimmy would never hurt me,” you say, grinning as the cat lands lightly on your stomach before darting off again.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Max warns, shaking his head. “He’s a menace.”

“He’s perfect,” you counter, turning your attention back to the cats.

Max chuckles softly, but he doesn’t respond. You’re too distracted by Sassy’s sudden burst of energy to notice the way his gaze lingers on you, the way his smile fades into something softer, something deeper.

After a while, you sit up, your hair slightly disheveled and your cheeks flushed from laughing. Jimmy jumps into your lap, purring contentedly as you stroke his fur.

When you look up, Max is staring at you.

“What?” You ask, your brow furrowing.

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are warm, almost tender, and it takes you a moment to realize he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room.

“Nothing,” he says finally, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re just … happy. I like seeing you like this.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you glance away, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s the cats,” you say lightly, trying to brush it off. “They’re good for my mental health.”

“It’s not just the cats,” Max says, and there’s something in his tone that makes you look at him again.

He’s leaning forward slightly now, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze locked on yours. You feel your breath catch, the air in the room shifting, thickening.

“Max …” you start, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence.

“You don’t see it, do you?” He says softly, his voice almost reverent.

“See what?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“How incredible you are.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unshakable. You stare at him, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

“Max, I …”

Before you can finish, he’s on the floor in front of you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, and you don’t pull away.

“You’re amazing,” he says, his eyes searching yours. “You’re strong, and kind, and funny, and … God, Y/N, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you forget how to speak.

“Max,” you say finally, your voice trembling. “This … this is a bad idea.”

“Why?” He asks, his hand still resting against your cheek.

“Because I don’t want to ruin this,” you admit, your eyes filling with tears. “You’ve been my rock these past few months. I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t,” he says firmly. “I promise you, you won’t. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

You’re silent, your heart warring with your head. But when he leans in, his lips brushing softly against yours, all your doubts fade away.

The kiss is gentle at first, hesitant, as if he’s afraid you might pull away. But when you don’t, he deepens it, his hand sliding into your hair as he pours everything he’s been holding back into the kiss.

When you finally pull apart, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice shaky.

Max chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Yeah. Wow.”

You stare at him, your mind racing. This wasn’t what you expected when you came here tonight, but now that it’s happened, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

“Max,” you say softly, your voice filled with uncertainty.

“It’s okay,” he says, cutting you off. “We’ll figure this out, whatever it is. I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I promise.”

And to your surprise, despite the broken promises still shattered beneath your feet, you really do believe him.

***

The bedroom is bathed in the soft golden glow of the evening lights spilling through the windows. The Monaco skyline twinkles faintly in the distance, but you’re not paying attention to it. You’re wrapped up in Max’s arms, his warmth seeping into you as his fingers draw lazy patterns on your back.

You’re lying on your side, your head resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His free hand brushes through your hair, the motion slow and soothing. Every so often, he leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head or your temple, murmuring something sweet against your skin.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he says, his voice low and gentle.

“I’m just … content,” you reply, tilting your head to look up at him. “This is nice.”

He smiles down at you, his blue eyes soft with affection. “Yeah, it is.”

His fingers trail up to your jaw, tilting your face up so he can kiss you. It’s slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl and sends warmth blooming in your chest.

When he pulls back, his lips linger near yours, his breath fanning against your skin. “You know, I could get used to this,” he says, a playful lilt in his voice.

“You mean you’re not used to it already?” You tease, nudging him lightly.

“I mean forever,” he says, and the sincerity in his tone makes your heart skip a beat.

You smile, your fingers idly tracing the lines of his collarbone. “Forever sounds nice.”

The silence that follows is comfortable, filled with the soft sounds of your breathing and the occasional distant hum of the city below.

After a moment, you glance up at him, your heart beating a little faster. “Max?”

“Hmm?” He hums, his fingers still trailing along your back.

“Have you ever thought about … kids?” You ask hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stills for a moment, his hand pausing mid-motion before he shifts slightly to look down at you. “Kids?”

“Yeah,” you say, suddenly nervous. “Like, have you ever thought about having them?”

He doesn’t answer right away, his brows furrowing slightly as if considering your question. Then, to your surprise, he lets out a soft laugh.

“Honestly?” He says, his lips quirking into a small smile. “I’ve thought about it pretty much daily since I met you.”

Your eyes widen, and you push yourself up onto your elbow to look at him more closely. “Seriously?”

He chuckles, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t thinking about it before. But now? With you? I think about it all the time.”

“Max,” you whisper, your heart swelling at his words.

“I know it sounds crazy,” he continues, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. “We haven’t been together that long, but … I don’t know. When you know, you know, right?”

You nod, unable to speak, your throat tight with emotion.

“And I know,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re it for me, Y/N. There’s no one else. There’s never going to be anyone else.”

Tears sting at your eyes, and you laugh softly, leaning into his touch. “You’re really something, Max Verstappen.”

“I mean it,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “So … what do you think? Would you want to have a baby with me?”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The question is so outlandish, so unexpected, and yet it feels right.

“You’re serious?” You ask, your voice trembling.

“Dead serious,” he says, a grin tugging at his lips. “You’re going to be an amazing mom. I can already see it.”

You laugh, covering your face with your hands as the weight of his words sinks in. “This is insane.”

“Maybe,” he says, pulling your hands away from your face. “But it feels right, doesn’t it?”

You look at him, at the way his eyes shine with hope and love, and you know he’s right.

“It does,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

He beams, his grin so wide it’s almost boyish. “So … is that a yes?”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss him. “Yes, Max. Let’s have a baby.”

He kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you closer. The kiss is different this time — deeper, more urgent, filled with the promise of what’s to come.

When you pull back, you’re both grinning like fools, your foreheads pressed together as you laugh softly.

“This is happening,” he says, his voice filled with awe.

“It is,” you reply, your heart swelling with joy.

“And just so you know,” he adds, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. “I’m not leaving this bed until we make it happen.”

You laugh, swatting at his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he counters, flipping you onto your back as his lips find yours again.

The night stretches on for what feels like forever, filled with laughter, whispered promises, and the kind of love that feels like forever.

***

The moment you see the two pink lines on the test, your heart stops. For a second, you don’t breathe, don’t blink, don’t move. Then, a rush of emotions crashes over you all at once — joy, disbelief, terror, excitement. You sit on the edge of the tub in your bathroom, staring at the test in your shaking hands, trying to make sense of it.

“Max,” you whisper to yourself, and the thought of him steadies you.

He’s in the kitchen when you step out, his back to you as he busies himself with something at the stove. The faint smell of eggs and toast fills the air, but you can barely focus on it. Your hand tightens around the test in your pocket.

“Morning,” he says when he hears your footsteps, glancing over his shoulder with a soft smile. “Hungry? I made breakfast.”

You don’t answer, your feet rooted to the floor.

“Y/N?” He says, turning fully to face you now. “Everything okay?”

You nod, though you’re pretty sure you don’t look convincing. Your chest feels tight, and suddenly, you don’t know how to say the words.

“Hey,” he says softly, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”

His hands find yours, grounding you in the way only he can. You take a deep breath and pull the test out of your pocket, holding it up between you.

Max stares at it for a moment, his eyes wide.

“Is that-”

“Yeah,” you say quickly, your voice trembling. “It’s positive.”

For a second, he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Then, a slow, disbelieving grin spreads across his face.

“We’re having a baby?” He asks, his voice almost a whisper.

You nod, your own tears welling up as you watch his expression shift from shock to pure, unfiltered joy.

“We’re having a baby,” you repeat, the words finally sinking in.

Max lets out a breathless laugh, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground. “Oh my God, Y/N, we’re having a baby!”

You laugh through your tears, clinging to him as he spins you around. When he finally sets you down, his hands frame your face, his eyes searching yours.

“Are you okay? How do you feel? Do you need anything? Oh my God, we need to call the doctor, right? That’s what we do next?”

“Max,” you say, cutting him off with a laugh. “I’m okay. We’ll figure it all out.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding quickly. “Okay. But, wow … we’re having a baby.”

The way he says it, like he can’t quite believe it, makes your heart swell.

From that moment on, Max is all in.

***

Max surprises you at every turn. Where you once thought the worlds of racing and family couldn’t coexist, he proves you wrong with every thoughtful gesture, every sacrifice, every time he puts you first.

At first, you hesitate to bring it up. You know how important racing is to him, how much of his life has been dedicated to it. You don’t want to be a distraction, don’t want to pull him away from something he loves.

But Max is quick to shut down any of those thoughts.

“You and this baby come first,” he says one night, his hand resting gently on your still-flat stomach. “Always.”

You blink at him, your throat tight. “You don’t have to say that, Max. I know how much racing means to you.”

“And I know how much you mean to me,” he counters, his voice firm. “This doesn’t have to be one or the other. We’ll make it work. I promise.”

And he does.

***

You don’t feel ready to travel yet, and Max doesn’t push you. He understands when you tell him you’re not ready to face the paddock, to face him. It’s still too raw, too soon. Max doesn’t question it.

“It’s okay,” he says, kissing your forehead. “You don’t need to explain. You do what’s best for you. I’ll come to you.”

And he does.

Even in the middle of the season, when his schedule is packed and his commitments are endless, Max never misses a single appointment. He’s always there, whether it’s for the early check-ups or the first ultrasound.

“Can you believe that’s our baby?” He whispers during the first scan, his voice filled with awe as he watches the tiny flicker of the heartbeat on the monitor.

You can’t answer, your own emotions overwhelming you. Instead, you squeeze his hand, and he leans over to press a kiss to your temple.

***

The weeks pass, and soon it’s time for the big ultrasound — the one where you’ll finally learn the baby’s gender. Max is in São Paulo for the Brazilian Grand Prix, and you’ve convinced yourself he won’t make it back in time.

“It’s okay,” you tell him over the phone the night before. “You’ve got a race to focus on. I’ll record everything for you.”

“Y/N,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m not missing this.”

“But-”

“I’ll be there,” he promises. “Trust me.”

True to his word, Max walks into the clinic the next afternoon, still in his favorite set of sweats for traveling, his hair slightly disheveled from the flight.

“Max,” you say, standing up from your chair in the waiting room, your heart swelling at the sight of him. “You made it.”

“Of course I did,” he says, pulling you into his arms. “I told you I would.”

The ultrasound room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the machine and the occasional click of the technician’s keyboard. You’re lying on the examination table, Max sitting beside you, holding your hand tightly.

“Are you ready to find out?” The technician asks, her eyes crinkling with a warm smile.

You glance at Max, and he nods, his excitement barely contained.

“Let’s do it,” you say.

The technician moves the wand across your stomach, and a moment later, the screen lights up with the image of your baby.

“Congratulations,” she says, her smile widening. “It’s a girl.”

A girl.

Max lets out a laugh, his hand flying to cover his mouth as he stares at the screen. “A girl,” he repeats, his voice filled with wonder. “We’re having a girl.”

You laugh through your tears, your heart full to bursting. Max leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose, your lips.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

“For what?” You ask, your own voice shaky.

“For this. For her. For everything,” he says, his eyes shining as he looks at you.

You don’t have the words to respond, so you just squeeze his hand, your heart so full it feels like it might burst.

And in that moment, you realize: Max was right. Racing and family don’t have to be at odds. They can coexist, as long as you have someone who’s willing to make it work. And Max? He’s more than willing. He’s all in. Always.

***

It’s been a long start to the season, and the 2024 championship is already shaping up to be a nail-biter. The RB20 is much more unwieldy than its predecessor, the points gap narrowing with a DNF in Australia. The pressure is on, and you know it. Max knows it too.

But despite everything — the late nights, the media frenzy, the endless travel — he never wavers in his commitment to you and the baby. Even as the world watches him fight for the title, Max’s focus always returns home.

As your due date approaches, the Japan Grand Prix weekend looms closer on the calendar. Suzuka is pivotal, everyone says. The kind of race that could determine the championship. The team is counting on Max to deliver.

But Max doesn’t seem fazed by any of it when you bring it up one evening in bed, your hand resting on your swollen belly while his fingers gently trace circles over the skin.

“You know Suzuka’s right around the corner,” you say hesitantly, watching his expression.

“Hmm,” he hums, his eyes focused on your stomach, his lips quirking into a small smile when he feels a kick.

“Max.”

He glances up at you, his gaze softening. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitate, unsure how to phrase it. “I just … I know it’s an important race. And my due date is so close. What if-”

“I’m not going to Japan,” he says firmly, cutting you off before you can spiral.

You blink at him, startled. “What?”

“I’ve already told Christian and Helmut. They’re putting Liam in the car for the weekend.”

“Max,” you whisper, your heart swelling. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he says, his voice steady. “This is our daughter we’re talking about. There’s no way I’m missing her arrival, not for any race, not for anything.”

Tears sting at your eyes, and you blink them back quickly. “But the championship-”

“Doesn’t matter as much as this,” he interrupts again, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Y/N, I love racing, but you and our baby? You’re everything. You’re my world. If I have to miss a race, so be it.”

You stare at him, your throat tight, and you can’t stop the tears this time. “I love you,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “I love you too. More than anything.”

***

When the weekend of the Japanese Grand Prix arrives, you’re still pregnant, and Max is at your side, refusing to let you lift a finger.

The race plays out on the television in the background while Max spends most of the day doting on you. He rubs your feet, makes you tea, and checks on the hospital bag for the millionth time, making sure everything is in order.

“Max, sit down,” you say, laughing softly as you watch him double-check the contents of the bag again.

“I just want to make sure we’re ready,” he says, zipping it up and placing it neatly by the door.

“We’re ready,” you assure him, patting the space next to you on the couch.

He finally sits, pulling you close and resting his hand on your belly. “You’re sure she’s not coming today?”

“She’s not on your schedule, Verstappen,” you tease, and he laughs, leaning in to kiss your temple.

***

But she does come.

Two days later, in the early hours of the morning, the first contraction wakes you. At first, you’re too groggy to register what’s happening, but when the second one hits, you gasp, clutching at the sheets.

“Max,” you manage to get out, shaking his shoulder.

He bolts upright, his eyes wide and alert. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I think … I think it’s time,” you say, your voice trembling.

Max is on his feet in an instant, grabbing the hospital bag and helping you out of bed with remarkable calmness for someone who was sound asleep just seconds ago.

“You okay?” He asks, his arm around your waist as he guides you to the car.

You nod, though your breaths are shallow. “Yeah. Just … hurry.”

***

The hours in the delivery room pass in a blur of pain and anticipation. Max never leaves your side, his hand gripping yours tightly through every contraction, his voice steady and reassuring as he encourages you.

“You’re amazing,” he says, brushing the hair from your sweaty forehead. “You’ve got this. Just a little more, liefje. You’re so strong.”

When the moment finally comes, and the sound of your daughter’s first cries fills the room, both of you dissolve into tears.

“She’s here,” Max whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s really here.”

The nurse places the tiny, wriggling bundle in your arms, and you look down at her, overwhelmed by a love so powerful it takes your breath away. Max leans over your shoulder, his face close to hers, his tears falling freely now.

“She’s perfect,” he says, his voice breaking.

You glance up at him, your heart swelling as you see the pure adoration on his face. “She looks like you.”

“She looks like us,” he corrects, his fingers gently tracing the curve of her cheek.

***

When the nurse takes her to be weighed and cleaned up, Max stands frozen for a moment, watching her with wide eyes. Then, when they bring her back, he hesitates.

“You want to hold her?” You ask, smiling through your exhaustion.

He looks at you like you’ve just handed him the most precious thing in the world. “Can I?”

“Of course,” you say, carefully passing her to him.

Max cradles her in his arms, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving her face. He looks utterly awestruck, his tears still streaming down his cheeks as he rocks her gently.

“Hi, little one,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I’m your papa. And I already love you more than anything.”

Your heart clenches as you watch him, the way he holds her like she’s the most fragile, most important thing in the world.

“You okay?” You ask softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

He nods, but when he looks at you, his expression is serious. “Y/N,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “If you or she ever said the word, I’d stop. I’d walk away from racing tomorrow and never look back.”

“Max-”

“I mean it,” he says, cutting you off gently. “I don’t need any of it. All I need is right here.”

Tears spill down your cheeks as you reach for his hand, your fingers lacing through his. “You don’t have to stop, Max. I don’t want you to. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” he says, his gaze dropping back to your daughter. “You and her — you’re everything.”

The three of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other and the overwhelming love that fills the room.

And as you watch Max rock your daughter, his eyes shining with tears and joy, you realize that this is it — this is the life you always dreamed of.

***

The Australian Grand Prix marks the beginning of the 2025 season, and the paddock is alive with its usual chaos: reporters shouting questions, cameras flashing, and engineers rushing to and from garages. But for you, it feels like an entirely different world as you step onto the paddock with your daughter perched on your hip.

She’s bundled in a tiny Red Bull jacket Max had custom-made, her baby blue eyes wide as she takes in the flurry of activity around her. She giggles as a gust of wind tousles her fine blonde curls, and you can’t help but smile, brushing them back into place.

“Are you sure about this?” You ask Max, who stands beside you, his hand resting lightly on your lower back.

He glances at you, his expression soft but resolute. “You’re my family. I want everyone to know.”

Your chest tightens, equal parts touched and nervous. “It’s just … people are going to talk.”

“Let them,” Max says simply, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. Then he shifts his attention to your daughter, gently tickling her chin. “Aren’t they, prinsesje? Let them say what they want.”

Her delighted squeal pulls a laugh from him, and for a moment, your nerves melt away.

But the attention is immediate. As soon as you cross into the paddock, a ripple of recognition sweeps through the crowd. Photographers pause, their lenses snapping up. Team personnel do double takes. Whispers spread like wildfire.

You’re prepared for it — at least, as much as you can be. What you’re not prepared for is running into Lewis.

You spot him before he sees you, standing just outside the Ferrari hospitality area in conversation with Fred Vasseur. Your stomach twists as you consider turning around, but before you can move, Lewis glances up.

He freezes.

His gaze locks on you, then drops to the baby in your arms, and his expression shifts from shock to something darker. He mutters something to Fred and strides toward you, his movements purposeful and tense.

“Y/N,” he says, stopping a few feet away. His eyes flicker to Max, who hasn’t left your side, and then back to you. “What … what’s this?”

You take a steadying breath. “Hello, Lewis.”

He ignores the pleasantries, his attention fixed on the child in your arms. “Is that your-” He stops, his jaw tightening. “Is that his?”

Max steps forward slightly, his hand now firm on your back. “Yes,” he says evenly, his voice calm but unyielding. “She is ours.”

Lewis’s eyes narrow, his gaze darting between you and Max. “How long has this been going on?”

“Lewis, I don’t think-”

“How long?” He snaps, his tone sharper now.

You glance at Max, who gives you a reassuring nod. Turning back to Lewis, you say, “A little over two and a half years.”

Lewis exhales sharply, shaking his head as if trying to process the information. “Two and a half years. So, what? You moved on that fast?”

“Don’t do that,” you say quietly, your grip tightening on your daughter. “It wasn’t fast. You know that.”

“Do I?” His voice is bitter, his expression unreadable. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure looks like you didn’t waste any time replacing me.”

Max stiffens beside you, but you place a hand on his arm, silently urging him to let you handle it.

“I didn’t replace you,” you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “I moved on. There’s a difference.”

His gaze softens for a moment, flickering with something like hurt. But then he looks at Max again, and the hardness returns. “With him?”

“Yes,” you say firmly, your chin lifting.

Lewis laughs bitterly, running a hand over his face. “Unbelievable.”

“Lewis,” Max interjects, his tone measured but with an edge of steel. “This isn’t about you. It’s about her. And our daughter.”

“Your daughter,” Lewis repeats, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Right. And you think this is going to work? Bringing her into this circus?”

Max’s jaw tightens, but he stays calm. “It’s already working. She’s happy. We’re happy.”

Lewis scoffs, his eyes narrowing. “You think this is happiness? Dragging a baby into this environment? Do you even understand what kind of life you’re giving her?”

You step forward before Max can respond, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “Don’t you dare judge me. You don’t get to do that. Not after everything.”

Lewis falters, his anger giving way to a flicker of guilt. “I’m not trying to-”

“Yes, you are,” you interrupt. “I get it, okay? You’re hurt. But you don’t get to stand there and act like you know what’s best for me or my family. Not anymore.”

There’s a long, tense silence. Finally, Lewis looks away, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I just … I didn’t think it would end like this,” he mutters.

Neither did you. But you don’t say it. Instead, you adjust your daughter in your arms, her tiny fingers clutching at your jacket, grounding you.

“It’s not about how it ended,” you say softly. “It’s about how we move forward.”

Lewis looks at you, and for a moment, you see the man you loved — the man who promised you a future he could never give. His eyes drop to your daughter, and his expression shifts, softening in a way that makes your heart ache.

“She’s beautiful,” he says quietly, almost reluctantly.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Max steps closer, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. “We should go,” he says, his voice low but kind.

You nod, giving Lewis one last look before turning away.

***

In the Red Bull motorhome, you sink into a chair, your emotions crashing over you. Max kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he studies your face.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice gentle.

You nod, though tears blur your vision. “It’s just … hard. Seeing him. The way he looked at me.”

Max leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “You don’t owe him anything. Not your guilt, not your sadness. Nothing. You’re here with me now, with our daughter. That’s all that matters.”

His words soothe you, and you reach up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too,” he says, his voice unwavering. Then he glances at your daughter, who’s dozing peacefully in her stroller. “And I love her more than anything.”

You smile through your tears, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. No matter what challenges lie ahead, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

***

Nine Months Later

The final race of the 2025 season is a sea of chaos and celebration. The Yas Marina Circuit glows under the floodlights, the air electric with cheers as Max steps onto the top of the podium for the fifth time in his career. Champagne sprays from the bottles, glistening under the lights, but Max barely seems to notice.

His eyes search through the crowd, scanning the blur of faces until they land on you. There you are, cradling your daughter in your arms, her little Red Bull ear protectors sitting snugly over her head. She’s clapping her hands in that uncoordinated, infant-like way that makes his chest ache with love. And you — God, you. Your smile is soft but radiant, tears glinting in your eyes as you look up at him.

Max feels his heart tighten, his grip on the champagne bottle slackening. He’s been chasing dreams for as long as he can remember — titles, wins, perfection on the track. But now, looking at you and the life you’ve built together, he knows none of it compares to what he has waiting for him off the podium.

He knows what he has to do.

As the podium ceremony winds down, Max fumbles at the inside pocket of his race suit. His fingers brush over the small velvet box he’s carried with him for weeks, waiting for the right moment. This is it. There’s no better time.

Lando Norris, standing to Max’s right after clinching second place, notices his movement and raises a brow. “What are you up to?”

Max doesn’t answer, too focused on what’s coming next. His fingers close around the box, and his pulse quickens.

He steps forward, champagne still dripping from his suit, and motions to the crowd below. “Can we … can someone help her up here?” He calls, his voice cracking slightly with emotion.

You blink, confused, as several Red Bull mechanics glance at each other before moving to you. One of them gestures toward the podium. “Come on,” he says, grinning. “You’re part of this moment.”

“What? No, I-” you stammer, clutching your daughter closer. “I’m fine here-”

“Y/N,” Max says from above, his voice carrying across the noise. His tone is warm but insistent. “Please. Come up.”

Your heart races as you glance around, overwhelmed by the attention, but the mechanics are already helping guide you to the platform. Before you know it, you’re being hoisted onto the podium, your feet landing on the cool metal as you steady yourself.

Max steps toward you, his eyes locked on yours. His gaze is tender, but there’s a flicker of nerves there, too. The crowd’s roar dulls in your ears as he takes a deep breath, his focus entirely on you.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice trembling slightly. He drops to one knee, the champagne bottle rolling away unnoticed. In his hand is the small velvet box, now open to reveal a sparkling diamond ring.

The crowd erupts.

Your breath catches.

“Y/N,” Max says again, louder this time, his blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I once thought winning a championship would be the best moment of my life. But then I saw you. Holding our daughter, looking at me like that, and I realized the best thing I’ve ever done has nothing to do with racing. It’s us. It’s you. It’s her.”

Tears blur your vision, your hand covering your mouth as you stare down at him.

“I love you,” he continues, his voice cracking. “I love you more than anything in this world. You’ve given me everything I never knew I needed. You’re my family, Y/N, and I don’t want to wait another second to make it official.”

He swallows hard, his hands shaking as he holds the ring toward you. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The crowd, the cameras, the other drivers — it all fades away. All you can see is Max, his face open and vulnerable in a way you’ve rarely seen. The man who’s always so composed under pressure, the fierce competitor, is looking at you with nothing but love and hope.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice breaking. Then, louder. “Yes, Max. Yes!”

The crowd explodes into cheers as Max lets out a breathless laugh, his face lighting up in relief and joy. He stands quickly, wrapping one arm around your waist while slipping the ring onto your finger with the other. It fits perfectly.

Before you can say anything else, Max cups your face and kisses you, his lips warm and urgent against yours. The kiss is met with an even louder roar from the crowd, but all you can focus on is him — the way his hands tremble slightly, the way he pulls you closer as if afraid to let go.

Your daughter giggles in your arms, and Max pulls back just enough to glance down at her. He grins, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “What do you think, prinsesje? Did Papa do okay?”

She babbles something incomprehensible, and the three of you laugh.

***

Later, in the quiet of his driver’s room, the chaos of the podium ceremony behind you, Max pulls you into his lap as you sit together on the small sofa. Your daughter sleeps soundly in her stroller nearby, her tiny chest rising and falling in rhythm.

Max toys with the ring on your finger, his expression thoughtful. “You know,” he says, his voice soft, “I’ve won a lot of things in my life. But this … this is my greatest victory.”

You smile, resting your forehead against his. “You’re pretty good at making me cry today, Verstappen.”

He chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Get used to it. I plan on spending the rest of my life making you cry happy tears.”

You hum, leaning into his touch. “Good. Because I plan on spending the rest of my life loving you.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you. “Deal.”

And in that moment, with Max holding you close and your daughter sleeping nearby, you realize that this — this is your podium. Your victory. Your forever.

***

The night is impossibly quiet for Abu Dhabi, the hum of the city dulled by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse suite. The celebrations are over, the crowds dispersed, and now it’s just the three of you. Your daughter sleeps soundly in her cot near the foot of the bed, her tiny face relaxed in peaceful dreams.

You’re wrapped up in Max’s arms, the weight of the day finally catching up with both of you. His chest is warm against your back, his heartbeat steady as his fingers lazily trace patterns on your arm. The ring on your finger catches the faint glow of the bedside lamp, a small, perfect reminder of the life-changing moment you shared hours ago.

“You’re quiet,” you murmur, shifting slightly to glance up at him.

Max’s gaze is soft, his blue eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. “Just thinking,” he says, his voice low and a little hoarse from the day’s shouting and champagne sprays.

“About?”

He pauses, his fingers stilling on your skin. You can feel the hesitation in him, the way his body tenses ever so slightly. It’s not like Max to be unsure — he’s always been decisive, charging into life with the same fearless determination he has on the track.

“Max?” You press gently, turning fully to face him now. “What’s on your mind?”

He exhales a long breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he starts, his accent curling warmly around the words. “But after today … I think I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?”

His hand moves to yours, thumb brushing over the ring he gave you just hours earlier. He stares at it for a moment before meeting your gaze, his eyes clear and steady.

“I’m going to retire,” he says softly.

The words hit you like a jolt. For a second, you’re sure you misheard him. “Retire?” You repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his expression unwavering. “Yeah. I’m done.”

“Max,” you say, your brow furrowing. “You just won your fifth title. You’re at the peak of your career. Why would you …”

He shifts slightly, sitting up so he can look at you more directly. “Because I don’t need it anymore,” he says simply. “I’ve achieved everything I ever wanted in racing. More than I ever thought I could. But now …” He pauses, his gaze flicking briefly to the cot where your daughter sleeps. “Now I have something I want more.”

Your chest tightens, emotions swirling in a chaotic mess you can’t quite untangle. “Are you sure? I mean, Max, this is huge. Racing has been your entire life.”

“I know,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “And I’ll always love it. But I don’t want to spend the next ten or fifteen years chasing something I don’t need, not when it means missing out on moments with you. With her.” He nods toward your daughter, his face softening.

You sit there in stunned silence, trying to process what he’s saying. “But what about the team? And your fans? You love the thrill of it, the competition-”

“Y/N,” he cuts you off gently, reaching for your hand again. “I love you more. I love our family more. And I don’t want to be the kind of dad who’s always gone, always distracted. I’ve seen what that does. I don’t want that for her.”

His words hit you square in the chest, a wave of emotion crashing over you. Tears prick at your eyes as you search his face, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all you see is love and certainty.

“You’re really serious about this,” you say softly, your voice trembling.

He nods. “I’ve thought about it for months. After last season, I told myself I’d give it one more year. One more title. And then I’d walk away. Today, seeing you and her in the crowd, knowing everything we’ve built together … it made me realize I’m ready.”

You reach up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “Max … I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say you’re okay with it,” he says, a small, teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Say you’ll let me stay home and annoy you every day.”

A laugh escapes you, watery but real. “I think I can handle that.”

He leans forward, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because this is what I want, Y/N. You, her, our life together. That’s enough for me. More than enough.”

For a while, you just sit there in the quiet, wrapped up in each other. Your mind is still racing, but your heart feels full, overflowing with love for the man beside you.

“So,” you say after a moment, your voice lighter, “what’s the plan? Are you going to call Christian in the middle of the night and drop this bombshell on him?”

Max chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin. “I’ll give him a day or two to recover from the title celebrations first. Then I’ll tell him.”

“And how do you think he’s going to take it?”

“Oh, he’ll try to talk me out of it,” Max says, rolling his eyes. “He’ll tell me I’m too young, that I’ve got years left in me, that I can win even more. But I’ve already made up my mind.”

You smile, resting your head against his chest. “He’s going to miss you. They all will.”

“I’ll miss them too,” he admits. “But this isn’t goodbye forever. I’ll still be around — just not on the grid.”

“And me?” You ask, your voice teasing. “What if I’m not ready to have you home all the time?”

Max grins, his hand sliding around your waist to pull you closer. “Too late. You’re stuck with me now.”

As the night stretches on, the weight of the day starts to fade, replaced by a quiet sense of peace. Max lies back against the pillows, pulling you with him until you’re nestled against his side.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice drowsy but warm, “I used to think racing was everything. That I’d be lost without it.”

“And now?” You ask, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest.

“Now I know it was just a part of me. A big part, yeah, but not the most important one. Not anymore.” He pauses, his hand brushing over your hair. “You and her … you’re my everything now.”

Tears sting your eyes again, but this time they’re tears of joy. “Max,” you whisper, your voice catching. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he says, his words a soft promise against your skin.

And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped in his arms, you know that no matter what the future holds, you’ll face it together.

***

The room buzzes with an electric energy, the kind that only the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony can create. It’s a night to honor champions, to toast to a season of victories, and to revel in the highs of motorsport. The crowd is a mix of drivers, team principals, engineers, and journalists, all dressed to the nines. You’re seated in the front row, a place reserved for the most important people in the room.

Max is on stage, holding his freshly polished World Championship trophy, the applause still roaring from the moment his name was called. His tuxedo fits him like a glove, and there’s a boyish grin on his face that makes him look impossibly proud — and a little nervous.

In your lap, your daughter wiggles, her tiny hands clutching at the hem of your sparkling gown. She’s too young to understand what’s happening, but the excitement of the room has her wide-eyed and curious. You adjust her slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as you watch Max step up to the microphone.

“Wow,” Max begins, his voice carrying over the hushed murmurs of the crowd. “What a year. What a … career.”

There’s a ripple of surprise at his choice of words. You feel it too, a sharp intake of breath as he pauses. He hasn’t told anyone outside of your family and a select few about his decision yet, and it hits you that this is the moment.

“I want to start by saying thank you,” Max continues, his accent thick with emotion. “To everyone who made this season possible. To my team at Red Bull — Christian, Helmut, GP, the engineers, the mechanics — every single person who has been part of this journey. We did this together. Five championships in the last five years … it still feels surreal.”

The room breaks into another round of applause, but Max raises a hand to quiet them.

“But tonight isn’t just about this trophy or this season,” he says, his voice steady despite the emotion creeping into it. “It’s about something bigger. About knowing when it’s time to close one chapter and start another.”

Your heart races, and you tighten your hold on your daughter as Max’s words hang in the air.

“When I was a kid, all I ever wanted was to race,” Max says, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “I grew up at circuits, watching my dad, dreaming of being in Formula 1. And for the last decade, this sport has been my whole life. It’s given me everything. It’s taught me more than I ever imagined — about hard work, about resilience, about pushing beyond what you think is possible.”

He pauses, his eyes flicking down to where you’re sitting. The faintest smile plays on his lips as your gazes meet, and you see the love and certainty there.

“But these past two years,” he continues, his voice softening, “I learned something else. That as much as I love this sport, there’s something I love more. Someone I love more.”

The murmurs in the crowd grow louder, heads turning to you. You feel your cheeks flush, but you keep your focus on Max, your heart pounding.

“Last season, I became a father,” Max says, his tone warming with pride. “And it changed everything. It changed the way I see the world, the way I see myself, and the way I think about my future. I realized that as much as I love racing, I don’t want to miss the little moments … the things that really matter.”

The room falls completely silent, everyone hanging on his every word.

“So,” Max says, his voice unwavering now, “tonight, as I accept this trophy, I also want to announce that this was my last season in Formula 1.”

Gasps ripple through the crowd, followed by stunned silence. Your daughter squirms in your arms, oblivious to the magnitude of what’s just been said.

Max smiles faintly, taking in the shocked faces in the room. “I know it might seem sudden,” he says, “but this is something I’ve thought about for a long time. I’ve achieved everything I could have dreamed of in this sport. I’ve worked with the best team in the world, competed against the best drivers in the world, and I leave with no regrets. But now, it’s time for me to focus on the next chapter of my life. On my family.”

He glances down at you again, and this time his gaze lingers. “Y/N, you and our daughter … you’re my everything. You’ve given me a reason to look beyond the racetrack, and for that, I’ll always be grateful.”

Your vision blurs with tears, and you can’t help but smile up at him. The crowd erupts into applause, some people rising to their feet in admiration and respect.

After a moment, Max raises a hand again, signaling for quiet. “I want to thank the fans,” he says, his voice growing steadier. “You’ve been with me through every win, every loss, every crazy overtake and late-breaking move. You’ve pushed me to be better every single day. And while I won’t be on the grid next season, I’ll always be part of this sport. It’s in my blood, and it always will be.”

The applause grows even louder this time, the room filling with a wave of emotion and admiration. You clap along, your daughter bouncing slightly in your arms at the sound.

When Max steps down from the stage, he comes straight to you. The cameras follow his every move, the flashes almost blinding as he crouches in front of you.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You nod, your throat too tight with emotion to speak.

He reaches for your daughter, lifting her into his arms with ease. She giggles, grabbing at the shiny lapel of his tuxedo, and Max laughs softly, the sound breaking through the tension in the room.

“We did it,” he says, his eyes locking with yours.

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. “We did,” you whisper back.

***

The rest of the night is a blur of congratulations, handshakes, and emotional farewells. But through it all, Max stays by your side, his arm around your waist or his hand in yours.

As the event winds down, you find yourselves back in the car, your daughter sleeping peacefully in her car seat. The city lights blur past the windows, and Max leans back against the seat, exhaling deeply.

“That went better than I thought,” he says, his voice tinged with relief.

“You were incredible,” you tell him, resting your head on his shoulder.

He glances down at you, his expression soft. “Are you happy?”

You smile, lacing your fingers with his. “More than I ever thought I could be.”

And as the car carries you through the quiet streets, you realize that this is just the beginning of a new adventure — the one Max always knew was waiting for him.

***

Two Years Later

Lewis doesn’t plan to be on this street. He’s never liked taking the busy Monaco thoroughfares, even after all these years of calling the principality home. But a morning run had turned into aimless wandering, and now he’s here, jogging along the promenade, music blasting in his ears, trying to clear his head.

The past two years since Max retired have been strange. No fierce wheel-to-wheel battles with Verstappen, no reminders on the track of the rivalry that defined his career for so long. And yet, Max still lingers in his thoughts — like an echo, a shadow, a specter. Every headline about the Verstappens pops up in his feed: Max is spotted at home with his family. Max is thriving in retirement.

But it’s not Max that Lewis thinks about most. It’s you. It’s always been you.

Lewis slows his pace as he nears the bakery that used to be your favorite. He has no idea if you still come here, or if Monaco even feels like home to you anymore. He shakes his head, chastising himself for thinking like this. You’re gone. You’ve been gone.

But then, he hears it. A child’s voice, high-pitched and sweet, chattering happily. He instinctively looks over, and his feet stop moving altogether.

There you are.

You’re walking hand-in-hand with Max. Max, who looks completely at peace, a little older but no less recognizable. Beside him, a little girl. She’s animated as she talks to him, her tiny hand curled securely around his. And then, there’s the stroller. A navy blue, high-tech design Lewis recognizes from catalogs. Inside is a baby boy, fast asleep, his chubby face serene as he snoozes against the soft fabric.

Lewis feels the air leave his lungs.

You don’t see him. You’re busy talking to Max, laughing at something he says. You’re dressed casually, a flowy sundress swaying around your knees, sunglasses perched on your nose. Your free hand rests on the stroller handle, the gesture almost instinctive. The sight of you like this — effortless, happy, and surrounded by a family — sends a sharp pang through Lewis’ chest.

It’s everything he could’ve had. Everything he pushed away.

His feet are rooted to the spot. He should turn around, jog in the other direction, forget he ever saw you. But he can’t. He watches, transfixed, as your daughter stops mid-sentence to look up at you. “Mama,” she says brightly, tugging Max’s hand. “Can I have a croissant?”

Max chuckles. “You already had one,” he tells her, his voice gentle.

“But they’re so good!” She says, throwing her head back dramatically.

Lewis can’t stop staring. The little girl is Max’s spitting image, but there’s something about her smile, the way her nose scrunches, that reminds him of you.

And then, she notices him.

Your daughter’s bright eyes land on Lewis, and she grins like she’s just seen a new friend. “Hello!” She says, waving enthusiastically with her free hand.

You glance up, confused at first, following her gaze. Lewis freezes.

But it’s not him you’re looking at. It’s a man unloading bags from his car in front of him, and you nod politely before turning back to Max and your daughter.

Lewis exhales shakily, a mix of relief and a pang of disappointment. He steps back, half-hidden by the awning of a nearby café, watching as you and Max resume walking.

The little girl waves once more, still beaming, before Max gently nudges her along. “Come on, prinsesje,” he says. “Let’s not keep your brother waiting for his nap to be over.”

Lewis stays there, unmoving, as you all walk away. He watches the way Max leans toward you, saying something that makes you laugh again. He watches the way your daughter skips a little ahead, still clutching Max’s hand, her voice bubbling with excitement as she points to a pigeon fluttering by. And he watches you look down at the stroller, adjusting the blanket over the baby boy who sleeps so peacefully, oblivious to everything around him.

It’s a picture-perfect scene. A life filled with love and joy, one that Lewis now realizes — painfully, completely — he could have been part of.

The memories flood in uninvited.

The nights spent on this same Monaco promenade with you, your hand slipping into his as you admired the lights reflecting off the water. The quiet mornings when you’d sit at the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and talking about what life might look like after racing. The promises he made and didn’t keep.

He thinks about the last time he saw you, about the anger and hurt in your eyes, about the way he walked out that night because he couldn’t bring himself to say the words you needed to hear. And now, here you are — walking down this same street with someone who isn’t afraid to put you first.

Lewis sinks onto a nearby bench, running a hand over his face. His chest feels tight, his breathing shallow. He thinks he’s moved on, that he’s made peace with the choices he’s made. But seeing you, seeing your family — it’s a wound he didn’t even realize was still open.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, staring at the spot where you disappeared from view. Minutes? Hours? Long enough for his playlist to loop back to the beginning.

A group of tourists wanders past, laughing and snapping photos of the marina. Lewis doesn’t look up. He stays on the bench, shoulders slumped, the weight of what he’s lost pressing down on him.

By the time he makes it back to his apartment, the sun is setting over Monaco, casting the city in hues of orange and gold. He heads straight for the balcony, leaning heavily on the railing as he stares out at the water.

It should be a beautiful view, but tonight it feels empty.

For years, racing has been his everything. It’s been his escape, his purpose, his identity. But now, for the first time, he wonders if it was worth it.

Because no trophy, no title, no amount of glory could fill the space you once inhabited.

And for the first time, Lewis feels like the one who’s been left behind.

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Nick has been your best friend for so long, but you can’t seem to get a long with his brother—Chris. You try to mess with Chris and it backfires….badly….

Warnings: illegal street racing, stupid driving, tension, smut with so much plot it hurts, street racer Chris, BIG MASSIVE SHLONG CHRIS, size kink, bulge kink, dick-wad Chris, p n v, raw sex, riding (wink), and more....

A/N: THIS IS OVER 5.2K WORDS. THIS IS NAWT A QUICK READ. Now, get in the car bitches, we're getting HORNYYYYYY!!!!

With love and bigs tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hey, cute jeans!” I wave, my lips curling into a grin as I squint my eyes at him—Chris. He rolls his tongue, shaking his head as he stalks off further down the street. Ha. 

It’s one of those rare occurrences—I’m here—at his street race, for god knows what reason. 

All I ever do is mock him. In fact, that’s why I call him cute jeans. The first time Nick and I had shown up at one of these dumb things, Chris thought I was a stranger from behind—and my jeans? Damn. 

He had to be a real asshole and hit on me. 

That night was fun for more than one reason. It sparked something—something I didn’t know existed. 

After that, my teasing only got worse. Chris’s ego couldn’t handle staying silent, he always had something smart to say. 

“Come to watch me again, huh? Gonna record it for later, I bet,” Chris winks. My mouth snaps shut as I go to say something back. He’s already gone—not giving me a second to respond before shutting the door to his car and speeding down the road. 

Typical. 

It’s still bright out. The sun sinks lower into the horizon as more people crowd the deserted street by the minute. 

“Okay, let’s just take a couple more pics and then we’ll go. I know you hate this,” Nick huffs, adjusting the leather jacket he’s wearing—the same coat that inspired this whole photoshoot. But you couldn’t blame him, he did look hot as fuck. 

Even if his looks resemble a certain idiot lurking nearby. 

Part of me is burning with spite. I hate letting Chris have the last word. But my brain sparks with an idea, a brilliant idea. 

How much would it cost him if I stayed around? 

Those stupid bets were always placed in his favor. No one could deny he was good—really good. He drove on the street like he owned it and he never even seemed nervous. 

“I kinda wanna stay—” My words are interrupted as I feel an arm rest down on my shoulders. I look over to see Beck, a girl I love seeing. 

She’s vibrant—especially with her signature red lip that seemed to draw all eyes to her. I always blossom off her confidence, loving to sit next to her when she showed true female power all with one swing of that stupid flag in the air. 

“How are ya, girlie? Haven’t seen you in months,” she puffs, hugging me a little bit closer before dropping her arm back to her side. 

I smile over at her. “Pretty good, you still stomping on egos?” I question, the glint of mischief in her eyes reflecting back as she gives me a slow nod. 

