#like when i woke up i felt like i had just come out of a coma 💀

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 4 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 5.0k (can you see the trend)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), still a lot of cussing, some mature themes (no smut, sorry), we're finally in the headquarters!, the story moves significantly along here (i think)

a/n. this one took a second to get out, but i hope the wait was worth it! we're going knee-deep into the storyline, so brace yourselves for the nitty gritty. the dialogue here was too fun to write tho lol

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

Neither of you says anything about what happened.

After you used your quirk on Masaki and the rest of his crew, eventually convincing them to let you take off the bugs and censor the cameras in the evenings, you and Bakugou were briefed about a few more details before you went your separate ways, returning home to pack up your things and spend your last night alone for the foreseeable future.

The trek back to the subway station was quiet, with Bakugou leading the way and you trailing a few feet behind. The silence that enveloped the both of you bordered on tense more than awkward, and you itched to confront him about unceremoniously jumping you, but restrained yourself at the looming thought of the trackers planted firmly against your chest.

As much as it pained you to think about it, from this point on, you have to work double time on biting your tongue and watching your words. Just your words and location—if you’re lucky—but your facial expressions and movements, too, when there are cameras around.

Fortunately, there weren’t any when Bakugou didn’t step out of the carriage just as the automated voice announced his stop, nor when he wordlessly got out of the train beside you at yours. Your face contorted in evident confusion in those two instances, to which he only tossed you silencing looks. It didn’t take long for you to realize it’d be suspicious if Bakugou didn’t see you home—his alleged girlfriend—this late into the night.

And so you rolled with it.

You even went ahead and thanked him with the sweetest possible voice you can muster when you reached your front door, as well as wished him a safe trip back home. You think you caught him off guard, but he was able to quickly gather himself and mutter back a few words of gratitude before telling you to get a good night’s rest.

You couldn’t.

Aside from the paranoia that came with knowing someone or some people were listening to your very breathing, the anxiety about this whole mess that you’ve walked into was too palpable for you just to ignore. You tossed and turned for what felt like hours—brain buzzing with a hundred what-ifs and hypothetical scenarios—before you eventually knocked out at around 3 AM.

You promptly woke up at 7 AM a few hours later, albeit begrudgingly and all thanks to your bothersome alarm tone. You had to show up at work, despite it being a Saturday, to file an indefinite leave as soon as possible. Annoyance shot through you as you remembered Kouki’s dismissive remark about your job in contrast to Bakugou’s.

You shook it off.

There were more important things to deal with, such as the guilt that bloomed in your gut as you turned in the paperwork to Yuzuki, your school’s HR personnel, who, at the sight of them, visibly deflated.

“You’re going on a leave?” she asked that cool morning, incredulous and tone somewhat begging you to say no.

“Yeah…” you replied, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly.

“But why?” she pressed, sitting up behind her desk that’s riddled with knickknacks and picture frames of her and her toddler. “You never take off from work. And,” she enunciated, “…the kids need you, Y/N.”

Your polite smile faltered at the mention of the kids.

“Yeah, well…” you started, unsure of what to say next. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a temp, what with the recent licensure exam results. The kids won’t even notice I’m gone, I promise.”

She cocked her head to the side, frowning. “I highly doubt that.”

It didn’t matter if she had her doubts, though, because this was happening. You braced yourself to tell Yuzuki just that, but to your relief, she didn’t push further after that exchange, opting to half-heartedly process your request instead.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, you were already cleared by her department and now officially on a short indefinite leave without pay.

In an attempt to take your mind off of potentially losing your job, you stopped by the grocery store on your way home and picked up a few items, such as toiletries and other things you may need for your stay in the headquarters. There was no telling when you’d get to shop for your necessities again, so you went full ham and spent the money you usually budgeted meticulously to the nearest cent. Besides, if you succeeded in this mission, you wouldn’t have to worry about finances for the next year, at the very least.

You were about to head to the check-out counter when your eyes caught the display of…house slippers in the back aisle.

You paused at the sight of them.