“Oh, always. Especially Chris—and it’s just for you.” She boops my nose as her words drag through the wind, the sound of tires screeching starting to muffle the chaotic hum of the crowd forming. 

Nick stares down at the camera lens, scrolling through the pictures I had taken of him—the reason why we were here, pretty much. “Actually, I think we got enough. But are you sure you wanna stay? I can come back and get you later—”

Beck brushes on Nick’s shoulder. She scrunches her nose at me while licking over her teeth. “I got her, Nick. Go home and post those pics, I’ll return her to you safely after tonight, don’t worry.” 

“Alright…” Nick sighs, reluctantly hugging me and wandering back towards his car to head home. 

“So why’d you wanna stay? Finally like cars?” Beck interrogates. 

I shake my head vigorously, laughing as she smiles at me. “Fuck no, I just—”

“You’re gonna mess with him, aren’t you?”

Her question rings through the air as a speeding car flies by—racers already warming up.

My eyes trace towards the track, seeing a sleek red sports car in the distance doing donuts. Of fucking course. Chris was always doing some dumb shit—illegal street racing or doing fucking donuts while the other racers were repeatedly drifting around the corners or fixing up their cars. 

He’s so cocky. 

I whisper back to her as I watch his car tires mark the pavement. “Damn right.”

___

Chris is already fed up—I can tell by the way his jaw clicks and his nostrils flare when I catch him in the corner of my eye. 

And I’m looking directly at him, a stupid smile covering my face as I put my money on the bet table. It’s twenty bucks, but it was twenty bucks I was willing to spend, or rather waste. Chris hasn’t lost in a while—honestly I’m not sure if he ever has. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chris huffs, pulling me by the arm as he drags me to the side of the road by his car. 

He roughly shoves me. The feeling of his car pressed up against my backside leaves my eyes twinkling with pride—I’m really getting to him. Just like I planned.

I shrug. “Just placing my bets. Isn’t that what everyone does at these—”

“Why are you here? Why’re you–,” as his eyes stare into mine, his rough tone falls silent, his scowl curling into a smirk as he analyzes the subtle twitch of my nose. “Huh—just comin’ to watch, right?” 

I nod to his question, my pride sinking to my feet as I try to stand up tall. Chris presses his body against mine, making my weight lean against the car once more. I swallow thickly as his hand drops from my arm. 

What is he doing?

“You know, I meant it, right?” he tuts, his eyes tracing your figure with no shame. “These jeans… baby, they look so good on you.” His voice gets deeper, his head falling forward as his lips graze my ear. “-bet they’d look better off though, hm?”  

Fuck. 

I wish it didn’t make something inside the pit of my gut burn—but it did. God, it really fucking did. My heart is hammering against my chest, the pulse in my neck pounding in my ears as slight butterflies in my stomach make it harder to breathe. 

Shoving my body quickly, I manage to escape his hold. “Shut up. You’re such a cocky prick,” I spit, my arms folding across my chest as I try to keep a stern expression. 

Chris lets out a dry laugh, grinning like he’s already won. He takes a couple steps forward, letting his hand travel into the ends of my hair, “And yet, you love it. I can practically hear how nervous I’m makin’ you, it’s a real ego boost,” he husks. 

“You don’t make me—” My lips fall open further, motionless as his hand moves to my neck, his cold fingers brushing against my pulse as my eyes go wide. 

“Not nervous, huh…” His head leans towards the side as he stares all over my face. His eyes linger on my lips as I try to look away. 

But it’s impossible. Chris swerves his head, not letting my eyes leave his as he just stares at me. 

“Chris, stop—”

“Why? Do I make you too nervous?” he urges, licking over his teeth and letting his hands drop down to his sides. 

I feel a wave of heat caress up my spine and over my shoulders. “Don’t you have some stupid race to lose?” 

The taunt seems humorous to him, the last resolve of my dignity peeking through mumbled words as he wipes over his mouth. 

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll go try to lose, but—I might need your help.” He shrugs, walking off with a wink. 

Uh oh. 

Help?

___

I can’t tell what the fuck is going through his brain. Part of me regrets staying—but another part of me is sickly invested in whatever this twisted game is. 

Nearly all bets had been placed. Stacks of money rested on the plastic table with a heavy bais—most were betting on Chris. 

It had to be at least two grand. 

He wouldn’t give up two grand for some petty argument with me, right? No—that would be insane. Absolutely bonkers. 

…right?

I watch as Beck stands in the middle of the dark street, the only glow coming from the blue streetlights above. The sun had set quickly, the stars and moon doing nothing compared to the headlights from all the cars.

My legs hurt. I didn’t realize I had been clenching every muscle for the entirety of the countdown to the actual race. The cold bleachers sting against my skin in the night air—maybe I would’ve dressed warmer if I thought I was gonna stay. But no—I was stuck shivering in jeans, a purple lace bra peeking from under my black top, and a letterman jacket. 

The front row gave the best view, but I had no one to shield the bitter breeze. But it was worth it. This way I got to sit by Beck the entire time. 

“Racers ready?” she shouts, her voice prominent over the reviving engines as she holds the flag in the air. 

Chris is on the side closer to me, his boyish smile apparent as I stare at the side of his face. The other guy was one of the better ones—the bets had some sort of hope in him, a large stack of bills showing that he had a decent amount of skill. 

My mouth waters as I see Chris run a hand through his hair, his head turning and his eyes catching mine. Holy fuck. He looks absolutely dreamy—there’s not an ounce of anxiety, pure confidence radiating from him. 

And it makes it so hard to look away. 

“Wait, I got one more bet I gotta place,” Chris announces. 

What?

My brows furrow, my face scrunching as I watch Beck relax the flag back down to her side. “Make it quick.” 

Chris nods at her words, my stomach flutters as he stares directly back at me, leaning his head out his window while licking over his lips. “Wanna make a bet, sweetheart?” he asks. 

I look around me, my shoulder sinking slightly as I take in the amount of people staring at me. 

He’s holding up the race to embarass me. Fuck. 

As I stare back at him with squinted eyes, he clicks his tongue on the side of his mouth. “If I win, I get to take you for a drive. Deal?”

“What?” I exclaim, throwing my hand in the air as I motion to the bet table, “Why the hell would I agree to that—”

“You bet against me, remember?” he points. 

My lips smack shut, the lump in my throat gathering thicker as I try to swallow. “I’ll even give you the chance to make sure I lose a round. We gotta bet or not?” he questions, his eyes twinkling as the blue lights illuminate his sharp features.  

If he had to lose one of the three rounds, that put more hope into the other racer. And if the other race won, I’d be more than content. Getting to call him a loser would definitely irk him more than anything—especially if it was true.

I hear boos chant around me. “Hurry up and race!” someone says from behind me. 

My body stiffens as I hear the chorus of disapproval. “Deal!” I shout, biting on my inner cheek. 

Chris looks at me with a daunting grin, his hand squeezing on the wheel as he nods. “A’right—ready. Sorry for the hold up.” 

Beck rolls her eyes, holding up the flag once more. 

“Racers ready?” she glares at Chris, continuing on as he revs his engine in response, “3—2—-1, GO—”

My heart drops as I watch the smoke from the tires scratching the street float around Beck. She saunters over, settling beside me as I lean forward, my pulse pounding in my ears as I watch them race side-by-side. 

As the car rounds the corner and starts nearing the finish line, Chris’s car zooms just slightly in front of the other vehicle, only seconds of a difference. 

I can’t wait to call him a fuckin loser. 

Beck walks back out, the flag raising in the air as both cars position once again. “Alright, race two. Ready, set—” 

“Hey!” 

Stomping her heels on the pavement, Beck scowls at Chris as he shouts towards my direction. I look over, my face burning as I feel the crowd stare down at me. 

I didn’t know much about racing, but I knew enough. This wasn’t normal—this was the prime way to piss people off. 

As I go to ask what he wants, Chris curls his finger, motioning for me to come closer. 

The fuck? 

I hesitantly stand up, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso as I walk up to his car window. Chris stares up at me with devious eyes. He obnoxiously chews a piece of gum, his jaw bone protruding with each movement. 

“What the fuck do you want?!” I whisper-yell, catching angry eyes boring onto me as I take a quick glance over my shoulder. 

Oh, these people are mad—fucking furious, even. 

“Kiss me.” 

I do a double take, my eyes blinky slowly as I watch him lick over the bottom ridges of his teeth, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. 

“What?” I breathe out, a dry laugh heaving from my lips. 

He can’t be serious…

“However long you kiss me is however long I’ll wait to start drivin’. Didn’t you want me to lose? C’mon pretty girl, you saw the bet table—use your head, alright? It’s just a kiss,” he taunts.

This is how he was gonna give me the chance to make him lose a round—I should’ve known. 

I shake my head, cringing as I hear the boo’s from the crowd get louder. 

“I’m startin’,” Beck says, holding up the flag. “3—”

“Yes or no? It’s up to you,” he shrugs, his eyes drawing over my face as my lips smack open and shut. 

“2—”

The noise of his engine revving makes my anxiety settle. This is my chance—my only chance at that. 

“Fuck it,” I murmur, taking a long stride towards him. 

“1—GO!” 

I crash my lips onto his, my hands on either side of his jaw. His lips meet mine with a hard urgency, the rhythm of my movement panicked and rushed. 

My breath hitches in my chest—I don’t know if it’s because I forgot to breathe or if it’s from the feeling of his hand traveling up and tangling around the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer as he slips his warm tongue into my mouth. 

I nearly forget everything, gasping for air as I pull back quickly, moaning as I feel his mouth hungrily chase mine. 

Never in my life had I been kissed like this—so passionately and rough. 

“Hey! This gotta be breakin’ some rules–”

Fuck. 

The person yelling from the crow makes me pull back into reality. I stand up, watching as Chris slowly flutters his eyes open at me with a grin so cocky my hand twitches with the urge to slap him. 

Why did that feel so… good? 

Before anyone can say a thing, the other car slowly halts back to the starting line. 

Had we really been kissing that long? 

My fingers mindlessly float up to my tingling lips, my head feeling lighter as the surroundings start to spin a bit. It’s like he put some drug in his mouth that immediately became addicting. I want more. 

“See? I kept my word,” Chris points out, “Now—you gonna keep your word if I win? Lemme take you for a drive?” I swallow thickly, nodding slowly. “Good. Now go sit down and cheer for me real loud, alright?” 

I don’t have time to respond before Beck interrupts with the same question, starting to count down. I quickly stumble back towards the bleachers, a sigh of relief pushing through my lips as my head bobbles between my shoulders while I sit down. 

The loud cars barely register in my brain. All I can focus on is how light everything feels, how my lips are swollen and pulsing. 

“C’MON!!!” 

Chants behind me draw my attention back to the road. What the fuck? It’s not even close—Chris is speeding around the corners way smoother than the first round, almost as if he had been—

Oh fuck.

He was holding back. 

I tried to mess with him and he played me with ease. 

Part of me should be mad as he races near the finish line—but all I feel is excitement—anticipation. 

My teeth clench into my lower lip as I watch him storm past the line, not even waiting for the other racer to finish before stepping out of his car and walking over. 

Is he…?

My eyes bulge as he walks in front of me, holding his hand out as an offer. “C’mon, you promised, yeah?” he urges. 

I nod slowly, sliding my hand in his. He drags me to his car, opening the passenger door and shutting it after I climb in. 

“Chris! The money—”

Beck’s words fall on deaf ears as Chris slides into the driver seat, pressing his foot on the gas hard. 

“You didn’t even get the money—what’re we doing?” I ask, looking behind my shoulder to see a crowd of people turned to our direction as we speed off further down the road. 

“You know, it’s not nice to try and tick me off,” he huffs, quickly glancing at me with a harsh stare. 

Oh.

Oh.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ abou–”

Chris lets out a vocal sound of disbelief, cutting me off, “Yeah, you do. Fuckin—bettin’ against me, tryna get me to lose and shit. For what? Don’t have a boyfriend to give you any attention, huh?” he asks, his hand reaching over and grasping onto my thigh. 

He knows I don’t have a boyfriend—I know he’s aware of that fact. 

I stare down at his large hand squeezing my jean-clad leg. Something about his rough grip makes me shift in my seat, my thighs clutching together as I feel a wave of warmth settle into the pit of my stomach. 

“You like my hand on your thigh, don’t you?” he says, smirking wider as I watch the blue streetlights cast a subtle glow on his cheekbones. 

“I—”

“You like it. Admit it.” 

There’s no room to argue as he trails his hand up further, his fingers tracing dangerously high as he gives me a rough squeeze. Fuck his hands feel good on me. 

“Chris what’re you—”

“Do you know how it feels to constantly see you and know I can’t touch you?” he starts, the car rolling to a stop by the side of the road as he rushedly shifts gears to park, “-you’re always fuckin’ teasin’ me—bein’ a damn brat and I have to keep my hands to myself,” he grits, shaking his head as he stares down at me. 

I swallow thickly as I shift in the seat. “Chris, I–”

“No. None of that bullshit. You’re always tauntin’ me. Why’d you stay, hm? Why?” he questions, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth as his eyes deepen with intensity and dominance. 

Silence. I can’t fathom any words to say, my pulse drumming quicker as Chris pats his lap, adjusting his chair back. 

“Over here. Now.” 

“Chris, what are we doing?” I ask, hesitantly starting to climb over the center console. 

His hands wrap around the underside of my thighs, pulling me quickly while I let out a slight yelp as he sits me down in his lap. His hands are firm on either side of my hips. “I’m done playin’ these stupid fuckin’ games. I just—” 

The air is quiet. His eyes fall to my lips, his hands grasping just a little bit tighter around me. I can still feel the lingering sensation from his lips on mine earlier, the slight tingle still buzzing on the soft muscle as I let myself lean in closer. 

“We should stop,” Chris breathes, his tongue sliding between his lips as his eyes flicker up towards mine. 

“Why?” 

The question rolls off my lips with ease, my palms flattening against his chest as I lower my mouth to his neck, breathing over his pulse. 

“Because–” He lets out a hiss. I place my lips on his neck, sucking gently as I massage my hand over his shoulder. “Shit—we gotta stop, baby—this, this–” His jaw goes slack as I find his sweet spot. His hands dig into my hips, the slight bulge growing beneath me making my lips curl into a smile as I gently grind myself on top of him. 

“Why do you wanna stop, Chris?” I ask, nibbling the bottom of his ear, “What’s got you so tongue-tied, hm?” 

“You’re killin’ me,” he points, his gaze trained on me as he tangles his hand through my hair, pulling me back just enough to look at him, “-fuckin’ so annoying, so pretty and horrible, I just—I don’t know how much I can hold back–”

“Don’t,” I whisper, my hand gathering the material of his shirt in a fist as I watch him bite on his lower lip. His eyes trace over my face, one of his hands slowly tracing underneath my shirt, callusing beneath my bra. 

“Yeah? Don’t want me to hold back, hm?” he remarks, his hips adjusting in the slightest, my mouth falling open as I feel him rut against me through the fabric of our clothes. 

Fuck. I can’t take this. 

I lean forward, crashing my lips against his once more. Chris hums into my mouth. He furiously helps me peel off the bulky letterman jacket, the cold air feeling like relief compared to my burning skin. 

“Holy fuck, slow down, baby,” he husks, his hands falling to my hips as I shameless grind myself against his hard bulge. But I can’t get enough. “-’m not going anywhere—gonna stay and make you feel so good. Promise.” 

My heart drops as I feel his hand delicately caress over the purple lace covering my breasts. His nimble fingers trace around my hardened nub, a slight moan falling through my lips as I feel him smirk against me. 

“Take those cute jeans off, c’mon. Be a good girl for me—just this once, alright?” he grins. 

I nod slowly, awkwardly shifting as I pull down the denim while kicking off my shoes. Chris gets impatient, yanking the clothing to his own accord before planting me back on his lap, his jacket now discarded. 

“Holy fuck, look at these legs—would look so good wrapped around me,” he whispers, brushing my hair to the side as his lips graze my neck, “-while I fuck you deep and hard.” 

Oh my god. 

My mind is numb, every inch of my skin pulsing with a hot sensation of greed. Chris stares at me with lust, his hand moving in the corner of my eye. “Want me to touch you? Right….here,” he breathes, the pad of his finger resting directly over my bundle of nerves. 

I nod slowly, looking at him with hooded eyes as he starts to slowly circle the digit with a light, feathery touch. 

“More,” I moan, pulling his shirt into my fists as I watch him smile at me. 

“Yeah? What do you want, hm? Want my big dick in you? Want me to stretch you out and make you cum over and ov—

“Please,” I whisper, my hips moving for me as I struggle to stay still. 

Chris looks down, gesturing for me to take control. I hesitantly fumble with his jeans, pulling out his hard length as my mouth starts to water. 

Fuck. He’s big. No—he’s huge. 

As I go to pull my underwear to the side, Chris stops me, placing his hand around my wrist. 

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, “-take ‘em all the way off—wanna see all of you when I fuck your guts.” 

My thighs tense from his words, my hands quickly sliding the fabric down my thighs and discarding them without a single care. Chris pets over the top of my thighs, his eyes hungrily staring down between my legs. “Fuck—are you sure you want this? I…god, I can’t believe this is happening…”

I grab his hardness in my hand, spitting and dragging the lubricant up and down his shaft. Chris grits his teeth. His hands pinching into my sides as he lets out a deep groan. “You’re so big,” I whisper, mostly talking to myself. 

My eyes bulge as I feel Chris lift me with his hands on either side of my waist, placing me so my dripping entrance is directly aligned with his tip. His eyes bore into mine with dark passion. His jaw tense as he leans forward, kissing along my neck. 

“You gonna take it all f’me?” he dares, massaging my sides but keeping me from sinking down onto him. 

“Chris, please–”

“Gotta promise to take it all, sweetheart. Been teasin’ me all day already, I don’t need anymore of that, alright? Just—just gotta promise to let me stuff you full,” he purrs, sucking on the sensitive part of my neck just below my ear. 

“I promise, just—mmphf—” He slowly loosens his grip, letting me lower myself. I feel his tip nudge past my entrance, the stretch of his size making my body tense as my legs tighten to a halt. 

“Thaatt’s it, doin’ so good, just—just relax,” he praises, brushing my hair behind my ear, “-gotta be a good girl and keep your word again, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, slowly starting to take more of him. A broken cry falling through my lips as I feel my body stiffen again. 

Chris is patient. His eyes are trained on my face as his hands massage over my body. “You got it, c’mon—just—holy fuck,” his hand lingers down to my stomach, my top so messed up that it’s bunched over my breasts. He’s not just admiring the skin, he’s worshipping the bulge—the distinct imprint of him inside of me as I hover over the last bit of his length. 

“Look at that, sweetheart, I mean—fuck—” 

I shriek as I feel him lift his hips upward, burying himself inside of me completely. My hands grasp onto his shoulders, my eyes teary as I watch him bite on his lower lip. “God—such a good girl, takin’ me so good,” he compliments, slowly helping me as I start to ride him. 

I feel him reach deep inside of me, my eyes staring up at the ceiling of the car while my body tenses with a wave of pleasure collapsing over every beating pulse of my skin. This is even better than that damn kiss. I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. It’s like an adrenaline rush, so overbearingly good that it feels addicting.  

“How’s that, baby, hm?” he hums, smiling down at the sight of his length plunging into my guts with each thrust as my movements quicken. 

“I–it’s, I—” 

What the fuck was I saying? 

Everything feels so light, so impossible. 

“That’s it, fuckkkkk—look so good ridin’ me like this, keep—-shit!” he seethes. My walls tighten around him, my nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt as he lifts his hips to meet my movements.

His lips parted with pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, I,” My words are cut off my a moan. 

Chris laughs dryly, his grip becoming tighten as he really puts in the work—using me like a ragdoll as he furiously fucks himself into me. “Mmmm, th-ere,” he rasps, smiling as I let out small shrieks and moans between each snap of his hips. 

He’s so deep. I’d never felt this good in my life. There’s a buzzing in my ears, spots in my vision as I feel my body ruthlessly convulse with the overwhelming sensations. 

How the fuck is he so deep?

How the hell is he hitting against the perfect spot over and over and over—

“You cumming already?” 

His question pulls me back to reality. I nod dumbly, my mouth drawing open as I let out a long moan, my thighs quivering as I rock myself against his movement. 

“Oh—I—”

“My name, sweetheart, wanna hear my–my name, c’mon,” he urges, the squelches getting louder as I feel my body burn with euphoria. 

“Chris, Chris, I–I—my god,” I cry out, my hips slowly rolling to a stop as I feel him pause his motions. 

I don’t have time to react—nor to recover. I feel Chris hold me tightly, flipping me over so my back hits the seat—his cock brutal as he drills himself inside of me. 

“Take it, fuckin—fuckin’ take it,” he chants. 

My hands scramble into his hair. I pull his face into my neck, letting my teeth sink into his shoulder. Every rut of his hips leaves me breathless, my body seizing as I feel his hardness drive into me over and over again while his pelvis slaps against my clit. 

“I’m gonn—”

“Wait. Wait for me, I’m—’m so close, baby, so fuckin’ close—”

I clench around him, the buildup becoming too much as he continues to drown every inch of my body with pleasure. His desperate tone lingers in the air, his breaths shaking as his hips lose slight momentum. 

“Wher–-where do you—”

“In-inside, please, just—just let me cum,” I plea. 

Chris huffs, his thrusts becoming erratic and somehow deeper. “Cu-cum with me, I—shittttttttt, so fuckin’ good, so… so fuckin’ good,” he seethes, a warm sensation flooding inside of me as I feel my body convulse once more. 

My limbs fall lifelessly. Our motions fall lazier, eventually pausing to a halt. Chris gently removes himself, pulling me into his arms tightly and positioning back into the seat with me on his lap. 

His hand finds the back of my head as I lean onto his shoulder, petting through my hair as we both try to catch our breath. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers. I let out a light laugh, flinching as I feel my stomach burn from soreness. “You good there?” he asks. 

Nodding into the crook of his neck, I lift myself to stare at him once more. My eyes trace from his sweat ridden face, seeing a clear imprint of his hand on the fogged-up car window. My nose crinkles as I inhale deeply. “It smells like sex, I’m sorry,” I let out. 

Chris stares at me incredulously. “Sorry? That was fuckin’ perfect—better than the money if you ask me. I mean… I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself anymore,” he teases, flashing me a grin as he combs my hair behind my ear. 

My lips curl with excitement. “Oh really? You like takin’ me for rides?” 

He nods firmly, biting on his lower lip. “Mhm. And you seemed to really like ridin’.” 

I let out a light laugh, shrugging my shoulders before ruffling his hair playfully. “Only with you.”

Chris cocks an eyebrow at me, “Only me, huh?” I nod shyly, letting out a brief hum. His eyes linger on mine before falling back to my lips. “You do ride good. Maybe you should be the racer,” he taunts. 

“Maybe,” I whisper, “-maybe…” 

“Let’s get you back in those cute jeans though, yeah?” 

[mariasont]

HI i have an idea and its making me really giddy

ok so reader is a translator for the bau and they’re always reading and translating texts or calls or anything like that. and the reader to spencer is basically like penelope to derek. they flirt all the time and all of those lovely things.. and it’s kinda just where they’re flirting on the phone and morgan teases reid about it and reid gets all flustered

IDK IF IT CAN WORK I JUST LOVE FLUSTERED SPENCER :(

anyway i’ll probably be in your inbox a bunch uhhh so call me h or something

-h

Warm Under the Collar - S.R

summary: spencer insists he is not flirting. morgan insists that spencer absolutely is. one of them is lying. pairings: spencer reid x translator!reader warnings: heavy flirting, pre-relationship mutual pining, verbal sparring as foreplay, workplace hr violations, use of angel wc: 0.6k

“Are you thinking about me, Dr. Reid? Because I’ve been thinking about you.”

Spencer exhales, tugging at the collar of his dress shirt as if loosening it might alleviate the sudden stranglehold of your words. He wasn’t sure if it was always this constricting or if it was conspiring against him at the mere sound of your voice.

He rolls his eyes, performative, really, because you can’t see him, and it’s easier to feign exasperation than admit the effect you have on him. His mouth, however, twitches in betrayal, flirting with a smile before he crushes it. 

The crime board he was supposed to be focusing on, filled with monochrome photos and reports, was now blurring into meaningless scribbles as his thoughts veer off-course, plummeting headfirst into you.

“I’m always thinking about you.”

The words come easily because they require no effort to be true. Always isn’t hyperbole, it’s a mathematical constant, an irrefutable fact.

He was thinking about you before he even called you, felt the shape of you in his mind like an afterimage burned onto his retinas. 

Thought about what color you were wearing, whether your hair was up or down. He wondered if you’d eaten, if you were drinking enough water, if you’d remembered to bring a jacket to the office because the temperature had dropped unexpectedly. 

“Always? Spencer, if you wanted me that bad, all you had to do was say so.”

He isn’t sure why he hesitates — why his brain takes a detour through all the ways he has said so, if not in words, then in the way his thoughts orbit you like a law of nature. 

“I feel like I did say so. Quite literally. But if you’d like me to be more explicit about it, I’m happy to oblige.”

Another pause. He wonders if you’re smiling.

“Mmm, well, I’m certainly not going to stop you.” You sigh, a little dramatic. “Go ahead, be explicit.”

Spencer physically winces at how hot his face gets. The very concept of explicit sits indecently in the pit of his stomach.

“Tempting.” He exhales, rubs a hand down his face, forcibly redirects. “But I do actually have a job to do. And, lucky for me, it just so happens to require your specific set of skills.” 

He leans against the crime board, half-smirking despite himself, because if nothing else, this is fun — the sharp back-and-forth, the way you press all the right buttons just to see what happens.

“I have a recording that needs translating. Think you can focus for long enough to help me, or do I need to, I don’t know, compliment your intelligence first to get you in a professional mindset?”

“Complimenting my intelligence to get what you want? Interesting. Manipulative, even.”

He groans, tilting his head toward the ceiling, appealing to some higher power for patience. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t say I was going to —”

“Too late, you put the idea in my head, and now I expect it. Preferably in an eloquent, well-structured speech. Bonus points if you make it poetic.”

“Or,” he counters, “you could translate the recording first, and I’ll… circle back to stroking your ego at a later, more convenient time.”

A small pause. The kind that feels intentional, like you’re weighing your options.

“I guess that works,” you say. “Send it over, pretty boy.”

Spencer shakes his head, fingers moving on autopilot as he sends the file, because if he thinks too hard about the way you lilted that last pretty boy, he might die. “Alright, thanks. Be good, angel.”

He hangs up, still grinning like an idiot, still entirely too warm under the collar. He exhales, staring at the phone in his hand like it might have the decency to cool him off, maybe undo the physiological mess you’ve left him in.

“If I have to listen to one more of your phone calls with her, I’m sending y’all an invoice.”

Spencer freezes when he sees Morgan standing behind him.

He clears his throat, ignoring the flush he knew was climbing up his neck. “Flirting is an unsubstantiated claim.”

Morgan just stares at him. Stares. “You don’t even believe that.”

Spencer mutters something about professionalism because he’s nothing if not a walking contradiction.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[ladsonlads]

Impartial Hearts | Sylus - Part Two

Pairing -> Boss Sylus x Non MC Reader

Parts -> Part One | Part Two

Synopsis -> You’ve been working as Onychinus’s accountant for two years, and you’ve been carrying two heavy secrets for a third of it. You were in love with your boss, and your mother was dying.

A/N -> I'm sorry it took so long. I have been obsessing over trying to make part two perfect but I don't think I can. It's time I share my baby with you, and I really hope you enjoy it.

Tags -> Angst, fluff :)

Trigger Warnings -> Character death, heavily mentions grief. Some parts are suggestive but there is no smut.

Word Count -> 18.8K (it got kinda crazy)

Late October

It was cold, dark and gloomy; the weather a perfect pathetic fallacy to the narrative of your life. The freshly disturbed patch of grass failed to convey the significance of who laid underneath it. It was vexing, how the world continued to spin on it’s axis despite the fact that it stopped spinning for you. 

It hurt to think about the events that led to your undoing. The weeks prior to the moment your mother drew her last breath. You were a cracked vase filled with wilting flowers and overflowing regret. Every breath you took consumed more energy than you could spare and yet the world just. Kept. Spinning. 

“I brought you flowers. Yellow tulips, by the way.” The words felt like lead on your tongue. It was one thing to accept your mother was never coming back, it was another to try to act normal about it. “I know you never cared for them, but I didn’t think leaving a pack of cigarettes on your grave was very tasteful.” You bitterly smiled to yourself at the memories of your mom sneaking a cigarette in the backyard when she thought you were asleep. It was a nasty habit you did everything to rid her of. A fruitless attempt to protect her from the inevitable. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t figured out your epitaph yet. It’s just so hard to condense your entire life into a few words. Plus, they charge by the letter, so I’m trying to be really selective.” It felt weird, speaking into empty space, but you read online that it helped with grief, so you tried anyway. 

That was how you approached most things nowadays. Eating, drinking, sleeping, they all seemed meaningless. But, you knew you couldn’t survive on just antagonism and mourning, so you did it anyway. 

“Zayne called again. I know you told me not to hate him and that it wasn’t his fault, but I can’t bring myself to agree.” 

The moment Zayne told you that the heart that could save your mother’s life was going to someone else replayed in your mind like a scratched vinyl stuck on an aggravating note.

“I got so frustrated by his constant calls that I threw my phone into the ocean.” You let out a sad laugh. “Guess that’s the last time I bring anything with me when I’m walking along the coast.” 

You paused for a moment, feeling stupid. But you had so much to say to her, it all just began spilling out.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I might lose the house. I burned through all my paid leave, and the idea of going back to work for Sylus makes me want to put my head through a wood-chipper. I know I have to, but how can I focus on work when I have nothing left to work for?” You tasted the tears before you felt them, the saltiness reminded you of your weekends at the beach with your mom. You did everything to get out of joining her, you hated the beach, but it was her favourite place to be and in a desperate attempt to cling on to whatever was left of her, you forced it to be yours too.

“I’m sorry I never got you that house you dreamed of, or the dog. I’m sure there are lots of dogs in heaven, and at least the dogs there have been screened. With my luck any dog I would’ve gotten you would’ve been evil.” You teetered around the grievance you truly wanted to apologise for. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you before you passed away. I was so sure you would get the transplant. I tried so hard to save for it. I should’ve been with you. If I knew—” The sobs raked through you with a force that knocked the air out of your lungs. You sat down next to her tombstone, leaning your head against the chiseled rock. 

There were moments when you’d wake up, and in the haze of your muddled mind you’d forget she was dead. But then the ache in your body is deciphered by your mind, and you’re reminded of just how much you’ve lost. Maybe that’s why they called it mourning. Grief dawned on you like the rising sun.

Life had a way of being entirely unfair, and there was nowhere to hide from fate’s piercing claws. And as if to ensure you hadn’t forgotten just how cruel life could be, your head whipped around at the sound of footsteps behind you to find the last person you wanted to see.

Sylus was dressed in a long black coat hanging effortlessly off of his broad shoulders, a black dress shirt that really should’ve been buttoned up to the top, and a pair of black slacks that made his long legs look impossibly longer. He looked every bit the cunning grim reaper, and it wasn’t just because he was surrounded by graves.

“I didn’t know you were back in the N109 Zone.” The words came out harsher than you intended as your head returned to it’s position against the rock. 

Sylus stopped in front of you, lowering himself to his haunches so that you would be face-to-face. It stung to look at him, so you focused on picking at the grass instead. 

“I only got back a few hours ago. I heard about your mother. I’m sorry.” Having been deprived of his voice for over a month, you cursed the butterflies that coursed through you like muscle memory. Part of you wished he’d returned disfigured, but you knew it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Ugly or devastatingly beautiful, the storm that was Sylus could not be stopped, only weathered. 

“Sorry that she died or sorry that you weren’t there?” The bitterness in your tone was unfamiliar to you. Even though you knew it was unfair of you to expect him to have stayed, he left immediately after he dropped you off at the hospital and you hoped he’d have been there just a little longer. It didn’t help that you didn’t hear from him until two weeks later, and by then you were too engrossed in your battle against Akso hospital’s medical board to respond. 

“You haven’t been answering my calls; they’re not even going through anymore. You haven’t blocked me, have you?” Sylus countered your question with one of his own. If you cared enough, you might’ve called him out on his diversion. 

“No, my phone broke.” That was an understatement if there ever was one. 

“How long ago?”

“A week.” That much was true and since you couldn’t afford a smart phone, a shitty $30 flip phone weighed down your pocket. 

“And all the times I called before then?” Sylus’s eyes perused you with intensity, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. You weren’t dressed well, in a pair of black sweatpants that were too big on you and a matching hoodie. Grieving people were allowed to dress terribly without judgement, Y/N. It’s okay.

“I didn’t feel like picking up.” The grass continued to bare the brunt of your nerves as you answered. The you that wasn’t effectively an orphan would’ve made up some excuse to protect his feelings, but you were resolved to change that. Your mother was strong, independent, and she never backed down from a fight. Not against men like Sylus, and not against her illness. If you wanted to honour her memory then you had to live your life the way she’d want you to.

“Do you have a phone now?” 

You reached into the pocket of your sweatpants to take out the grey flip phone. You watched as Sylus bit back a laugh.

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“I don’t need you to get me anything.” You quickly retorted.

“You’re going to need a phone from this century if you’re working for me, Y/N.” He said it so casually, as if you were put on this earth solely to serve him as his accountant. 

“Right, about that…” Your determination to be confident and unapologetic began to dwindle as you wondered how to tell Sylus you needed more time.

“No. Resigning is not an option.” Twelve minutes. It took Sylus twelve minutes to return to his usual controlling self. You were impressed, truly, it was a new record after all. 

“We don’t have a blood pact, Sylus. I can resign if I want to. Besides, that’s not what I was going to say. I need more time off.” You didn’t sound very convincing, but it wasn’t like you could change who you were overnight. It would take a lifetime to unlearn your bad habits. 

Sylus looked conflicted, as if he didn’t know what to say. When he chose to finally open his mouth, you wished he hadn’t.

“I’ve given you a month, Y/N. That’s enough.” His statement came out so matter-of-factly, you wondered if you had imagined it. A month was not nearly enough to recover from losing your mom, but you figured a man who killed people for a living wouldn’t understand. 

“It’s only been two weeks since she died. And I’m sure the temp you’ve got is perfectly competent.”

“The temp doesn’t know the company like you do and I haven’t bothered teaching him on the premise that you were returning. If you’re not back soon I can’t promise you’ll have a job to come back to.” 

The tension in the air dissipated as you began to laugh. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Hysterically. 

“You— You seriously think I care whether or not I have a job? I can barely will myself to eat right now—employment is not my priority.” You wiped back the tears that began to spill out. Their origin unknown, between your hysteria and sorrow, your eyes were constantly puffy.

“People die all the time, sweetheart. It’s no reason to throw your future away.” Sylus stood up straight at the end of his statement, holding his hand out to you. 

The angel on your shoulder whispered that in his own peculiar way, this was his attempt at comforting you. But you stopped listening to that angel when they buried your mom under six-feet of dirt, and you couldn’t help the word vomit that escaped you like water barrelling out of a splintered dam. 

You pushed away his hand, and stood up to look at him with a ferocity you didn’t know you possessed.

“I get that something really dark and twisted must have happened in your youth to make you so heartless, but most people have shitty childhoods, sweetheart. We choose not to be terrible, insufferable people because of it.” The unbridled rage you’d spend so long trying to suppress seeped out of you uncontrollably as you screamed at Sylus. You walked toward him, your anger taking hold of you as you began to push him away. A few months ago you would’ve given anything to touch him, now all you cared about was making him feel a semblance of the pain he instilled in you. 

“Some of us choose to feel our emotions in their entirety, regardless of how much it hurts, because we’re not scared to love and lose. You’re a coward, Sylus and you may think that my mother dying is just an inevitable consequence of life, but my world will never be the same.” In an attempt to calm down, you took a deep breath.

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.” The word vomit continued, and when you saw the hurt flash briefly within his eyes, you felt the arms of regret begin to sink their claws into you. 

You shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t you.

But before you could take it all back, Sylus’s phone began ringing and you figured from the urgency in which he answered it must’ve been her. 

“I lost track of time, I’ll be right there.” He spoke in a low voice in what you could only assume was an attempt to mask the fact that he was leaving you for something more important, again. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Just go.” You waved him off and turned back around to face your mother’s grave, though now the tears welling up in your eyes couldn’t be entirely attributed to the grief. 

Early November

You weren’t sure time could heal the gaping wound your mother’s passing left behind, but grief had settled into your life like an imposing aunt. It was in your home, touching your things, ruining your food, and never once leaving you alone. It didn’t feel so all-consuming anymore, but it clung onto you constantly like a shadow. 

You were watching the third Harry Potter movie at 8am when you received the eviction notice via Email. You’d been expecting it, ultimately you were behind on rent, but the reason plastered on the paper was exponentially worse than your own incompetence.

…Selling to developers…suburban expansion project…

As if losing your childhood home wasn’t bad enough, they were planning on destroying it. Memories were bound to decay with time, that was an inevitable consequence of being human. Sooner or later you’d forget the way your mom dressed, or the smell of her perfume. Tangible things like photographs, places, they kept those memories anchored. You couldn’t lose the house, it wasn’t an option. 

You spent the next hour trying to reason with your landlord over the phone, but he was committed to selling. He rejected every single one of your proposals, though even you knew they were weak at best. The developers were offering significantly more than market value, there was no way you could beat that. Stupid gentrification. But, your landlord told you he was sympathetic, and the deal hadn’t been finalised just yet. If you could match the developer’s offer by the end of the month, he’d gladly sell it to you instead.

Of course the developer’s offer was $800,000, and by the looks of your financials, you were about $796,312 short. 

Desperate for a catharsis for your unending frustration, you screamed into the throw pillow on your couch until your throat felt raw. Then, you opened up your laptop to figure out a plan. 

30 minutes later you had:

Sell your kidney to an organ broker and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score. 

Dabble briefly in prostitution and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score.

Become a squatter and protest the demolition of your home environmental-activist style. 

“Wow, Y/N. Graduated top of your class and this was all you could come up with, huh?” You muttered to yourself as you stared at the list of terrible ideas. Your mind hadn’t come up with something so horrific since the bed-in-breakfast Mother’s Day fiasco when you were 11. 

The only option that didn’t end in bodily harm or a prison sentence was to work as many jobs as humanly possible for the next few weeks in hopes you could somehow manage to accumulate the deposit for a loan. You could probably sell some appliances too, and maybe revisit the kidney idea if it came to it. 

Despite it being a long-shot, you had to try. You changed into a pair of flared leggings and a sweater. It was basic and borderline mismatched but traversing your explosive closet was a large undertaking you tended to avoid. You dug a copy of your old resume out from your file drawer, after all, it wasn’t like your experience as Onychinus’s accountant was going to do you any good. Further, listing Sylus as a reference would ensure you never got a job again. 

You figured the easiest place to start was the central district of the N109 zone, bars and restaurants there were constantly hiring and from what you’d heard their only requirement was that you had two functioning legs and arms. But when you tried to leave through the door to begin the job search you collided with a formidable wall. 

Since when was there a—

“Where you headed to, Y/N?” The familiar voice was so surprising it made you jump, the action accompanied by a shrill scream.

“What the fuck? Why are you just standing outside my door?” You rarely ever swore and you were sure that if your mother was still alive she’d throw her shoe at you for using the devil’s language. But of all the things you expected to see that morning, Sylus outside your door was not one of them. 

“Is that any way to welcome your old employer?” Sylus stepped into your home without an invitation. Conclusive proof against your theory that he was secretly a vampire. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked again, still staring at Sylus like he sprouted a second head. You couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d show up at your place of residence, he never did while you were still his employee.

“I need you to come back.” You choked back a laugh at his ridiculous request. Was he insane?

“Go to hell.” Your vicious response didn’t sway Sylus. 

“I’ve fired an accountant every week since you left. The accounts are in complete disarray, half my businesses are behind on their bills, the other half have been paying the wrong amounts to the wrong companies. My investors are unhappy, my debtors are one week away from assuming I’ve gone bankrupt and I haven’t slept in weeks. Come. Back.” While it stroked your ego to hear that the organisation was suffering in your absence, you couldn’t just forget the terrible way he’d treated you in and out of the workplace. 

“You insisted I was especially replaceable and now you’re saying you can’t replace me?” You chose to remind him of just how horrid of an employer he was, an action he didn’t appreciate. 

“If you’re going to dwell on the semantics I’d rather just cut to the chase. What’s it going to take to get you back?” Sylus’s tone suggested he was truly trying to negotiate with you. Of course a man like him didn’t know how to take no for an answer. 

“Pigs to fly.” You quipped, opening your door in hopes he’d get the hint and leave. 

“Y/N, I’m serious. We can’t survive without you.” His desperation went straight to your head, but you stood your ground. 

“Then die.” You tried to shove him out of your doorway, but he was about as easy to move as a truck. 

“Everyone has something they desire, sweetheart. Name your price.” While you were ready to fire up a quick retort, his suggestion reminded you of the very reason you were about to leave the house. 

Perhaps this was a sign; you could swallow your pride if it meant you got to keep your home. 

You pretended to give it thought, sighing loudly in contemplation. “Fine. I want a sign-on bonus. Or in this case, a re-sign-on bonus, I guess…” You trailed off, unsure if he would agree. 

“Alright, how much?” He was quick to accept your terms, and you decided to test the waters of just how desperate he was for your return. 

“A million dollars.” 

“Done.” 

Dammit, you should’ve asked for more. 

“I want a personal driver too, I’m sick of biking to work.” You would’ve been okay with just the bonus, after all, it was insanely generous. But you’d be a fool not to milk this opportunity for what it was worth.

“Anything else, princess?” The condescending nickname only added fuel to the fire as you fired off more requests. 

“I don’t want to share my office with the twins anymore, they’re loud and annoying and they have no respect for the sanctity of my monthly budgets.”

“Okay.”

You masked your shock at his sudden magnanimity. “One last thing. Since you’ve come to the realisation that I am, in fact, a valuable asset to your organisation, you’re not allowed to be a dick to me anymore.” 

“Elaborate.”

“No more calling me stupid or other degrading insults, threatening my job security, threatening my life — just no more threats in general — and if you’re going to assign me extra work that is beyond the scope of my job description, a please and thank you would be nice.”

“You’re pushing it, Y/N.” Of course treating his employees like human beings was the most difficult request. 

“You just agreed to give me a million dollars and being nice to me is where you draw the line?” 

Sylus sighed, deliberating in silence for a moment. When he saw that your resolve was unrelenting, he begrudgingly agreed. He wasn’t sure where your newfound confidence was coming from, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it the slightest bit attractive. 

“Alright, you’ve made your case. I’ll agree to your conditions. Now, please fix it.” 

It took every fibre of your being not to break out into song and dance at your victory. “Let me get my coat.”

______________

You stared at the horrific mess your beautiful spreadsheet had turned in to. This was a disaster. A colossal, unfathomable disaster. “How could you let it get this bad?” Your voice was dripping with fear, it was like staring a train wreck. 

“It wasn’t like it happened on purpose. Besides, if you’d never—” Sylus interrupted his own sentence which you were sure contained an insult, and you could almost hear the evil chuckle resounding in your head at the sight of his obedience. This was going to be fun. 

“This is going to take forever to fix.” It would actually only take the day, but you didn’t need to tell him that.

“I need it fixed by the end of the week. Please.” He looked pained as he added the nicety. Soooooo much fun.

“Add on a massage chair for my office and I’ll get it done by Wednesday.” You wondered just how far you could push his desperation. 

“Deal.” He held his hand out for you to shake and when you did, you felt a strange sense of accomplishment. Now you could tell people ‘How to Tame Your Dragon’ was loosely based on your life. 

“You know, Sylus, I’m liking this new dynamic.” Your shit-eating grin couldn’t be wiped off of your face no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh I can tell. Now, get to work.” Sylus made a show of pulling out your office chair for you, and when you sat in it for the first time in two months, you felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. And for once, the recollection of your past didn’t hurt as much as it usually did.  

Mid-November

This time around, your employment under Sylus was much more pleasant. Surprisingly, he’d actually adhered to your conditions. 

The twins were slightly offended that you no longer wanted to share your office with them, but their gratefulness for your return trumped any antagonism they had for you. You were kind of a celebrity in Onychinus’s executive team, their saviour, if you will. 

But, the enjoyment of your newly established status could not be savoured. Undoing months of mistakes was turning out to be positively exhausting. You were an accountant; socially awkward, stuck to her Excel sheets, spent most of her free time indulging in shitty rom-coms. You were not built for briefing CEOs, Chairmen, investors, subsidiaries and of course, debtors, on your commitment to stability via video call.

Sylus insisted it had to be you, even though he usually handled the bureaucratic part of the organisation. Something about him not being able to answer their questions regarding the numbers. You told him you would tell him what to say through an ear piece like a spy movie, but he responded with a resounding no. 

It was more like ‘hell will freeze over before I turn into a glorified puppet, Y/N, blah blah blah’.

Every single one-on-one conference call made you feel like you were getting hives. Not to mention the active effort it took you to refrain from making stupid jokes at every opportunity. When the last one with the representative from Onychinus’s main bank was over, you had officially smoothed over all bad blood between Onychinus and it’s stakeholders.

Giving yourself a moment to recalibrate from the sheer amount of social interaction you had been subjected to, you glared at the shared calendar event. ‘Miss Hunter’s Birthday in 13 days’.

You tried to distract yourself from that familiar sinking feeling in your gut with your work. Sylus never remembered your birthday, but it wasn’t like it mattered. You were his accountant, he was your boss. That was the extent of your relationship, even though you’d both said things to each other that would cause your HR department, if you had one, to self-emulate. But in the chaos of buying your home, going back to work and learning how to navigate life with your unwanted companion; grief, you’d forgotten all about your feelings for Sylus.

They weren’t gone but they were muted, like a voice screaming out to you while your head was underwater. Most of the time they were easy to ignore, but in times like these they were too loud to overlook.

You couldn’t dwell on your self-pity for long because there was a knock at your door. No one ever knocked on your door, people just tended to barge in.

“Come in?” Confusion dripped from your voice. When the door opened to a pair of twins with shameful smiles, you knew they were about to ask you for a favour.

“We… fucked up.” Three words you never wanted to hear coming out of either Luke or Kieran’s mouth.

“What have you done?”

“Long story short. Boss sent us to pick up a gem for Miss Hunter’s birthday. It’s really rare. The man who owns them is this older, heart of gold type old guy who refuses to sell to nefarious people because of his outdated principles. He wouldn’t give it to us, said something about us being part of Onychinus. We knew if boss didn’t get this gem today he’d have our heads displayed on mantels in his office, so we threatened the old man with a gun and then an entire arsenal of security appeared out of thin air and we were blacklisted from the property.” Kieran’s explanation left you astounded. 

The twins had their fair share of asinine mistakes, but this one might have taken the cake. 

“You threatened an old man with a gun…” 

“Yes.” Kieran responded. 

“Over a gem?” You asked in disbelief. 

“A very rare gem!” Luke corrected. 

“Huh. How am I supposed to help?” It was a genuine question, you didn’t really see a way out of this one. 

“Can you go and convince the old man to sell the gem to you?” Kieran’s request made your eyes widen in protest.

“No way! I’ve had my fill of uncomfortable business meetings.” And wasn’t that the truth. If you had to see one more man in a business suit ask you ‘if you even knew what you were talking about’ you might throw your laptop into the first body of water you could find. 

“Please, Y/N. Sylus will kill us. Do you want our deaths to hang over your conscience?” 

Luke’s question was an innocent hyperbole, but at the mention of deaths hanging over your conscience, you were reminded of your mom. Your face dropped, your fingers slowly forgetting what they were supposed to type. Kieran, the more observant twin, elbowed Luke.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, I’m not going to burst into tears.” You weren’t sure that was true quite yet, but fake it till you make it, right? 

“Will you help us? Please. We’ll owe you big time.” The line was clearly rehearsed since they said it in unison, or maybe it was some weird twin telepathy thing. Either way, it freaked you out so much you agreed. 

“Fine, what’s the address?”

_____________

You knocked on the large wooden door of a beautiful home. It was classically designed, a perfect intersection between modernity and the timeless complexity of archaic house designs. It was rare to see homes like these in a society that prided itself on progress. 

When you heard the sound of soft feet shuffling toward the door, you felt the guilt eat at you internally. You were tricking an old man into selling a gem to people he very reasonably did not want to sell to.

“Y/M/N?” 

Did he— why did he call you by your mother’s name?

“That was my mother, I’m her daughter, Y/N.”

“Oh, thank god, I was beginning to think I’d finally lost it. Come in, come in.” 

Your interest had been piqued, and you forgot all about the gem as you entered the old man’s home.

“I must say, I’m surprised you’re here. Did your mother send you?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “She passed away just over a month ago.”

“Oh god. I’m so sorry, dear. Are you alright?” The question was filled with so much warmth it made tears well up in your eyes. Your mother never had any friends, and you were estranged from your extended family. You were all alone in your grief, and hearing someone who knew your mom in some capacity ask you if you were alright felt bittersweet.

“Yeah. I’m doing okay. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know her?”

“You don’t know? I figured that was why you were here.” 

Right. The reason you were here, the gem.

“No, I’m actually here entirely coincidentally, I came to acquire a gem.”

“Which gem were you after, dear?” He asked the question as he looked around his living room for something.

“The Painite one.”

He stopped pacing and turned to you with an accusatory stare. “This wouldn’t happen to be related to those two rowdy boys who came by earlier, right?”

“Well…” You couldn’t lie to him. He looked like the old man from ‘Up’, it was entirely unfair. 

“I’m afraid I can’t sell to you. I’m concerned you’ve even gotten yourself wrapped up in such a terrible organisation.” He shook his head, his disappointment evident in his tone. 

“Look, I know what you’ve heard, but most of the rumours you hear about Onychinus don’t have a modicum of truth to them.”

“Then why hasn’t your boss cleared them up?” A great question. 

“In this business its good to have a reputation that instills fear in others. You’ve seen what people do for Protocores and black-market items. Onychinus serves as a… regulatory body of the underworld, the only people they harm are those that harm others.” The practiced speech came from years of listening to Sylus give it to yourself and others. 

“I don’t know dear, I’ve heard some horrific things about their leader, Sylus.” You were probably responsible for a few of those rumours…

“The only horrific thing about him is his sharp tongue. Seriously, he has a way of finding your worst insecurity and then using it to drag you through the dirt.” Recognising the unhelpful tangent, you digressed.

“But when it comes to business, he’s fair and when someone hurts the people he cares about, he’s merciless. He has a good heart, it’s just encased under a very thick layer of stone.” When he didn’t look convinced, you continued. 

“In fact, he wants this gem for a woman. She’s special to him and its her birthday in a few days. She’s a hunter, by the way, she saves lives. So, even if you don’t want to sell to Sylus because he’s probably half demon, you should sell it to her. You know, by proxy.” The argument was a stretch but you couldn’t help your rambling. 

“You are the spitting image of your mother.” 

The comment caught you off-guard.

“You think so?”

“I knew your mother when she was your age. She used to sing live at a bar I frequented with my friends. It was a simpler time, before wanderers attacked. I was head over heels in love with her, and I knew she felt the same way about me. But, she got wrapped up with the wrong guy, a real bad man, and it took finding out she was pregnant with you to break it off with him.” He recounted his past as he continued to search his drawers for something, when he came back to the couch in front of yours, he handed you a photo.

It was of your mother, except she was much younger. She was on a stage performing, a part of her life she never told you about. She looked happy and was glowing with the kind of ethereal beauty that never dwindled with time. He was right, you looked a lot like her. 

“Can I keep this?” You looked up at the man, and he gave you a small nod. 

“Of course. You know, I offered to help her when I found out, said I’d raise the baby as my own, but she told me I was destined for more than she could give me. Said she had to do this on her own. She was stubborn but she loved boundlessly, Y/N, just like you.”

You were confused, this man hadn’t known you for very long, how could he know such a thing? “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what that Sylus man has done to deserve your adoration, but I can tell you love him. And for you to come here on his behalf to convince me to sell him the rarest gem in the world for another woman? You truly do have your mother’s heart.” 

His words sprouted doubt and introspection. Why were you trying so hard to get Sylus such a romantic gift when it was meant for someone else? Were you secretly a masochist?

“If it’s alright with you Y/N, I’d love to get to know you. Your mother was my first love, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to about her.” 

You gave him the sincerest smile you could come up with. “I’d like that. I don’t really have anyone to talk to about her either.”

“As for the gem, I’ll sell it to you but only if you promise to love a man who will go to these lengths for you, not someone else.” 

“I promise.” You’d promise to try, at least. You told the man, who you now knew was Dr Jeffery Hunt the geologist, that you needed to get back to work. You exchanged contact information with a promise to catch up later and trade stories about your mom. 

You left the house with the rarest gem in the world in one hand, and an infinitely more valuable picture of your mother in the other. 

___________

You walked toward your office where Luke and Kieran should have been to find the door slightly ajar. You stopped just outside the door when you heard Sylus’s voice from inside your office.

“You sent Y/N to get the gem? Was the task too difficult for the two of you?” You tried to sympathise with the twins, but it was kind of funny to see Sylus berate someone else for once.

“The owner said he wouldn’t sell to Onychinus—” Kieran’s attempt at an explanation was shot down instantly.

“So you pick some random person off the street and send them in instead. You don’t send the girl the gem is for to go retrieve her own present. You have completely ruined the surprise.”

Wait, what?

“No, it’s fine, we sent Y/N not Miss Hunter.”

“Miss Hun— why would you assume it’s for her?” The question hung in there for an uncomfortable moment, after all you assumed the same thing. 

“Her birthday’s in a few days.” Luke timidly added. 

“How do you know that?” 

“It’s in the shared calendar.”

“Fuck.” 

With your ear plastered shamelessly against the door, you smiled to yourself. He had a bad habit of putting personal events in the shared calendar.

“The gem was for Y/N. Thanks to you imbeciles I have to figure something else out.” 

Why was the gem for you? Was it poisonous? You started down at the velvet box in your hand and wondered if the gem was secretly a teeny tiny bomb. 

“Is it Y/N’s birthday soon too?” Kieran’s question offended you. Your birthday was in March and both he and Luke were at your celebratory birthday dinner last year. 

“No, that’s in March. It’s to celebrate her 3rd year with Onychinus. Although now I’m wondering if your time here has come to an end.” It was kind of sadistic, but it was comforting to know that Sylus threatened other people’s job security over minor inconveniences too. 

“No! Please, we promise we’ll make it up to you.” 

You stopped listening to the conversation as you opened the box in your hand. The gem glistened under the artificial lights as questions fired off in your brain. He wanted to give this gem to you? How did he even remember the day you started at Onychinus? And he knew your birthday?

Before you could search for the answers, the sound of footsteps approaching the door made you panic. You tried fruitlessly to escape the long hallway but Sylus stormed out before you could.

“I um, got that gem for you.” You pretended you weren’t eavesdropping and held the gem out to him, but he pushed it back toward you. 

“Thanks. I was going to have it turned into a necklace, but since the cat’s out of the bag, you can decide what to do with it.” He clearly knew you’d heard everything and gave the twins a pointed glare as they scurried out of your office. 

“It’s really too much. Most employers get their employees a gift card or something.” You tried to hand it back again, but he was unrelenting. 

“I’m not most employers, and you definitely aren’t most employees.” The loaded compliment made you bite back a smile. 

“In that case, a necklace would be nice. I have a photo of my mom when she was my age, she wore a necklace with a similar looking gem. Do you think you could find someone who can copy the design? It would mean a lot. I’d pay for it, of course.” You kept the photo in your wallet now, it quickly became one of your favourites. When you passed the photo to him, he looked at it for far longer than necessary. 

“Consider it done, and your money’s no good with me. Save it for something else.” He paused for a moment, took a photo of the necklace on his phone and returned the photograph. “I see where you get your beauty from.” The comment was so nonchalant and inconsistent with Sylus’s usual dialogue that you were left speechless. Your heart battered against your ribcage as if it were trying to escape and mount itself onto him instead. Traitorous organ. 

You watched him turn around and walk toward his office. The sight of him walking away from you brought back memories of that day in the graveyard and what you’d said to Sylus before he left. 

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.”

The guilt was eating away at your conscience, and you knew you had to let him know that you didn’t mean what you said. Especially not now. 

“Sylus, wait.” He stopped just as his hand reached the doorknob of his office door and looked up at you expectantly.

You raked your mind for the right thing to say, and Sylus didn’t make a sound as you prolonged the silence. 

“If you died, I’d mourn you.” And you meant it. You maintained eye contact despite the urge to look away from his intense gaze in an attempt to convey your sincerity. 

He shook his head with a slight chuckle in response, and walked into his office wordlessly. 

You figured he hadn’t given what you said a second thought. It was foolish to think you could ever hurt the impenetrable Sylus’s feelings. You weren’t even sure he had feelings. 

But, unbeknownst to you, when Sylus closed the door behind him, he felt himself let out a breath that alleviated a pressure in his chest he didn’t know he’d been carrying. What you’d said to him in the graveyard weighed on him like an uncomfortable tumour. 

Sylus knew you were right, but the idea of no one caring for him never bothered him before, not until you said it. It dawned on him that the only person who’s idea of him actually affected how he thought of himself was yours. 

Late-November

“Finish up, we have a reservation at six.” At the sound of your boss’s  voice, you looked up from your computer screen. Your eyes were watery from staring at the ledger for hours but you still couldn’t reconcile the $15.70 that was missing. It was driving you insane.

“Was there a meeting I forgot existed?” The calendar looked empty from where it stood on your second monitor. Well, it was empty now that Sylus deleted the shared calendar event for Miss Hunter’s birthday which should’ve been yesterday. 

“No, it’s just us. I’m taking you to dinner. Now hurry up.” You couldn’t help the frown on your face. There was surely an ulterior motive. 

“Taking me to dinner? Are you asking me out on a date?” You were teasing; hell would freeze over before Sylus would ask anyone out on a date. Though, maybe he already had, after all he was busy yesterday…

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re celebrating your third year with Onychinus. As an employer I believe rewarding long-term employees can strengthen their loyalty to the company.” He regurgitated the words like they were toxic. 

“You stole that from the last issue of Forbes magazine. I would know since I was the one who gave you the article.” It was titled ‘Ten foolproof ways to make your employees like you’ and you thought it would be funny to leave it on Sylus’s desk. 

“And I’m responding to your feedback like number 4 on that list suggested. Now, do you want to go to this dinner or should I ask someone else?” 

You quickly scrambled out of your seat, you couldn’t miss out on a chance to see Sylus actively try to be a regular boss. Who could say no to dinner and a show?

“No, no, I’ll go.” You grabbed your bag off of the floor and followed Sylus out of the building. You asked him a series of questions about where you were going, when you’d be back, if you were getting paid for the time you were forced to spend with him, but he answered none of them. 

Sylus was driving for all of 2 minutes before you began to draft an appreciation letter to the inventor of seatbelts in your head. 

“You know, you may be harder to kill than a regular person, but I will die if you crash this car.” Pleading for your life in an expensive sports car was not how you expected to go. 

“It’s a little early in the night for your theatrics, Y/N.” Sylus’s deadpan tone did nothing to soothe your concerns as he turned yet another sharp corner with aggressive speed. 

“It’s also a little early in my life to die.” You unhelpfully added.

“Relax, will you? I’ve never crashed before.” 

Well, there’s a first time for everything. You thought as you tightly gripped the handle of the door. You found yourself suddenly missing the middle-aged man who would grouchily drive you to and from work. At least he drove like he valued his life. 

 _______

When you arrived to the place in one piece you felt severely under dressed. Sylus was wearing his regular attire, a suit without the tie, and you were dressed in linen pants and a turtleneck. Sylus never enforced a business dress code, though in that moment you found yourself wishing he did.

The restaurant was multi-level and sat at the top of a mountain. The exterior screamed affluence and you were sure everyone who dined there was in a different tax-bracket. Sylus reserved a table on the rooftop which unfortunately meant you had to ascend four levels in your mediocre outfit that made you stick out like a sore thumb. 

When you eventually reached your table, you quickly hid in your seat. While it was unrealistic to assume anyone would pay you any attention but your embarrassment was usually irrational. Nor, did it help that Sylus naturally made heads turn wherever he went. He was freakishly tall and unnervingly handsome; next to him anyone struggled to look attractive.

“You’re in a rush. Hungry?” Sylus asked across from you as you buried your face in the menu. You didn’t feel like explaining how being out with him made you feel insecure, so you forewent a response. 

The waiter quickly returned with a bottle of wine. Of course Sylus’s favourite wine was known universally. Why wouldn’t it be? He practically ruled the N109 Zone.

“Thanks, she’ll have a mojito.” Before you could tell the waiter not to bring you your favourite cocktail, he was gone.

“I’m not drinking.” Your protest fell on deaf ears. “Drinking with your boss is like number 1 on the list of things you shouldn’t do if you value your job.”

“You don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of me, Y/N. You’ve done that plenty of times sober.” Sylus smirked as he made the dry joke and you held back the urge to step on his foot under the table.

Never mind. You needed a drink pronto.

“Asshole.” You muttered under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Artichokes! I said the artichoke salad looks good.” You could tell Sylus wasn’t convinced, but he dropped the matter anyway. 

“Order whatever you’d like.” 

“There’s no prices on the menu.” You flipped it around every which way but not a single price appeared.

“Sweetheart, the people who can afford to dine here aren’t too concerned with prices. Don’t worry and order what you wish.”

Aw, how sweet. Sylus thought you enquired about the prices because you were concerned about overspending. As if. You knew that man’s financials inside and out, if anything, you wanted to order the most expensive things on the menu. 

“Jeez, my bad Mr One-Percent.” Your joke was not well received.

“Can we have one night without your incessant sarcasm?” The plea sounded genuine, but it was denied. 

“We could, but that’s no fun.”

“I find you painfully unfunny, Y/N.” You smiled to yourself at his blatant lie. Everyone found you funny. 

Before you could think of a retort, Sylus pulled out a large velvet box and slid it toward you on the table.

“What’s this?”

“The necklace.”

You opened it up eagerly and the sight of it brought pure bliss to your heart. It was exactly like the one your mother wore, and it was even more beautiful in person.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Feeling slightly remorseful for your attitude prior to the gift-exchange, you gave him a sheepish smile.

Sylus watched you lift it up to put it on, but quickly interjected. “Allow me.” He stood up, walking toward your seat. Flushed, you clumsily turned around so your back was facing him. You felt goosebumps on your skin when his cold hands bunched your hair away from your neck, the tips of his fingers leaving a trail of wired nerves in their wake.

You took your hair from his hand to hold it up, the mere feeling of your fingers brushing his gave you heart palpitations. The act was way too intimate, and despite how it good it felt to have him so close, your brain knew it was safest to pray it would be over soon.

When Sylus was done he spun you around to face him and shamelessly observed his handiwork. “It looks good.” Your brain short-circuited the moment your eyes met his, so you sat in front of him in complete silence.

The moment was rudely interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Sylus? Y/N? Fancy seeing you here!” You both turned to the source of the voice to see Miss Hunter in a beautiful baby blue gown. As if you didn’t feel bad enough about your choice in attire. You began to smile until you noticed that the arm linked with hers belonged to your mortal enemy. Dr Zayne. 

You got up to greet them, despite your primal urge to push Zayne off the roof, but Sylus beat you to it. “Miss Hunter, always a pleasure.” You tried not to gag at the sight of Sylus being so gentlemanly. It became particularly hard when he kissed the top of her hand. 

“I didn’t know you knew Dr Zayne.” The comment slipped out of Sylus’s tense smile with a twinge of what you thought was hostility. Was he jealous that she was with Dr Zayne? Were you jealous that he was jealous? Are you in a soap opera?

“Oh, he’s a childhood friend andmy doctor! I’m very lucky. How do you know him?” Before you could whisper to Sylus to make up some excuse, he was firing off information about your personal life to the last two people you wanted to discuss your personal life with. 

“He was Y/N’s mother’s doctor.” Everyone went tense, everyone except for Miss Hunter, of course. 

Your eyes followed her as she turned to you, praying she wouldn’t ask about your mother’s health. Instead, she praised your nemesis. “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?”

You wanted to scream in protest. You wanted to swing a chair into Dr Zayne’s head, and then use the broken scraps to beat him to a pulp. But you opted to force a painful smile instead. 

“He’s definitely something.” You looked right at Zayne, hoping he’d understand the implications of your backhanded compliment.  

“Well, we were just here to celebrate my birthday yesterday, but the hostess said it was all booked out and silly Zayne forgot to make a reservation. We just came up to the rooftop to get some pictures, but you guys should enjoy your dinner!” Miss Hunter’s polite dismissal was the perfect opportunity to end the painfully awkward interaction and move on with your night. 

“Thanks.” You were about to return to your seat when Sylus decided to continue with his commitment to ruining your life.

“You guys should join us, the more the merrier, right Y/N?”

The question you had no idea how to answer only poked at the jar of pent up murderous rage you were trying to suppress. It wasn’t like you were subtle about your hatred for the Doctor, why the hell was Sylus inviting them to stay?

“Right.” You couldn’t have sounded less sincere if you tried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You had to focus on making it out of this building without a homicide charge.

When Miss Hunter happily agreed, Sylus quickly waved down a waiter and made them transform your two-seater table into a four-seater. Unfortunately for you, the seating arrangements somehow ended up with you next to Zayne and Sylus next to Miss Hunter . 

Zayne could feel the hostility radiating off of you in waves, but he was too scared to do anything about it. 

“Happy birthday, by the way.” You offered Miss Hunter the nicety, since she was really the only innocent person at the table. Your unfounded hatred for her took the back-burner when Zayne was around. 

“Thanks, Y/N. I love your necklace, where did you get it?” Yet another question you didn’t know how to answer. If this was how the entire night was going to be you might as well cut your losses and take your chances with jumping off the roof.

“It’s um, custom made.” You avoided Sylus’s glare. 

“Well it’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment. Her sunshine-y attitude could rival yours. 

“Sylus knows the guy who made it, I’m sure he could get one for you too.” You glanced at him only to see him quirk an eyebrow at your response. Was he seriously mad? You were practically the world’s greatest wingwoman. 

When Miss Hunter turned to look at him, he quickly shut her down.  “He retired right after making that piece, actually. Something about getting arthritis.” 

He was definitely lying. You weren’t sure why he was gatekeeping this jeweller and you never got the chance to ask. 

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. Hey Zayne, you’ve been awfully quiet. Say something!” Miss Hunter gave him a playful push on the shoulder as she teased him. The sight would’ve been adorable if it weren’t for satan’s incarnate sitting inches away from you.

“Yeah Zayne, how was work? Steal anymore hearts lately?” You asked the deceivingly innocuous question while breaking apart a piece of bread. The double-entendre was like a secret you both shared; though the idea of sharing anything with that waste of space made you inscrutably angry. 

Sylus silently observed the interaction with curiosity. Your passive-aggressiveness was a trait he thought you only reserved for him. You were always nice, to everyone. Seeing you treat Zayne so coldly was like witnessing a beaver play the piano. It was unnatural. 

“Work went as well as expected.” Zayne’s clipped reply left no room for further discussion. The conversation came to do a lull, and you took it as the opportunity to excuse yourself to the bathroom. You immediately beelined away from the table that currently situated your nightmare blunt rotation and toward the women’s bathroom that was positively Zayne-free. 

The bathroom was just as extravagant as the rest of the restaurant but you didn’t get to admire it before you splashed water on your face in an attempt to cool down. There was no way you could last an entire dinner next to Zayne. Maybe you could say you were feeling sick. Probably a bad idea when he’s a doctor. Work emergency wasn’t plausible, your boss was at the table. What if you just ran away? You could live with the shame and embarrassment.

You looked up at the ceiling and silently cursed the heavens for your terrible luck. Seriously, you must’ve been a serial killer in your past life to deserve this fate. It was a never-ending series of unfortunate events, and you were desperate for a break. 

When you eventually left the bathroom, Zayne was standing right outside the door. He startled you, but the moment the shock wore off your face morphed into a deadly glare. 

“Look, I know you think I’m a terrible person but—”

“Monster is the term I’d use, but go on.” You rudely interrupted Zayne. He chose not to acknowledge your comment. 

“I rarely get to spend time with MC and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t ruin her birthday dinner because of me.” It didn’t take long for you to realise that MC must’ve been Miss Hunter’s first name. 

Zayne ruined everything he touched, he needed no help from you. 

“I’m sorry, does the fact that I’m angry at you for letting my mother die put a damper in your dinner plans?”

“Yes it does, actually.” Zayne responded quickly. He either didn’t understand sarcasm or was an even bigger dick than you thought.

“Then might I suggest you take her someplace else. It’s your fault you couldn’t get a table here. Why should I have to suffer because your incompetence knows no bounds?” You couldn’t think of a time you’d insulted someone so much in such quick succession. Dr Zayne brought out the worst in you, but you could reflect on your actions later. Right now you were at war. 

“We are perfectly capable of having an amicable dinner.” 

You rolled your eyes at his condescending tone. “You might be, I’m not that mature.” 

“Y/N. We’re both adults.” He pleaded.

“Bite me.” 

Before Zayne could open his mouth again, Sylus interrupted.

“Everything all good here?” For once in your life, you were grateful for Sylus’s interruption. 

“No.” You said.

“Yes.” Zayne also said, at the exact same time.

“Zayne you should head back to the table. Miss Hunter's waiting for you.” Zayne didn’t think twice before taking the out and you internally flipped off his retreating form.

Sylus grabbed you by the forearm, his grip tight as he dragged you to a secluded part of the rooftop and away from the bathrooms. 

“What’s going on with you?” He asked the moment you stopped moving, his hand still gripping onto your arm like a vice. 

“Can you let go? You’re hurting me.” He quickly released you, his eyes washing over with something you couldn’t recognise as you soothed the part he’d rubbed raw. 

“Why are you acting so childish?” His question would've angered you had you not been angry already.

“I hate his guts.” The response did not help your case, but you weren’t very articulate when you were upset. 

“What did he do to you?” Sylus’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke in a low tone that was laced with danger. You didn’t think too much of his strange reaction, Sylus acting strange was pretty much the only consistent thing in your life lately. 

You gnawed on your lip, unsure of how to respond. Your grievance against the world-renowned doctor was one you’d always kept to yourself. After all, everyone had nothing but praise for the brilliant Dr Zayne. 

“Y/N, if he touched you I’ll—” Your eyes quickly widened in shock at his interpretation.

“No! Nothing like that. It’s just, a few days before my mom died, a heart came in that was a match. But there was this other guy who was younger and needed it just as badly. The policy was that the hospital's medical board would vote on who got the heart and the entire board, Zayne included, unanimously agreed that the heart should go to the other guy.” They said it wasn't personal, that it had everything to do with survival rates, but there was no way to detach personhood from medicine.

You realised that when you said it out loud, your hate seemed unfounded. “I know it wasn’t entirely his fault, but he didn’t even try to give my mom a fighting chance. He didn't say anything to sway them, he just silently agreed. He was supposed to be her advocate.” The frustration began to boil over, and before you knew it there were tears welling up in your eyes.

“God, I spent every last dollar of my paycheque to make sure she got the greatest medical care money could buy. Everyone said he was the best, but when it really mattered, he did nothing for her. I was such an idiot.” There was an uncontrollable fountain of tears streaming down your face, and you were grateful for Sylus’s decision to drag you to somewhere secluded. 

The familiar tendrils of an oncoming panic attack began to wash over you as you began to hyperventilate. No matter how much you wanted to blame Dr Zayne, or the universe, or your shitty luck, the only person you could really blame was yourself. You sent her to that hospital, you convinced her to hold on for a transplant, you spent her last months on this Earth slaving away in another city instead of by her side. There was no way to get that time back. 

“Y/N, look at me. It’s not your fault.” Sylus’s voice was like a beacon of light that led you through the dark tunnel you were trapped in. He cradled your face in his hands, wiping away your tears as they continued to stream down your face. But when your tears showed no signs of slowing, he pulled you into his arms, his hands holding your tear-stricken face against his chest.

He ran his long fingers through your hair as he whispered everything you wanted to hear. "It’s not your fault. It’s okay to hate him. It will get easier."

You weren’t sure how long you spent with your face buried in his chest, but by the time you’d returned to reality, his white dress shirt was slightly transparent where your tears soaked through the material. 

You laughed a little at the sight, and the corners of Sylus’s lips raised ever so slightly at the sound. When he saw you were okay, Sylus began to speak. “Don’t move. I’ll grab your bag and we’ll get out of here.”

Before he could leave you tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Hey, I’m sorry I ruined your dinner.” You truly were. Sylus did not deserve to be subjected to yet another one of your meltdowns, but he seemed to have a habit of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

“No it's my fault, I ruined it by inviting them to join us. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Sylus then manoeuvred through the restaurant toward the nightmare table. When he returned with your bag in one hand and the other outstretched toward you, your heart skipped a beat. Or two. He played the role of the knight-in-shining-armour quite seamlessly, and he looked every bit the handsome prince charming. You tried to remind yourself why it was so dangerous to be attracted to a force like Sylus, but when he smiled at you like you were the only two people in the room, all caution was thrown to the wind. 

_____________

In the spirit of making things up to you, you made Sylus take you to a restaurant of your choosing. It was a hole-in-the-wall dumpling place that charged so little one would question if they were serving real meat. But you never found better dumplings, so you took the risk anyway.

The dynamic was completely subverted as you sat on the table that was slightly sticky with cheap cleaning chemicals. Sylus was the one who looked out of place, his suit was unarguably the most expensive thing in the room and it brought joy to your miserable night to see him out of his comfort zone.

“How did you find this place?” The question was warranted, other than you two, the only other occupants in the restaurant were a few middle-schoolers.  

“I used to come here a lot with my friends in high school.”

“Did they all die from food poisoning?” Sylus seemed proud of his quick-witted joke. You gave him a pointed glare to convey just how unfunny that joke was. 

“Funny, but no. We just drifted apart after we graduated.” The clipped reply shut down any further inquiry. You thought back to the fond memories you had in that restaurant. Things were different when you didn’t yet know the cost of failure; before you knew what you’d be losing. And while everyone may have moved on from this small town in the N109 Zone, you never left. 

“Do you even have any friends?” You choked on your drink at the question. He was genuinely asking and the worst part was, you really didn’t.

Your constant struggle to make ends meet and maintain a high GPA for your academic scholarships made it impossible to have a social life. It didn’t help that you went to a college you couldn’t afford. It was hard to find people to relate to when everyone had grown up with silver spoons. Then after you graduated you landed at Onychinus, and it wasn’t exactly a friendly environment.

“Of course I have friends.” Your lie was a feeble attempt to preserve the last of your dignity. Sylus had seen you at your absolute worst, but there was something extremely dehumanising about letting him know you were insanely lonely.

“Really, who?” His genuine surprise only made your insecurity worse.

“You don’t have to sound so shocked. Plus, you wouldn’t know them.” 

“Try me.” Of course he wouldn’t drop it. When has Sylus ever let something go?

“Well, there’s Mr Demir, and Luke and Kieran, and my newly acquired friend Dr Hunt.” In a desperate attempt to keep up your lie, you pretty much just named all the people you knew. 

“Y/N, that’s the man who sells you your sandwiches, my assistants, and a geologist who sold you a gem.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that no one likes a know-it-all?” 

“I think you should get out more. Maybe tone down the sarcasm and you might just make a friend or two.” Your jaw-dropped in faux shock at his unsolicited advice.

“You’re one to talk, your best friend is a mechanical crow.” You snuck a dumpling off of his plate while he was distracted.

“I don’t need friends, they’re unnecessary burdens.” He took a swig of his beer. You thought he’d burst into flames if he drank anything other than red wine, but he adapted to his surroundings with little effort.

You put a hand on your heart as if in pain and jokingly gave him a solemn look.“Then why would you wish such a cruel fate onto me?”

“Because I hate seeing you this miserable, Y/N.” The amusement from your banter died a quick death at his confession. You thought you kept it together most of the time, though bawling your eyes out in the N109 Zone’s hottest restaurant probably didn’t do that facade any good. But for the most part, you handled the death of your mother relatively well. 

“I’m not miserable. Not all of the time at least. Like right now, I’m only mildly annoyed!” You tried to change the topic the only way you knew how, with humour, but Sylus wasn’t budging.

“You take care of everyone but yourself and all it’s done is isolate you. There needs to be a give and take, sweetheart. People don’t like feeling useless.” He spoke to you softly, as if he was scared the timbre of his voice would cause you to shatter into a million pieces. 

There was a sinking feeling in your stomach that followed his oddly specific guidance. He seemed to know more about you than you thought he did, and you were torn between feeling seen and feeling judged. 

“That’s sound advice. Guess you’ve been reading more magazines.” You were grasping at straws, willing to try anything to get the unwanted spotlight off of your inadequacies. 

“You also need to learn how to accept help without downplaying your problems.” 

“Okay, okay. You sound like my mother. Has her soul possessed you?” There you go Y/N. Play the dead mom card, that’ll work. 

He chuckled at your joke. You knew he found you funny.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Yeah, the manufacturers didn’t include an off-switch. No refunds, sorry.” You stuffed a dumpling in your mouth as the tension subsided. 

“Oh, I’m not returning you, sweetheart. They’ll have to pry you from my cold dead hands.” While you knew he was probably referring to the value you brought his company as his accountant, you couldn’t stifle the butterflies that wreaked havoc in your stomach.

You didn’t move when Sylus’s car stopped outside your house. 

“Thanks for tonight, I had fun. Sorry it didn’t go to plan.” You turned to him after you unbuckled your seatbelt and the tight confines of the car felt even smaller.

“It’s fine, I liked this version of events better anyway.” His low voice reverberated through the small distance between you, nestling in your heart that was beating unhealthily fast. 

“Me too. Next time you take a girl to dinner you ought to let her know if she’s supposed to dress like she’s going to the met gala.” Your advice had a bitter undertone because part of you still wished you could be the only girl he’d take to dinner. 

“I usually do, but this particular girl doesn’t need a fancy dress to be the most beautiful girl in the room.” The candid compliment made the butterflies do summersaults, and while their gymnastics routine continued, you found yourself at a loss for words.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Sylus leaned over the centre console and opened the door for you, completing the chivalrous act of opening the door for you in his own unique fashion. He was so close, all it would take was one small move and his lips could’ve been on yours.

“Goodnight.” You barely got the word out through the sudden bout of breathlessness you were experiencing. And when you were finally encased in the familiar four walls of your home, you thought about every moment you shared with Sylus and how different he seemed from the man you knew before. 

The weekend passed by in a blur. The necklace that looked like a carbon copy of your mom’s was nestled on your neck. A permanent reminder that made ‘Operation Sylus: No More’ infinitely harder to achieve. 

Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him to stop being a dick, because what you thought would be an easy feat was beginning to feel like climbing a mountain with a peak you couldn’t even see. 

You were staring at the list on your notes app on your brand new phone in hopes of searing it into your memory. 

Operation Sylus: No More

The foolproof guide of getting rid of all feelings Sylus related by the end of November. 

Step 1: avoid Sylus and all thoughts of him at all costs.

Step 2: no more funny jokes, his laugh is seriously deadly. 

Step 3: force yourself to remember Miss Hunter in moments of weakness. She’s the one he really wants. 

Step 4: try to find love elsewhere, like the corner shop owner, he may be in his 50s and happily married but he’s kind of a silver-fox!

Step 5: do not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be alone with Sylus for too long.

You violated step 5 that Friday when you let him take you to dinner and you were reaping the consequences of your mistake. There was no way you could survive the free-fall if you couldn't get your heart to obey your mind. The disconnect between the two vital organs might be the thing that kills you.

When you heard something shatter in the hallway, you quickly put your phone down and went out to investigate.

The door opened to Mephisto standing on a side table where an empty vase used to sit. The vase was now on the floor in pieces in front of your feet. 

“You did this on purpose.” You pointed an accusing finger at the bird, but all he did was tilt his head to the side as if he couldn’t understand you. You knew he could understand you perfectly well.

The cold war between you two started in your first week at Onychinus when he would swoop at your head spontaneously for no reason. Sylus told you he did it to everyone he didn’t trust and that he’d be over it in due time, but you were too vindictive to let it slide. 

Several back-and-forth pranks later, the bird seemed to have remembered the tradition you managed to forget. “If this is your way of saying you miss me then you take an awful lot after your owner.” Your words faded as you made your way to the kitchen to find the broom. However, upon your return you saw that the floor was flawless and the door to your office was closed.

You rushed in with unparalleled speed to see your worst nightmare; Sylus leaning against your desk in his usual model-like fashion with your phone in his hand.

Panic coursed through you like never before as you remembered what had been left open on your phone when you set it down and the painful fact that you left it unlocked. 

Prayers for a sinkhole to open up and consume you in that very moment went unanswered as Sylus looked up at you with a smirk on his face.

“Is my laugh really deadly?” He looked amused. 

Come on sinkhole. Anytime now. 

When you didn’t answer, Sylus moved toward you. When he was close enough to touch you, he leaned down to make sure your eyes were on his.

“Your deadline is fast approaching, Y/N. Care for a progress report?” The taunting question made heat rush to your face.

“It was stupid, I wrote it months ago.”

“Then why did you have it open?” 

You couldn’t exactly tell him that his willingness to change his cold and cruel demeanour just to keep you as his accountant revived the feelings you thought were long dead. You definitely couldn’t tell him that the necklace that suddenly weighed down your chest made your heart skip a beat every time you touched it. And there was no way you were telling him that the dinner you shared was the happiest you’d felt in a long time.

“I was going to delete it when I heard Mephisto break something in the hallway.”

“Delete it? Guess you don’t need it anymore.”

“Nope.” You popped the P on the word for emphasis. “Can I have my phone back now?” He placed the device into your outstretched hand. 

“So how do you feel about me now, sweetheart?”

You tried your best to appear unperturbed by his taunting. “Mad at your blatant violation of my privacy.”

“Forgive me. I saw my name on your phone when I went to check in on you and I was curious.”

“Mephisto told you I broke the vase, didn’t he?”

“Don’t deflect. Do you still have feelings for me?”

“No, they’re gone. Can we please drop this? It’s embarrassing.” You lied in favour of self-preservation and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see through your act.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Y/N. Many women confess their love for me every month.” You rolled your eyes at his ardent display of over-confidence and narcissism, though you knew he wasn’t exaggerating.  

“Okay, brace yourself there bachelor. No one said anything about love.” It was true, you never said you loved him. Whether or not you did, well that was a secret you’d take to the grave. 

“So then which feeling are we discussing?” The loaded question came out of his mouth so casually, like someone ordering a latte. A display of power that reminded you of just how little this mattered to him. 

Your feet felt like they were grounded in their place by an invisible force and you were sure your cheeks were beet red. You knew your mouth was slightly agape in shock, but you couldn’t even close it. Meanwhile, Sylus was unfazed, treating your feelings like a game. 

“Since when do you even care about how I feel?” The sudden outburst was accompanied by your hand running through your hair out of frustration.

Sylus’s jaw clenched and for a moment he said nothing. There was no hint of amusement left on his features. 

“You think I don’t care about you?” He seemed irritated by the premise, but you couldn’t figure out why. You thought Sylus was proud of his clear disregard for other people’s emotions. 

“You treated me like gum stuck to the bottom of your boot for years. What reason did you give me to think otherwise?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that I pay you more than my highest ranking footmen. Or that I had Mephisto tail you when you used to bike to and from work to make sure you got home safe. Hell, I invented the lunch budget when I hired you just to make sure you were eating— I even banned mushrooms from my kitchen in case you wanted to eat here. Not to mention the bullshit extra work I’d assign you just so you would stay longer.” 

Choosing not to dwell on the implication of his silent acts of kindness, you interjected. “Hey, I took those tasks seriously!” The twins thought you were crazy when you asked if Sylus was making those assignments up. You knew you were right. 

“Don’t interrupt me.” Your mouth clamped shut at his rather reasonable request. Sylus wasn’t a big talker, so when he monologued, it was important. 

“Your kindness, your humour, it all caught me off guard. No one ever treated me like you did and I had no idea how to feel. The little doodles you sent back to me on the notes I left you delineating tasks? I kept every last one. When Mephisto complained to me about that time you put corn-starch in his water fountain and almost destroyed his wiring, all I could do was laugh. I treated you like I treated all my men because I didn’t want people to find out that you were my weakness.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but the pressure wasn’t budging. There was so much you didn’t know about Sylus, so much you completely misunderstood. This revelation caused a series of chain reactions to go off inside your brain and the weight of what he was trying to say felt suffocating.

You dreamed of a time where Sylus would reciprocate your feelings, but the reality of it was more daunting than you realised.

“All my threats are empty with you, Y/N. You’re the only one who gets away with the attitude you give me. You tell me you crashed a car worth over half-a-million dollars and all I could think about was if you were okay. I even offered to buy your house for way more than it was worth just to get you back. Do you seriously think I don’t care?” 

All sound came to a stifling halt. 

“Wait, you were the ‘developer’?”

The inklings of betrayal wove their way through your skin as the pieces began to fall into place. The timing of the eviction notice, the fact that he’d shown up at your house the day you received it, the way he was so quick to agree to the ridiculous bonus. 

He manipulated you like a puppet on a string and let you think you were in control the entire time.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some traitor.” His audacious demand made your blood boil.

“You are a traitor! How could you do that to me?” You yelled.

“You were going to leave me like I was nothing!” For the first time since you’d met him, Sylus raised his voice to match yours. Your entire body went cold at his vulnerability. He was afraid of being abandoned, and that was a fear you both shared.

“Not seeing you every day made my heart feel like it was being ripped out of my chest. I could barely focus, all I could think about was what you were doing, who you were with. So imagine my surprise when I come to find that while I’m being tortured every minute I’m away from you, you needed more time.

“I knew I was being selfish, I knew that your grief had nothing to do with me, but I’ve never been good at putting my feelings into words. That day in the graveyard when you wouldn’t even look at me, I thought I’d lost you for good. It ate at me like a parasite. I had to get you back and I won’t apologise for not playing fair. There isn’t a rule I wouldn’t break for you, Y/N.”  