If you were going to be under house arrest, you might as well be cozy while doing so.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you grabbed a beige pair for yourself, and a black pair for Bakugou. You had no idea what his feet size was, but those were the largest they carried, and so that’d have to do. Plus, you doubted quirk supremacists were mindful enough to provide their hostages with comfortable footwear.

It was already around 4 PM when you arrived home with your arm-numbing groceries and takeout dinner in tow. Setting them aside by your kitchen counter, you quickly got started on gathering your necessities. You blasted your favorite album as you packed your suitcase partly to make the arduous process more bearable, but mostly to drown out the voices that fought to take the reins in your head. You were nervous—very much so—but there was no going back from this.

And so with a heavy heart and a churning stomach, you swiftly got to work, and by dinner time, you were already packed up and ready to go. After going through your checklist one more time and confirming that everything was accounted for, you got changed into fresh, more appealing clothes and scarfed down the meal you purchased to-go after shopping.

You sat in your living room with all your things stacked beside you on the couch, waiting, though it didn’t take long for Kouki to materialize by the kitchen with that irritatingly haughty expression on his face.

You tried to ignore the disgust that sprung as you watched him step on your freshly washed rug with his booted feet, choosing to shift your attention upwards instead. You observed him as he eyed your belongings with mild disinterest, before shifting to regard you.

“Ready?” he asked, holding up one hand for you to take, while the other moved to touch the pile of stuff.

You didn’t bother to verbalize your consent, resorting to just nodding as you gingerly took his hand. Your surroundings instantly morphed the moment that you did, and you found yourself going through the now-familiar motions, emerging smack dab in the middle of your floor’s hallway a few seconds later.

Kouki was gone just as quickly as he arrived, apparently way above helping you move your things to the space at the end of the hall. The same goes for the twins, who only watched you as you lugged your baggage into the room.

You locked eyes with the female guard, and for a second, you debated engaging her in conversation.

You already knew what to say. You’d ask her if they were sure about you staying in, when Kouki can just teleport you to your respective apartments at the end of each day if they’re so worried about you getting spotted.

Besides, you thought as she glared at you with seemingly unfounded hate, that means we’ll be out of your hair.

But as tempting as it was to bring up that alternative at the moment, you ultimately thought better against it.

You already used your luck to convince them to turn off the trackers at night—something they probably wouldn’t do if you and Bakugou lived outside due to the lack of backup surveillance. It simply wouldn’t be smart and cautious of them if they did. You also didn’t want to undo that already tall order of a bargain when what you needed the most was the privacy in which you could discuss the mission and steps moving forward.

Besides, you bet your money it’s not just that. The teleportation quirk of that old geezer has to have a limitation somehow…

You let all these simmer in your head as you settled in for the night. To your chagrin—you wanted at least one night where you get to sleep on the decent-looking bed—Bakugou showed up not an hour later with his own luggage.

You didn’t say anything to each other aside from brief ‘Hey’s’ as he entered the room and unpacked his belongings, as well as when he disappeared into the small comfort room and showered.

You decided then and there that you both had to work on your conversing skills if you wanted a shot at making this ruse believable for the sake of the mission.

By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, decked out in lounge clothes and haphazardly drying his ash-blonde hair with a towel, it was already 8 PM sharp—your agreed-upon time to retreat for the night and consequently, remove your trackers.

And so you wordlessly filed out of your room, only to see the twins already at your front door, waiting. You doubted they ever left their post ever since you arrived.

You eyed the male twin as he sashayed into your room before his sister called you to attention. Other than that, the exchange was nothing but silent and perhaps a little bit hostile as the woman roughly stuck her hand up Bakugou’s shirt then yours, similar to last time, and removed the devices. You fought back a wince just as she ripped it from your skin, leaving a stinging feeling in its wake.

You could tell she was resisting the urge to shove you back to your room when the deed was done. You didn’t want to risk being her punching bag, so with a curt nod, you promptly turned back and once again entered the room, with Bakugou following you just as the other twin exited and closed the door behind him. Looking up, you immediately registered how the cameras were now facing down—covered—and the red, flickering lights were nowhere to be seen.

An instantaneous wave of relief flooded through you.

Bakugou must’ve noticed, because he whipped to face you, and the disturbed expression on his face was enough to shut you up.