It was hard to hate him for what he did when you understood where he was coming from. You were two sides of the same coin. While you overcompensated for the lack of love in your life by becoming the ultimate people-pleaser, he avoided it at every turn, saw it as a weakness. But at the core of every human being was an innate desire to be loved and an inherent fear of being abandoned. 

People couldn’t leave your life if you never let them in. That was a philosophy you saw both your mother and Sylus live by. It was lonely and difficult, and if you had the power of hindsight you would’ve tried harder to convince your mother she was worthy of love. You couldn’t make that same mistake again. 

You loved Sylus, that much was ingrained into the flesh of your heart. For all his rugged edges, he had a way of making things happen that was akin to magic. His determination, his grit, it was admirable.

His intelligence was infuriating, you couldn’t get anything past him. If he received the Greeks’ horse instead of the Trojans, you were sure he’d have seen right through their ruse. 

His desire to make the N109 Zone a better place stemmed from a sense of altruism you could only hope to possess. And when Sylus did things for others, he never expected anything in return. 

But for all his greatest traits he had some difficult ones too. He’d hurt you more times than you could count, and even if he’d changed drastically since your mother’s death, you couldn’t quite trust that he wouldn’t hurt you again.

“You already know how I feel about you.” You confessed. It was no secret you wore your heart on your sleeve, despite your mother’s constant reminders that the world was filled with terrible people who’d take advantage of your candour. You chose to see the good in others, it boded better than the grim lifestyle that came with perpetual pessimism. 

“Then why are you fighting this?” His question came out pained, and it was one you could answer. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Sylus. I loved you even though you insulted me, ignored me, reminded me I was replaceable every chance you got.

“I told myself it was just how you were, that it wasn’t personal. But when you walked out on me in the hospital when I needed you the most, I loved you a little less.”

Sylus felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest, like someone took a needle to his heart. He left that hospital because he wasn’t sure you’d even want him there, and it pained him to see you so distraught over a problem he couldn’t fix. When MC came to him with an important mission in Skyhaven, he saw an out, and like the coward he was he took it. If he knew that you’d lose your mother while he was away, he never would have left your side. 

“When you didn’t call until weeks later, when you showed up only to tell me I was being dramatic for grieving, I loved you even less. Every time you screwed me over you made it easier to live without you.”

It hurt to remember the pain you were in back then, the immense pressure of the burdens you carried. But if there was ever a chance of you and Sylus working out, he needed to know the truth. 

“I’ve only ever loved two people, Sylus, and in one month it felt like I’d lost them both. I still love you, I’m afraid I couldn’t stop if I tried, but I don’t know if I can be more than your accountant right now.” You couldn’t survive another heartbreak, that much was for sure. 

Even though Sylus looked like he was going to be sick, you continued. 

“I thought I was okay with you treating me like everybody else, thought I was strong enough to take it. But when I saw you with Miss Hunter and the softness with which you spoke to her, it broke me. I saw that you were capable of being gentle. You just didn’t think I was a worthy recipient of your kindness.”

He was quick to correct you. “That’s not true, sweetheart. Not at all. She has something I need, something I can’t take with force. It’s why I’ve had to adopt unusual methods. If I’d known it was causing you so much pain I would’ve explained. Fuck, Y/N, you deserve so much more than just my kindness, more than I could ever give you. I can’t even think of a person on Earth who deserves you at all.” 

When Sylus saw the tears begin to slide down your cheeks, he resisted the urge to wipe them away.

“I’ll give you anything you ask for, anything but letting you go. There’s nothing so broken it can’t be fixed, Y/N. You taught me that. Let me fix this.” He tested the waters by taking your hand in his and when you let him, he pulled you into his arms. 

For a moment, the room was silent. You listened to his heartbeat through his chest and it might have been even faster than yours. It felt like deja vu, reminding you of that moment in the restaurant, or that time in his hallway after Zayne’s phone call. Sylus was there to comfort you more often than not, why were you so scared of letting him in?

“I want to believe you, I just don’t know that I can.” Your voice was small, timid. As if you were afraid something you’d say would shatter the sanctity of this moment and you’d find out it was all a dream. 

“I won’t stop trying until you do, sweetheart. You’re it for me, there’s no one else.” He kissed the top of your head with a softness you didn’t know he possessed and the words were like bandages wrapping around the wounds inflicted by your own envy.

In the comfortable silence, Sylus made a vow. “I don’t have regrets — you know that quite well — but I regret the way I treated you. I’ll spend every lifetime repenting for my mistakes, Y/N, and I promise I’ll never let anything hurt you again.” He squeezed you tighter and the comfort his warmth brought you was a welcome change to the cold you lived in all the time. 

Desperate to diffuse the overwhelming angst of the situation, you pulled away from his embrace and clapped your hands together. “Okay then, as of today we commence ‘Operation Sylus: The Redemption'.”

His loud laugh resounded through your office, and it was a sound you’d never get tired of hearing. He grabbed your chin. “Have you always been this corny?” 

“I watch a lot of movies, okay? Now, shake on it.” You shook his hand off your face and held out your hand with an invitation that he instantly accepted. With his warm hand encasing yours, you whole-heartedly hoped this operation would be a success. 

Late December

You assumed the dynamic between you and Sylus would drastically change following your impromptu heart-to-heart. But the changes came in small waves. 

It started with the middle-aged man who silently drove you to and from work with a permanent scowl on his face being replaced by Sylus himself.

Then there was the sticky notes he’d usually place on documents explaining the task and deadline, now with an added addendum.

— That necklace was the best decision I’ve ever made.

— Your hair looks especially nice today.

— Did you switch perfumes? I like it.

— That new lipstick suits you. Your lips are all I can think about. 

You saved all of them in a drawer at your desk. 

He had someone bring you your lunch every day and spent your entire lunch break with you. Somedays you talked until your tongue felt like it was going to fall off, other days you just sat and ate together in silence. And every Friday afternoon, instead of taking you straight home, he’d take you to visit your mother’s grave with a new bouquet in his hands. 

You were glad he was taking things slow. His small gestures made your heart flutter without overwhelming you, but it had been a month since your confrontation, and he didn’t even try to touch you. 

While your inexperience with love, lust and romance never impacted any significant aspect of your life before, it was growing increasingly difficult to wait for Sylus to make the first move. He didn’t want to scare you, that much was understandable. But you were growing angsty waiting for him the tension between you two hit a boiling point.

The glorious plan came to you while you were shopping with Luke and Kieran for Onychinus’s annual Christmas gala. It was a networking event masked under the guise of a holiday celebration where the people hiding in the shadows of the underworld could spend one night communicating on the surface.

Every year, Sylus insisted he couldn’t outsource waiters for the event because of potential security leaks, so you, the twins and a couple other of his staff were forced to fill in as the help. Sylus told you that you wouldn’t have to participate this year, but you began to look forward to the event. It was like an unorthodox Christmas tradition.

Your eyes drifted to the costume section of the party store, and when they landed on a short red Santa’s helper dress, you felt a lightbulb turn on in your head. Maybe you had to give Sylus a little nudge.

“Hey, aren't you guys kind of bored of the slacks and the dress shirts he makes us wear?” You sowed the seed of doubt into your unwilling accomplices.

“Duh. I hate dressing like a butler.” Luke’s eyes continued to scan the aisle for decorations. The hall was professionally decorated, but you added your own little details every year. It made things less drab and it gave the twins an excuse to spend hours in the party supply store. 

“What if we went with Christmas themed costumes this year?” The twins turned to look at you with confusion, but they quickly warmed up to the idea when you pointed at the wall of seasonal costumes.

“I’m Rudolph!” They made their declarations in unison before breaking out into an argument in the middle of the party store.

“Just flip a coin!” You desperately suggested, taking a coin out of your wallet and placing it on your thumb, ready to flip. People were beginning to stare.

“I’m heads!” They said in unison, again.

“Kieran you’re heads, Luke you’re tails.” You assigned them the parts of the coin alphabetically and watched it flip through the air. When it landed in your hands, it displayed tails. You silently hoped they would move on from this unnecessary battle and restore peace to your shopping trip again.

“Sorry Kieran, Luke’s Rudolph.” Kieran complained for the rest of the day about how annoying being an elf was, and how, since he was an inch taller than Luke, it only made sense for Luke to be the elf instead. 

They argued like the siblings you never had, and for all the pain and suffering they caused you, there was no denying you loved having them around. Besides, working for Sylus left the three of you trauma-bonded for life. There wasn’t really an out from this unconventional friendship. 

_________________

You failed to remember to clear the costume idea with Sylus before the gala. He was just so busy trying to organise the event, and you were similarly swamped with ensuring all the invoices were sent out on time to the right vendors. You barely saw each other in the days leading up to the big event.

The dress was shorter on you than you anticipated. Coming up just above mid-thigh, it was nothing like anything you owned in your closet. The little hat it came with was cute though and you pinned it to your hair. The make-up you wore was the same as your everyday makeup, barring the eyeliner you’d spent way too long trying to perfect and your lipstick. 

Other than the dress, you really did look the same as you did most of the time. Would Sylus even notice?

Right on cue, a knock on your door snapped you out of your train of thought, and you took a deep breath before opening it. 

As you expected, Sylus looked unfazed by your choice in attire as you moved out of the doorway to let him in.

“I see we’ve foregone the uniforms this year.” His comment was a welcome distraction from your insecurities.

“Whimsy is part of the Christmas spirit, you know.”

“It’s cute. Did you get that dress from the children’s section?”

The question came so out of left-field it left you were stunned. Once the shock settled in, you suddenly felt self-conscious.

“No… Why? Does it look childish?” You couldn’t help the vulnerability in your voice. 

Sylus closed the distance between you in a few long strides, his hands were on you in an instant. His palm was holding onto your waist the other tracing alone the edge of your dress. 

“Quite the opposite, I’m just wondering why they’d make a dress so short for adult women.” 

“Adult women can dress however they want, Sylus.” You chided.

“I know, but I’ll have my hands full if I’m trying to host this event and take care of the hoards of men that will be chasing after my girl at the same time.” He whispered the words seductively into your ear, the hand on your thigh slipping ever-so-slightly under the dress.

You ignored the warm, fuzzy feeling that bloomed through you at the sound of Sylus calling you his girl.

“There won’t be ‘hoards of men’. This will be the third time I’m working your annual gala and I’ve only ever gotten hit on like four times.” You knew from the way his eyebrows furrowed that you shouldn’t have told him that.

“Four times? Men hit on you four times while I was in the room and you didn’t tell me?” He was clearly angry, his rage unwarranted since it happened right under his nose. 

“I didn’t think you’d care. Most of them were like fifty, anyway!” That was true, and every time one of them placed a hand on your shoulder or your forearm, it made you grimace. 

“If men approached you in long pants and a dress shirt with a plate of refreshments in your hand what do you think they’ll do when they see you in this get up?” He walked you back until you were standing against the wall.

He had a point. Maybe it was too suggestive.

“I can change—”

“No. You never have to do that with me, baby. Just stay where I can see you, alright?” 

“Okay.” You felt a blush paint your cheeks. The tension was bubbling up between you. His hand was searing into your waist, his other one moving dangerously high on your thigh. You really thought this would be the moment he kissed you. But then the warmth of his hands was abruptly gone. 

“Okay. You ready to go?” He held the door open for you. That was it? Frustrated at your lack of results, you silently walked out of your house.

__________________

“Did you see Sylus’s date?”

“Of course, she’s definitely the hottest girl here.”

“I bet she’s had work done.”

“If so, I need the name of her surgeon.”

You eavesdropped on the hushed whispers of a group of women who were gossiping in a corner near the kitchen. The second you walked through the doors of the extravagant event hall, you both went your separate ways and you hadn’t seen him since. So much for not letting you out of his sight. 

All you heard about the entire night was his mysterious date and her envious beauty. He never told you he was bringing one, nor did he ever ask you to fill the spot. But before you could completely spiral, you reminded yourself of Sylus’s promise. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation. 

“Now what’s a pretty girl like you doing working here?” Your train of thought was interrupted by the voice of a man. You turned around, expecting to see one of the many sleazy old men who frequented these events and saw you as an easy target, but all you saw was a young, attractive guy in a three-piece suit. Huh.

“Hors d’oeuvre?” You offered the plate to him in place of a response. 

“No thanks. I’ve had my fill, though I must say, the other servers aren’t quite as easy on the eyes as you.” His eyes shamelessly scanned every inch of you, head-to-toe, and you felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze. 

“Oh, um thanks.” The blush on your cheeks was an unwanted biological reaction, you weren’t used to attention from men within your age range. It wasn't like you thought you were ugly, you were just a bit of a hermit.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” You were about to answer his question when someone did it for you.

“Y/N.” The voice belonged to the man of the hour who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. 

“Sylus, hello. Hors d’oeuvre?” Clearly you were running out of things to say if your default reaction was to offer everyone a snack, but it was hard to find the voice to speak when you saw the girl who had her arms wrapped around his. 

Miss Hunter. You should’ve known. Your eyes passed over her beautiful dress and pinned up hair. She lived up to the rumours, she was definitely the prettiest girl in the room. Next to Sylus the pair reminded you of a renaissance painting. They made sense, and clearly not just aesthetically if he brought her as his date instead of you.

Sylus saw the way your eyes trailed off to MC standing next to him. He saw the self-doubt turn your eyes glassy, and all he wanted to do was whisk you away to a private room where he could show you just how badly he wanted you, and no one else.

But his enemies were in attendance tonight, it was part of the reason he didn’t want you there. Sylus’s only weakness used to be his mortality, and even that was debatable. But now his biggest weakness was tangible, and she wore an adorable Christmas themed dress that made every man in the room brim with desire. Miss Hunter may have been the focus of all the women in attendance, but all the men could talk about was the sexy server in the little red dress. It was driving him insane. 

But MC was a hunter and if he endangered her, she could get out of it unscathed without his help. Their enemies were the same, which made them perfect allies, but it also made their loved ones easy targets. Sylus would never forgive himself if he let someone hurt you. So despite the excruciating pain that coursed through him at your hurt expression, he did nothing to quell your concerns.

But he couldn’t idly stand by and let this man make a pass at you either. It was clear Henry was not aware of Sylus’s newly established no-fraternising-with-the-staff policy. 

“Henry, not distracting my staff, are you?” Sylus directed his attention to his business associate. Henry ran a security company which supplied a large portion of their weaponry from Onychinus. The contract they shared was a substantial source of revenue that Sylus couldn’t afford to compromise. 

“I’m just wondering where you found such delectable staff.” Sylus felt his jaw clench at the way Henry undressed you with his eyes and your consequential discomfort. Fuck the contract, he was going to make that man pay. But he couldn’t inflict his revenge quite yet, so he played nice. 

“Unfortunately my staff are exclusively mine. I’m sure you understand how difficult it is to find loyal help.” Well, at least he tried to play nice. The subtle jab at Henry’s recent whistleblower scandal was a low blow, but he wasn’t above kicking below the belt.

Annoyed and slightly confused by the exchange, you rolled your eyes at the testosterone-fuelled men bickering and cleared your throat.

“I think I’m needed in the kitchen. Nice meeting you, Henry.” You gave him the kindest smile you could muster and gave Sylus no smile at all. It was the least he deserved for blindsiding you with his date. 

“I should check on the catering, excuse me.” Sylus followed you to the kitchen and the second he caught up to you, he pulled you into a nearby storage closet.

There was barely any room for the both of you in there, so you were pressed up against his body. You tried to create some distance between you two, but he just pulled you back in by your waist.

“What are you doing? I’m supposed to be working and you’re supposed to be socialising. We can’t do those things from here.” You berated him quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t really need anyone from the staff discovering you in this compromising position. You’d had enough embarrassment in one night for a lifetime.

“Miss Hunter is just here with me on business.” Sylus’s statement did little to comfort the tumultuous storm in your mind. 

“I don’t care.” In a sense, it was true. It seemed your mind didn’t care whether Miss Hunter was there with him on business or not, it still hurt all the same. 

“Don’t lie to me, I can tell when you’re upset.” Sylus tried to caress your cheek but you pushed his hand away. 

“Okay, fine. I’m upset. Now will you let me leave?” You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but to no avail. His hand squeezed your face as he forced you to face him. 

“If you’re upset, talk to me about it. Don’t antagonise me by flirting with other men. It won’t end well for them.” The fire in his eyes swore retribution and you did not want to be Henry right now.

“I wasn’t flirting!” You tried to defend yourself but you knew he’d see straight through your ruse. 

“That sweet smile of yours is reserved for me and me alone.” There was no way Sylus would’ve let that over-the-top smile slide and this was exactly how you expected him to react, but it only made you more upset.  

“Right, but I just have to make do with sharing you with Miss Hunter.” The irony of the situation was not lost on Sylus, but he had a laundry-list of crimes, hypocrisy was the least of them. 

“I’m all yours, baby. I promise it’s just business.” He sounded sincere, and you trusted him to tell you the truth. Sylus never lied unless it was out of omission, but when you asked him a direct question, he never failed to answer honestly. 

“I can help you with business.” You tried to reason, your palm resting against his pounding heart. 

“Not this kind, sweetheart. I’m just trying to protect you. I need you to trust me.” You trusted Sylus with your life, with your heart. Which was why you knew you wouldn’t like the answer to the question you asked next. 

“Did you sleep with her?” The mere thought of it tasted like acid on your tongue. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of Sylus’s past, but where the other women in his life came and left like the tide, Miss Hunter’s presence was persistent. 

You needed to know just how far they’d gone, even if it might destroy you. 

“Yes. It was one time when we first met in September. Before I realised how I felt for you.” The words pierced straight through you like bullets of radiation. Your palm slowly slipped off of his chest and you diverted your gaze to your heels. “Y/N, you know I only want you. It meant nothing to me.” 

Perhaps it wasn’t the fact that they’d slept together that hurt you so deeply. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, the way she got under his skin. Sylus may love you, but what if he wasn’t attracted to you?

The thought slipped out of you before you could mull it over. “How am I supposed to believe that when you were all over in seconds and you won’t even kiss me?!” 

A hint of recognition flashed through Sylus’s eyes as he realised the catalyst behind your frustration. For some odd reason that he could never figure out, you were insecure. Even though your charm bordered on lethal and your beauty was unparalleled, you still felt inadequate. It perplexed him how someone could look so divine and not be aware of it.

“I haven’t kissed you because I wanted to make sure you were ready, sweetheart. I was worried I’d scare you away, because I’m sure if I got a taste of you I wouldn’t know how to stop.” He sounded strained when he spoke, as if he was recalling his frustration at having to hold back. 

You watched him intently, his words dripped with a desire you both shared. With his body so close to yours, it was hard not to wish he’d just act on his primal instincts. 

“You’re entirely unaware of your affect on me. You have no idea how precarious the string holding me back from insanity has become. When I saw you in that dress, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hold back. But then you'd look up at me with those angelic eyes and I realise I can’t risk losing you.” 

Before you could even think it through, your desire became overwhelming and your lips were on his in an instant.

It was nothing like you expected, nothing like the chaste, sweet kisses you saw in your movies. It was heated, messy, desperate. His lips ravaged yours like a man on death row devoured his last meal. You felt his desire with every movement and all the doubt you had dissipated instantly. His hands were all over you, one softly held on to your neck, while the other held on to your waist like you might disappear. 

His lips moved to your cheek, your jaw and eventually the sensitive skin on your collarbone. When he bit a particularly sensitive part of your neck, you let out a whine. You hoped he hadn't given you a hickey. His face came up to yours as he looked at your lips which were red from the impact and the desire running rampant in your eyes. It might’ve been the most beautiful you’d ever looked.

“Well? I’m still here.” You whispered against his lips before giving him a chaste peck.

Sylus knew you weren’t just talking about this moment. You never left, even when he gave you a million reasons why you should. He didn’t know what he did to deserve such luck, but he knew he’d never give you a reason to walk away from him ever again.

“We should get out of here.” Somehow you knew he didn’t just mean the storage closet. He shifted to lead you out but you quickly stopped him.

“You can’t leave your own party! What about your date?” As much as the idea of MC hanging off his arm made your skin crawl, it wasn’t right to just leave her alone. 

“She’ll be fine. The only woman I care about is right in front of me, and I want to do so much to her than kiss her in a storage closet.” There was an underlying promise in his tone, and you felt the slightest bit of fear that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

“You’ve lasted this long, what’s one more night?” Your last ditch effort to escape the dangerous situation was unsuccessful. 

“Sweetheart, I can't wait another second.” He gave you a soft, gentle kiss that conveyed his fraying restraint. Your fear felt inconsequential when he was with you, you knew you could trust him wholly with every part of you. 

So, when he led you out of the storage closet and all the way to his bedroom, you never once felt scared. Or insecure. Or inadequate. Sylus worshipped you like you were his salvation and he never once let you doubt yourself again.

Later that night, as you laid in his bed underneath his covers, staring over at his peaceful sleeping expression, you realised he was your salvation too.

Christmas Day

“What’s the surprise?” You asked the same question for the umpteenth time. 

“Just be patient, we’re almost there.” You let Sylus lead you through what you thought was a building while you obediently kept your eyes shut. Eventually your feet came to a halt, and you were bursting with anticipation. 

“Alright, open your eyes.” When you opened them you were in the living room of a charming beach house. It was so bright it took your eyes a while to adjust, but when they did you noticed that it was decorated with splashes of your favourite shade of yellow. The large balcony doors opened to the sight of a familiar beach, and you felt a range of emotions wash over you all at once. Sadness, nostalgia, yearning. 

“Merry Christmas, baby.” Sylus’s voice behind you snapped you back to reality. 

“What is this place?” The awe in your voice could not be concealed.

“It’s yours. I know how much you hate being on the beach, but I also know it meant a lot to your mother. From this balcony it’ll be like you’re right there without actually being there.” He sounded almost nervous while presenting his gift to you, worried you might hate it. But there wasn’t a word that could describe the pure gratitude and love you felt for the man standing in front of you. 

“You bought me a house on my mother’s favourite beach?” The disbelief in your voice was almost tangible. 

“Yeah.”

“Sylus, all I got you was a pocket watch!” You thought that since you were both not very big on Christmas, you would exchange small gifts. Clearly small wasn’t a word Sylus kept in his vocabulary. 

“You gave me so much more than that.” The suggestion in his voice did nothing to soothe your guilt. 

“This is too much.”

“Y/N, you’re more familiar with my assets than I am, if this made a significant dent in my bank account I think you would’ve noticed when I bought it a month ago.” 

“You’ve had this for a month?” The shock persisted, but he was right. His expenses ranged from a box of paperclips to the purchase of a two-hundred-million dollar industrial complex. 

“Yes, I bought it the first time you asked me to take you to the beach after work.”

“But what if we didn’t work out?” A month ago that seemed like a palpable possibility, but now you couldn’t imagine your life without Sylus in it.

“I’d find a way to trick you into taking it anyway.” 

You all but rolled your eyes at the memory of his less-than-graceful plan to acquire your house until you ended up working for him again. 

“Right, of course. You’re quite good at that I hear.” 

“I’m good at many things, I’ll remind you later.” He drawled against your ear, but before you could force him to act on his promise he spoke up again. “For now, there’s one more surprise.” 

You let Sylus lead you out to the balcony with his hands on your shoulders, driving you forward. He stood behind you, his chest to your back. He pointed to a hill on the left of the house where a beautiful willow tree sat atop the beach on a cliff.

“I bought that plot of land too. I don’t want to overstep, but if you’d like, we could move your mother here. Have her final resting place be at the place she loved the most.” His voice kept you anchored as memories of your mother threatened to pull you away. It still filled your chest with overwhelming sadness when you thought of her, but the thought that she could spend forever in the place that brought her the most joy filled you with relief. You didn’t get to give your mother much, but at least Sylus helped you give her this. 

You couldn’t stop the tears streaming down your face if you tried.

Sylus had come a long way from that day at the graveyard, an even longer way from the day you met him. The fact that he grew to care about your mother as much as you did made your heart swell with love for him that expanded every day. Something you didn’t even think was possible.

“She would love that.” Sylus wrapped his hands around your waist, placing an ever-so-gentle kiss on your temple. “I wish you could’ve met her when she was alive, you would’ve loved her.” They were both the strongest people you knew, and it pained you that they never got to meet. 

“I’m sure I would have. After all, I am a huge fan of her work.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at his cheesy joke. You were rubbing off on him, that was for sure. He peppered kisses all over the side of your face at the sound of your joyful laugh and you had to squeeze out of his grasp to make him stop. 

While you wished you didn’t have to lose someone so important to you to gain another, things always had a weird way of working out. Your future was still murky, but what you did know for sure was that ’Operation Sylus: No More’ could officially be declared a massive failure. And even though the physical hole in your heart still existed, the proverbial one shrunk to half it’s size; and you had the silver-haired man with the stone-encased heart of gold to thank for that. 

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Sorry if you were tagged but didn't get a notif, I think some of you might have your tags off because your blog wasn't coming up for me >:c

[ssa-dado]

Cat Equals Sign Of Integration

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff, smut (implied) Summary: Aaron, ever the strategist, decides that a little wine might help soften the blow of figuring out with you how to tell the team you’re dating. A solid plan - except for one tiny flaw: wine makes him a whore. Warnings: +18, MINORS DNI Hotch is a touch starved whore, a few cuss words here and there, wine gets a bit into both of your heads. Word Count: 5k Dado's Corner: Did I hallucinate this while working on one of the many requests still on my to-do list, only to realize halfway through that it was completely derailing from the main plot - but too cute to abandon? Yes. Is this fun? You tell me (pretty please).

masterlist(s)

One of the many rules you and Aaron had in your relationship was that if you cooked for date night, he was the one doing the dishes.

His idea.

You had been opposed to it at first - not because you minded, of course. You were actually a huge fan of grown men handling household chores without whining like toddlers about how it might somehow demasculate their poor, fragile egos.

No, you were opposed because you didn’t want him doing it out of some sense of obligation.

It took you a while to accept that Aaron wasn’t doing this because he owed you - he was doing it because he wanted to.

Because that was just… Aaron.

Ever the caregiver, always looking for ways to make life easier for the people he loved. He could give you the world and still come to you like a wounded dog, begging for forgiveness because he thought he wasn’t enough.

It was infuriating - for all the deep psychological reasons you could analyze for hours, but also for a much pettier one: when it was his turn to cook, instead of letting you do the dishes like the so-called rule dictated, he just… did them anyway.

And thus, the noble Mr. Clean - brave warrior of dish duty, his arms submerged in treacherous, frothy depths - found himself utterly helpless against the sudden, most dreadful buzzing of his phone.

A cruel twist of fate, indeed!

Stranded, defenseless, bound by duty to his porcelain captors, he could do nothing but stand there, a tragic figure of great importance, cruelly denied his right to immediately bestow his undivided attention upon whatever poor soul dared summon him.

Oh, the agony! The injustice! How swiftly the mighty are humbled… by a sink full of bubbles.

That was because, logically, if even a single drop of water touched his phone, he would instantly lose all of the very important, highly classified FBI secrets stored inside. Of course, phones couldn't possibly be waterproof.

Ha, imagine?! What a concept.

“Who is it?” Aaron asked, still scrubbing at your wine glass like he was trying to erase its entire existence.

Which – by the way - was completely pointless, considering that in less than five minutes, he planned on refilling it with some more. A different wine, yes. But for God’s sake, you weren’t going to die if the last few drops of white mixed with the red.

…What a fussy man.

“Penelope,” you replied, admiring the view.

What a view, really. That man was all legs and no ass, and you were finally learning to appreciate it. 

“Ignore it,” he said, not even turning around.

Unfortunately for him - and for the HR department still blissfully unaware that their most serious, by-the-book boss was fraternizing with a subordinate - you were a profiler.

The U.S. government literally paid your bills every single month because you were exceptionally good at reading people.

And the way he answered? Yeah, that wasn’t the tone of a man casually dismissing an unimportant text. No, that was the tone of a man caught red-handed, scrambling for plausible deniability.

Embarrassed. Secretive. Suspicious. Frankly, if you didn’t already know what he was hiding, you’d be halfway to slapping cuffs on him. Wouldn’t even be the first time.

And so you read it – out loud.

Penelope Garcia, 7:56 PM:

hotch sir hotch bossman sir, i am DYING please tell me if you found out who her mystery boyfriend is i am suffering!!!!!!!! i know you know. i know it in my heart. if you can’t say it just give me a hint. a tiny one. a cryptic riddle. a blink. i will take anything.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

By her, of course, she meant you - because despite a few months of keeping your relationship under wraps, you still hadn’t gotten around to telling the team. Your colleagues. Your friends. Your unwanted, overly nosy adopted children.

That their elusive "mystery boyfriend" was, in fact, your mutual boss.

You were going to tell them. Eventually.

Didn’t know when. But you would.

Then again, it wasn’t like you were surrounded by some of the best profilers in the country, trained to pick up on the slightest behavioral shift.

It’s not like the second two incredibly touch-starved people like you and Aaron started walking around with even a fraction of happiness, that wouldn’t immediately raise suspicions.

…Except, apparently, it hadn’t.

Because somehow, the team had only managed to land on half the conclusion: you were seeing someone.

But Aaron? Not even a blip on their radar.

It was almost impressive, really. The answer was so obvious that they had discarded it entirely, still wandering around in the dark, trying to piece together a puzzle that was sitting right in front of their faces.

Just like Penelope was doing now, so desperate for some reason that she was straight-up asking him outright - when not that long ago, she still thought twice before even making a dirty joke in his presence.

And so, you got up, walked over to Aaron, and held the phone directly under his nose. “What does this mean?”

He squinted at the screen, then at you. “Oh, honey, I don’t know. She always sends me that - I don’t understand what exactly equals the sign of integration”.

…What?

You were suddenly just as confused as he was.

He blinked at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised in that utterly sincere, slightly bewildered way of his. “That sign before it,” he said, completely lost. “It looks Chinese. Thought you knew Chinese, sweetheart.”

…What?

Oh, for the love of God.

If this man hadn’t already seen the absolute worst horrors the world had to offer, you would fight for his innocence with your nails, your teeth, and - if absolutely necessary - one of the worst shooting records ever logged in the Bureau.

You looked at the screen again.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

Oh.

Oh, that’s what had confused him.

“Aaron,” you said gently, doing your absolute best not to kiss him right then and there, “that is a cat.”

You sighed, then pointed at the message again. “By the way, the ‘sign’ in the middle is in Korean, not Chinese.”

He looked at the screen again - then back at you. “…Cat equals sign of integration?”

“No, honey,” you said, barely suppressing your smile, tapping the little text emoji. “It’s just a cat.”

He studied it for another second. “Oh.”

There. That did it. You gave in. Leaned in and pressed a loud smooch to his cheek.

At least your dignity was still intact - he had no idea why you’d done it, just assumed it was one of those spontaneous bursts of affection that came with being hopelessly in love.

Honeymoon phase truly did work wonders.

“Do you think I can have the cat too?” he asked, grabbing the bottle of red and a corkscrew.

That was a trap.

Because Aaron Hotchner still signed every single text he sent.

And while it wasn’t an issue when he was sending something standard -

Lawyer, 6:17 PM:

They found a new body, we’re gathering at the precinct in 30.

A.H.

- it became a lot more unsettling when he sent the filthiest, most depraved things you’d ever read, only to end them with that stiff little A.H. like he was dictating official Bureau correspondence.

Lawyer, 11:51 PM:

Sweetheart, if only these stupid walls weren’t so thin, I’d have you right here with me, bent over, face pressed against this mattress, making you come so many times you’d forget your own name. At least three. Maybe four, if I’m feeling generous.

A.H.

So now, standing in his kitchen, watching him pour wine like he hadn’t just permanently scarred you with his painfully bureaucratic approach to sexting, you knew that if you admitted he could simply copy-paste that ‘cat equals integration sign,’ it would only be a matter of time before you were subjected to something truly traumatizing, like -

Lawyer, very-late-office-hour PM:

It’s your fault I’m getting distracted with the paperwork, because I’m still thinking about how good you tasted last night while sitting on my face. God, I can still feel your thighs shaking, you were so sweet for me, honey, so fucking perfect.

P.S. How many reports do you still have left? Because I’ve been thinking about having you on my tongue again before the night is over. I think I’ve got about an hour or so left but then I’m all yours.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

Yeah. No. Absolutely not.

That man could not be trusted with the cat.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades as your fingers brushed over his back. “I don’t think you can get it. She must have programmed it herself into her phone.”

You truly hoped you were as convincing as he was clueless about text etiquette.

“It’s a pity,” he sighed, both of your wine glasses in hand as he made his way to the couch. “I would have loved to send you the cat.”

…Of course he would. Smug ass.

But as the words left his mouth, something shifted in him - just barely. A pause that didn’t usually belong there... weird.

Still, you followed, watching as he settled in, patting the cushion beside him with a half-smile. “Come here, sweetheart.”

A misleading gesture, considering his legs were very much spread - a much clearer invitation. At least, that’s how you chose to interpret it.

Because you could swear - those legs spoke to you. Called to you. So you slid right into your rightful seat - his lap.

…Would have been rude not to answer.

“Back to Garcia,” he said, resting a hand on your thigh as he handed you your painstakingly polished wine glass - so clean, so immaculately spotless, that the red wine inside looked redder than red. A real masterpiece, Mr. Clean. “She doesn’t seem to be letting up about finding out who you’re dating… This is the fourth message this week.”

You raised a brow, taking a sip of your wine. “Well, she’s second only to you when it comes to being nosy about gossip.”

Aaron exhaled, shaking his head, that same small half-smile back on his lips.

That particular smile.

The one he used when he was trying to convince someone he was fine when, in reality, he was not - when he was trying to reassure everyone else while simultaneously refusing to admit, even to himself, that something was eating him alive.

Oh, now you knew what this was about.

He had definitely practiced this conversation in his head - refined it down to the perfect phrasing. Measured. Logical. Reassuring.

A version so well-rehearsed, so carefully constructed, that he’d convinced himself first before trying to convince you - that this didn’t scare him.

That this was just another rational step forward.

That it was fine.

Because if he could make it sound easy, maybe it would be.

Maybe it would give you something solid to lean on, because the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you were standing on shaky ground with someone just as fractured as he was.

But in the end, even the best-laid words couldn’t withstand the weight of his emotions - whether he liked it or not, even rocks are meant to erode.

“I think it’s time we come clean to the team,” he admitted, completely veering off-script - though, of course, he still made sure to soften the blow with a kiss to your temple.

Not that it made much difference. You both knew this moment was inevitable, but somehow, you’d managed to delude yourselves into thinking that if you just kept putting it off, the perfect time would miraculously appear.

At first, you’d delayed it until things were official.

Then, because you needed to be sure this could work in the long run.

Then, because you wanted time to just enjoy each other.

Truthfully? If it were entirely up to the two of you, you’d probably keep postponing it indefinitely - at least until the day you were both retired, far away from any fraternization rules or painfully awkward team dynamics.

Unless, of course, your eyes had been deceiving you all along, or life decided to be cruel and rip this happiness away from you before you ever even got the chance. All you could do was hope not.

Aaron sighed, watching you carefully. “So, how do you want to do this?”

At least he could take comfort in the fact that his very specific plan of having wine while discussing this was still intact - especially since the very large sip you took the second he asked hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He huffed a laugh.

Yeah.

This was going to be fun.

“Are we sure we have to?” You groaned, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart. It’s the only way to keep them from getting the satisfaction of figuring it out first and do this our way…”

It was his turn to take a long sip now… he surely wasn’t thrilled about the lack of an actual game plan.

“…Still need to figure out what exactly we mean by ‘our way,’” he admitted. “But, you know… that’s what these are for.”

He tapped a finger against his temple, then against yours, clearly implying that your very skilled, highly trained profiler brains would surely work this out.

You, however, were placing your bets on your problem-solving skills drastically improving after a few more glasses of wine, because right now?

“We are so fucked,” you commented.

Aaron clinked his glass against yours, deadpan. “Completely.”

You both took long, slow sips of wine like it might somehow provide divine intervention.

It didn’t. You were indeed left pretty much alone in this.

You sighed, setting your glass down on the coffee table. “Well, you definitely have the face of someone who already has a plan...” You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “...a very handsome face.”

Cheesy. But deserved.

Aaron chuckled. “I believe…” He kissed you on the cheek – twice - before setting his own glass down too. “…We should tell them directly. Get ahead of it. Lay it out as matter-of-factly as possible.”

“Matter-of-factly?”

He nodded, all serious, like he hadn’t just suggested the worst possible approach.

“Sweetheart…” You pinched his cheek, making him scrunch his nose, hoping – more like praying - that it would snap him out of whatever fantasy land of logic, reason, and good intentions he was apparently living in.

“If we tell them directly, Penelope will throw an actual partypersonally design matching t-shirts, and have the entire team wear them.” You paused, leveling him with a look. “And you know it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I know.”

“Emily and Derek will immediately start making jokes like two middle schoolers who just learned what sex is and will not let us breathe.”

“I know.”

“JJ will be quiet but then ask all of a sudden, ‘So when’s the wedding?’ which will restart the chaos all over again.”

“I know.”

You turned to face him, deadly serious. “Spencer-”

“-Will hit us with a full statistical analysis of workplace relationships,” Aaron finished, exhaling sharply, already bracing himself.

Because there was only one team member left to account for - the worst of them all.

“And… oh God… Dave…”

And with that horrifying realization, he did the only logical thing a man in his position could do - he face-planted directly into your chest with a dramatic, muffled groan of pure defeat.

You blinked down at him, amused. “Honey…”

Why was he even so touch starved like that?

“All I ask,” came his muffled voice, still very much nestled between your breasts, “is five minutes of peace.”

You snorted. “You do realize this isn’t exactly discouraging me from making fun of you, right?”

He sighed again. “You do realize that if you keep laughing, you’re just shoving them further into my face?”

…Damn him and his irritating ability to state the obvious.

You sighed, fingers absentmindedly combing through his short spikes of hair. “…So we’re back to square one.”

Aaron exhaled, still very much face-first in his chosen safe haven. “Unfortunately.”

You hummed, “Okay, hypothetically, if we just… never tell them, how long do you think we could get away with it?”

That was so absurd that it actually made him lift his head. He blinked at you, utterly offended by the suggestion.

“I am not spending the next decade pretending I don’t stare at your ass every time you walk away.”

…Alright. That was definitely the wine talking.

In vino veritas, as the Romans said. Wine makes people say dumb shit: the truth.

“Wow. Didn’t know you were a poet, Hotchner.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t pretend you’re above it, because I catch you every time you drift off during briefings just to stare right at-”

“Alright, alright,” you cut him off, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could fully call you out... he was not happy about it. “We’re both shameless…"

You needed an exit strategy. Fast.

You reached for his wine glass over the coffee table. “Well, at least the bright side of telling them is that we won’t have to schedule our coffee breaks in advance anymore and pretend to look surprised when we see each other.”

And all of that was just for one single moment.

The fleeting brush of fingertips as you handed him the cup you always poured for him.

The way his hand was always warmer than yours, despite the fact that you were the one holding the scalding mug, as if basic thermodynamics simply did not apply to Aaron Hotchner.

And if it was one of those days, sometimes, there’d be a little extra something.

A longer touch.

Eye contact that lingered just a second too long.

A slow sip from his cup while still holding your gaze, and suddenly, it felt indecent - like something you definitely shouldn’t be doing in broad daylight, let alone in a federal building.

And now - here, in the comfort of his apartment, with nothing and no one to stop you - he reached for the wine glass you were offering, except… he wasn’t actually reaching for the glass.

He was just holding your hand.

Aaron chuckled, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles. “I think we’re holding onto this touch just a little too long,” he murmured, nuzzling into you, his breath warm against your ear. “Might start looking suspicious.”

Didn’t he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, also some-” you started, or at least tried to, because as if everything else wasn’t enough, now he was kissing just behind your ear, his lips just brushing the sensitive skin there, warm, and slow, and wet and… God…

Okay. Okay.

Maybe it was the wine.

Maybe it was the fact that you were always kind of a little bit obsessed with him.

Either way, the result was the same: you really, really wanted him right now.

You sighed, tilting your head to grant him a little more access - but not too much, or you might actually end up using the full length of his three-seater couch instead of stubbornly remaining curled up in the same cramped two-foot space you’d unofficially claimed as your own. Ergo - going horizontal with him instead of just being seated on his lap.

“I thought we were having a serious discussion,” you murmured, though the breathy edge to your voice wasn’t exactly helping your case.

Aaron hummed in response, slowly dragging his lips from behind your ear down along the curve of your jaw, pressing a kiss at the hinge. “We are.” Another kiss. “What were you starting to say, sweetheart?”

And another one.

You tried to think. Really, you did.

But it was getting increasingly difficult with his mouth still very much on your skin, moving towards places that were making it exponentially harder to form coherent thoughts.

You would’ve made a mental note to never wear anything that resembled a tank top around him again, if only you had the actual brain capacity to form any notes right now.

“Aaron-”

Aaron smirked against your skin. “You were saying?”

…Blank. Absolutely blank.

Your brain stalled for a solid three seconds before mercifully rebooting.

“I-” You licked your lips, cleared your throat. “Penelope.”

That, thankfully, was enough of a keyword to get him to back off - though, the second he did, you already desperately missed the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

He tilted his head, “Penelope?”

You swallowed. “She’s… gonna be beaming.”

Aaron blinked at you. “Beaming.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, because God, he was too cute when he was confused like this. “Her and Kevin have been desperate for another couple to go out with. Ever since JJ and Will stopped leaving the house because they’re too busy baby-proofing every square inch of their lives.”

Aaron’s brows furrowed slightly. “And by ‘go out with,’ you mean double dates.”

You hummed, fingers grazing his cheek. “Mmm. Yeah. Double dates.”

Aaron didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, absolutely not.”

You blinked, pulling back slightly. “Wait, what?”

His face was resolute. “I’m not doing double dates.”

You squinted at him. “Okay, but why?”

And that’s how you learned that if there was one thing your boyfriend hated - more than messy paperwork, more than delayed flights, more than the Bureau’s budgeting meetings - it was double dates.

Not specifically with Penelope and Kevin. God, no. He was practically the puppet master of their relationship in the first place. Just… double dates in general.

“They’re impractical,” he said.

You snorted. “What do you mean?”

Aaron sighed. “They are a waste of time. You sit there, and for the first fifteen minutes, it’s fine. The usual small talk, polite conversation…”

You nodded, barely biting back a grin. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Honestly, this just sounded like some classic Aaron Hotchner being the most adorable introvert to ever exist.

He shot you a look, deadly serious. “It’s a trap.” You nearly cooed. Adorable. “Because at some point, you end up talking one-on-one with someone from the other couple. And right when the conversation is actually getting interesting-”

He suddenly paused.

His hand started at your shoulder, innocent enough - until it wasn’t, until it drifted lower, fingertips skimming down until they found your thigh, before sliding inward, squeezing your soft flesh there.

“See?” Aaron murmured, voice deceptively casual. “It starts off innocently. A hand on the shoulder…”He angled his fingers just a notch further up your upper thigh. “…Then the thigh. Then-”

He leaned in, kissing you just at the corner of your mouth.

"A little kiss here," he murmured, lips barely brushing your skin.

Then another - softer, lingering just at the very edge of your lips.

"A little peck there."

Okay.

Ahem.

For a man who hated double dates, he was making a very strong case for them.

This was clearly foreplay.

Had to be foreplay.

You chose to interpret it as foreplay.

So, naturally, just as you were about to pull him in properly - to finally taste the wine on his lips – he pulled back.

Mixed signals whore.

“And then,” he continued, and you swore his voice had gotten even lower - sluttier, if you were being honest - "it escalates.”

...Wine-induced yapper. "Because one couple decides a little peck isn’t enough, so they turn and start devouring each other’s faces… in public.”

The wine that was in your system, instead, suggested you should have him biblically, right here, right now, on his couch.

“Care to demonstrate this part too?” You licked your lips, tilting your head.

Aaron sighed “Honey.” You knew you were in trouble the moment he smirked. “You’re demonstrating my point…”

Your stomach dropped.

“…You want more.” Aaron tutted, shaking his head, feigning disappointment. “Of course you want more. A chaste kiss isn’t enough. How could it be, sweetheart?”

Hell yes you wanted more.

Badly.

You might have even nodded without meaning to.

“But imagine if this was happening in public. In front of two other people. What about them?” he murmured, tilting his head, voice dropping into something dark, silky, dangerous. “In front of two other people.”

You swallowed, very much not thinking about them right now.

“Because at that point, they only have two choices: they either sit there - third-wheeling, watching - or…” His hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying wide over your bare waist, gripping, pulling you that much closer. "… they start doing it too."

Your breath hitched. “Aaron-”

"With just a kiss, it creates an environment," he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear, "where both couples get competitive. Where they start copying each other - but making it more…"

He dragged his nose along the curve of your jaw, the ghost of his lips tracing just behind it. "Passionate."

A teeth-grazing kiss against your pulse.

A slow drag of his lips down the column of your throat, before he made his way back up, tilting your chin up with his fingers just so, forcing you to look at him.

And God, that look.

"More tongue," he continued, letting you see it first - his own darting out, wetting his lips just before he brushed them over yours.

Not kissing.

Not yet.

“More biting.” Aaron caught your lower lip between his teeth, pulling just enough to confirm what you already knew -

He tasted like red wine.

Rich. Dark. Addictive.

And so did you.

“More touching.” His hand drifted, fingertips just skimming over your ribs, teasing along the underside of your breast - so close, so close, before he let it trail lower again, just as his lips ghosted over your ear.

"More sounds."

You barely bit back the breathy, desperate little moan clawing its way up your throat because -

Aaron shoved you off his lap.

In one fluid motion, he shifted, pressing you back into the couch, caging you in beneath him, his arms bracketing either side of your head.

His knee slotted between your thighs, pressing up just slightly - just enough to make you gasp, make your hips twitch without thinking.

You were pretty sure now that this was, in fact, foreplay.

“At that point,” he murmured, lowering himself, pressing his body against yours, pinning you down with nothing but his weight, “if you’re already getting ideas…”

Aaron rolled his hips against you, his knee shifting just enough to have you sucking in a sharp breath. “…it’s better off just staying home. Because at least then,” he whispered, “we can do this.”

And then he kissed you. Properly.

Deep and hungry, pressing you down into the cushions until you moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer as one of his hands slipped under your shirt.

“You-” you swallowed, trying to find words, but he stole them from you, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “You expect me to believe this is why you hate double dates?”

“I expect you to understand,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of your neck, “that if I ever go on one…” he nipped at your pulse, making you gasp. “…I’ll be thinking about this the entire time.”

Then - click.

The sound of the button of your pants being undone, followed shortly by the hiss of your zipper. You felt the warmth of his fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, resting over your hip bone.

Well, fuck.

“You’ll be sitting across from me,” he continued, voice so unfairly composed, so infuriatingly smooth, “pretending to listen to whatever they’re taking about.”

He tilted his head, kissing along your collarbone, then much lower. You made a mental note to always wear anything resembling a tank top in his presence from now on.

“And the entire time…” his fingers dipped just slightly beneath the elastic of your underwear.

You shuddered. “Aaron.”

He hummed, pleased - so deeply pleased - before finally sliding lower, his fingers finally brushing right where you needed him most.

You whimpered.

“I’ll be remembering,” he murmured, “exactly how you sound right now.”

Your back arched into his touch, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as his fingers moved.

“And how you look,” he added, his lips brushing the curve of your breast, “when you fall apart for me.”

Your breath hitched-

And then.

Then-

He stopped.

Just - stopped.

His hands left you completely as he leaned back, settling onto his knees above you, looking far too pleased with himself.

You gaped at him, betrayed. “Are you kidding me?”

Aaron just smirked, gaze flicking over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your uneven breathing, the way your body was still desperately aching for him.

“See?” he shrugged, voice so damn smug. “This is why I hate double dates.”

How funny would it be if these ended up being his last words?

You huffed, adjusting yourself on the couch, crossing your arms like you weren’t still ridiculously turned on and very annoyed about it. “Alright, you know what? Fine. No need to suffer through a double date if we just… conveniently wait to tell the team about us until after JJ and Will start going back out with Penelope and Kevin.”

Aaron smirked.

At least you’d both come to an agreement - the exact same procrastination tactic you’d been using, just with a new and improved excuse attached.

“…Smart girl.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, still breathing heavily, still so deeply unsatisfied, as Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple, then stood, stretching his arms.

“I’ll clean the wine glasses,” he mused, already heading toward the kitchen. “And then I’ll be back to you.”

You stared at him.

He paused, glancing at you over his shoulder, smirking.

You huffed, sarcastic, “glad we could work this out.”

You were not glad. Not at all. Especially because not even a full minute later, your phone buzzed with a text.

From him.

From Mr. Clean himself, who was currently just a couple rooms away from you.

Lawyer, 8:43 PM:

Sweetheart, I hope you're ready, because I’m going to spread you out on that couch and fuck you so deep, you’ll still feel me when you sit at your desk tomorrow.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

"Garcia just told me how to get the cat," came his voice from the kitchen - so damn smug you could hear the smirk in it, followed the sound of his footsteps getting closer.

Before you could turn, before you could say anything, he was there - leaning in from behind the couch, arms sliding around you, caging you in, whispering into your ear -

"It was just a simple copy-paste."

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe2

[beautifulplaceofyouth]

AN APPLE A DAY KEEPS THE DOCTOR AWAY

Synopsis - Your boyfriend is tired after a long day of work and you have been impatient all day, just to have him inside you again but then the apple foreplay starts. You don’t know if you want to ride him harder or smack him with that in the face. (6.8k) Pairing - Caleb!possessive!boyfriend x Needy!Reader Warnings - (nsfw 18+) He’s being playful sadistic tease, lap riding, orgasm edging, unprotected raw vaginal sex, a lot of kisses, creampie, a little handjob, slight nipple play, apple foreplay, dirty talk, pet names(baby, buttercup, pipsqueak, brat, pretty girl, little seagull, Miss Apple) - He is sweet but such a big flirt, I can't. - Their sexual chemistry is off the charts here. Don’t judge, okay? (And sorry Zayne, the apples are really keeping you away while Caleb is in charge-sorry, had to say it, haha) Hope you will enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it!

The warmth of the shower still clung to your skin as you padded through the apartment, his oversized t-shirt doing little to conceal the anticipation thrumming beneath. You loved the way his clothes swallowed you whole, a tangible reminder of his presence even when he wasn't there. But he was home now, or at least, that's what the click of the automatic lock had signaled, a sound that usually heralded a greeting, a kiss, a moment of reconnection.

But silence hung in the air, a stark contrast to the usual boisterous energy he carried. Frowning, you followed the sound of your own bare feet against the polished floor, drawn towards the bedroom.

The sight that greeted you stopped you in your tracks.

Caleb was a study in contrasts. The crisp lines of his uniform, usually immaculate and imposing, were softened by the loosened tie and the undone buttons of his shirt, revealing a glimpse of the powerful chest beneath. He sat on the edge of his bed, legs spread wide, a posture that usually radiated confidence and control. But his head was bowed, his eyes closed, and the lines etched around his mouth spoke of exhaustion. He looked utterly drained.

"Caleb?" you murmured, your voice soft, laced with concern. He was a man of steel, a protector, a force to be reckoned with, but even steel could bend under pressure.

His eyes fluttered open at the sound of your voice, a flicker of recognition sparking within the deep purple depths. A ghost of a smile touched his lips, a slow, weary curve that tugged at your heart.

"Hey, baby," he rasped, the sound rough around the edges, a testament to a long and arduous day.

Instinct took over. You moved towards him, drawn by an invisible cord of affection and worry. Dropping to your knees on the soft rug by the bed, you nestled between his legs, pressing your cheek against the solid warmth of his thigh. The familiar scent of him, a mixture of leather, gun oil, and a hint of something uniquely Caleb, filled your senses, grounding you. Your hands gripped his other leg, anchoring you to him, seeking reassurance in his physical presence.

"You okay? You look tired," you asked, your voice a soft murmur against the fabric of his uniform.

His gaze softened, the weariness momentarily receding as his eyes focused on you, dressed in his old t-shirt. It was several sizes too large, completely swallowing your frame, the fabric draping around you in a way that highlighted your delicate features. The effect was undeniably cute, a disarming vulnerability that contrasted sharply with the fierce, independent woman he knew you to be. It made him forget, for a fleeting moment, the exhaustion that clung to him like a second skin. The sight of you, so sweetly nestled against him, so readily offering comfort, stirred a primal protectiveness within him. It also ignited a spark of desire, a hunger to devour you whole, looking so tempting and innocent in his oversized shirt.

His hand reached down, his fingers threading through your hair, the touch gentle and possessive. He separated the strands, feeling the silky texture against his calloused skin, the contrast both soothing and stimulating. He cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze, his thumb tracing the curve of your lips, a silent invitation.

You parted your lips for him, a subconscious act of surrender. He didn't hesitate, slipping his thumb past your teeth, the pad of his finger rough against your tongue. You tasted his skin, the faint tang of sweat and the underlying scent that was uniquely his, a scent that always sent a shiver of arousal through you.

"Oh, you know, the usual," he drawled, his voice regaining some of its usual playful edge. "Just a normal clean up tonight. Nothing crazy."

"Then why do you look like you're about to fall asleep any second now?" you managed to ask, your words slightly muffled by the presence of his finger in your mouth.

He pressed deeper, exploring the sensitive flesh behind your teeth, teasing and tantalizing. You widened your lips, granting him greater access, your saliva slicking his finger like a glaze. He watched you, his eyes hooded, a mixture of weariness and desire swirling within their depths. A tired chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"The fleet work has been hectic lately," he admitted, his voice laced with a hint of resignation. "But seeing you waiting for me at home is worth it."

The heat bloomed in your cheeks, a flush of pleasure and embarrassment. You playfully nipped at his finger, a silent protest against his teasing. His eyes glinted with amusement. "What are you up to now, pipsqueak?" he said, his voice a low purr. "Don't pretend I didn't see that pink peek under my shirt."

You whined softly, unable to form a coherent sentence, your thoughts already scattered by the sensation of his finger dancing against your tongue. He made you suck on it a few more times, drawing out the pleasure, coating it in a glistening sheen of your saliva.

Finally, relenting, he withdrew his finger, sliding it slowly along your lips, leaving a trail of your drool in its wake. He waited, his gaze fixed on your face, watching the play of emotions flitting across your features. Your eyes were glazed, your breath coming in shallow pants, and your attention was clearly drawn to the burgeoning bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers. He was already hard, fueled by the simple act of you sucking on his finger, and the knowledge of your desire sent a secret thrill through you.

You loved his cock. You always had. It was the perfect shape, the perfect size, designed to fit you like a glove, to fill you completely, to drive you to the brink of madness with pleasure. The mere thought of it throbbing inside you, of feeling your clit pulsing in anticipation, sent a wave of heat crashing through your body.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, he spread his legs wider, increasing the angle of your view, making his arousal even more prominent beneath his pants. He looked impossibly large and imposing, the uniform adding to his aura of masculine power.

"Well, now," he murmured, a wicked smile curving his lips. "Looks like someone's got a little… itch they need scratching."

He reached out, his fingers smoothing your hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Say the words, buttercup," he whispered, his voice a husky invitation. "What do you need?"

You were too far gone to resist, too consumed by the burning need that had taken root deep within your core. Shame flickered across your face, a brief and insignificant spark against the overwhelming tide of desire.

"I… I need your cock," you breathed, the words a soft, desperate plea, your face burning with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment.

He chuckled, a low, predatory sound that vibrated through you. “Need it, do you? Well, I’ve got plenty to offer. Where do you want it, baby? Do you want to taste me first? Beg for it?” He watched your face, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “In your mouth, making you choke on it? Buried deep in your ass, stretching you until you scream? Or do you want it throbbing inside your tight pussy?” he mocked, the words a low, husky rasp that sent shivers dancing down your spine. His voice held a playful cruelty, a deliberate goading that both thrilled and terrified you. “Tell me. You need to be more specific."

Each syllable was a spark, igniting a firestorm within you. You leaned closer, driven by a primal need that overrode any sense of shame. He watched, his eyes narrowed and glittering with predatory interest as you rubbed your face against his crotch, inhaling deeply. The scent of leather clung to him, a familiar aroma that always seemed to intensify when he was aroused, mingling with a musky, undeniably masculine scent that was uniquely Caleb. It was a heady blend, an intoxicating cocktail that stripped away your inhibitions and left you craving more. You felt like a pet, a creature starved for affection and finally presented with its favorite, most forbidden treat.

"In…in my pussy," you whispered, the words barely audible, a fragile offering into the heavy silence. You felt the immediate backlash, the sharp tug as his fist clenched in your hair, yanking your head back. The sudden movement stole your breath, forcing you to meet his eyes.

He looked more alive than you'd seen him in weeks, the dull apathy that usually veiled his features replaced with a sharp, almost feral intensity. Yet, the lazy, knowing smirk that perpetually played on his lips remained, a tantalizing contrast to the hunger burning in his eyes. It was a dangerous combination, a promise of pleasure laced with pain, of control willingly surrendered and boundaries ruthlessly tested. In that moment, he looked like he could devour you whole and revel in the aftermath.

"Your pussy?" he hummed, the question laced with amusement. His gaze flickered down your body, a slow, deliberate appraisal that made your skin prickle with anticipation. "Did she miss me?"

"Yes," you confessed, the single word a testament to the ache that had consumed you during his absence.

His smirk widened, twisting into a sardonic grin that sent a shiver of apprehension down your spine. You knew that look. It meant he was ready to torment you, to play with your desires as a cat toys with a mouse. His ego was undeniably stoked by your desperation, by the knowledge that you had been counting the minutes until his return, aching for his touch. He practically lived for your vulnerability, for the power he held over you.

"Did she now…" he murmured, the words a low, possessive growl. He released your hair, bracing himself against the bed on his elbows. His chest expanded, a silent invitation, "Take my clothes off, first. We don’t need any distractions along the way, do we?”

Your hands trembled, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his uniform jacket. His eyes never left yours, pinning you beneath their intense scrutiny. Each movement felt amplified, each rustle of fabric echoing in the sudden silence that had descended upon the room. Once the jacket was off, you moved to his shirt, your ears ringing with the sound of each button being undone. The room was silent save for your harsh breathing and clumsy movement.

Caleb was clearly enjoying your distress. He remained perfectly still, comfortable in his position, his expression a mask of amused detachment. That small, teasing smile remained etched on his face, a silent challenge that dared you to break his composure. For a fleeting moment, you wanted to wipe it off, to shatter his control and unleash the beast that lurked beneath the surface.

When his shirt was finally off, revealing the sculpted lines of his muscular waist, the defined pecks and abs that rippled with every breath, his biceps on full display, you bit your lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood. The sight of his body, so familiar and yet always so intoxicating, sent a wave of heat crashing through you.

His hand moved with surprising speed, his thumb pressing against your bitten lip, gently but firmly preventing you from inflicting further damage. He clicked his tongue in displeasure, the sound sharp and disapproving. "Don't bite your lips. You know I hate it when you hurt yourself."

You nodded, your eyes fixed on his. You licked the blood from your lip and his finger, savoring the taste of him, the subtle hint of his skin. When he pulled away, you didn't hesitate. You went for his pants, your fingers clumsy but determined. The task proved more difficult than anticipated. His erection strained against the fabric, a thick, hard bulge that threatened to burst free. It was a miracle you didn't snag him with the zipper in your haste.

His chuckle was low and humorous, laced with a hint of smugness. "Careful, little seagull. If you want my cock, don't break it before I'm inside you."

You glared at him, your frustration momentarily eclipsing your desire. You yanked his pants open, the fabric tearing slightly at the seams. He laughed again, the sound a deep rumble in his chest, helping you pull them down his strong, long legs. When they were piled on top of the other discarded clothes, you licked your lips, your gaze lingering on the outlined length beneath his underwear. A wet spot was already forming, a testament to his own arousal.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. "Someone definitely missed me."

Caleb breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling with each ragged inhale. He dropped his head backwards, his smile lazy and predatory. "Guilty," he admitted, his voice a low, husky rasp that sent shivers down your spine. Lowering his eyes back to you, he nodded towards his crotch. "Go on. Keep going. I need to see how much you want it"

The jerk was seriously enjoying this too much. You leaned over him, your breath hot against his underwear, and carefully, you pulled his briefs down. His cock sprang free, slapping against your face in its eagerness.

"Oh…" Your breath hitched, the familiar sight of his engorged shaft sending a jolt of electricity through you. You squirmed on the floor, still kneeling between his legs, your own desire intensifying with each passing second. It was already pulsing with need, pre-cum oozing from the tip like it was desperate to be inside you.

Caleb stroked your cheek, his eyes glazed with his own escalating desire. "Go on, baby."

Lifting his hips slightly, you tugged his underwear down, freeing him completely. And then, he was beautifully, gloriously naked.

Your gaze travels the length of him, lingering on the thick, throbbing veins that pulse beneath his skin. The head of his cock is slick and engorged, a testament to the raw power that lies within. He's magnificent, a sculpted masterpiece of muscle and desire, and he's all yours, at least for this moment.

He watches you, his eyes burning with an intensity that could melt steel. He’s close to the edge, you can feel it in the tremor of his hands, the raggedness of his breath. The knowledge that you hold him in this state, poised on the precipice of oblivion, is a heady rush, a potent aphrodisiac that fuels your own desire.

A slow, deliberate smile spreads across your face. "You think you're in control, don't you?" you whisper, your voice laced with a playful malice.

He doesn't answer, his gaze locked on yours, his body a taut bowstring stretched to its breaking point.

Reaching out, you grasp him firmly, your fingers encircling his shaft. He groans, a low, guttural sound that vibrates through your bones. You squeeze gently, testing his limits, and he bucks against your hand, his hips lifting off the bed.

Even that first touch was making him thicken, the slick head, full of arousal as it pulsed in your hand like it has a mind on its own.

"You’re so hard," you murmur, your voice a silken caress as you lick your lips. The sight of him, so engorged and ready for you, sends a shiver of desire coursing through your body. Your folds clench in response, aching to be filled.

And then, with a slow, deliberate movement, you climb into his lap, straddling him with a possessive hunger. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you grind against him, the friction igniting a firestorm of sensation.

"Tease," he groans, his voice ragged.

"Only because you like it," you retort, leaning down to kiss him, your lips brushing against his.

The kiss is slow, sensual, a deliberate exploration of each other's mouths. You taste his hunger, his desperation, his raw need, and it only fuels your own. You deepen the kiss, your tongues tangling in a dance of dominance and submission.

Caleb's laughter morphed into a low growl. He reached up, tangling his fingers in you hair, tugging your head back just enough to force you to meet his eyes. Those goddamn eyes. Piercing purple, they held a dangerous glint, a promise of delicious torment. "And you, pipsqueak, are a brat."

You stuck your tongue out, a childish gesture that earned you a sharp, playful slap on the ass.

"Hey!" You protested, but the sting only served to heighten the awareness already thrumming through you. Your body was a traitor, responding to his touch with an eager anticipation that bordered on embarrassing.

"You love it," Caleb murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "You love when I take control, when I remind you who's in charge." The words were laced with a possessiveness that ignited a fire deep within you.

You shivered, your nipples hardening into tight peaks under the shirt you were wearing. “Yes,” You whispered, the admission barely audible. The air between you both crackled with unspoken desires, a silent conversation of wants and needs.

Caleb’s eyes burn into yours, and you feel like he can see straight through you, right down to the core of your being. He knows exactly what you want, what you crave, what makes you tick. And he's not afraid to use it against you. Or, rather, for you.

“Then let me remind you who owns you,” he says, the words a promise and a challenge all rolled into one. It's a declaration of intent, a signal that the games are over and it's time to get down to business.

With that, his hand moves to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to leave no doubt about his intentions. He lifts you, just slightly, guiding you, positioning you with a deliberate precision that sends a fresh wave of heat washing over you. The anticipation is almost unbearable, a delicious torture that you wouldn’t trade for anything.

You feel the tip of him against you, a spark of electricity that ignites every nerve ending in your body. He hesitates for a moment, savoring the anticipation, letting you feel the promise of what’s to come.

And then, finally, he surged forward, slamming you down on his thick cock, forcing his way through like it was nothing.

He sank inside, dragging every inch, and you were lost. Utterly, completely, irrevocably lost. There was no thought, no reason, only sensation. The feeling of him filling you, stretching you, possessing you. It was primal, visceral, and utterly intoxicating. He slid inside, bottoming out, burying himself to the hilt, making you almost gasp for breath, feeling that familiar stretch which always made you wet. It was a deep, resonant chord that vibrated through your entire being.

You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into the solid muscle of his back. He kissed your neck, a slow, deliberate exploration that sent shivers of pleasure cascading down your spine. He knew exactly where to touch, where to linger, where to tease. He was a maestro, conducting a symphony of sensation on your skin.

"That's it, little brat. Ride me, just like that." Each stroke was a slow burn, building the tension, tightening the coil of anticipation within you.

You did as he commanded, your body moving in time with his, your hips meeting in a slow, torturous rhythm. With each thrust, you felt him slide inside you, filling you completely. It was maddening, the way he held back, taking his time, savoring every moment. He was a sadist with a PhD in pleasure.

A familiar warmth radiates from his skin, a heat you've known for as long as you can remember. He's always been there, a constant in the ever-changing landscape of your life. He knows you, perhaps better than you know yourself.

He knows about the way you devour your food, a whirlwind of messy enthusiasm that leaves traces of your meal scattered across your face and fingers. He's seen you with chocolate smeared across your cheek, a testament to a stolen midnight snack. He remembers the endless supply of napkins he’d have to procure, a silent offering to your sweet-toothed chaos.

He's witnessed the aftermath of your showers, the trail of glistening droplets that marked your path from the bathroom to your bed. He's seen you, hair plastered to your face, completely absorbed in the glowing screen of your phone, blissfully unaware of the damp patches forming on the sheets beneath you. He'd sigh, but a fond smile would tug at his lips. He knew you. The carefree, sometimes oblivious you.

And he definitely remembers the summers, the inevitable scraped knees, and the dramatic tears that followed. The way you'd recoil at the sight of your own blood, a picture of pure, unadulterated distress. He'd be the one to clean the wound, his touch gentle and reassuring as he applied the antiseptic and bandaged you up, murmuring soothing words until your sobs subsided. He knew your vulnerabilities, your little fears, the things that made you uniquely, endearingly you.

But right now, those memories fade, replaced by the intensity of the present. Your breath hitches, a ragged gasp in the quiet room. You’re completely vulnerable, stripped bare of any pretense. You are willing, utterly and completely willing, to surrender to the sensations that flood your body. You are his to command in this intimate space.

You clench around him, your muscles contracting in rhythmic waves. You feel him harden even further, a testament to your effect on him. A moan escapes your lips, a sound that is both desperate and exquisitely pleasurable. You beg him, a whispered plea that is barely audible, but he hears it, every syllable etched into his memory.

You look up at him, your eyes wide and pleading. Your face is flushed, your lips parted, your expression a mixture of pain and ecstasy. You are dripping around him and that makes him even more crazy about you. You are beautiful, breathtakingly so, in your vulnerability.

He knew exactly what he was doing to you, the way he was driving you insane with need. And yet, even as you begged him to let you come, he only chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. The bastard.

"Begging already, little brat?" he taunted, his free hand moving to cup you breast under the shirt, teasing your nipple. "You're going to have to do better than that if you want me to let you come."

You whimpered, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your release. You wanted to come so badly, but you also wanted to please him, to earn his praise. The push and pull of desire and obedience was intoxicating.

And so, you tried again, your voice pleading as you begged, "Please, Caleb. Please, let me come."

But still, he held back, his thrusts slowing down even more, the teasing becoming unbearable. He was deliberately dragging out the agony, savoring your frustration. And just when you thought you couldn't take it any longer, he reached for a red apple on the nightstand. An apple. Seriously? He took a bite, the juice glistening on his lips as he continued to torment you with his maddeningly slow movements. He had the audacity to make eye contact while chewing. You swear, you almost lost it right then and there.

Caleb was a masterpiece of sculpted muscle and arrogant grace, and right now, he was pure, unadulterated torment. His dark eyes, usually alight with amusement, held a predatory glint as he took another deliberate bite of the crisp, red apple. The juice glistened on his lips, a stark contrast to the strained expression you had sure mirrored on your own face.

"Enjoying the view?" he drawled, his voice a low, rumbling vibration that traveled right through you, intensifying the sensations already firing in your core.

Enjoying? It was a complex cocktail of pleasure and agony. You were straddling him, naked, your thighs burning, your breath coming in ragged gasps. His hands, strong and calloused, gripped your hips, guiding your movements with ruthless precision. He was a symphony of control, and you were dancing to his tune.

"Caleb," You managed, your voice a choked whisper. "Please."

He smirked, holding the apple just out of my reach. "Please what, pretty girl? Please may I continue to admire the…scenery?" He punctuated the last word with a suggestive squeeze of your hips, making you arch your back.

He knew what you wanted. He knew exactly how close you were, how desperately you were clinging to the edge. And he was relishing every second of your struggle.

With agonizing slowness, he brought the apple to your lips, the sweet scent filling your nostrils. Your mouth watered in anticipation. Finally, a taste of something other than the burning ache that consumed you. You leaned forward, ready to sink your teeth into the crisp flesh, but at the last moment, he pulled it away.

"Almost," he whispered, his breath ghosting across your ear. "But not quite."

A frustrated groan escaped your lips. "You're a sadist," You accused, but the words lacked any real heat. You were too far gone to muster any genuine anger.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Only for you, buttercup." He took another bite of the apple, the sound amplified in the close confines of the bedroom.

The sheer audacity of it! He was eating the apple, savoring it, while you were practically begging for release. It was infuriating, and yet… a strange sort of thrill ran through you. This was Caleb. This was the man you had fallen for, the man who pushed you to your limits, who challenged you in every way imaginable.

"You know," he said, his voice laced with mock innocence, "they say an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Perhaps you should have one." He offered the apple again, and again, snatched it away just as you reached for it.

"Caleb, I swear…" You started, but he cut you off with another bite.

“Mmm, delicious,” he murmured, savoring the flavor. “Tart, sweet, just the right amount of crunch. Almost as delicious as… certain other things I’m experiencing right now.”

He dragged his length inside you, each thrust deliberate and deep, hitting every nerve ending with agonizing precision. His size was both a blessing and a curse, filling you completely, stretching you to your limits.

Your frustration mounted, threatening to spill over into tears. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Am I?” He feigned innocence, but his eyes betrayed him. “Perhaps I’m merely showcasing my appreciation for apples. Besides,” he added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “I thought you enjoyed a little… torture.”

He knew you too well. You did enjoy it, in a twisted sort of way. The knowledge that he held all the power, the exquisite anticipation, the feeling of being completely under his control… it was all part of the intoxicating allure of Caleb. But tonight, his teasing felt… excessive. You didn’t know if you wanted to ride him harder or smack him with that same apple he was enjoying it so much. The sadist.

“Caleb, please,” You repeated, your voice cracking. “I can’t… I’m so close.”

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Such a pretty little thing, begging for me.” He took another bite, the juice dribbling down his chin. He let it linger there for a moment, before slowly, deliberately, licking it away. The movement was obscene, provocative, designed to push you over the edge.

“Caleb!” You cried out, your voice cracking. You bucked against him, desperate for release, but he remained frustratingly still, a solid, immovable force beneath you.

He finally lowered the apple, holding it just inches from your lips. The scent was intoxicating, a sweet, tangy promise. “Open,” he commanded, his voice husky.

You obeyed instantly, your mouth parting in anticipation. He brought the apple closer, the skin brushing against your lips… and then he pulled it away, again!

Your teeth snapped shut on nothing but air, frustration bubbling up inside you like a venomous poison. He wrapped his fingers around your throat and pushed his thumb against your pulse, bending your neck back. It lifted your face up, completely under his mercy.

His smirk was wide and predatory as he resumed eating the apple himself, savoring each bite with theatrical relish. The juice dripped down his chin, a crimson trail that seemed to mock your unfulfilled desires. He was teasing you, taunting you, pushing you closer and closer to the breaking point.

"Such impatience," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. "You wound me."

You glared at him, your frustration mounting by the second. "You're such a jerk," You hissed, but the words were half-hearted, your anger quickly turning to desire as you watched him eat the apple, his eyes never leaving yours. The symbolism wasn’t lost on you. Temptation, forbidden fruit…he knew exactly what buttons to push.

The apple scent fills the small space between you, a sweet, tart aroma contrasting sharply with the musk of your exertion. He's savoring it, each bite deliberate, his dark eyes hooded as he watches you. You're catching your breath, trying to regain some semblance of control after… well, after everything.

His gaze flickers down, amusement dancing in their depths, and you groan. What now? You’re already a mess, pleasantly exhausted and decidedly undone. Surely he can't be thinking of continuing this particular brand of delightful torture.

Then you see it. His black phone, sleek and modern against the rumpled, fresh cotton of his bedsheets. He picks it up with the same hand he's using to hold the apple, somehow managing to balance both. You watch, confused. Too much already, too much sensation, for any more of his nonsense.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice still thick with pleasure and just a hint of irritation.

His smirk is evident, even in the dim light filtering through the curtains. He angles the phone so its back is facing you, the red apple charm dangling from the side, mocking you with its innocent sweetness. It swings gently, a tiny pendulum counting down the seconds until… what exactly? You’re not sure, but you know, instinctively, that it won’t be boring.

"Keep riding me, pipsqueak," he says, his voice low and laced with teasing. "You look too pretty not to take a picture.”

Your cheeks flush. "Don't you dare," you manage, but the words lack conviction. You know he will. And a part of you, the part that's still humming from the aftershocks of his touch, wants him to.

Just then, he thrusts up, his cock grazing your stomach, hitting that precise spot that sends shivers down your spine. You yelp, a small, involuntary sound of pure feeling, and in that very moment, he captures it. The flash illuminates the room for a fraction of a second, freezing your expression in time. You’re sure you look ridiculous – mouth slightly open, eyes wide and glassy, a sheen of perspiration on your skin.

He doesn’t stop there. He takes more pictures, experimenting with angles and lighting, capturing every detail of your flushed and vulnerable state. You want to protest, to grab the phone and delete the evidence, but you're also completely captivated, paralyzed by the intensity of his gaze and the lingering sensations rippling through you. You roll your eyes back when he pulses inside you, twitching like he would cum inside any time soon. It triggered an orgasm in you which wanted to be let free but still he forced it back.

“Caleb…please…” You beg, desperate for a release. Anything to stop this torture.

“Yeah...that's it. Beg me. Fucked stupid on my cock. Seeing you so desperate for me...Fuck...baby," Caleb groans at your debauched state, grinding his hips, his phone almost slipping from his fingers but he uses his evol to keep steady.

Finally, satisfied with his impromptu photoshoot, he tosses the phone onto the bed, the soft thud barely audible over the pounding of your heart. He turns his attention back to you, the apple still clutched in his hand.

When you whimpered, seeking fraction, Caleb just laughed, a low, seductive sound. He tossed the apple core aside, his hand moving to hold your hips steady as he finally took control, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, driving you wild with need.

You closed your eyes, fighting back tears. He was toying with you, pushing you to your limit, and the realization was both humiliating and… exciting. You hated him for it, and yet, you loved him for it too.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice softening slightly.

You reluctantly opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. The amusement was still there, but there was something else too, something akin to tenderness.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your cheek. “So beautifully desperate. Show me how much you want it," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Ride for me, baby."

And you did. You rode him until your muscles screamed, until your lungs burned, until your vision blurred. Each thrust was deeper, harder, more insistent than the last. You could feel him, all of him, and the sensations were almost overwhelming.

You clenched around him, tighter and tighter, trying to pull him over the edge with you. You could feel the tension building in his muscles, the accelerated rhythm of his breathing.

"You're killing me," he groaned, but there was no complaint in his voice. Only raw, unadulterated pleasure,” So tight,” he groaned, his voice laced with desperation. “So fucking wet for me.”

He started to buck beneath you, his movements growing more frantic. Each slap of skin echoed in the room.

"Caleb," You gasped, your body convulsing. "I'm going to…"

He cut you off with a guttural roar as he reached his own climax. His body went rigid, his muscles contracting violently. He surged deep inside you, pumping furiously into you and you cried out as the wave of pleasure washed over you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest. He held you there, gasping for breath, his heart pounding against you ear. And then, just when you thought the moment couldn't get any more perfect, he tightened his grip around at the back of your neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know who was in control. A primal growl rumbled in his chest as he came, abs clenching as rope after rope of his cum flooded your pussy, the sound, the feeling of its warmth sending shivers down your spine.

His shaft throbs painfully inside your used hole, pumping the last hot load deep inside, your mind drunk on him as you start to drool with your lips parted, too stimulated to even make a sound.

You come at least two times, the feeling of being so full triggered your orgasms without a warning.

You clung to him, your body trembling, completely spent. The world seemed to spin around you, the only constant the feel of his strong arms holding you close.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his breathing began to slow. He loosened his grip slightly, but he didn't let you go. His hand remained firmly planted on the small of your back, possessive and grounding.

You could still feel the faint tremors running through his body, the lingering aftershocks of the storm you had weathered together. He was still pulsing, his semi-hard cock still buried deep inside your pussy, each twitch sending a fresh wave of sensation through your exhausted body.

Time seemed to warp and bend, stretching into an eternity of shared breaths and whispered sighs. Finally, a low groan rumbled from his chest as he shifted, his muscles coiling with renewed strength. The movement was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to reawaken every nerve ending in your body. He pulled your hips up, a slow, deliberate movement that sent a shiver of awareness through your exhausted body. The friction was exquisite, a burning reminder of the pleasure you had just experienced, and the potential for more that still lingered between you.

Then he slipped out, the loss sudden and sharp. The heat that had been contained within you dissipated, leaving a void, a feeling of vulnerability that made you instinctively tighten your muscles. Your spent leaked out, a slick, glistening testament to the raw intensity of your passion, a visible manifestation of the pleasure you had just shared.

He shifted you slightly, just enough so he could observe you. "Look at that mess," he smirked, his voice a low, husky rumble that sent a fresh wave of heat through your veins despite your depleted state.

Nestled in his lap, you couldn't deny the tableau before you. His abdomen and the length of his partially erect cock were slick with your essence, a glistening testament to your shared passion. The sight was both explicit and undeniably arousing, a stark display of your complete surrender and his unyielding power.

A blush crept up your neck, a complex blend of embarrassment and a defiant sense of pride.

Pulling you closer to his chest, he nuzzled his face into you hair, his voice a low murmur against your ear. "Well, that was… fruitful."

You groaned, burying your face in his shoulder. Even now, even after all that, he had the nerve to mention that. His obsession with apples were maddening sometimes.

"You're impossible," You mumbled, your throat dry.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. "But you love it."

He knew you too well. You did love it. You loved the teasing, the torment, the intensity. You loved the way he pushed you to your limits, the way he made you feel alive.

He pulled back slightly, his purple eyes sparkling with amusement, less intense.

“Speaking of fruit, I believe I promised you an apple pie. Perhaps we should get started on that?”

You swear, the man has no sense of timing. Like, seriously? Apple pie? After the apple-as foreplay stunt he just pulled? You glared at him, trying to summon up some semblance of indignation, but all that came out was a breathless giggle.

Caleb was an amazing cook. It was a fact known and revered by all who had the good fortune to taste his creations. His apple pie was legendary, a masterpiece of flaky crust, cinnamon-spiced apples, and buttery goodness. The same went for his chicken wings, a fiery, flavorful explosion that could reduce grown men to whimpering, grateful wrecks. And despite everything, despite the teasing, the torment, the sheer exasperation he often inspired, you knew in your heart that he would make you the best damn apple pie you had ever tasted. He poured his heart into everything he did, and you knew that even something as simple as baking a pie was, in his own way, an act of love for you.

"You're serious?" you asked, your voice still shaky with a mixture of arousal and amusement. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to handle.

"Absolutely," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch sending a fresh wave of warmth through you. "Although, I might need your… assistance. Someone has to peel the apples, after all."

You sighed, a small smile playing on your lips. He was infuriating, maddening, and utterly irresistible. He had a way of pushing your buttons, of challenging you, of making you laugh even when you wanted to strangle him. And somehow, you wouldn't have it any other way. He was your chaos, your comfort, your perfectly imperfect partner in crime.

"Fine," you said, leaning down to kiss him softly, a lingering, playful brush of your lips against his. "But you're doing the dishes."

He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that resonated through your body as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. "It’s not like you would do them anyway. You know that you like to use me any chance you can get.”

You pouted, feigning hurt with an exaggerated frown. "That's not true! I can do house chores any time I get free time." You knew it was a flimsy argument, a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of control in a situation where you were happily, hopelessly outmatched.

Caleb shook his head, his eyes filled with affection. “And you still like to slack off and it ends with me spoiling you rotten, little brat.” He pinched your cheek playfully, his touch gentle and teasing.

You playfully pushed him, your laughter bubbling up again. “And you still do it.” You knew he enjoyed taking care of you, spoiling you with small gestures and acts of service. It was his love language, and you were fluent.

He kissed your neck, nuzzling it affectionately. The scent of his skin, a musky blend of sweat and apples, filled your senses. “That’s because you’re my princess, Miss Apple.”

[inseobts]

Omg I absolutely adore your Law fics!! I’d love to read about a fake dating scenario between a Strawhat reader and Law in Wano like you did with Zoro. He’d be such a cutie 🥰

Thank you 🙏

Undercover Affection

law x strawhat!reader

a/n: omg I was so excited to write this aknakjd it doesn't really follow the canon events tho

words count: 5.1k

tags: fake dating, fake marriage, teasing, wano arc

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You and Trafalgar D. Water Law, notorious pirate and doctor, stand side by side in the bustling marketplace, trying to blend in as a newlywed couple. Law, wearing his usual stoic expression, is clearly out of his element, while you can’t help but smile at how ridiculous the whole situation is.

"Stop grinning like that" he mutters, adjusting the fake wedding ring you insisted on putting on his finger. He glares at you, but you only giggle louder.

"Oh, come on, it’s not so bad. We’ve got to make it convincing" you tease, leaning closer to him with exaggerated affection. His irritation is almost palpable.

"I don't need you hanging off me like that. We're here for a mission, not for you to play around." His voice is calm, but the faint redness creeping up his neck betrays him.

You smirk, knowing exactly how much it bothers him "But I love how grumpy you get when I do this. It’s like a whole new side of you."

You look at him with playful eyes, wrapping your arm around his, deliberately snuggling closer, and watching the slight twitch in his jaw.

"You're insufferable" he grumbles, but you can tell from the way his eyes flicker to yours that he's secretly enjoying it. Even if he won't admit it, you know this act is something he didn’t expect and now he can’t stop thinking about it.

You wink at him “You know, you’re really cute when you’re angry.”

Law scoffs but the tips of his ears go red, which only makes you smirk wider.

The two of you continue to walk through the crowded streets of Wano, and the people around you don't seem to pay much attention, at least not to Law. But you, on the other hand, draw plenty of stares. It's almost laughable how you're both playing the part of a loving couple so well. You’re sure the act would’ve made some people second-guess themselves, if not for your obvious affection for Law.

“Do you really have to hold my hand like this?” Law mutters, trying to keep his face neutral. His tone is deadpan, but his hand doesn't pull away, even though he clearly wants to.

“Yes, I do. It’s important for the cover, we're married, remember?” You tighten your grip slightly, watching him try his hardest to stay composed, and you can’t help but relish in how embarrassed he looks.

“...I’m going to regret this” he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible.

“No, you won’t,” you say sweetly, squeezing his hand with a grin “You like it.”

Law doesn’t say anything for a moment. His face remains impassive, but you can see the little vein in his forehead twitching. It’s clear that he’s not nearly as indifferent as he’s trying to make himself seem.

Before he can retort, you pull his arm, dragging him towards a stand with fresh produce "Look! They have strawberries!!"

You start picking up the plump, red fruit, inspecting it with exaggerated curiosity. Law watches you, his arms crossed, a frown on his face.

"You’re acting like a child," he observes dryly, clearly disinterested. But you know he’s watching, and deep down, you know that he’s silently amused.

“You’re just mad because I’m having fun. Don’t worry, I'll buy you some too” you say, but the moment you say it, you know he’ll probably refuse it.

Law doesn't respond, but you catch the tiniest glimmer of amusement in his eyes, just for a moment. His mouth tightens, but it’s not out of frustration anymore. It’s something else, something softer, though he’d never admit it.

You turn to him and offer one of the strawberries "Want one? You might smile for once."

He takes the strawberry reluctantly, muttering under his breath, "You're impossible" but you can see the corners of his mouth twitch, as if the smallest hint of a smile might want to escape.

The night comes, and you’re both sitting around a small campfire outside of town, eating a simple meal. Law’s still in his pirate garb, but you’ve managed to dress him up in something a little more traditional, at least in a way that blends with the locals. He looks even more irritated now that he’s out of his comfort zone, but you can’t help but stare at him.

"You know, you really should smile more," you say casually, picking at the food in front of you "You’d be less grumpy."

Law shoots you a glare, his gaze cold but somehow fond "I don’t need to smile."

“You say that, but you do smile sometimes, even when you don’t mean to,” you tease, leaning your head on your hand "Like when you're all annoyed. It’s cute."

His eyebrow twitches, and you immediately know you’ve hit a nerve.

"I do not get 'annoyed'," he hisses "I’m just... trying to survive being stuck here."

“Oh sure, but I’ve noticed something,” you say, leaning in with a smirk “Every time I annoy you, you get this cute little angry face. It’s the best part of the day.”

Law scowls harder, trying to maintain his composure, but you can see the way his face softens ever so slightly, as if he’s secretly enjoying your teasing.

“I’m not cute” he mutters, but his voice lacks its usual edge.

“Oh, trust me, you’re definitely cute. Especially when you try to hide it” you say, reaching over to poke his cheek, making him flinch.

“Don’t touch me” he warns, his patience thinning, but there's no real heat behind it.

You pull your hand back with a grin, trying to hide your glee “I bet I can get you to smile before this mission is over.”

“You won’t" he says, though there's a hint of challenge in his voice.

You wink at him “Wanna bet?”

Law looks at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. But you both know it’s a challenge he’s already lost.

The next morning, the Heart Pirates gather. You and Law make your way back after a quick stop in the town. You’re both still playing the role of a happily married couple, though your grin and the slight blush on Law’s face tell a different story.

"Morning, you two" Bepo greets with a wave as you approach the group. He gives you both a curious glance but doesn’t comment right away. You notice his ears twitch slightly, as if he’s trying to figure something out.

"Morning" you reply sweetly, wrapping your arm around Law's waist. You can’t resist leaning into him just a little, making sure everyone notices.

Shachi and Penguin, standing nearby, exchange a quick look.

Law doesn't want to draw attention to it, but he's well aware of the curious stares from his crew.

"What's going on between you two?" Penguin asks, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow "I thought we were supposed to be working undercover, not pretending to be... a couple." He says "couple" with exaggerated air quotes, making sure the whole group hears it.

You giggle, looking up at Law "Oh, we are, don't worry. Usopp said we should go undercover as a freshly married couple, right, honey?" you say, dragging out the last word with far too much affection, but you actually did it to tease him. In facts, Law’s face tenses, and you can almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Bepo looks between the two of you, his expression softer than the others "You’re really convincing" he says, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. He clearly doesn’t quite understand the situation but seems to be happy for you, or at least trying to be supportive.

“You’re making him uncomfortable, y/n” Shachi teases, nudging you playfully.

“Well, it's a fake marriage after all” you reply with a grin “If he likes it or not we have to make it seem real, especially because we almost got caught”

Law huffs, crossing his arms tightly “We’re not really married. It’s a cover for the mission. And you...” He points at Shachi, who seems way too entertained by the situation “...don’t have to comment on it.”

"Sure, sure, but tell me this," Shachi continues, leaning in as though he's unraveling a great mystery "How come every time I look over, you're so close? So touchy-feely for just a mission. There’s gotta be something going on.”

Penguin snickers in the background, enjoying the show “Shachi might be onto something, Law. You sure you’re not falling for y/n?”

You wink at Law, watching his patience fray a little more “Oh, I think he’s already there” you say, making sure to be extra teasing.

Law narrows his eyes, clearly not thrilled at the idea of his crew picking up on this “I am not! Stop messing around, all of you. We have more important things to focus on.”

But you can tell that beneath the irritation, there’s a hint of something else, embarrassment? Maybe even… a little fondness?

“I’m just saying,” Bepo starts, his voice soft but sincere “you two look so natural together. It’s kind of adorable.”

Your eyes soften, and you offer Bepo a warm smile "I’m glad someone sees it that way," you reply, winking at Law again. He’s practically fuming now, but there's a twinkle in his eyes that he’s not quite able to hide.

“Adorable?” Law scoffs, his face now an unmistakable shade of red “I swear, you’re all insane.” He glares at his crew, but even the glare doesn't hide how his heart's racing just a little.

Later that evening, as you and Law sit around the campfire again, this time with the rest of the Heart Pirates on watch duty, the teasing continues, though now it’s less playful and more knowing. Everyone’s fully aware that something’s up between you two, and it’s clear that you’ve been having a lot of fun with the idea.

“Alright, alright, let’s just get this out of the way," Shachi starts, taking a seat beside you and leaning in conspiratorially "Who fell first?”

Law doesn’t even look at you, but you can feel his discomfort radiating “We’re not doing this” he mutters with an exasperated sigh.

But the teasing continues, the Heart Pirates are all looking at you two with amusement in their eyes. Bepo and Penguin are now watching you closely, seemingly trying to pick up on every little interaction, while Shachi just can’t stop himself from pressing the issue.

“You two are definitely more than just a cover story,” Shachi says, grinning from ear to ear “You’re always so close, so... affectionate.”

“Yeah!” Penguin chimes in, clearly enjoying the drama “It’s like you guys are really a thing.”

Law remains silent for a few beats, his jaw clenched, clearly holding his frustration in check. But you notice the tightening of his fists and the way his eyes flicker with irritation.

You glance over at him, but before you can even tease him again, you notice his patience clearly running out “That’s enough” he snaps, voice low but sharp.

The whole group falls quiet, the sudden intensity of his voice making them look at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t like this attention, alright?” Law’s voice is colder now, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something harder, something… serious. His gaze shifts to you, and you’re caught off guard by how harsh his words are “I don’t like you hanging off me all the time, I don’t like being treated like your husband, and I don’t like you constantly teasing me. We’re not a couple, y/n. We’re not even close enough for you to call me your friend, let alone you husband...”

The words hit like a slap, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. His face is set in a frown, his usual stoic expression replaced by something colder, more distant. You feel a pang in your chest, your heart sinking at how genuine he seems.

The rest of the crew falls silent, unsure of what to say.

You take a step back, your arm slipping as you pull away. Your eyes flicker down to the ground, trying to hide the hurt that's suddenly swelling inside you.

You’re not sure why, but the way he said it, so blunt, so final, makes you believe him. Maybe you had been too forward. Maybe you pushed him too far, even if you were just jocking around.

You try to force a smile, but it feels weak, forced "Right," you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel this uncomfortable."

Law doesn’t respond, too focused on his crew and the way they’re looking at him. The awkward silence stretches, and you find yourself drifting further away. You can’t bring yourself to joke anymore, to tease him as you had before. The sting of his words cuts deeper than you want to admit.

The rest of the evening goes by in an uncomfortable silence. You eat your meal, your eyes occasionally flicking toward Law, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him for long. Every time you do, you feel the weight of his words echoing in your mind.

The next few days feel... different. You’ve stopped teasing him, stopped getting close like you used to. Whenever you have to interact, you’re careful to keep your distance, avoiding any unnecessary physical contact. You act as professional as possible, keeping the focus entirely on the mission.

It doesn’t escape the Heart Pirates’ notice, though. They watch as the dynamics between you and Law change. You’re not the playful couple anymore. Instead, you seem more distant, more reserved—especially around Law.

Shachi notices first "Hey, y/n, everything okay?" he asks one morning as you sit near the ship’s edge, watching the horizon. He knows something’s off, and though he doesn’t want to pry, he can’t help but ask.

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes “Yeah. Just tired, that’s all.”

Bepo, who’s been quietly observing, speaks up hesitantly “You haven’t been... teasing him anymore. Are you two—”

“We’re fine,” you interrupt quickly, too quickly. You don’t want to explain. You don’t even know what to say "Just focusing on the mission, as it should have been from the very start"

The conversation ends there, but you can feel the weight of their concern. They’re noticing the shift, the sudden distance between you and Law. But none of them, especially not Law, know how to fix it.

Days pass in Wano, and you continue to keep your distance from Law, though the tension between the two of you feels thicker than ever. Every time you’re near him, the awkwardness is palpable. But something else is happening in the background.

The Strawhats are back in Wano. After all the time you’ve spent apart.

It’s in the middle of a bustling market square, where you and Law are walking around trying to gather some supplies for the mission, when you spot them. You freeze, your heart racing. Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes land on Sanji.

Without thinking, you let everything fall from your hands and sprint toward him. Sanji’s back is turned, so he doesn’t see you coming until it’s too late. You throw yourself into his arms with tears in your eyes, overwhelmed with relief.

“Sanji!” you exclaim, your voice muffled against his chest as you cling to him.

Sanji’s eyes widen in surprise, but then he smiles softly, his arms wrapping around you “Hey there, y/n” he says, his tone warm “It’s been a while, huh?”

You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand “I’ve missed you so much” you admit softly.

Sanji raises an eyebrow, but his smile softens “It’s good to see you too. Looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind, though. You okay?”

You hesitate for a moment, then give a small nod “Yeah... I’m fine now. I just... I’ve been through some stuff. But I’m glad you’re here.”

Law watched everything, staying back. As soon as he saw you hugging the cook, he took everything you dropped and left you alone with them, even because it looks like you forgot about him.

The next day, you find yourself meeting up with Sanji at his little noodle shop. You’ve told him everything, how you and Law have been pretending to be a married couple, how your feelings have gotten tangled up, and how, after Law’s harsh words, you’ve pulled away to keep things professional. You tell him about the emotional distance between you and Law, and the complicated feelings you’re dealing with.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” you admit, your hands twisting nervously in your lap “I feel like I’m losing him. He doesn’t want me around, and it’s driving me crazy. But I don’t know how to fix it.”

Sanji’s expression softens as he listens to you, his gaze gentle

“I thought it was just supposed to be a cover” you murmur, “but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like one. And now... now it feels like everything’s falling apart.” You pause, looking down “I think I care about him more than I thought I did.”

Sanji reaches out, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze “You’ve got a good heart, y/n. And I know Law is a complicated guy. But if you care about him, you need to figure out what you want. You’re not just a cover story, okay?”

You meet his gaze, feeling a sense of clarity you hadn’t realized you were missing “You’re right. I just wish I knew how to fix it.”

Sanji leans in, his voice dropping lower “It’s okay to take things slow. And if you want to... maybe you could start by not hiding from him anymore.”

Before you can respond, you both hear some footsteps approaching. You quickly stand up and walk away from the alley, but you notice people beginning to gossip behind you.

“You heard about y/n and her husband, right?” one woman whispers to her friend.

“Yeah, I heard she’s been cheating on him with that blonde guy. Can you believe that? I mean, the nerve!” another woman replies, her voice dripping with gossip.

The words hit you like a punch in the gut. You feel your face flush with embarrassment and frustration. Cheating? How did they come up with that?

You try to ignore it, but it’s hard. The whispers follow you as you walk back to the group, and you can feel the sting of their words deep in your chest.

Later that evening, as you rejoin Law and the rest of the crew, you notice his usual cold demeanor has shifted. He’s standing by the fire, his back to you, as if he’s been waiting for you. When you approach, he doesn’t immediately acknowledge you.

"Are you... okay?" you ask softly, but you can see the frustration in his posture. He doesn’t respond immediately, but his jaw tightens.

“I don’t appreciate people talking about my personal life like that, true or not...” Law says, his voice low and clipped “You’ve been avoiding me for days, and now I hear rumors? What’s going on?”

Your stomach twists in knots “Law...”

“I don't care about you and the blondie but...” he cuts you off, his gaze icy “I can’t focus when people are talking about me like that, especially if we're supposed to be undercover here.”

You feel your throat tighten, the weight of his words sinking in. He’s frustrated, and his anger makes your heart ache “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, you know Sanji is my friend, people just don't know the truth and make things up” you admit, your voice shaky.

Law sighs, running a hand through his hair, looking as if he’s about to snap “Then stop avoiding me. We’re in this together, but if you keep pushing me away, I’m not sure what we’re doing anymore... we can't bring so much attention on us.”

The atmosphere between you and Law is still tense. You don’t want things to spiral even further, so you suggest an idea, something that might distract from the tension and let everyone cool off for a while.

"Why don’t we go grab some food?" you suggest, your voice a little hesitant but hopeful.

Law turns to you, his expression neutral “You think food is going to help?”

You shrug, trying to lighten the mood "Maybe. Besides, I’ve been hearing about this noodle shop... the chef is called Sanji, I think?... I’ve heard it’s good..."

Law’s brows furrow, but his interest is piqued "Sanji? You think going right to him won't worsen things?"

You nod "Maybe if people see us all together, as three good friends, they're going to stop talk about me cheating..."

He looks at you for a moment, then sighs, clearly not wanting to be left alone with his thoughts any longer "Fine. Let’s go."

The small noodle spot is tucked away in a corner of Wano, busy and filled with the warmth of the cooking. When you and Law arrive, you’re greeted immediately by Sanji’s bright smile, but there’s something in his eyes that softens when he sees you. He’s not as flirtatious as usual, and there’s a sharpness in his gaze as he sees the tension between you and Law.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the infamous 'married couple'" Sanji says, his voice light, though there’s an edge to it now.

You try to smooth things over, grinning at him “Yeah, we’re here to eat...”

It’s time to kill the rumors.

“We’ll sit over here,” you say quickly, guiding Law to a seat “Make it clear to everyone that we’re... still a team.”

Law sits down stiffly, clearly not thrilled, but it’s obvious he’s playing along. He keeps his eyes ahead, refusing to acknowledge Sanji’s deliberate coldness toward him.

Sanji brings over bowls of noodles with flair, but his attitude towards Law remains distant, even a little antagonistic. He makes sure to place the food right in front of you, offering a special smile "Just for you, y/n. A little something extra special, like always."

He looks at you, and his smile softens just a bit. But when his eyes flick to Law, the warmth vanishes, and the tension in the room grows thicker.

Law doesn’t react right away, but you can feel the change in him. His jaw tightens, his body language growing even more tense than it was before. He clenches his fist under the table, clearly irritated.

"Stop playing games," Law mutters, his voice low and tight with barely contained frustration "Just serve the food and stop making this weird."

Sanji, clearly not intimidated, shrugs "If you don’t like how things are going, maybe you should take a look at how you’re treating her. It’s obvious you’ve got no control over the situation"

You flinch at the words, but Sanji’s eyes flicker to you in a way that makes you feel a bit guilty. You didn’t want this to turn into some kind of game, but now, it’s getting harder to keep things under wraps.

You look at Law, hoping to redirect the conversation "Let’s just eat," you say, trying to keep things casual "We need to look like a normal couple to the town. We don’t want any more rumors."

Law gives you a long, searching look before nodding "Fine. But we’re done with the theatrics, understood?"

As the meal progresses, the silence between you, Sanji, and Law grows thicker. The tension is almost unbearable, but it’s working, people around are starting to get the message. Law and you are a team, no matter the rumors, and the gossip about you "cheating" slowly starts to fade as the focus shifts to you two sitting together.

Sanji seems to settle into his role. He occasionally glances at you, making sure you’re taken care of, but the icy distance he’s putting between himself and Law is unmistakable. Law notices it too, and while he’s trying to keep his cool, it’s clear it’s starting to get under his skin.

Finally, Sanji returns to the counter, his back turned, leaving you and Law in silence. It’s the perfect opportunity to clear the air, but neither of you speaks.

You glance at Law, noticing the frustration in his eyes. He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like the way Sanji is treating you, doesn’t like the way he’s feeling about the whole situation.

You try to lighten the mood, but it’s hard to ignore the tightness in his shoulders "You know, we’re supposed to be a married couple, not a couple of kids at a playground."

Law narrows his eyes at you "I didn’t sign up for this. The mission’s getting complicated."

You try to ignore the tug in your chest, a bit of confusion creeping in "It’s just a cover, Law. Nothing’s changed. We’re just doing what we need to do."

But the words hang there, and even though you say them, you know that things aren’t so simple anymore. You feel it, and you know Law does too.

As you leave the shop together, the streets of Wano no longer seem as welcoming as before. The weight of the situation presses down on you, and Law’s behavior is starting to affect you in ways you didn’t expect. You can’t figure out if it’s the mission weighing on him, or if it’s something more.

After the meal at Sanji’s, the rumors finally start dying down, but the damage between you and Law lingers. The tension is unbearable, Law barely looks at you, and you, still hurt from his earlier words, keep your distance.

Sanji notices. The crew notices. Even the damn town notices.

One evening, as you sit outside the inn you and Law have been staying at for your undercover mission, you overhear some locals whispering.

“They say that woman is still in love with her husband, but he doesn’t care for her.” “Shame. She looks miserable.” “She was always all so cute and clingy to him but she stopped entirely, he must’ve pushed her away.”

You clench your fists. It’s one thing to suffer in silence, but another to hear strangers pitying you.

Law suddenly walks past you, pausing for a second before speaking, “Go inside.” His voice is firm but quiet.

You don’t move “Why do you care?” you murmur, not looking at him “You made it clear I was just a nuisance to you and it's just a mission, which is almost over anyway given Zoro and Luffy are making trubles after trubles...”

Law exhales sharply “I never—” He stops, frustrated, before running a hand down his face “Listen, I was trying to stop myself from—” He cuts himself off again, jaw clenched.

You finally turn to him “From what?”

His silence is enough of an answer.

Your heart clenches, but you shake your head “You don’t have to force yourself to tolerate me anymore, Law. We’ll finish the mission, and after that—”

“Enough,” he snaps, suddenly grabbing your wrist. His grip is firm but not painful, just desperate “You don’t get to decide that.”

Your eyes widen as he pulls you toward him, his voice low but intense “I was a damn coward,” he mutters “You—you were always in my space, always teasing me, and I—” He exhales sharply “I pushed you away because I—”

You hold your breath.

“I fell for you” Law finally admits, looking at you with something raw and vulnerable in his gaze “I fell so hard, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Your heart nearly stops.

“You what?”

He groans, looking away “I can’t stand you ignoring me. I can’t stand watching you with Sanji, even though I know it’s nothing. And I hate that I made you think I didn’t care.”

The words hit you like a storm, leaving you speechless. He looks genuinely frustrated, at himself.

You swallow hard before whispering, “So what do we do now?”

Law looks at you, his grip tightening slightly “You tell me,” he murmurs, voice quieter now “Because if you still want me, then I—” He hesitates, then sighs “I don’t want this to be fake anymore.”

Your breath hitches.

For the first time in weeks, you grin “I mean... I think it's too soon to talk about marriage, isn't it?”

Law groans, rolling his eyes “Unbelievable.”

You laugh, and before you can stop yourself, you tug him down into a kiss.

And just like that, the mission doesn’t feel so complicated anymore.

Back on the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates immediately notice the change.

Law still wears his usual scowl, still grumbles under his breath whenever you tease him, but there’s no real bite behind his words anymore. The biggest difference? He lets you get away with it.

You lean against his side as he studies a map, chin resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t shove you off like he used to, he just sighs heavily, pretending to ignore you.

“Oi, captain,” Shachi calls out, smirking “Didn’t you say you hated being touched?”

Penguin snickers “Yeah, man, what happened to all that complaining? Because right now, it looks like you like it.”

Law doesn’t even look up, but you can see the way his jaw tightens, the tips of his ears turning pink “Shut up” he mutters, flipping a page of the map aggressively.

“Oh, come on, it’s adorable,” Bepo chimes in, tail wagging “You used to be all grumpy whenever she clung to you, and now you just accept it?”

You grin, tilting your head up to look at him “Aww, so you do like my attention.”

His eye twitches “I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t deny it.”

Shachi and Penguin lose it, laughing while Bepo beams like a proud parent.

Law exhales through his nose, rubbing his temples. But despite the grumbling, he doesn’t move you away. And that’s when it clicks.

Shachi leans back, crossing his arms “Y’know, I think we all got it wrong before.”

Penguin nods, smirking “Yeah. We thought y/n was the lost cause, but—”

They both turn to Law, who immediately tenses, as if he knows what’s coming.

“You actually fell harder.”

The room falls silent.

You blink up at him, waiting for his reaction.

Law glares at his crew, looking about two seconds away from using Room just to teleport them out of his sight. But instead, he lets out a sharp exhale, shutting his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he just mutters “Unbelievable.”

You beam and press a quick kiss to his cheek, watching as his face turns bright red.

Yeah. Maybe being undercover in Wano wasn’t such a disaster after all.

[moonlight-alexia]

no words, just you | a.p.

alexia putellas x matildas!reader | 1.4k | you come home to alexia after a tough international break

ˏˋ°•*⁀ i hope y'all like it, it just came into my head no long ago and felt the need to write it. idk if it's any good but hope you all like to read it <3

any and all feedback, comments, reblogs etc are very appreciated and welcome <3

As you settled into your seat on the plane, an uneasy weight settled over your body. A long flight that was going to be made even longer with the way you couldn’t settle yourself or seem to relax. There was a heaviness that wasn’t going away and all you could do was hope that it would leave once you focused back on club football.

You normally loved international break. You love representing your country, you love spending time with your national teammates, you were all so close and had this bond. Especially everyone being spread across the globe, camp was made more special getting to see your friends that you had grown up playing football with. 

You always wore the green and gold with so much pride, you just wished the people in charge cared about you and the team the way you cared about playing for your country. It was easier said than done to just focus on the football and let that do the talking. The constant media abuse was starting to weigh on most of the girls in camp, having no clear direction and not properly building towards a home tournament in twelve months was becoming exhausting. Seven months without a permanent coach.

Part of you wished you had pulled out of this camp and stayed in Barcelona with Alexia during this break. But the idea of a little tournament and a kit debut had drawn you in and now, mentally, you were paying the price of going.

Leaning your head back against your seat, you let out a deep sigh, a breath you didn’t know you had been holding in. You grabbed your phone, hovering over the texts from Alexia, seeing the most recent ones she’d sent as you were getting on the plane.

‘Bon dia mi amor, have a safe flight. I’ll be there when you land. Te quiero y te extraño mucho xx’

A little smile graced your lips, you couldn’t wait to be home with Alexia, to be in her arms where nothing else seems to matter but the safety of her presence. Alexia had been a bit worried about you over the last week and a bit. She’d managed to find a way to watch your matches and by the end of the last one she could see how defeated you looked. Each loss on top of everything else going on had really weighed you down and it was visible, probably more so to someone like Alexia who knew you as well as she did.

Since the kit debut photos came out where Alexia couldn’t hold back from calling you and you having agreed to model the away kit for her when you were back home, conversations between the two of you mainly consisted of Alexia sending you little messages throughout the day with no expectation of you answering. 

Even if you barely had the mental energy to reply to the messages, getting to read little bits of Alexia’s day made you smile. Also made you miss her even more than you thought you could. 

‘Te quiero Ale, can’t wait to see you again x’

Soon enough you’ll be in Alexia’s arms, the one thought that would get you through the flight back to Barcelona. You were wrapped up in one of Alexia’s hoodies that you’d taken on camp with you, arms wrapped around yourself tightly as if you could hold yourself together so you didn’t feel so flat and like you were breaking. The hoodie still smelled like Alexia and your eyes suddenly grew heavy. It’d been a long week and a half, so you were more than happy to let yourself succumb to and let sleep wash over you.

‘Amor!’ Alexia’s eyes lit up when she saw you walking through the airport, quickly making her way over to you, wrapping her arms around you and lifting you up slightly. You let out a breath of a laugh, dropping the handle of your suitcase and wrapping your arms tightly around her neck. Nuzzling your face in the crook of her neck, the hoodie may have smelled like Alexia but nothing was better than actually having her against you.

‘Hola Ale,’ You whispered against the skin of her neck, your breath sending a shiver down her spine. She’s missed this, missed you.

Time seemed to stop while you both stood wrapped up in each other's arms in the middle of the airport. Reluctantly you slightly pulled away from each other, your hands resting on the tops of her arms while Alexia’s were still loosely wrapped around your waist. Alexia leaned down, pressing a little kiss to your cheek.

Alexia grabbed the handle of your suitcase with one hand and with the other she held out for you to hold, lacing your fingers together the moment your hand met hers, ‘Home now, sí?’ Alexia gave your hand a little squeeze, smiling softly at you. 

‘I’m already home amor,’ Alexia rolled her eyes playfully, nudging her shoulder against yours. 

‘Oh stop it you,’ Alexia tried to hide her smile from you, but it was always impossible.

A comfortable silence fell over you both while Alexia drove you back to your shared house. You were still so tired, leaning your head back, your eyes fixated on your girlfriend. Every so often you saw her eyes flutter in your direction, lips turning up every time she caught your gaze. A slight blush creeped across her cheeks when she noticed you were staring at her.

‘Mi amor,’ Alexia whined, ‘Why you staring?’ She reached over gently, pushing your head to look the other way.

‘What? I can’t look at mi novia who is muy bonita,’ You emphasised the little bits of Spanish you sprinkled in whenever you could, making Alexia laugh a little. 

‘Remember when all you could say was bon dia for months,’ It had taken you a bit to get used to and remember bits of the language from your lessons. Somehow you and Alexia got to know each other despite her broken English and your broken Spanish, ‘Now look at you, adding more words,’ You pushed her hand away when she tapped your thigh faux condescendingly.

‘Not my fault it took me so long. My teacher was quite distracting,’ You joked around, cracking a half smile. Alexia smirked, a wink sent your way and at a red light she leaned over to press a kiss to your temple, resting her hand on your thigh.

The moment you walked through the front door to the house you shared with Alexia, there was a comfort that instantly washed over you. The past week, while still in the back of your mind, it wasn’t so loud anymore. Photos of you and Alexia, your friends and family filled the space and you were reminded of everything good in your life.

‘Hate seeing you like this cari,’ Alexia’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind, ‘I know what it’s like, if you need to talk,’ You melted into Alexia’s embrace. You may not have been the one to tell her what had been going on, but she always knew what to do and say even if no one had told her.

‘Just want to be here with you, leave it all out there,’ You pointed lazily towards the door, for now wanting to keep your house the safe space you needed.

Alexia laid against the headboard, you laid between her legs with your head on her chest. She wrapped a blanket around the two of you, rubbing your back gently, for the first time since you left Barcelona for camp you felt like you could finally relax.

Alexia kissed the top of your head, letting her lips linger, ‘Saw the goal mi vida, siempre muy bien, going do that with us next week?’ She spoke softly against your head. 

You cuddled into Alexia, pressing yourself against her even more, trying to get as close as possible,  ‘Do I get a reward if I do?’ You smiled sheepishly.

‘Hmm you always do,’ Alexia tilted your head up and kissed you slowly, 

The weight of everything would come back another day but for tonight you were home, safe, loved and in the arms of the one person who could always make everything feel like it would be okay again. You were back with Alexia and, tonight, that’s all that matters.

[straylightdream]

heaven knows

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeon wonwoo x f.reader x kim mingyu

who knew being roommates could turn into so much more.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, roommates to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): non idol

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 16.7k

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nightmares from a past car accident mingyu had, anxiety, depression, body image issues, lots and lots of emotions, pregnancy, implied mxm (not really sexually but they hold hands and cuddle, the boys care deeply for each other)

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, creampie, oral (both rec), hand job, fingering, pussy stretching, big dick wonwoo, mingyu’s dick is even bigger, anal play, threesome, spit roasting, anal, double penetration, voyurism (both boys like to watch), needy reader, soft dom wonwoo (like he’s very soft, he just good a being in charge), nicknamed: baby, baby girl, princess (hers)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: mature, nsfw, 18+

𝐚𝐧: thank you so much to @gyubakeries for helping me out and beta reading this story. This is an older story that I really have been wanting to edit and rewrite. This just really made sense as a minwon story. I have fully reworked it and only some of the plot is the some and a couple scenes.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

Laying in your full-size bed, your soft body was curled up against the muscular body of Wonwoo. Your leg was thrown over his waist as your head used his chest as a pillow. Your body couldn’t be any physically closer to his. Curled up behind you, Mingyu was nuzzled up tightly against you. Mingyu has always had a thing for having your ass pressed against him as he slept.

It’s been two years since you moved in with the boys. Originally you moved into the city for a new job. You packed up your life and moved in with your childhood best friend Jeonghan for a little while. Once you were situated fully at work you knew it was time to find somewhere to permanently live. You loved Jeonghan but living with him and his girlfriend made you feel like you were intruding on them. Even though they both constantly told otherwise. You worked for a publishing house and were lucky enough to be able to work from home most days. You were lucky Jeonghan had two friends who had a three bedroom apartment looking for another roommate.

As soon as you met your future roommates Wonwoo and Mingyu, you instantly clicked. They were both extremely easy to live with. They were both kind, extremely neat and tidy. Mingyu was even an amazing cook who adores cooking for his roommates.

Mingyu radiates golden retriever energy. He’s tall and beautiful with tan skin. He works as a freelance videographer. He frequently goes on work trips. A perks of his job is how much he gets to travel.

Wonwoo is the black cat to his roommate's golden retriever. He’s more quiet and reserved with people he doesn’t know. Once he opens up with someone you can see how funny and, at the same time, serious he can be. He works from home like you do. He works at a big tech company, and also does streaming on the side. He also has to travel quite frequently for his job.

Things with the three of you started out platonic. Sure from the very beginning there were lingering touches and longing looks shared between you and the boys, but it was nothing romantic. Cuddling in bed was the closest you got to romance. You had fallen into this cycle of all of you sleeping in bed together.

It all started one night when you had a really bad nightmare and went to the kitchen to get water, and found Mingyu sitting on the barstool at the counter. He also couldn’t sleep himself. He told you about the nightmares he’s had since he was in college. You learned about the bad car crash he was in that almost killed him. He said he doesn’t really talk about it often. You were the only person he opened up to about that night other than Wonwoo.

“I don’t like sleeping alone,” he sighs.

“You don’t have to. I can lay with you if you want.” Part of you felt like you were crossing a boundary that you probably shouldn’t. But there was something about Mingyu that always gave you a sense of comfort.

Following Mingyu to his bedroom, you each take a side of the bed. For a while you just lay there staring at each other. After a while Mingyu reaches out to take your hand.

“Could I possibly hold you?” He asked barely above a whisper.

“Of course.” He pulls you close to him and ask you to roll over. Laying on his side, he moves so he presses up snug against you with his hand holding your soft stomach.

That was the first night you and Mingyu innocently shared a bed together.

It became a frequent habit of both of you sleeping together just to cuddle after Mingyu would have nightmares. Wonwoo joined in one night about a month in when he walked into Mingyu’s room to check on him and found him curled up next to you. You were both wide awake and spooning while talking. You both looked over at Wonwoo with the look of a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, leaning against the door frame.

“I had a nightmare again and asked if she would lay with me.”

“Gyu, why didn’t you tell me?” Wonwoo’s face drops a little and he looks sad. Mingyu had mentioned that in the past, especially during college after his accident, Wonwoo was always by his side. He had said in the beginning that he couldn’t even sleep alone and Wonwoo would lay in his bed, holding his hand.

“I’ve been sleeping like this with (Y/N) for about a month.”

“Oh.” Part of you feels guilty that Wonwoo seems hurt.

“Did you want to join us?” Mingyu asked, tugging you closer to him.

“Would you mind?” Wonwoo sounds nervous. You both just shake your head. Slowly he crawls into Mingyu’s bed and curls up onto the other side of the bed in front of you. From that night on you rarely ever slept alone.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You nuzzled against Wonwoo’s chest as you started to slowly wake up. Mingyu’s strong hand gently rubbed your thigh letting you know he was awake. Gently, you rolled off of Wonwoo, trying not to wake him up. Looking over at Mingyu who had moved back a little to give you room.

He laid on his back and signaled for you to cuddle up against him. You moved back into the position you had just been laying on Wonwoo. Your leg once again was tossed over Mingyu’s waist as your head nuzzled against Mingyu’s strong chest.

His hand grips your thigh and pulls you even closer to him. A soft moan passes your lips unexpectedly. This was the first time your cuddling had even gotten close to sexual. There was suddenly a thick sexual tension between you as you let out another low moan when your pajama covered cored rutted against his hip. Your eyes went wide as you bit your lip. You didn’t mean to moan, but the way he was pulling you closer to him was intoxicating.

His warm eyes locked onto yours, as if he was trying to figure out what was going on in your mind. You suddenly felt embarrassed at the fact you moaned as your body moved against him. Your eyes quickly moved away from his dark ones.

“Should I sleep somewhere else?” You rasped lightly, finally breaking the silence.

He shook his head quickly. The last thing he wanted was for you to sleep somewhere else, at this point he didn’t know if he was able to actually sleep all night without you or Wonwoo.

“What’s going on?” Wonwoo said, sitting up. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked over at the two of you confused about what was going on.

You rolled off of Mingyu quickly and laid on your back staring at the ceiling. You wondered if maybe it was time for you to start sleeping alone again. You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore. You were starting to develop feelings for both of the men you were sharing a bed with.

“I think I need to sleep alone,” you continued to stare at the ceiling. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at either of them. The embarrassment creeping across your face.

“What? Why?” Wonwoo his voice sounds raspy and sounds sleepy. He had just woken up to you suddenly saying that you didn’t want to sleep with them anymore.

“Because I can’t keep telling myself I don’t have feelings for you,” you felt embarrassed that you had to confess the feelings you had for them. You never planned on telling them. You felt as if your feelings might be one sided. Your cheeks burned bright as your eyes looked over slowly at Wonwoo and then at Mingyu who both had the same wide-eyed look as they stared at each other. Maybe if the bed would open and swallow you whole you could escape this.

“I mean I like you too,” Wonwoo said, speaking up as he looked down at you. He pushes his fingers through his messy hair.

Mingyu nodded his head, “I like you too.”

“Oh,” you were completely caught off guard. Mingyu was a man who had no issue with skinship. You hadn’t even thought about the possibility he would like you as more than a friend. Wonwoo had always been more closed off, almost afraid to put himself out there. The thought of him like you wasn’t something you could picture.

Leaning down, Wonwoo gently presses his lips to yours like he’s testing the water. Pulling back for a moment he gives you a smile. Without even thinking you lean forward pressing your lips to his.

Mingyu sits up and lets out a little laugh. “Why did I always know Wonwoo was going to be the first to kiss you.” The whole situation feels like a dream. Looking over at Mingyu, you stare at him, knitting your brows together.

Gently he reaches out resting his hand on your cheek. His thumb drags across your bottom lip. “I’ve never minded sharing with Wonwoo,” he whispers.

The moment your lips touch Mingyu’s you relax. Kissing both the boys just feels so right. Pulling away, Mingyu rests his nose against yours and smiles.

“Can we maybe talk more about this later? I’m exhausted and still want to cuddle,” Wonwoo asked as he laid back down.

“Okay we can talk about details later,” you said, still attempting to process everything.

Wonwoo moved so he was laying on his side and pulled your soft body so you were curled up against him. Mingyu smiled as he watched you curl up against Wonwoo.

“Are you going to join?” You asked.

He nodded his head as he slowly moved to become the little spoon in front of you. His strong body pressed against your soft one. Your hand was over his waist and he reached up and laced his fingers with yours and gave your hand a little squeeze.

Wonwoo gently pressed his lips to your bare shoulder and whispered, “I’m glad you moved in with us.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It’s a rare day when yours and Jeonghan’s schedules fully line up, and you find yourself itting in a coffee shop, where he’s telling you about his latest promotion at work.

“I feel like I haven't seen you in ages. I have seen Wonwoo or Mingyu either,” Jeonghan says before taking a drink of his coffee.

“They’re both really busy with work, and work has been stressing me out. I really only see the boys at night now.”

“Are you sleeping better now?” Jeonghan knows about your nightmares and how sometimes you can barely find sleep because you can’t turn your mind off.

A heavy sigh passes your lips. How do you explain to Jeonghan that the only way you can really sleep now is curled up against your roommates? You aren’t even sure how to define your relationship with the boys. Are they technically both your boyfriends?

“Yeah, I am.”

Jeonghan studies you by knitting his eyebrows together. “How is it living with the boys? Are you still liking it like you used to?”

“Yeah, they’re great.”

A smile forms on his face. “So which one of the boys do you have a crush on?” Your face instantly burns with embarrassment and you don’t even know how to respond. “My original thought was Mingyu, but I think Wonwoo’s black cat gamer tech boy thing might get you.”

”Hannie.”

“Oh it’s definitely Wonwoo,” he perks up at the fact he thinks he figures you out. There is no point in correcting him, and maybe it’s best if he just thinks you like one of your roommates.

“Enough about who I may or may not be crushing on.” Reaching out you grab your cup of coffee. “How is your girlfriend? Have you proposed yet?”

His smile instantly drops now that you have turned the tables on him. “You know, before her, I never wanted to get married, and don’t get me wrong—I want to marry her. I just don’t know if this is the right time.”

“When do you think the right time will be?”

“I think I’m just scared, but probably now,” His girlfriend has brought up getting married a bunch. Jeonghan was her first serious relationship after her college boyfriend cheated on her and she fell hard for your best friend.

“Hannie, I think you need to stop being scared. She’s literally perfect for you.”

“I like that you turned the tables on me. Instead of just talking about your crush you brought this up,” he shakes his head taking another drink of his coffee.

“I learned from the best.” He can’t help but smile at your response.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Mingyu was away for a video shoot in Japan he was filming. This was your first time alone with Wonwoo since you confessed your feelings and shared your first kiss with each boy. You’ve fooled around quite a bit together. Each boy can’t seem to keep their hands off you and Wonwoo has his head between your legs any chance he gets. The man is very passionate about eating you out any chance he gets.

Mingyu was supposed to be arriving home any time soon. As Mingyu was leaving, he had asked Wonwoo to look after you. He called you “their girl”—the sweet nickname that left you wanting to giggle like a schoolgirl.

Wonwoo and you were curled up on the couch. You leaned into his side as the movie you were watching played on the tv in front of you. His strong hand rested on your thigh as he aimlessly drew circles onto the skin. His touch caught your attention. You glanced up at him as you were attempting to watch the movie. How were you supposed to focus on a movie when the man that was always capturing your attention was touching you?

His focus was on the tv in front of him, but he could feel you looking at him. He looked down at you with a smile playing across his lips.

“Yes, Princess?”

Your eyes narrowed, “you can’t just touch me and expect me to actually watch the movie playing.”

He bit his bottom lip and held back a smile.

“Did you want it to be more than an innocent touch?” he asks as his hand moved towards the inside of your thigh. Slowly, you nod. Over your leggings, he gropes your core with his large hand. You close your eyes as you take in the feeling.

A soft moan passes your lips. Without warning, he pulls his hand away from you. He doesn’t give you a chance to think before he moves you so you were facing each other. He reaches forward and connects his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers tangled in your hair pulls you closer to him as your lips danced together. His strong hands grab your soft hips, moving you so you were straddling his waist. His hands roam your back as your lips continue to move against each other. The way you were kissing, you would have sworn that you needed each other to breathe. The sound of the door opening caused you to pull apart. With wide eyes you both looked up to see Mingyu standing by the tv.

“I see you took care of our girl,” Mingyu smiled as he stared at the pair of you who look like you got caught doing something you shouldn’t.

“Hey Gyu,” Wonwoo awkwardly said as you crawled off of him, and moved back to your spot on the couch you had been sitting on.

“Why are you two acting like I just walked in on you cheating on me?” Mingyu was confused on why you were suddenly acting guilty.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know.” This was all new to you. It felt strange that Mingyu would be okay with you openly kissing his best friend.

“(Y/N), you’re allowed to kiss Wonwoo and do whatever you want with him. You don’t ever need to ask for my permission,” he smiled as he walked towards you and sat on the coffee table that was sat in front of the couch. He reached over and placed his hand under your chin and gently tilted your head up so you were looking into his warm eyes. “I could have walked in on you two fucking on the couch and I wouldn’t have cared. The ball is in your court at all times, Princess. Whatever you want from all this is what you get. If you want to be with both of us, you can. If you only want to be with only one of us, we both understand.”

Both Wonwoo and Mingyu wanted you to be happy, and they both had agreed that no matter what happened, your happiness was what mattered the most.

“I want both of you guys,” you whisper, still almost unsure that all of this was real. How could both of these men possibly be okay with openly sharing your affection?

“Then you have both of us Princess,” Wonwoo said from beside you.

“Did you want me to leave so you guys can go back to making out on the couch?” Mingyu asked with a soft laugh as he released your chin. “Things seemed to be heating up. Maybe Wonwoo could lay you down the couch and eat you out.” He earns a laugh from Wonwoo.

“No, did you want to cuddle and watch the movie with us?” You asked.

“I would love that.”

You moved back into Wonwoo’s side and Mingyu sat down on the couch next to you and rested his hand on your thigh.

“I missed you guys,” Mingyu smiled gently, massaging your thighs, earning a soft sigh from you.

“We missed you too,” Wonwoo said before leaning over and pressing his lips to the top of his favorite girl's head.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Sitting in the kitchen you’re working on a project that is due soon. Mingyu is making breakfast and Wonwoo is on his phone intently reading something.

“I need you two not to judge me, but I need to ask something?”

Mingyu continues to whisk his pancake batter, “shoot.”

“I don’t exactly want to assume, but assuming we were to start having sex. How would that work with the three of us?”

“Didn’t Mingyu eat you out earlier this morning?” Wonwoo chimes in.

“I think she means fully having sex. I don’t think she means what we have been doing.” Mingyu responds.

“Well, we can do it however you want. You can have one on one sex with each of us. You can have all both of us in the room. Hell, you can have both of us at the same time,” Wonwoo’s final sentence earns a smirk from Mingyu.

The thought of a threesome before this all started never even crossed your mind. Yet now you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to be with both of them at the same time.

“I’ve never done any kind of butt stuff.” You nervously say.

“Do you ever want to?” Something tells you Wonwoo is familiar with what you would need to do to enjoy anal.

“I’m intrigued by it. I would definitely want to try it out separately. I don’t think I’m prepared to try it while taking one of you at the same time.”

Mingyu barks out a laugh, “baby the first time you try anal it won’t be while I’m inside you.” You almost find it funny. It's assumed that Wonwoo is the first person you will try anal with. It probably has something to do with Mingyu’s size. You’ve given him head quite a few times and you can’t even fit half of him in your mouth. You’re quite familiar with Wonwoo’s cock now as well and he’s large but much more manageable.

“Do you think maybe I could have a solo first time with each of you?”

“Of course. Do you have a preference on who you would like first?” Wonwoo asked.

There is a nasty thought eating away at you that you’ll hurt one of their feelings if you pick one of them.

“I don’t want to hurt either of your feelings. I don't want you to think I have a favorite.”

Wonwoo sets his phone down, raising his eyebrow, “nobody thinks you have favorites.”

“If you want Wonwoo to be first I won’t be upset,” Mingyu says as he starts pouring the batter into the hot skillet.

“How about I make this easy for you. Joshua asked me to go to the gym this afternoon and meet up with Seungcheol. Why don’t you and Mingyu spend some quality time together. Maybe you can take your clothes off.”

Mingyu smiles as he focuses on making breakfast. Your cheeks burn a little at the thought of what is going to unfold when Wonwoo leaves. “That works for me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Mingyu smiles.

Your first time with Mingyu was everything you imagined it would be. He was gentle and took his time to fully explore your body.

Laying on his bed in his room he used to sleep in, your legs are spread. He’s laying between them with his hard cock pressed against your core. He just finished eating you out until you cried. He decided now he needed to focus on other parts of your body. His lips are attached to your perk nipple. One hand groped the other as his lips were focused on your nipple. The way he’s using his mouth made you feel like you might cum just like this. Your eyes are closed and your fingers are tangled in his hair, holding him close to your chest. Ever so often he’ll grind his cock against your mound, giving you the friction you desperately crave.

“Mingyu- please-” you’re not even ashamed to beg for more.

Releasing your nipple with a pop, some of his saliva is attached to your puffy nipple. “Yes princess?”

“Please just I need you inside of me.”

Pulling his body up onto his knees. “Do I need to use a condom?”

“Um, we didn't discuss that with Wonwoo.” You feel stupid this is definitely something the three of you should have discussed.

“Are you on birth control?” Silently you nod. “Did you want to go bare?” You’ve never done it before and the thought of Mingyu’s huge dick being inside of you bare is almost enough in itself to make you cum. “I want our first time to be completely bare, but we need to ask Wonwoo if he’s okay with that as well.”

“Do you have to call Wonwoo?”

A heavy sigh passes his lips as he crawls off the bed. He walks over to the dresser where he left his phone. You take this time to admire his beautiful naked body that’s on display. Opening his phone he goes into his favorites and hits Wonwoo’s contact. He presses the speaker and sets his phone on the bed next to you where you’re laying in the same position. It rings all of four times before Wonwoo answers.

“Gyu what’s up?”

“Please tell me I’m not on speaker?” Mingyu asked, crawling back onto the bed.

“No, what's up?”

“Can you take this call in a private place? The boys don’t need to hear any of this conversation.” Mingyu sits on his knees in between your spread legs.

“Is everything okay with (Y/N)?” You can hear the background noise on Wonwoo’s side getting quieter and quieter.

“I’m okay,” you finally speak up.

“Hi baby,” Wonwoo responds.

“Hi Wonu.”

“What’s going on that I have to make sure the boys can’t hear?”

A smile forms on Mingyu’s lips as he rubs your knee, “well, me and princess were about ready to fuck and we realized that we never discussed what the rule is with condoms.”

“Mingyu, it's more of her call on if she wants us to wear them.” Wonwoo responded immediately.

“Shouldn’t you both agree on if we decide to go bare?” You speak up.

“Baby I would prefer we don’t use them, but that’s if you’re on birth control and Mingyu is also okay with it.”

“She on birth control and fuck, I desperately want to feel her raw.”

“So, no condoms?” You ask.

“We don’t have to use them. I’m clean. I got tested the month after you moved in and I haven’t been with anyone since.” Wonwoo says.

“I’m also clean.” Mingyu chimes in.

“Same here. I haven’t had sex in like four years.” You still feel a little embarrassed admitting that.

“Have fun you two,” You can picture him smiling on the other end. “Princess, when I get home, how about I steal you away for a while?”

“Okay.”

“Bye guys.”

“Bye Wonwoo,” You both say.

Mingyu ends the call and tosses his phone away from you. “Princess, where were we?” He gets back into the same position hovering over you. He reaches between you taking his length in his hand. “It might hurt a little. If it’s too much just tell me.”

Leaning up, you press your lips to his for a gentle kiss. “I’m ready.”

It wasn’t a lie. The feeling of him stretching you out did hurt. A gasp passes your lips as you attempt to adjust to the feeling of him. Leaning down, his nose rests against yours.

A soft whimper passes your lips.

“Baby I’m sorry.” He sounds distraught.

“Please just go slow.”

He treats you like you’re made of glass. His thrust is slow but deep. Connecting his lips to yours, he helps take your mind away from the aching feeling below. With each thrust the painful feeling starts to disappear.

“You feel so good,” he moans against your lips.

Your hands crawl across his back, wanting to desperately touch every part of him.

The coil in your stomach tightens as you get closer and closer to finding your release. Every muscle feels as if it’s tightening when your high washes over you. Your walls contract, pulling on his large length.

His own high has him moaning against your lips. He fills you with thick white ropes of his release. Dropping down to his elbows, he lays some of his weight on your soft body. Your fingers run through his hair, enjoying the feeling of him being so close. “I love you,” he softly whispers against the delicate skin on your chest. Almost as if he doesn’t want you to hear.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. This is the first time these words have been exchanged, but you truly love them both.

After a little while, Mingyu removed himself from you and cleaned up his release before crawling into bed with you. An afternoon nap felt like the perfect post sex aftercare.

Slowly your eyes opened up at the feeling of the bed moving. The room was dim, letting you know the sun was setting. Silently you watched as Mingyu was trying his hardest to be quiet.

“Where are you going?” Your voice is soft.

Looking back at you he steps closer to the bed. Leaning down he kisses your lips gently. “I just got a text asking to check some emails and seeing if I could help Vernon with some editing for a shoot he did.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Baby don’t worry I’m not leaving you alone. Wonwoo just got home and is in the bathroom.”

“Oh.”

A smile pulls on his lips, “I think he’s showering and you joining him might be the perfect surprise. He’s using his old bathroom with the walk-in shower.” The bathroom connected to the main room you all sleep in is a pretty big shower bath combo.

Another quick kiss is pressed to your lips before he leaves you alone in bed.

Slowly crawling out of bed you are debating on getting dressed. Deciding to be brave you walk down the small hallway to the bathroom naked.

Opening the bathroom door as silently as possible, you step inside. The sight of Wonwoo’s very naked body through the glass is practically mouth watering.

The door clicking shut catches his attention. He looks at you smiling.

“Are you going to join me?” He speaks a little louder to hear him over the water.

Stepping into the shower, he wasted no time pulling you close to him. Pressing his lips to yours for a heated kiss.

“Did Gyu take care of you?”

Your nose rests against his as you say, “yes he did. Are you going to take care of me now?”

“Let me wash your hair.”

Stepping under the warm water Wonwoo takes his time massaging your favorite strawberry shampoo into your scalp. Reaching back, your hand runs across his wet skin.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Maybe?” You smile.

“Baby let me wash your hair and take care of you, and then I will take my time exploring your beautiful body fully.”

He keeps his word. He washes your hair and then takes his time washing your body with your favorite body wash. Once out of the shower he wraps a towel around you before he blow dries your hair.

With lust filled eyes you watch as he dries his own body. Holding his hand out he takes your towel from you leaving you both fully naked.

Stepping into the hallway, you get one step away from him before he wraps his around you pulling you back against him. His hard cock pressing against your lower back. He helps you walk towards the living room holding you close.

You don’t even make it your bedroom. He takes you down to the living room floor. Luckily on top of the soft rug Mingyu made a big deal about buying.

“Baby our first time should be on our comfy bed,” he sighs as you kiss his neck.

“Wonwoo, I want you. You’re the one who dragged me down here.” You say with a soft laugh.

Pulling away from you he stands up. Holding his hand out he helps you stand up. “You can have me. But let me take care of you in bed.” Pulling away from you, he stands up. Holding his hand out, he helps you stand.

Walking into your shared room you crawl on to your unmade bed. Wonwoo joins you, taking his time to kiss his way across your body while he takes his time fingering you. Pulling his finger from your core he smiles at the sight of some of Mingyu’s cum.

“I see Mingyu took advantage of not wearing a condom.” You feel instantly red with embarrassment. Your attempts to close your legs are instantly stopped by him. “Baby, don’t be embarrassed. I like it,” He chuckles. He holds his fingers close to you. Deciding to be brave, you wrap your lips around his finger, taking Mingyu’s release into your mouth. “I see you like it too.”

He takes his time kissing everywhere his mouth can reach. His lips focused on pebbles nipples as his fingers start pumping in and out of you. For your first orgasm, you fall apart moaning his name.

“Baby lay on your side.”

He comes up behind you, rubbing his cock through your folds, gathering your release. He takes your leg, helping you rest your foot on his leg to give him more access to your core.

The hand under your body massages your heavy breast. Ever so slowly he pushes his length into you. He’s definitely larger then the average man, but not as big as Mingyu. The stretch feels absolutely intoxicating.

His hips move into you at a slow but deep pace. The echoing sounds of his low groans, and your moans fill the room.

“Baby can you play with your clit?” He moans in your ear.

Your hand immediately goes to your puffy clit,making quick circles on your sensitive nub. The orgasm that hits you feels like a white wave. Everything feels fuzzy. His thrust pick up, chasing his own release as your walls contract.

His hand grips your hip, pulling you back on him. Tilting your head back he crashes his lips into yours. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you like he needs you to breathe.

He doesn’t pull out, he just holds your body close. Your heart is telling you to say those three words you told Mingyu. Without thinking you say, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I love both of you.”

You don’t have to look back to know he’s smiling. “Did Gyu say he loved you?”

“He whispered it to me.”

“He's been holding back saying that for a month.” He presses his lips to your shoulder. “I need to clean you up but right now I just want to stay inside you.”

“We can stay like this.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Seungcheol decided to throw a little get-together at his place. Wonwoo drove the two of you and Mingyu was coming later.

Wonwoo was in the kitchen talking to Joshua and Seungcheol while you were sitting on the small balcony with Jeonghan drinking a glass of wine.

“Where is your girlfriend?” You asked him.

“She had to work a late shift at the bar.” Jeonghan’s girlfriend works as a bartender at the bar you all frequently meet at downtown.

“I feel like I haven’t seen her in forever. Tell her we should have another wine night.”

Jeonghan smiles before taking a drink of his beer, “I will definitely let her know.”

The sound of laughter through the sliding glass door catches your attention. Looking back you see Wonwoo and Seungcheol laughing about something.

“So did you figure out your crush on Wonwoo?”

“You could say that,” you hadn’t actually told anything about what was going on with the boys. “I’ve kinda started something with him.”

“I think Wonwoo would be good for you.” Jeonghan truly only wants what’s best for you.

The sound of the sliding glass door opening catches your attention. Mingyu is standing over you, smiling.

“Hey Hannie,” he waves to your best friend. “Hi baby,” he leans down pressing his lips to yours for a quick kiss. “Did you need anything to drink?”

“No, I'm good. Thank you though.” You say, holding up your glass of wine.

“I’m gonna chat with the boys inside.”

Jeonghan’s eyes are about bulging out of his head as Mingyu leaves the porch. “Does Wonwoo know you’re kissing Mingyu?”

A heavy sigh passes your lips. Leaning further back into your seat, “yes Wonwoo knows, and before you ask, Mingyu knows about Wonwoo.”

“Are you trying a poly situation?”

“Yeah I guess you could call it that. It started out innocent. We originally used to just cuddle because I can’t sleep and Mingyu gets nightmares.”

A smile forms on Jeonghan’s face, “is it no longer innocent?”

“Hannie,” instantly you roll your eyes.

“Are you fucking both of them now?” He sounds so excited asking you this.

“Yes.”

“Are you having threesomes?”

“Yoon Jeonghan, I’m giving you no details about my sex life.”

The sliding glass door opens and Wonwoo peaks his head out, “come inside, the pizza here is here.”

Standing up you walk inside and Wonwoo instantly pulls you into his chest. He presses his lips to yours for a soft kiss. “The boys know about us and Mingyu.”

“Hannie knows too.”

“That’s good. We have nothing to hide,” he presses his lips to yours for another kiss.

“Baby do you want pizza?” Mingyu asked over at the counter.

“Yes, please.”

Wonwoo stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Leaning back against him you instantly relax.

The night with your friends is nice. It’s rare that everyone gets a chance to hang out. Mingyu takes your hand, leading you out of Seungcheol house. He’s been yawning nonstop for the last hour.

Walking into the apartment, Mingyu heads off to take a shower while Wonwoo heads off to the kitchen. You join Wonwoo in the kitchen. He making a cup of tea.

“Princess, would you like a cup?”

“Yes please.”

“Mingyu seems extra tired tonight,” Wonwoo sighs.

“I think he needs to get some sleep. I think his shoot today was draining.”

After drinking your cup of tea you find Mingyu already curled up in bed and sound asleep. It’s not long before you fall asleep curled up between the boys.

Waking up in the middle of the night the first thing you notice is the room is empty. You’re confused on where both the boys went. Slowly getting up, you walk into the living room and find Wonwoo and Mingyu on the couch together. Mingyu is lying on the couch with his head resting in Wonwoo's lap. Wonwoo is gently brushing his fingers through Mingyu’s dark curls. Mingyu is clearly sleeping fully relaxed resting on Wonwoo.

“Is everything okay?” You whisper walking towards him.

“Gyu had a bad nightmare and I just got him to calm down.” Before you started living with them Mingyu told you that Wonwoo would take care of him after having nightmares. It’s very sweet seeing Mingyu curled up against Wonwoo relaxing.

“Sorry if we woke you up,” Wonwoo says just above a whisper.

“You’re fine. How bad was his nightmare?”

“He woke up crying for the first time in a while. Back in college, they were like this constantly. It got so bad that I had to put a mattress on the floor by his bed. Eventually I would just lay in bed holding his hand while he slept.”

“You both have a special connection.” You aren’t sure if they ever shared a romantic connection before you came around, but it’s clear they both love and deeply care for each other.

“Gyu is my best friend and I would do anything to make him feel better.” Wonwoo continues running his fingers through Mingyu’s hair.

“Do you think we should get him to go back to bed? This can’t be comfortable for you to sleep.” You ask.

Gently Wonwoo rubs Mingyu’s arm. “Gyu, let’s go to bed. Our baby wants to cuddle with you.”

Mingyu’s eyes slowly open. “Can I lay in the middle please?” He sounds as if he’s barely awake.

“Of course.”

Laying in bed Mingyu stares at the ceiling. His breathing is uneven. “Gyu, what’s wrong?” Wonwoo asked, lying on his side facing Mingyu.

“Can you hold me Wonwoo?” A gentle smile tugs at your lips. You love seeing how much they mean to each other.

“Of course. Did you wanna hold princess while I hold you?”

“Yeah.”

Mingyu moves to his side so he’s facing you. Wonwoo curls up behind Mingyu, spooning him. Mingyu let out a soft hum as Wonwoo gently rested his hand on his stomach.

Curling up in front of Mingyu he holds you close. “This is nice,” Mingyu whispers.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Both of your boys were away for the weekend. They both decided to go home to see their families together and you couldn’t help but get lost in your own thoughts as you laid in your bed alone for the first time in forever. You were starting to doubt yourself, you didn’t understand why two men would want to be with you. Let alone two men who looked like them. Glancing over at the clock you saw the time read two in the morning. You weren’t even close to tired anymore.

Lifting the covers, you crawled out of bed and walked off towards your bathroom starting the warm water. You slowly stripped off your clothes and stepped into the water. The warm water engulfed your body, you couldn’t help it as tears started to slide down your cheeks. You were over thinking everything and you knew it. You had a really rough day at work. It was a rare day when you had to go into the office and just anything that could go wrong did go wrong. Your shitty day at work probably wasn’t helping at all. Another thing was you were supposed to start your period any day and that always made you emotional. You ran your hands across your tear stained face and washed away your tears.

You stayed in the shower for what felt like forever before you finally got out. You shut the water off and wrapped a towel around you. As you turned around, you heard the bathroom door open and turned to find Mingyu walking inside looking exhausted.

Suddenly you felt embarrassed by the fact that Mingyu walked into the bathroom to find you crying in the middle of the night.

His soft eyes roamed your face attempting to figure out what was wrong with you. “Baby, what's wrong?” he stepped towards you and wrapped his arms around your basically naked body, pulling you into his chest.

“I just had a rough day, and started over thinking about everything,” you sighed as the tears continued to slide down her cheeks. You felt stupid that you let little things get you down, but you couldn’t help it.

His strong hand gently rubbed your back as he pressed his lips to the top of your head. You closed your eyes and held on to him. You knew you didn’t need to be crying, but you couldn’t help it.

“Where’s Wonwoo?” You murmured, still holding on to him.

He pulled away from you and gave you a small smile, “he’s exhausted. The second we got back, he stripped down to his boxers and got into bed.”

“Oh, okay,” you whispered.

“Baby, what aren’t you telling me?” he had both his hands on your arms, staring at you to figure out what was going on in your head.

“Why do you guys want to be with me? I’m literally nothing special,” you sighed. “Half the time I feel like I’m an emotional wreck.”

He moved his strong hand and gently rested it under your chin and tilted your head up so you were looking at him, “you are so beautiful inside and out. I can’t imagine my life without you, and I’m pretty sure Wonwoo feels the same way.”

“I don’t feel like I’m worthy of the feelings you guys have for me,” you sighed.

“Don’t ever say that,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to your tear stained cheek. “Stop doubting yourself.”

“Why do you put some pajamas on and we’ll crawl into bed with Wonwoo?” He gave you a simple smile. “or if you want you can just take that towel off and crawl into bed,” he smirked slightly.

“I’ll get dressed for bed,” you reached over and picked up your oversized shirt that was on the sink next to where you were standing. Mingyu watched you as you slowly got dressed for bed. He wasted no time lacing his fingers with yours and led you towards your bed. As you got close to the bed you found Wonwoo sound asleep on the far end of the bed. You crawled onto the bed and moved over closer to Wonwoo. His eyes slowly opened and saw you giving him a sad smile.

“Princess, what’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up noticing something was wrong. He looked over at Mingyu who had a concerned look on his face. “Mingyu what's going on?”

“Our girl had a rough day and needs some love.”

Wonwoo didn’t bother responding, he leaned forward and gently connected his lips to yours. His hand rested on your cheek as he stared at you for a moment.

“Why do you guys like me so much?” you whispered.

“I can list a million reasons if you want me to,” he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. His hand was resting on your cheek.

Mingyu moved onto the bed and rubbed your back gently before pressing his lips gently to your shirt-covered shoulder.

“Why don’t we all get some sleep princess?” he whispered.

“I think Mingyu has a good idea,” Wonwoo whispered.

Wonwoo laid back down and you curled up against him and he pressed his lips to the top of your head. Mingyu curled up behind you and whispered, “baby we love you so much.”

“Mingyu is right, we love you,” Wonwoo chimed in.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Wonwoo gripped your hips as his own hips thrust into you over and over again. You couldn’t help but moan his name over and over again. Your hands moved to grip the sheets next to your hips. Mingyu had gone to workout, leaving you and Wonwoo alone for a little while, and it didn’t take long before Wonwoo had you naked and on your back.

He sat back on his haunches as his hips thrust into yours over and over again. Your back arched as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“Wonwoo,” your high pitched moan echoed off the walls.

“Babygirl, let go,” he rasped as he leaned forward. He pressed his lips to your soft stomach as he rolled his hips against yours. You wanted every piece of the man thrusting into you. Everything about him was absolutely intoxicating to you. His skin glistened with sweat as he looked down at you like you were his world.

It only took a few more thrust before he pushed you over the edge. Your walls pulled him in, and he thrust a few more times before he hit his own high. He laid down on the bed next to you and stared at the ceiling as he panted. He looked over at you to see you with a huge smile on your face. If you looked up word bliss in the dictionary, this moment would be found.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asked, reaching over and lacing his fingers with yours.

Silently you nod as you look over at him.

“I hate that I have to leave for a business trip soon. I wish I could just stay here with you and Mingyu.” You hate when the boys have to travel for work, but you never tell them. You always tell them they’ll be back before they know it. “I’m going to miss you baby.”

“I always miss you.”

Leaning over he presses his lips to your. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He pulls away smiling at you.

“Man, Mingyu missed out by going and working out,” he laughed softly.

Before you could respond the door to your room opened and Mingyu walked inside to see you and Wonwoo naked lying in bed. Mingyu pushed his eyebrows together and smiled at the sight in front of him.

“I see I missed the fun,” he walked over and sat down on the bed.

“I got my own workout in,” Wonwoo teased.

“I guess I should stop going to the gym,” Mingyu jokes.”I’m sure Seungcheol would understand if I told him I got a new work plan going. I could tell him all about my new personal trainer who can’t keep her clothes on.” Wonwoo chuckles softly at Mingyu's statement.

“Well if you’re not too tired I’m sure (Y/N) would let you get another workout in,” Wonwoo lifted your hand up and pressed a light kiss to the top of delicate skin on top.

You bit your lip and smiled. You couldn’t believe you were so lucky that two beautiful men seemed to be absolutely in love with you and both wanted to sleep with you.

“Princess, could you go for another round?” Mingyu asked, looking at you.

“I guess,” you joke. Even if you were absolutely exhausted you couldn’t turn down the chance to be with Mingyu. Sex with him is always intense and he like for you to be a pillow princess so he can worship you.

“I’ll give you guys some alone time. I’m in need of a shower,” Wonwoo released your hand and got out of bed.

Mingyu pulled off his shirt and watched as you sat up and leaned against the headboard. Wonwoo walked over and patted Mingyu on the back before heading off to the bathroom. Mingyu reached down and pushed off his sweatpants and his boxers. Hungry eyes traveled up and down his toned body. The sight of his naked body was absolutely mouthwatering. Crawling onto the bed he watched as you laid back down and smiled at him. He moved so he was hovering over you and connected his lips to yours for a passionate kiss.

“I need to stop leaving you and Wonwoo alone,” he rasped with his lips brushing against yours.

“At least he is also giving you alone time with me,” you reached up and rested your hand on his cheek.

“Remind me to thank him for that,” he smiled before pressing his lips to yours again.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

As the clock struck four am Wonwoo pulled himself away from your sleeping form that was curled up next to him. He was attempting to not wake you up, but you were a light sleeper and the second he moved your eyes opened.

“Is it time for you to leave?” You whispered, attempting to not wake Mingyu who was sound asleep next to you. He has a very early flight to catch. He hates that he’s been going on business trips more often recently.

“Yeah baby, my flight is super early. I’ll be back in three days,” he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours for a kiss goodbye. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Please come back safe,” you said as you watched him walk out of your bedroom.

You rolled over and curled up next to Mingyu who hadn’t even woken up. Since you’ve been constantly sharing a bed, Mingyu’s nightmares barely seem to happen now.

Closing your eyes you only got a little more sleep before you woke up again. Laying in bed you curled up close to Mingyu. He had his arm wrapped around you holding your close. You had a big day ahead of you today. While Wonwoo was away and your mother was coming into town. The three of you had talked it out and agreed that you would say you were only dating Mingyu for the time being. You still couldn’t help but be nervous. You hadn’t ever had many of your past partners meet your mother.

Your head was resting on his strong chest as you attempted to go to sleep.

“Baby, are you awake?” he asked as his strong hand gently rubbed your side.

“I can’t sleep,” You whispered.

“Do you maybe wanna take a bubble bath?” he asked, knowing that was one of your favorite ways to relax.

“Mingyu it’s five in the morning,” you glanced over at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

“So,” he didn’t see a problem in you taking a bubble bath.

“Alright let’s take a bubble bath,” you said softly.

Pulling away from Mingyu’s body you slowly got out of bed and followed Mingyu off to the bathroom. Mingyu walked over to the bathtub and started feeling it up with warm water. You reached under the sink and pulled out one of your favorite bath bombs and dropped it into the warm water.

As the water started to rise Mingyu stripped away his boxers and stepped into the warm water. You removed your undies and oversized shirt and stepped in the tub in front of him. You leaned against his bare body and instantly relaxed against his touch. His strong hand rested on your thigh and aimlessly drew circles on your skin.

It was moments like this you were happy that you had Mingyu in your life. He always knew the best ways to calm you down.

“I miss Wonwoo,” you whispered. When this all first started you worried about stating your feelings for the other man, but they both constantly informed you they weren’t competing for your love. You were allowed to love both of them equally.

“I miss Wonwoo too, baby.” Wonwoo was truly Mingyu's other half. They shared a bond like you have never seen before. You feel as if they’re soulmates and we’re always supposed to be in each other's lives.

Leaning your head back you rested your head against Mingyu’s shoulder. You were exhausted but so nervous about tomorrow you couldn't sleep.

You knew you don’t need to be nervous. You weren’t telling your mother that you were involved with both Wonwoo and Mingyu, you were only telling her about Mingyu.

“If Wonwoo was here would all of us fit in this tub?” His words caused you to smile.

“I guess it would have been a relaxing night time shower then,” you lightly laughed.

He pressed his lips to the side of your neck for a gentle kiss and you couldn’t help but smile. His touch was so relaxing to you.

“Are you worried your mom isn’t going to like me?” Mingyu couldn’t lie, he was nervous your mother wasn’t going to like him. When they agreed that you would tell your family you were only dating one of them,he had originally thought Wonwoo would be the one saying he was the boyfriend. Everyone always seemed to be drawn to Wonwoo, he was charming and people loved him. Wonwoo and you both agreed that it should be Mingyu though for some reason.

“I know my mom is gonna love you. I just don’t like the idea of not telling her about Wonwoo, but she wouldn’t understand,” you reached down and laced your fingers with Mingyu’s hand that was under the water.

“Maybe after we have been together for a while, we can tell her about Wonwoo,” he said, knowing eventually you would need to tell your family about Wonwoo. Neither of you wanted to hide Wonwoo. He wasn’t a dirty little secret or anything like that. You love him just as much as you love Mingyu.

“Yeah I like that idea,” you said with a smile.

You sat in the warm bath for probably half an hour, talking about little things. When you got out you were barely awake. Mingyu helped dry you off then he took your handed leading you to bed, curled up under the covers soon you both quickly fell asleep.

When your mother met Mingyu she couldn’t help but be charmed by the man with curly hair and golden skin. When she first arrived, Mingyu was so nervous he didn’t even know what to say. It didn’t take long before you and your mother were laughing at one of his stories from his childhood. Your mother seemed to love Mingyu and when you walked her out to her car she kissed Mingyu on the cheek and told him to take care of her daughter.

You sat in the kitchen waiting for Wonwoo to come home. His business trip was over and he was supposed to be walking through that door at any moment. You missed him dearly and couldn’t wait for him to come home. Mingyu was off taking a shower, he had asked you to join him, but you told him you didn’t want to be in the shower when Wonwoo walked through the door.

It was pretty early in the morning and you let out a yawn. You walked over to the coffee pot and started to make some coffee for you and the boys. As you turned the coffee pot on you heard the front door open. Turning around you found Wonwoo walking in, limping. Your eyes went wide and suddenly you panicked,rushing over to Wonwoo who seemed to be moving slower than normal. He dropped his duffle bag and wrapped his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest. Leaning down he pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“Wonwoo are you alright?” You asked, worried about him.

“Yeah babygirl I’m fine. I’m just a little sore, I definitely overworked myself when I was working out last night at the hotel with Joshua.”

“You had me really worried for a moment,” you sighed.

“I’m fine you don’t have to worry about me,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours for a soft kiss. “How did Mingyu meeting your mother go?”

“It went great, my mom loved him,” you couldn’t help but smile thinking about how great things went with your mom. “Maybe after we’ve been together a while longer we can introduce you to her as well.”

Leaning up once again you pressed your lips to his. Wrapping your arms around him, you deepen the kiss. You had missed Wonwoo so much. You grabbed his hand and led him off to your that has now become the shared bedroom for all of you.

You walked him over to your bed and reached down for the bottom of your shirt and pulled it off. Wonwoo had truly missed you, but he didn’t expect this greeting when he arrived home. He reached to pull off his own shirt and groaned at the soreness.

“Wonwoo, are you okay?” You asked worried about how hurt he actually was.

“Yeah baby, I’m fine,” he pulled his shirt off the rest of the way and worked on getting his shoes off. “Me and Joshua did a boxing match at the hotel gym I forgot that Shua is stronger than he looks.”

You took this as your chance to remove your pale blue pajama bottoms. He pushed his sweat pants down and boxers and he stood there naked in front of you. Taking his glasses off, he sits them on the dresser. You reached up and softly connected your lips to his for a gentle kiss. You missed him so much, you hated when you had to spend time apart.

Lancing your fingers with his you led him towards the bed. Wonwoo laid down on your unmade bed and you reached over and pumped his hardened length a few times. You had desperately missed the feeling of his skin. Slowly you crawled into the bed, and lined his erection up with your entrance. There is no time for foreplay. You’ve missed him too much. After the first few thrusts, you’ll adjust to his size. You slowly sank down on his length.

You gasped as you bottomed out on his length and Wonwoo let out a breathy moan. He had missed you so much and he loved you so much he couldn’t get enough of you. Slowly you moved yourself against him.

Mingyu walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you on top of Wonwoo. Both Wonwoo and you looked over at Mingyu and gave him a small smile. You continued to ride Wonwoo as Mingyu acted like nothing was going on and worked on grabbing some boxers out of the dresser. It didn’t take long before Wonwoo and you both hit your highs. Wonwoo paints your walls white as he grips your hips.

Crawling off him, you laid down next to him. Mingyu leaned against the wall and smiled at the two of you who were both trying to catch your breath. Mingyu walks into the bathroom and comes back holding a washcloth. Tapping your thigh he signals for you to open your legs. Ever so gently he cleans up his best friend's release that is already dropping out of you.

“Thank you,” Wonwoo sighs.

“Wonwoo what’s up with the bruise?” Mingyu asked, noticing Wonwoo’s bruised skin.

“Me and Shau did a practice boxing match at the hotel gym last night.”

Mingyu let out a soft laugh, “she’s the best kind of medicine.” He walked over and crawled into bed next to you and curled up next to you.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“You know, when I pictured going on a double date with you and your future boyfriend I never imagined it would be with my dorky gamer friend,” Jeonghan teases sitting across from the table. Wonwoo lets out a laugh as his hand rest on your thighs.

“Hannie,” his girlfriend says, slapping his arm.

“Where is your guy’s other boyfriend?” It’s not unusual for Jeonghan to refer to Mingyu as both of your boyfriends. Wonwoo never corrects anyone. Neither does Mingyu when people call Wonwoo his. That might be because they're in a relationship together as much as they are with you. They’ve never done anything really romantic except cuddle and hold hands from what you know. But even if they had it wouldn’t change anything. You would fully embrace it if they wanted to be intimate together.

“He’s in Japan for a video shoot,” Wonwoo says.

“What have you two been up to?” You're attempting to change the subject of your relationship.

“So we asked you guys if you wanted to meet up because I’m moving,” Jeonghan’s girlfriend statement catches you off guard.

“Are you moving too Jeonghan?”

“No, she is moving to England.”

The table is suddenly silent as you process what you’re being told. They’ve been together for a really long time. It’s insane that now they would do long distance.

“Are you going to do long distance?” Wonwoo asked exactly what you were thinking.

“No, we actually broke up two weeks ago. I’m going to stay with Jeonghan for another week before I move.”

Looking up at your best friend you can see the sadness in his eyes. He’s no longer smiling as he stares at the table.

“Hannie, are you okay?” You wish you didn’t find out right now. You wish he would have told you sooner so you could be there for him.

“I’ll be okay.”

The whole dinner felt like a blur. You all made small talk and you couldn’t help but focus on Jeonghan who seemed like he was trying to be happy.

Standing in the parking lot you say goodbye to Lana before she walks off to Jeonghan’s car. Wonwoo gives you a kiss before he says he’ll meet you in the car. He knows you need a moment with your best friend.

Jeonghan puts his hands in his pocket and sighs.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t told anyone. I wasn’t really sure how to process this. Hell, I was just getting ready to buy her a ring.”

Stepping forward you pull him into a hug. He’s stiff for a moment before he relaxes resting his cheek on top of your head. “I’ll be okay. Once she moves I’ll be able to fully process this.”

“If you need anything you can call me, any time of the day or night.”

He pulls away from you and smiles. “I’ll be okay. How about once she’s gone we can get dinner and ice cream.”

“Ice cream to heal your heart?”

“Yes, to heal my heart.”

“Please call me,” you step back.

“I will. Now go spend time with your gamer boyfriend. Something tells me he’s looking forward to one on one time.”

Walking over to Wonwoo’s car you can’t help but feel sad for your best friend. Sliding into the passenger seat, Wonwoo watches you.

“I had no clue they broke up. I had been pushing him to take the next step with her.”

“I know he’s sad, but Jeonghan is a good guy and he’ll find the perfect person for him.” He rests his large hand on your thigh before giving it a squeeze. “How about we go back to our place and cuddle on the couch and watch a movie?”

Walking into the house Wonwoo and you head off to the master bedroom. You both decided to get dressed for bed. Wonwoo puts on a pair of lounge pants that sit low on his hips and you opt to only wear a baggy shirt and a pair of panties.

Curled up on the couch you just want to be close to Wonwoo. His arm is wrapped around you. His large hand rests on your soft stomach.

You can barely focus on the movie. You’re only focused on his hand that has started gently kneading the flesh on your stomach.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah baby?”

“Thank you for loving me.”

“You were so incredibly easy to fall in love with.”

Gently he presses his lips to your shoulder.

“You were the missing piece in both me and Mingyu’s life.”

There is a long moment of silence. “You two truly made me so comfortable in my own skin again.”

“Baby you’re beautiful inside and out.” His hand that is resting on your stomach gently squeezes your flesh.

“I feel so much more confident in myself.” This didn’t happen overnight and being with the boys didn’t suddenly give you confidence. It took baby steps to get here but you finally feel so comfortable and happy in your own skin. For the first time in your life, you truly feel sexy.

You also finally feel happy and there isn’t a sadness lingering over you. That’s because of a healthy and loving relationship and the help of therapy along the way.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You, and the boys glided through the crowded party. Your hand was holding Mingyu’s strong hand tightly. He led you away from the party to his old room at Seungcheol’s house. At one point in time both your boys lived with Seungcheol here. Wonwoo followed right behind. You snuck off upstairs away from the crowd as everyone was ringing in the new year. The moment the door was opened he pressed you against the wall and moved his lips down your neck. Wonwoo slowly walked in behind you. Mingyu seemed to be way more eager than Wonwoo was. Wonwoo walked over and sat down on the bed and watched as Mingyu’s hungry lips moved down the base of your neck as his hands worked on getting your dress off. Mingyu groaned at the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra. He removed your dress leaving you only in undies and your black high heels, your soft body on full display. He stepped away and worked on getting his own clothes off.

You looked over Mingyu’s shoulder to find Wonwoo sitting on the bed watching with a smile on his face. He seemed amused by what was playing out in front of him. Wonwoo tended to watch and direct you both from the sidelines before taking his turn or joining in.

You reached down and removed your heels and undies as Mingyu stripped off the rest of his clothing. The second he was naked he gave himself a few strokes, he connected his lips to yours and dipped his fingers into your core to give you some foreplay as his lips moved against yours in a hungry kiss. You moaned into the kiss at the feeling of his fingers circling your sensitive nub. You pulled your lips away from his and moaned his name loudly. He took this as his cue and lifted your soft body up like you weighed nothing. He thrust into you in one quick motion. Your hands gripped his back as he pressed you against the wall as he slid into you over and over again. The angle he was hit with each thrust had you seeing stars.

You couldn’t help but moan with every thrust. You held on to him tightly as he worked at a quick pace. Looking over at the bed you found Wonwoo biting his bottom lip as he palmed himself through his dress pants.

Mingyu’s lips moved to the side of your neck where he left a trail of wet kisses. He groaned against your skin as he was getting close to his high. It only took two more thrust before he pushed you over the edge. You rode out your high as he thrust a few more times before finishing inside you.

“Wonwoo,” you whispered as Mingyu sat you back down on your feet. Pushing your legs together you feel his cum start to slowly drip out if you. He stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt. He could tell by your tone what you wanted. With your legs slightly wobbly you walked over to Wonwoo who was standing next to the bed removing his dress shirt. You stood in front of him for a second before you leaned up and pressed your lips to his.

Mingyu walked over and sat down on the chair by the window still coming down from his own high. Despite how much he wanted to get in on the action, he wanted to give you and Wonwoo some time to yourselves. There were times that you would have sex all together, but they also liked to give each other their alone time with you.

You reached between Wonwoo and you and undid his belt and buttons on his pants. He was the only one in the room still wearing clothes. It didn’t take long before Wonwoo’s clothes were on the floor and he moved to the bed.

Your soft body was sitting on his hips as he lay underneath you. Your hands rested on his chest and you moved your body slowly up and down his length. Mingyu sat silently on the chair for a little while, before he got up and moved over to the bed. He leaned over and started placing wet kisses across your shoulder as you rode Wonwoo like your life depended on it. You tilted your head back and moaned.

“Gyu play with her clit,” Wonwoo was good at giving Mingyu directions in bed. Mingyu will always fully listen to whatever his best friend asks him to do.

Mingyu pressed himself against you rubbing his already hardening length against your ass as his hand dipped between your folds. Rubbing your clit as Wonwoo raises his hips to meet you. Mingyu can’t take his lips off the side of your neck.

“Fuck-“ you brain feels like it’s filled with static. With zero coherent thoughts.

“I think we need a new position. Princess is short circuiting,” Wonwoo teases below you.

“What position do you want?” Mingyu asked, still toying with your sensitive clit.

“We don’t have lube so I don’t think she can take me in her ass right now without it and she definitely can’t take you.” He’s not wrong, both of your boyfriends are big, but Mingyu is absolutely huge. Wonwoo dick is the perfect size for you, and sometimes it takes a little extra work to make it comfortable for you to be able to take Mingyu. When it comes to anal, most the time Wonwoo is the only one allowed to fuck your ass. You’ve taken Mingyu a few times but it stresses him out and you're definitely in pain the next day. Even though the man is obsessed with your ass. He knows when it comes to anal that Wonwoo is the best option.

“Baby how do you feel about sucking off Mingyu while I take you from behind?”

“Please.”

Wonwoo helps you get on your hands and knees. His hands massage the flesh of your ass as he runs his length through your folds.

Taking Mingyu large cock in your hand you start working your hand up and down his length.

“Baby spit on it,” Wonwoo moans.

Opening your mouth you spit onto his length just like Wonwoo asked.

Wonwoo pushes into your quickly earning a moan. One hand rests on Mingyu thigh helping to support yourself while you lean down to take him hard cock in your mouth. With his size you can’t fully take him but he’s okay with that. His hand is holding your hair back from your face as you bob your head, taking him past your gag reflex. Wonwoo’s hands are gripping your hips as he snaps his hips into yours over and over again.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Wonwoo groans.

“Baby-” Mingyu whimpers.

You aren’t sure how long you can last like this. Wonwoo’s pace is fast and he’s brushing just the right spot that has you seeing stars. Pulling off Mingyu’s dick, you whimper, looking back at Wonwoo who seems completely lost in the moment.

“You’re doing so good baby, taking care of me and Gyu.”

Leaning back down, you take Mingyu’s cock in your mouth again. He groans, leaning his head back. His body feels tense under your touch. His whimpers let you know he’s close.

“Gyu if you’re going to come in her mouth, ask princess for permission.” Wonwoo sometime like to be in charge in the bedroom and you and your other boyfriend won’t ever complain.

“Baby where can I finish?” Mingyu practically whines.

Popping off him, some saliva is attached from his cock to your mouth. “In my mouth.”

“I’m close.” He whines.

Leaning back down you start sucking him off like your life depends on it. Wonwoo makes you moan when he reaches in between your legs and starts playing with your sensitive clit.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Moaning around Mingyu length he fills your mouth with his cum. Pulling off of him with a pop, you fall forward resting your head on his thigh as Wonwoo pace gets quicker.

“Fuck-” you moan.

“Fuck-” Wonwoo’s hips still as his finds his own release. Filling you to the brim with milky white release.

Wonwoo slowly removes himself from you. He crawls off the bed as Mingyu sets you up in his lap. He runs his fingers through your hair as he presses his lips to yours for a gentle kiss. He could care less that he can taste himself on your lips.

Both the boys have left you fucked out and exhausted.

“I love you both,” you smiled, feeling dazed in pure bliss. Wonwoo crawled back onto the bed lying down next to you and Mingyu.

“We love you too, babygirl,” Mingyu leaned down and kissed your cheek.

Wonwoo silently laid there with a huge smile on his face.

“I think we wore Wonwoo out,” Mingyu jokes.

He closed his eyes and nodded his head with a huge smile on his face.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Your first anniversary was a major milestone you were looking forward to. Initially,you wanted to plan something for the boys. Before you could even think of anything, Wonwoo informed you to just let them plan something.

Your night started at a romantic dinner at a fancy sushi place you have always wanted to try. Mingyu even picked out a dress and lingerie he wanted you to wear. When you walked out of the bedroom in the skin tight dress Mingyu picked out, you weren’t even sure you would leave the house at the way both the boys were eye fucking you. Hell if they wanted to spend the whole night having sex you wouldn’t complain.

The dinner was absolutely perfect and when you got home they took their time undressing you before worshiping every ounce of your body.

Laying on top of Mingyu, your pussy rubs against his hardened length. His fingers are tangled in your hair as he kisses you. Wonwoo is behind you watching as he’s getting the stuff he needs to prep you to take him in your ass.

A cold dollop of lube lands on your tight ring of muscle. Pulling your lips away from Mingyu you look over you shoulder to find Wonwoo smirking at you as his thumb applies some pressure to your asshole.

“Oh-” you moan.

“Does princess want to take both of us at the same time tonight?” His thumb fully slips into your ass.

“Please-” this is a rare treat taking them both at the same time. You’ve done it a handful of times and you want to do it more, it just takes more prep than normal.

“Gyu can you put it in and just let her cockwarm you while I finger her? She needs extra prep tonight.” Wonwoo isn’t necessarily bossy in the bedroom, and doesn’t try to dom either of you. But he’s really good at being in charge and giving you both directions.

“Baby can you slowly take me in?” Mingyu asked.

Silently you lift your hips. Mingyu helps, holding his length at your entrance. Ever so slowly you slide down his huge length. You already feel full, and you don’t have anything in your ass yet.

Wonwoo’s finger slides into your ass slowly. “Mingyu keep her relaxed. Kiss her, do whatever you need to do to make sure our princess is relaxed.” This isn’t the norm in the bedroom. When you do take both of them at the same time it takes some patience from everyone.

Tangling his fingers in your hair he pulls your lips down to his. The kiss is sloppy, filled with lots of tongue. Your brain feels scrambled trying to focus on the second finger Wonwoo has in your ass, and the feeling of Mingyu snug inside you.

“You’re such a good girl,” Wonwoo’s large hand massages your fleshy butt cheek. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes.” You pull away from Mingyu mouth.

Wonwoo grabs the bottle of lube and takes his time coating his erection. Mingyu’s lips are on your breast, helping distract you.

The initial feeling of Wonwoo pushing into your ass is always a little uncomfortable. The stretching feeling takes some time to get used to. A soft whimper passes your lips, capturing Mingyu’s attention. He takes your face with both hands. His thumb drags across your bottom lip, earning a smile.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers, almost as if you’re alone in the room.

“It feels intense.”

Wonwoo bottoms out and stills, giving you time to adjust. “Baby do you need me to stop?” Wonwoo snaps you out of the little haze you were in.

“No, I just need a moment.”

His hand rubs up and down the small of your back helping you relax. “You’re so good at this baby. You’re absolutely perfect.”

“You’re just saying that because I like to let you both double team me.” You can’t help but tease.

Mingyu smiles instantly at your words. “That’s just a bonus baby.”

“You both can move. Just please go slow.”

Mingyu stays completely still, letting Wonwoo get in a few shallow thrust. Wonwoo’s large hands grip your sides, helping steady himself.

“Gyu move-“ You whine.

Mingyu thrust up into you the best he can from below you. You try to help, but Wonwoo is holding you in place. The feeling of both them filling you up fully isn’t something you can fully comprehend.

Your brain feels like mush and you can’t think of anything other to say than moans and whine a mix of their names, and curse words.

Wonwoo bends over, completely plastered against your back. His lips are your shoulder sucking marks into your skin. One of his hands reaches around you and starts rubbing quick circles against your clit.

You’ve been teetering on the edge for what feels like hours. Every muscle in your body feels tense. There is a pressure building inside you that you can’t quite explain.

The moment your orgasm hits you, it feels like an explosion. You cry out as all the tension releases and your body releases a liquid all over Mingyu below you. This is a first for all of you.

Your arms give out and you collapse on Mingyu. He moans your name before he fills you with milky white cum. Wonwoo hasn’t stopped thrusting into you. He’s changed his position slightly. He’s still thrusting into you over and over again, pushing you against Mingyu who is still snug inside you. His softening cock is plugging up his cum from leaking out.

Wonwoo gives you three firm thrusts before filling your ass with his own release.

Pulling out slowly he rolls onto the bed next to you and Mingyu. Mingyu has done nothing to try and remove himself from you. His hand brushes your hair away from your face.

No one says anything for a long moment. Mingyu is the first to speak. “Did you squirt on me?” Your body burns with embarrassment suddenly.

“She did, it turns out taking both of us and playing with her clit will make her.” Wonwoo says.

“That’s so embarrassing.” You sigh.

“That was the exact opposite of embarrassing. That was fucking hot.” Mingyu smiles.

“We’re gonna need to clean the sheets before we go to bed.” Wonwoo says. Of course your neat freak boyfriend is thinking about changing the cheats after he’s made you squirt on Mingyu.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Sitting on the floor in the bathroom you mind raced. Your emotions were all over the place and your brain fought with the feeling of sadness, happiness and guilt. The dinging on your phone let you know that five minutes had passed letting you know that it was time.

Reaching up on the counter you looked at the two pink stripes on the stick that let you know that you were indeed pregnant. Most women would be over the moon to find out they were pregnant, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty. You had never discussed having children with Wonwoo and Mingyu and you honestly had no clue who the father was. You were on birth control and neither of the boys used condoms anymore.

The sound of knocking on the bathroom door caught your attention. Before you could even dispose of the pregnancy test Wonwoo walked into the bathroom. His mouth opened to say something but immediately shut as he looked at the pregnancy test that was in your hands.

“Princess are you okay?” He asked, sitting down on the floor next to you.

Quietly you shook your head and looked into his warm eyes. You wonder if the baby is his if they’ll get his beautiful lips or warm eyes.

“What does it say?” He rested his hand on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m pregnant,” your voice shook as admitted it out loud for the first time.

“Why are you sad about that?”

You took a deep breath wondering what exactly you should say, “we never talked about having children and I don’t know which one of you is the father.”

A look of confusion crossed his face as he reached for your soft body. Without a second thought he pulled you into his lap. You sat on his lap and rested your head on his strong chest. A sigh pasted your lips as your eyes brimmed with tears. His hand rubbed your side and his lips pressed to the top of your head. He took a long moment just holding you. He wanted to comfort you, but he knew you were mentally going through a lot processing the fact that you knew you were pregnant.

“It doesn’t matter who the father is. We both love you and no matter what, and we’ll raise this child together with you,” he murmured as his hand continued to rub your side. “If the baby is mine I’ll love it with all my heart, and if it’s Mingyu I’m still going to love it the same way. No matter who the father is, Mingyu and I will be that baby’s dads together.”

Glancing up at him you found him smiling. He seemed to be happy about the fact that you were pregnant. A small sense of relief started to wash over you at the fact that he wasn’t worried about the fact you didn’t know who the father was.

Sniffling back tears, you asked, “do you think Mingyu is going to be okay with me being pregnant?”

Wonwoo and Mingyu were in very different places in their lives mentally. Wonwoo was pretty well adapted to what he wanted in life, and Mingyu was still trying to figure out what he fully wanted with his life. His dream of pursuing directing was something that always stopped him from settling down before you.

“Mingyu’s always longed for a family in the city, and the sense of having a home here, and starting a family with you is something that he needs.”

A warm feeling in your chest let you know that everything was going to be alright. That things between you and the two boys weren’t exactly normal in the eyes of society, but what you had was perfect to them.

“Mingyu should be home from working out anytime, do you want to tell him?” Wonwoo asked.

You gently nodded your head and crawled out his lap. He stood up and reached his hand out to help you stand up. The moment you were standing he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours for a sweet kiss. Pulling his lips away from yours he wrapped his arms around your curvy torso and hugged you. His hand rubbed your back and he whispered, “there is no other woman I would rather have a child with, and there is no other person I would rather share being a father with than my best friend.”

Pulling away you looked up at him and couldn’t help smiling. The sound of the bedroom door opening caught your attention. Wonwoo reached down and grabbed the pregnancy test and handed it to you and smiled.

You walked out of the bathroom to find a shirtless Mingyu looking through his drawer in one of the dressers. He turned around and his eyes immediately went to you and noticed your eyes were puffy in the aftermath of your tears.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Mingyu asked.

Without a word you held out the pregnancy test. Silently he stepped forward and grabbed the pregnancy test, his wide eyes stayed locked on the pregnancy test. You couldn’t help but be worried about the look on Mingyu’s face. His dark eyes were wild for a long moment before he looked up at you and instantly his expression softened.

Wonwoo stood next to you holding your hand, he knew that all of this was scary for you.

“You’re pregnant?” Mingyu asked, finally breaking the silence that had grown so loud between all of you.

Slowly you nodded not sure what to say.

“I’m assuming we don’t know who the dad is?” He asked not actually caring who the father was.

Shaking your head, you tried not to cry. “The way I see it, it doesn’t matter who the father is. We’re both fathers to this baby,” Mingyu reached out resting his hand on your stomach. His response warmed your heart and you smiled.

“Told you he would be happy,” Wonwoo leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“I’m finally going to have a little family of my own,” he walked towards you and wrapped his arms around your soft torso pulling you into a tight hug. “I love you so much babygirl.”

Stepping back you looked over at Wonwoo who had a really big smile on his face. Both boys seemed genuinely happy that they were going to have a child. You had gone from feeling sad and guilty to suddenly overjoyed that you were going to be starting a family with the two boys who you loved and adored.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Your hand rested on your growing stomach. As you sat on the large couch that was in the middle of your living room. You leaned against Wonwoo while your feet were resting in Mingyu’s lap. Strong hands massage your feet as your eyes are held closed enjoying the closeness with the boys.

Without saying a word you reached for the pillow on the floor and laid it down in Wonwoo’s lap. He couldn’t help but smile as you moved to lay your head down in his lap while Mingyu massaged your feet.

From the moment they discovered you were pregnant both the boys had gone out of their way to make sure you were treated like a princess. Both them were over the moon that you were expecting a child.

Recently your hormones have been all over the place. You went from wanting to cry to wanting to tear the boy’s clothing off with your teeth.

“Baby, are you tired?” Wonwoo asked as he rubbed your arm gently.

“I’m exhausted every moment of my life right now,” you let out a soft laugh. “Carrying this baby takes all my energy.”

Reached up, Wonwoo gently rested his hand on your round stomach. It still amazes him that either Mingyu or him had created a life with you. He couldn’t wait to see if the baby was going to look like you or either him or his best friend.

“You look so beautiful carrying our baby.”

“You two are lucky you’re charming and good looking because this baby takes all my energy,” you teased.

“We’re sorry the baby is making you tired,” Mingyu said, speaking up.

Leaning over Mingyu placed a sweet kiss on your knee.

“I’m supposed to be cooking dinner for your birthday Mingyu.”

Wonwoo looked down at you shaking his head smiling, “It’s cute you think that you’re cooking dinner.”

In the last two months as you crossed over from your second trimester to your third. The boys were letting you do less and less. You had originally planned to cook the boys an amazing dinner for Mingyu’s birthday but both the boys kept shutting you down.

“If I don’t cook, who is going to cook?”

“We are more than capable of cooking dinner for us,” Mingyu gently squeezed your foot. You looked at him and tried not to laugh at his comment. “Don’t be rude,” he gently squeezed your foot one last time.

“So Princess, have you figured out if you want to find out if we’re having a boy or a girl?” Wonwoo asked, attempting to change the subject.

You were still trying to decide if you wanted to know if you were having a boy or a girl. Since finding out you were pregnant you had gone back and forth on if you wanted to find out.

“I mean I still don’t know. Maybe the gender can be a surprise along with figuring out who the dad is,” you tried to joke about the situation that still made you feel guilty.

Wonwoo leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead. His touch was gentle as if he was trying to calm you.

“We both have told you over and over it doesn’t matter who the father is. This is both of our baby,” Wonwoo's voice was warm and calming.

“He’s right,” Mingyu said, speaking up.

“I know I just feel…” you paused trying to gather your words. You slowly sat up and took your feet off of Mingyu’s lap and sat in between both the boys. “It’s just an odd feeling. I feel like I’m breaking one of your hearts.”

“Hey,” Mingyu reaches over and rested his hand on your cheek and gently twisting your head so you’re looking at him. “No one is upset here or hurt. You mean the world to both of us and we both love you and the baby equally. It doesn’t matter who the biological father is. We don’t even have to ever find out if you don’t want to.”

Your eyes were locked on his kind dark colored eyes. Slowly you blinked for a moment before you leaned forward for a sweet kiss.

“I don’t think I want to find out,” you whispered, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

“Then we don’t find out,” Wonwoo answered.

“If you want, maybe after this one grows up a little bit we can try to have another one. Say this little you’re carrying now is mine, we have to focus on making the next baby Mingyu’s if they makes you happy.”

“Does that mean one of you boys would have to wear a condom every time?”

“Yeah and we would be fine with that,” Mingyu chimes in.

“Thank you boys.”

You put your feet up on the coffee table and reached over and took both of their hands. You knew nothing about their lives were normal but wouldn’t change your life for the world. You would never know how you ended up lucky enough to have two wonderful men in your life. Or how you were lucky enough to start a family with them.

~&~

Standing in the living room you watched as Mingyu held your daughter. He gently swayed side to side singing softly to the little girl who stole his heart. It was very clear early on into her life that Wonwoo was the father to your little girl. She looked so much like him it was hard to deny.

You and Wonwoo had just returned from the store and hadn’t expected to find Mingyu dancing with his daughter. You couldn’t help the smile that is plastered on your face as you watch them.

“Is that how Mingyu calms her down?”you asked looking up at Wonwoo.

“When I dance she doesn’t giggle like that,” Wonwoo acted as if he was offended even though he wasn’t. Wonwoo absolutely adores how much his daughter loves Mingyu. He couldn’t be happier that he’s getting to experience fatherhood with his best friend.

“Look mommy and daddy are home,” Mingyu says walking over towards you.

“Did she behave?” You asked as you walked closer to Mingyu and your daughter.

“This little girl was a complete angel while you were away,” he winked before he pressed his lips to the top of his daughter's head.

Your daughter says, “dada,” clinging to her other father. Mingyu lights up every time his daughter calls him that.

In all the time you had been with Mingyu and Wonwoo things between the three of you just kept getting better. The addition of your daughter seemed to bring all of you closer than you had ever been before and none of you thought that was possible.

Wonwoo heads off to the kitchen to put some of the groceries away. You stood in the living room staring at Mingyu for a moment before he handed you your daughter. You’ll never get over how completely perfect your little girl is. Holding your daughter close, you press your lips to the top of her head. Swaying to the beat of the music you hummed along to the song. It’s not long before your little girl is sound asleep in your arms.

“I should probably put her down for a nap,” you say quietly.

Walking off to her nursery you lays her down in her crib and press your lips to her forehead before slowly leaving her room.

Walking back into the living room you find Wonwoo and Mingyu sitting down on the couch. You smile as you sit down between them.

“I don’t want to brag but I personally think we made the perfect baby,” you state proudly.

Mingyu shrugs and lets out a chuckle, “I mean you aren’t wrong. I think our next one will be just as perfect.” It still stings a little that Mingyu is gonna to have to wait a little while to have a child that is biologically his.

You both look at Wonwoo who is smiling. He lets out a soft laugh of his own before saying, “I’m aware our daughter is beautiful. She looks like her mother. She was bound to be stunning.”

Biting your bottom lip you hold back a smile as blush crept across your cheeks. You’ll never get over the fact that both boys are so attracted to you, and how much you love your life with them.

“I love you both,” you beams.

“And we love you,” Mingyu says as he leans over and presses his lips to your shoulder.

It’s moments like this that make you feel like your life is perfect, and you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

FOUR YEARS LATER -

Jeonghan’s birthday party is always an event. His house is filled with friends celebrating. Things have changed since you’ve had kids. House parties have now become family friendly events.

Jeonghan’s girlfriend of two years Honey looks like she has a serious case of baby fever as she holds your son. At only six months old he’s just as charming as Mingyu.

Mingyu is with Wonwoo in the kitchen helping your daughter get something to eat.

“My godson just looks like a mini version of Mingyu,”

Jeonghan laughs.

“I sure made some cute kids.”

“I would usually joke being like, are you sure you know who the dads are, but your daughter is the perfect mix of you and Wonwoo. And that little one is just a mini Gyu.” He’s not wrong, your daughter definitely looks like both you and Wonwoo and you aren’t sure if you just didn’t clone Mingyu at this point. There was absolutely no denying he’s the father of your son.

“So does Honey want kids?”

“About that-“ Jeonghan watches his girlfriend with a smile on his face. “We think she might be pregnant.”

“Does that mean I finally get to be a godmother?”

He rolls his eyes, “yes you get to be a godmother.”

“Mommy,” your daughter screams running towards you holding an ice cream bar.

Wonwoo is hot on her trail. He picks her up before she can launch herself into your arms. “Dada gave me ice cream,” she looks over her shoulder at Mingyu who is smiling walking towards you.

“I said wait for dinner but Mingyu out voted me.” Wonwoo says. Mingyu is an absolute softie when it comes to his daughter. She has him wrapped around her tiny little finger.

“Daddy said no.” Your daughter pouts.

“Gyu,” you can’t help but laugh.

“It's Hannie’s birthday. I said since it’s her godfather's birthday she could have a treat.”

“I say let the kid have ice cream,” Jeonghan chimes in.

“Fine,” Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

There is something special about seeing the boys be amazing fathers. They love their kids so much, they also love you just as much.

Wonwoo leans in, pressing lips to his daughter's forehead. She pulls back giggling before pressing her lips to her father’s nose. Holding her arms out she reaches for her other father. Mingyu wasted no time taking her from his arms. Mingyu walks her back towards the kitchen to get a napkin.

Wonwoo walks closer to you. He smiles before pressing his lips to your.

“So is there a third one coming at any point? Are we going to play another guessing game of ‘guess who the father is’?” Jeonghan always likes to tease you about the fact you weren’t sure when you were pregnant with your daughter about who the father was.

“Right now we’re good with two? But who knows maybe one day me and Mingyu will play a game called, Who-Can-Knock-Up-Our-Wife-First.” Wonwoo says, earning a laugh from Jeonghan.

“We’re good with two right now.” You respond.

Life has a strange way of working out. Who would have known taking that taking that new job all those years and go to live near Jeonghan would lead you to this perfect life you’re now living.

If you have asked to be tagged I request that you please reblog. If you could leave comments and or tags that would be greatly appreciated.

[fireinmoonshot]

touchy | joaquin torres x reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader Summary: Joaquin has a thing where he always likes to have a hand on you whenever you're together – holding your waist, holding your hand, a hand resting on your thigh. You finally decide to confront him about why. Warnings: Mentions of food, a kind of spicy make-out scene. Word Count: 1.6k A/N: I had this idea and I just had to write it. It's shorter than my other Joaquin fics but I had so much fun writing it and I really just wanted to get something else for Joaquin out for you guys! Please send in requests for him if you have any! 💗

One thing you never expected when you started dating Joaquin Torres was how touchy the man was – there was barely any time when the two of you were together when he wasn’t touching you in some way. 

It surprised you at first. He never came across as that kind of person. He was the definition of a Golden Retriever boyfriend. But then you’d be standing with him at a party and you’d feel his hand wrap around your waist, or whenever you had to cross the road, he’d hold your hand (not unlike your parents used to do when you were a child), or when you were at home watching a movie on the couch, his hand would rest on your thigh.

After several months of this, you finally decided to ask him why.

“Joaquin, can I ask you something?” You call from where you’re sitting in the living room, your eyes flickering up from the book that was on your lap – the one you’ve been trying to read and failing, owing to the fact that your boyfriend has been strutting around your apartment shirtless ever since he got out of the shower.

“Course you can, angel,” he calls back from the kitchen.

Out of the two of you, Joaquin is the cook of the family. You hadn’t trusted him in the kitchen at first – he had always seemed the type of person to accidentally chop off a finger because he was too distracted. But so far, no such accidents had occured and he was much better at making a delicious meal than you were.

You were quick to close your book and get up from the couch, padding through the hallway into the kitchen to see him standing at the bench, chopping something up on a cutting board in front of him – still irritatingly shirtless.

“Cooking shirtless is dangerous, you know,” you say, announcing your presence. 

His eyes flicker up towards you. “For you or for me?”

You give him a look. “For you, pretty boy. I’m not the one holding the knife.” 

Joaquin grins at you before putting the knife down, wiping his hands on the cloth on the bench beside him and grabbing the apron hanging over the back of one of your bar stools. “Should I put this on then? Someone clearly isn’t enjoying the show.” 

“Baby,” you roll your eyes at him jokingly, crossing the room and snatching the apron out of his hands. “You know that’s not what I meant. I meant you could get burned by oil or slip and cut yourself or… well… there are plenty of dangers to cooking shirtless.” 

Joaquin smirks, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his chest so you’re pressed together. “Angel, all those things you just listed are also things that could happen to me if I were wearing a shirt. You know that, right?”

You can’t help the way you pout at him. “Not my point, Joaquin.”

He grins and presses a quick peck to your lips. “Was that what you were coming in here to talk about?” He asks, his thumb swiping gently back and forth over your waist. 

“No, actually,” you hum. “I was coming here to talk about this.” You motion in-between the two of you, at the contact between your bodies. You’re not not a fan of it – of course you love it – but it does amuse you, the fact that your boyfriend always wants to have a hand on you at all times. 

Joaquin raises his eyebrows. “We playin’ charades? Am I meant to guess?”

You laugh a little. “No, silly. This. The way I walked into the kitchen and you swept me up into your arms immediately. The way you always have a hand on my back when we walk somewhere. The way you put your hand on my thigh when we’re on the couch. The way you’re touching me all the time.” 

Irritatingly, your words have the opposite effect than intended and Joaquin steps away from you, removing his hand from your waist. You immediately miss the warmth of his body, the feeling of his hand on your waist, and almost reach back out for him. 

“You don’t like it?” Joaquin asks, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

You hate the look on his face – the way he looks like a wounded puppy. His usually playful eyes look sad, full of fear and you can read his expression immediately. He thinks that by doing these things, he’s made you uncomfortable.

“Baby, no – I love it!” You attempt to rectify the situation. “I just was curious about why.”

Unable to keep looking at his sad puppy dog eyes anymore, you step forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands gently. His hands tentatively rest on your waist, as if he’s afraid you’re going to move away at any second but he simply can’t help but to touch you, just a little.

“You’re so touchy and I love it, Joaquin. I love having your hands on me all the time, I swear. Just now when you took your hands off my waist it was like… like it was suddenly winter and I was freezing cold without them. I just wanna know why you do it,” you explain further, making sure you keep eye contact with him.

Joaquin frowns a little. “I guess I never really thought about it,” he replies. “I think I kinda just do it without meaning to. I just love the feeling of having my hands on you, feeling your warmth, reminding myself that you’re beside me. And I mean…” He clears his throat. “Have you seen yourself, angel? Why would I not wanna touch you at any given opportunity?”

It’s like his confidence makes a return to his body, then. His grip on your waist gets tighter and he pulls you closer, forcing you to drop your hands from his face. They rest on his shoulders instead as he backs you up a little so you’re leaning against the counter. His body is pressed against yours again, like it was only minutes ago. The warmth you’d missed before falls over you like a sheet of pure comfort.

You can’t keep the smile off your face at his words and actions. “That’s kinda cute, Joaquin,” you admit. “That you do it without thinking about it. Like I said, I love the feeling of you having your hands on me too.”

“Cute?” Joaquin looks at you with raised eyebrows. “You think I’m cute?”

It’s hard not to smile at his tone. “Yeah, adorable. You’re like a little puppy. You were looking at me before with the most puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen on a person. You looked so sad, I just wanted to pick you up and–”

Before you can finish speaking, Joaquin cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours. You moan at the sudden feeling of his lips, the feeling of his tongue swiping against your bottom lip. The way that his hands grip your waist tighter, one of them roaming up your back to grasp at the back of your neck so he can kiss you deeper.

The edge of the counter digs into your back but you barely even notice the feeling. One of your hands moves to run through Joaquin’s hair – it’s short, but long enough for you to grip, the other on his back. The feeling of his muscles against your palm only makes you want to kiss him more. The last thing you want to do is break apart for air.

Your breath hitches as he squeezes your waist again, forcing your lips apart. Both of you are breathing heavily, though the break doesn’t last long. Joaquin wastes no time in kissing you again, but this time his lips move from yours to your jaw. He presses soft, gentle kisses along the side of your jaw and down your neck. You tilt your head backwards, giving him better access. When your hand grasps onto his hip, he gasps a little and you can’t help but smile at the sound. 

“See?” You mutter breathlessly, tilting your head forward again to meet his eyes. “I told you that cooking while shirtless was dangerous.”

Joaquin laughs at that, a gorgeous smile finding its way onto his face. You look at him, at the sweat on his forehead, the look of lust and love in his eyes, the way his chest moves up and down quickly, his breath still heavy from your small make out session. He’s easily the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes on… and he’s all yours.

He moves his hands down to your waist again and before you can do anything about it, he’s lifting you up so you’re sitting on the counter and pushing your legs apart so he can stand in-between them. At this angle, you’re basically the same height.

“I see no problems here, angel,” he flashes that gorgeous grin again before messily pressing his lips to yours again. He pulls away quickly though, much to your disappointment. “Now that we’ve established that I’m not cute, I am going to continue cooking you dinner. I’ll let you go back to your book.”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, turning to watch him as he returns to the cutting board. “I have a much better view right here than I do in the living room, baby. Besides, someone has to supervise you to make sure you stay safe while cooking like that… it’s bound to be a hard job but I’m pretty certain I’m up to the challenge...”

[dailymanners]

I've gotten a few people who seem to misinterpret what this post is saying, and for some reason read it as "when you're in line you need to turn around and check how many items the person behind you has or else you're a bad naughty citizen"

It seems they missed the part where I said "especially if you are approaching the line at the same time" which means you'd have a clear line of sight over how many items they have. I mean if you *want* to turn around and see how many items the person behind you has that's nice of you, but not necessarily what this post is talking about. I mostly had in mind when I made it those moments when you're approaching the line at the same time as someone else.

I made this post because myself and several people I know have noticed in the past few years, it could just be where I live but it could be more widespread, that if you're walking up to the line at the same time as someone else, a lot of people will start power walking or outright sprinting to get there before you, even if you clearly have less stuff. Myself and my loved ones have noticed more people also trying to aggressively shove in front of you even when you clearly have less items.

Maybe this is just another case of Icelanders being Icelanders, Icelandic people are infamously bad at queueing and respecting the queue order. But also based on the notes I get on this post from people all over the world it really seems like Iceland isn't the only place people could use a reminder to be courteous and considerate when lining up for something, whether it's the bank or the grocery store or the office canteen.

Offer to let other people go ahead of you in line, especially if you're approaching the line at the same time. This is double applicable if you're in a store and the other person has fewer items than you.

This is a small gesture of kindness that in most cases will cost you very little time or effort. It shows consideration for other people's time. Especially in the case of being in a store and letting someone with fewer items than you go first, there is no sense in making someone else wait for you who would otherwise be able to get in and out much quicker.

[myntrose]

Missing You !

ೃ⁀➷: how the l&ds boys are when they miss you.

a/n: I want these men so bad it hurts. n e ways trying something different from smau 🤍 this is part one, will write the other boys later. Also pls send requests !!

content warning: the boys missing you to the point where it's a bit concerning. maybe ooc. Suggestive in Xavier's part towards the end. Did not proof read srry💔

ft: Zayne, Xavier x reader (separately)

pt. 1 , pt. 2

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ zayne (705 words)

the hospital holds an unnerving chill in the air. everyone can feel it; the staff, nurses, patients and the other doctors. and even though everyone could feel it, no one chose to acknowledge the source of this tension. because no one wants to disturb Dr. Zayne when he's in one of these moods.

It's another hard day for Zayne. The paperwork seemed endless, he's had to deal all sorts of patients, and he hasn't seen you in a week. You were out in a mission, nothing out of the normal for a hunter. But Zayne couldn't help but worry. He loves you, knows you're more than capable of handling yourself, but worrying about you comes as easy as breathing to him. It's second nature, an everyday thought.

Just as he starts to steady himself, the ink of his pen explodes on the report he was writing. He about ready to lose it, letting out a deep, heavy sigh. Zayne isn't usually this disoriented, and it's making him go mad.

Moving from his desk, Zayne paces around his office, opening your last message. it stresses him out that it was 2 days ago.

ms.hunter: ugh this mission is so dumb. smt happened and now it looks like ill be gone longer. im sorry babe :(((

He grips his phone a little harder. Paces the room with heavier steps. Breaths another sigh.

What is wrong with me?

A knock at his door disrupts his pacing.

"What?"

Zayne doesn't realize he said that with a bit too much bite, a bit too coldly. The door opens to reveal his new secretary, looking like a scared little lamb entering the lions den.

He looks at his secretaries face, realizing his harsh tone. Zayne murmurs a quick apology, asking his secretary if there was something needed.

"There's someone here to meet you, Dr. Zayne. Said they had an appointment?" The secretary trails their sentence like a question, knowing that Zayne shouldn't have any appointments today. Poor thing was shivering from the doctor's cold demeanor.

The veins on Zayne's head are almost visible now. On top of this day, an unscheduled appointment? Had it not been for his doctors oath to not harm, he would've denied this appointment.

Another sigh leaves him, as he tells his secretary to let the mystery appointment inside his office. Zayne makes his way back to his desk, head in hands trying to compose himself.

"You really shouldn't be sighing so heavily, Dr. Zayne. Heard it's bad for you"

Zayne's head whipped so fast towards the doorway, that you almost left bad for laughing at the action.

He blinks once, then another, before standing up and meeting you halfway across the room.

" 'm sorry for not texting you sooner, but I've been working twice as hard to get done with my mission-"

You don't get to finish your sentence before Zayne crashes his lips into yours. This kiss was desperate, filled with longing and want. It's almost startling, usually Zayne is more composed than his.

"would be more composed had you told me you'd be arriving back today" Zayne responds, perfectly reading your thoughts. Before you could say anything, he kisses you again. This time, he's softer, placing one hand on the small of your back and the other cradling your face.

You're the one to pull apart first, desperately needing air. Looks like your boyfriend missed you more than you realized. Oh, this was gonna be so fun.

Zayne scoffs, but he's still holding you close. "I do not scowl. It's just been a stressful week at the hospital."

You laugh at that. God, he missed your laugh. He missed you. He walks the both of you to his desk, where he sits you on his lap as he takes a seat.

"Did you miss me that much? It's only been a week."

"A week too long, my love"

While you and Zayne catch up, the rest of the hospital is glad that the chill in the air has died down. Looks like the staff knows who to call when their doctor is in that mood.

𓆩✧𓆪 xavier (570 words)

there's only a few things that causes Xavier to wake up. Either you shaking him awake, peppering his face with kisses, or when you steal the blanket from him.

Actually, it's mostly you that causes him to wake up. And right now, the reason why sleep escapes him is because it seems like you escaped the bed at some point.

Xavier feels around your side of the bed, only to be met with emptiness. Confused, he wakes up, and looks around to see the room still in pitch darkness.

2:34 a.m. It's still horribly early, so you wouldn't have woken up for work. Plus, Xavier knows your schedule better than he knows his. He knows that you don't have any kind of missions to attend to right now.

So, where were you? A sudden rush of thoughts occur at once, and Xavier can't help but assume the worst scenarios. He jumps out of bed and checks around the apartment.

Bathroom? No. Living room? Empty. Kitchen? Quite. He's going a bit crazy, because where did you go?

He just about to rush outside when he hears the sound of keys opening the front door. Turning to the sound, he watches as the door opens to reveal you.

You, holding a bag from the nearby 24/7 convenience store. You walk in, not realizing that Xavier was watching as you enter the room.

You're holding your phone in your other hand, staring at it. It wasn't until you looked up that you noticed you were being watching by your boyfriend.

Your words don't make it to his ears. Rather, he answers you with a question of his own.

"Where were you?" His voice is deep, laced with a serious tone that doesn't quite suit him. Oh no, was he mad?

"I went out to buy ice cream. I couldn't sleep and wanted something sweet. I texted you where I was!" Defending yourself, showing Xavier the bag with a few ice cream bars.

Oh right, he never checked his phone. Xavier pulls his phone out of his pockets, and opens his notifications to see that you in fact did text him where you were.

"Oh."

You move to the kitchen, putting the ice cream away. "Yeah, oh is right. What, d'ya think I just left without saying a work ?" You only meant that jokingly, of course. Turning around, Xavier is right behind you, caging you between himself and the fridge.

It wasn't until you looked at his eyes when you realized that, oh, he was worried. The realization sets in, and you understand what just happened. Xavier had woken up, and genuinely thought you were done.

Your eyes soften as you look at him, moving your hands to his face "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that." Xavier melts into your touch, and you both stay like this for a while.

You speak up first. "Why don't we go back to sleep?"

Xavier opens his eyes, looking down at you. "Actually, I'm not sleepy right now. I think I'm hungry."

"Do you want some of the ice cream I bought? I got your favorite flavor- Xav- Xavier why are we going to the bedroom?"

"I said I was hungry."

"Oh...?!"

Later that morning, you had to call into work "sick" for both you and Xavier.

[gf2bellamy]

Hello!

Can I please request domestic fluff of Spencer and reader just chilling on the couch and reading and reader is just giggling because she got to a fluffy romantic part of her book and she can’t contain her fangirling so Spencer just looks at her with fondness like “omg I love her so much 🥰”

cozy — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: literally just pure fluff a/n: hiii !! hope you like this <33333

Spencer sat on the couch, his long fingers absentmindedly carding through your hair as you rested your head in his lap, both of you lost in your books.

Spencer was fully immersed in a dense book on quantum physics, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. Meanwhile, you were curled up with a well-loved romance novel.

The silence between you was a comfortable one, filled only by the occasional sound of a page turning or the subtle rustling of clothing as one of you shifted.

Then , something in your book made you giggle.

Spencer's fingers momentarily paused in your hair, his attention now fully on you. His lips curled into a small, affectionate smile as he watched you, so engrossed in the words on the page that you hadn’t even realized you'd laughed out loud.

The warmth that bloomed in his chest was immediate, filling him with a kind of quiet adoration he never quite knew how to put into words.

Without thinking, he let his hand drift from your hair to your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. The gentle touch pulled you from your trance, and you blinked up at him.

“What?” you asked, still smiling as your eyes met his.

Spencer shook his head slightly, his gaze lingering on yours, soft and full of affection. “Nothing,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Then, as if the words had been sitting on the tip of his tongue, waiting for the right moment, he added, “I love you. You know that, right?”

The confession, though not new, still sent a rush of warmth through you. You felt your cheeks heat up, the blush creeping from your neck upward as you fumbled for a response.

With a shy smile, you mumbled a quiet, “I love you too.”

Spencer’s grin widened, his thumb tracing over your cheek once more before his hand returned to your hair, resuming its gentle motions.

You moved your eyes back to your book, but you couldn’t focus. The words blurred together, your mind still caught on the way he’d looked at you, the way his voice had softened when he said those three words.

After a moment, you gave up and looked up at him again, sitting up from his lap and turning your body to face him fully.

Spencer put his book aside, his full attention now on you. His head tilted slightly, a curious smile playing on his lips as he waited for you to speak.

“You,” you pointed your finger at him, trying to suppress a grin, “just ruined the moment.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his playful tone returning. “I ruined the moment by telling you that I love you?”

“Yes,” you nodded emphatically, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your mock seriousness.

He chuckled softly, leaning back against the couch cushions as he crossed his arms. “And what ,exactly, did I ruin ?”

You hesitated, your cheeks flushing again as you glanced down at the closed book in your lap. “It’s… it’s nothing.”

“Clearly, it’s not nothing,” he pressed, his tone curious. “You laughed, and then I ruined the moment. I think I deserve to know what was so funny.”

You bit your lip, debating whether to tell him. It felt silly now, saying it out loud, but the way he was looking at you—with genuine interest —made it impossible to resist.

“Fine,” you relented, sighing dramatically. “There was this part in the book where the male character was recounting all these little habits and quirks about the female character. Like, the way she always tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s nervous, or how she hums when she’s concentrating. It was just… really sweet. And it made me laugh because it was so cute.”

Spencer listened intently, his head tilting slightly as he absorbed your words. When you finished, a slow smile spread across his face, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“So,” he began, his voice teasing but tender, “you’re telling me that you got all giggly because the character was listing small, endearing things about the person he loves?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “It sounds so cheesy when you say it like that.”

He laughed softly, reaching out to gently pull your hands away from your face. “I don’t think it’s cheesy. In fact…” He paused, his expression softening as his gaze locked onto yours. “I could do the same thing about you.”

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head quickly. “No, no, you don’t have to—”

But he was already speaking, his voice warm and steady. “You always bite your lip when you’re trying not to laugh. And you have this habit of tapping your fingers against whatever surface is nearby when you’re deep in thought. Oh, and you hum under your breath when you’re cooking, even though you’re completely off-key.”

You stared at him, your mouth slightly open as a mix of embarrassment and affection washed over you. “Spencer…”

He continued, undeterred. “You twirl your hair around your finger when you’re deep in thought. Oh, and you get this little crease between your eyebrows when you’re reading something intense. And you-”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupted, laughing softly. “You’re going to make me blush even more than I already am.”

Spencer chuckled, the sound warm. He gently intertwined his fingers with yours. “I’m just saying,” he said, his voice teasing but tender, “if the moment was ruined, it’s only because I wanted to make a new one.”

You looked at him, your heart so full it felt like it might burst. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

“Ridiculously yours,” he corrected, his smile softening.

“Yeah,” you whispered, as you squeezed his hand.

And in that moment, with his hands in yours and his ridiculous, over-the-top declarations still echoing in your mind, you couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

[aroceu]

yes!!

i've been putting a lot of free time lately just finding more stuff (and also because it's fun for me) so here's another list of some tools.

here are some guides! they do go through a lot so i recommend reading at your own pace, and you can even start projects on the side based on what you know rather than trying to read and absorb them all at once. i usually like using guides as references more than a how-to manual before starting anything, but for the very basics it's usually a good place to start.

Interneting Is Hard (but it doesn't have to be), a guide on the raw basics of what a website is and how to make one, written casually and friendly for beginners

Marksheet, a thorough and introductory website on how to make a website, from starting with the basic stuff to introducing more complex techniques

The Quick ‘n’ Dirty Guide to Making a Website, a guide for how and why you should make a website, geared primarily towards artists/creatives

sadgrl online's webmastery resources, particularly: the what you see is what you get layout maker (no coding required), and html & css snippets, which i have heard great things about

petrapixel's layout generator, which also allows you to customize and generate your own layout with no coding required

web design in 4 minutes by jeremy thomas, an introductory tutorial on thinking about webdesign/website structure

tutorials at htmldog, which was my primary place in learning how to make a website in like... 2008. and yet they're still so relevant today

make your own website, a beginner's guide to making one's own website. it was written for the writer's 12 year old child if that may be less intimidating than the rest of these guides

other sitely resources!

easily download your ao3 fics for archival purposes and if you want to reupload them

owls' guide to webshrines, if you're ever interested in or have considered making in the shrine in the form of a website for something you really like and are a fan of! from a fannish perspective this has always been common among fan-inclined indie website makers - people just want to make websites dedicated to things they love, because hey, that's what the rest of us are doing in fandom anyway. this guide goes into detail how, why, and some suggestions for how to make a fan shrine!

how to make your first randomizer at lions-garb.net. you can make a randomizer through just inputting the stuff, sure, but this is a small guide on how to do it on the backend so you can also make your own randomizers while also making them look pretty on the internet.

resources list for the personal web, a very extensive list of a variety of webweaving resources, from tutorials to code snippets to tips to ideas! it may seem very daunting so i recommend just skimming it and seeing what catches your eye first, there's no chronological way to learn things once you have the very basics down

kalechips's layout thrift store, which has a bunch of free codes already created as basic web templates that anyone can feel free to take and adjust and edit and learn from to their liking! there's a lot of different already preset layouts so you don't have to worry about that part, and learn and modify them (if you want) instead

petrapixel's coding self-study checklist, a thorough list of some webdev coding necessities that hobbyists may have i missed (i know have!)

and if you get to the point where you want your website to feel like part of a community as much as you are, you can join a web ring!

the fic ring for self-hosted fanfic sites

the fandom webring, a webring for any webmasters in fandom

here's a consistently updated list of current indie web-rings!

In the wake of the TikTok ban and revival as a mouthpiece for fascist propaganda, as well as the downfall of Twitter and Facebook/Facebook-owned platforms to the same evils, I think now is a better time than ever to say LEARN HTML!!! FREE YOURSELVES FROM THE SHACKLES OF MAJOR SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS AND EMBRACE THE INDIE WEB!!!

You can host a website on Neocities for free as long as it's under 1GB (which is a LOT more than it sounds like let me tell you) but if that's not enough you can get 50GB of space (and a variety of other perks) for only $5 a month.

And if you can't/don't want to pay for the extra space, sites like File Garden and Catbox let you host files for free that you can easily link into NeoCities pages (I do this to host videos on mine!) (It also lets you share files NeoCities wouldn't let you upload for free anyways, this is how I upload the .zip files for my 3DS themes on my site.)

Don't know how to write HTML/CSS? No problem. W3schools is an invaluable resource with free lessons on HTML, CSS, JavaScript, PHP, and a whole slew of other programming languages, both for web development and otherwise.

Want a more traditional social media experience? SpaceHey is a platform that mimics the experience of 2000s MySpace

Struggling to find independent web pages that cater to your interests via major search engines? I've got you covered. Marginalia and Wiby are search engines that specifically prioritize non-commercial content. Marginalia also has filters that let you search for more specific categories of website, like wikis, blogs, academia, forums, and vintage sites.

Maybe you wanna log off the modern internet landscape altogether and step back into the pre-social media web altogether, well, Protoweb lets you do just that. It's a proxy service for older browsers (or really just any browser that supports HTTP, but that's mostly old browsers now anyways) that lets you visit restored snapshots of vintage websites.

Protoweb has a lot of Geocities content archived, but if you're interested in that you can find even more old Geocities sites over on the Geocities Gallery

And really this is just general tip-of-the-iceberg stuff. If you dig a little deeper you can find loads more interesting stuff out there. The internet doesn't have to be a miserable place full of nothing but doomposting and targeted ads. The first step to making it less miserable is for YOU, yes YOU, to quit spending all your time on it looking at the handful of miserable websites big tech wants you to spend all your time on.

[bunny-jpeg]

let me see that smile

mark webber

tags: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, sugar daddy!mark, age gap (20s/48), dirty talk, videos/recording, pillow humping, daddy kink, masturbation, filthy (!!!)

a/n: filthy, ka-chow!

you: miss you, daddy <3 mark: i know, be home soon. keeping the bed warm. you: of course! mark: how are you feeling? you: i'm kinda sad today :( mark: hopefully that gives you something to smile about, princess.

the next notifcation was that he had deposited twelve hundred dollars into you account with a note that read, "daddy's been missing you, can you give him something to get through the next few days?" anyone could see that you were mark webber's spoiled princess. but you thought that was fine, because you spoiled him in return.

mark webber was your older sugar daddy, close to fifty years old he quite enjoyed having someone younger to sink his teeth into. and you enjoyed the attention of an older man who would do anything to make you smile. and with the money securely in your account, you got to work.

he didn't pay for sex, that felt sleazy. he paid for your attention, your time, your company; it just happened that sex was part of it too. he loved you in cute lingerie and with a cunt for of silicone toys. even when mark wasn't fucking you directly, he held the keys to your release. you didn't cum unless you got permission.

you changed into nothing but a small cotton pair of panties and one of mark's t-shirts and set up your phone camera in front of the bed. you smiled a little bit as you started the recording. you knelt on the bed and giggled a little as you pulled the shirt up to expose your panties. you sighed dramatically, "i miss you, it's not fair that you had to go all the way to italy without me." you rolled your hips a little bit and you groped your breasts through the fabric of your shirt, "leave me all alone here. it's not fair." you knew that mark would get off to it.

mark liked when you whined, when you bitched and moaned until he got to shut you up. either with some money in your wallet, a purchase you wanted or his cock in your mouth. you played with your breasts some more and huffed, "i'm not a dog that you keep at home while you go away." as if you didn't have a choker (read: collar) that you wore when you left the house. you eventually rubbed your pussy over your cotton panties and let a damp spot form as your moans got a little louder. the house you lived in with mark was secluded, you could be as loud as your little heart desired.

you sent the first video with the caption, "hugs and kisses." before you got the shirt and panties off and started the next recording. you grabbed his pillow and shoved it in your face as you rolled your hips against nothing. you felt excitement brew through you as your anticipated what was to come. you moaned into the pillow and rubbed it up against your breasts until your nipples got hard. you gasped into it before you put it between your legs.

you humped the pillow like an eager little pillow. your mouth hung up and your eyes on the camera lens as the fabric rubbed against your clit. you felt the sensation up against your body, it felt good. there was something about how you moved your body that made your body feel flustered. you whined, "please, daddy. at least bring me back something nice from italy. you know i always loved it there. we could've spent the whole weekend in bed, fuck sky news." you giggled as you planted your hands on the bed under you and really worked your needy cunt up against his pillow. you soaked the top of the pillow case with your wetness as the fire of lust burned in your belly.

"fuck, daddy. i need you, i need you so badly. can you please give me permission to cum today? you didn't let me yesterday and i had to edge myself for almost an hour so i could go to sleep! i know it's not the same as that big cock of yours. but going without orgasms is like going without water!" you humped the pillow a little faster and dug your fists into the covers as you felt the pleasure leap through you.

you thought of him, you thought of his hands on you. you thought of how good it would feel to have his lips on your neck. to bite at your tender breasts or lick across your needy pussy. you had a habit of believing that mark ruined all other men for you. no one else could be as addicting as him.

mark had a certain charm about him that drove you crazy. you wanted him often, it didn't help your raging lust for older men. men with big hands and charming smiles, the kind that liked to spoil you and made you sexually needy. fuck did mark make you needy.

you knew that he'd come back and take proper care of you. mark wasn't one to leave his toys unattended for too long. especially ones with such expensive taste, you could already imagine the gift from italy that was waiting in his suitcase. you continued to rub your needy clit against the pillow, soaking it with your wetness. you wished he was lapping at your sex, his fingers pleasuring you on top of it.

"i can't wait for you to come home to me, daddy. i can't wait to have you in bed with me again. i've been thinking about you while i've been here all alone. i know you said i could have friends over, but i'd rather you fuck me until i can take your cum in the back of my throat. i'm needy without you." you whined a little louder as the pleasure zapped through your body. your clit felt stimulated from the soft pillow.

you knew you would change the cover after, but knowing mark he'd want you to keep it on so he could get a good smell of it when he got home. he said there was nothing more intoxicating to him than the smell of you wet cunt.

you were getting close, you had permission to cum by virtue of you sending him a video. he didn't want to leave you too needy, or else you might get desperate. you continued to hump like a sweet little angel and the pillow between your legs was a cloud. you could already imagine what mark was up to. where he was and how he'd feel when he saw the video.

"please, daddy! come home soon! i need it! i need you!" you whined as your entire body tensed up and you came with the pillow between your thighs. your core throbbed and your pussy wetness properly stained the pillowcase. you slowed down your movements until you placed both hands on the mattress to steady yourself. you panted loudly in the quiet of the bedroom.

you looked to the camera and smiled brightly with heat in your face. you said between heavy breaths, "thank you, daddy. i can't wait till you get home." before you went from the phone on the stand to send to mark.

soon the videos were sent and you got into a new pair of panties. the old pair and the pillowcase were thrown in the wash for later. you went to go grab some water as you waited for his response.

but it came rather quick and you almost choked on the water when all you got in response was a picture of mark's hand grasped around his cock. soon after there was a text that read, "there's that smile, angel. forgot how noisy you were in bed, but that's alright. when daddy comes home, he'll keep that mouth of yours full." <3