He tilted his head, perhaps gesturing to the rest of the room, and it took you a second, but you eventually managed to make out what he was trying to say.

Shut your trap, his icy stare told you. Check the room for bugs.

And so with a nod of understanding, you tossed him a look right back before quite literally turning the room upside down. It probably took you at least 10 minutes to uncover and check every surface, nook, and cranny, but by the time you both were pretty sure you were safe, you were already stifling a yawn.

And having a hawk eye must come with the job description, because that didn’t go unmissed by the pro-hero, who wordlessly took one of the two pillows from the bed, as well as the throw blanket on top of the actual duvet cover, before tossing both on the brown couch.

You were just about to thank him for preparing your ‘bed’ for you, but you didn’t get to, because you were very much robbed of all words when he plopped himself down on the couch, wrapping himself with the quilt.

“What are you—”

“Don’t argue,” he cut you off, his commanding tone comically juxtaposing how snug he looked with his head barely peeking out of the cloth. You’d laugh at the way his large feet were poking out at the end of it if you weren’t in a contentious mood.

You frowned. “You’re the guest of honor. I should be the one sleeping on the couch.”

“If it bothers you that much—” Bakugou piped from where he laid comfortably on the (p)leather furniture, “—we can take turns. Tomorrow, I get to sleep on the bed, and so on.”

“But—”

“Conversation’s over. ‘Night.”

With that, Bakugou flipped on his side, turning his back against you, effectively shooting the conversation down in its entirety.

You stood there for what felt like a couple more minutes, keen on shaking him awake, maybe even yanking him off the couch and planting yourself on it before he could wrap his head around what was happening, but you ultimately decided to let it go, at least for now.

You wished him a good night as you turned off the lights and snuck into the queen-sized bed a few moments later, although you bet he was already fast asleep based on the lack of a reply.

Which was good for him, because he needed the rest for what was about to crash into you the next day.

Apparently, Masaki wasn’t kidding when he said groups like theirs needed the space to conduct their activities, because they sure handle a lot.

At 8 AM, you were roused awake by a violent knocking on your door, and you could tell Bakugou was awoken by the very same thing, because he shot up in alarm just as you did. You quickly got up and padded to the entryway, trying to ignore the silly embarrassment of being seen in your threadbare pajamas in broad daylight, before whipping to look at the man. You didn’t have to say it, though—Bakugou was already grabbing his pillow and blanket and plopped into the bed, lying down as if he was there the entire night. Only when he was fully settled did you turn the knob open, only to see the female twin scowling at you. Her hand was held up, on top of which were two trackers.

“It’s breakfast time,” she spat out—literally, some of her saliva landing on you. She looked over your shoulder to glare at Bakugou. “Hurry up and get ready. You’ve got a full day ahead of you.”

Behind you, a distinct grumble sounded out across the room, and you glanced back to see Bakugou getting up from the mattress and folding his blanket, a deep frown etched on his sharp features.

Looks like someone’s a morning person, you thought to yourself.

Not wanting to aggravate her even further, you wasted no time in getting dressed and presentable enough. You debated on whether or not to spend five minutes putting on makeup, ultimately deciding to do so, with you ending up patting on just enough product to look eye-catching before you and Bakugou went down to the mess hall to eat breakfast.

Immediately upon entering the space, you found yourself thankful for that extra five minutes because all eyes were on you. Well, maybe more on Bakugou, but they inevitably drifted to you, the person who walked next to him side by side. You could hear the people whisper to themselves as you moved to sit at the table near the back, before it hit you and you froze.

“What?” asked Bakugou from across you, who followed suit and paused, butt hanging mid-air.

“Come and sit next to me,” you blurted out, and before he could react in a way that would incriminate you both: “I want to sit beside you, babe.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened ever so minutely at the pet name, his face then sobering up as if he just realized what you were trying to do.

You wished you could spell it out for him, that couples tend to sit next to each other rather than across, and…you needed to seem like one who is head over heels for each other around these people as well. Thankfully, you didn’t have to, because Bakugou merely nodded without question, before rounding the table and seating himself right next to you.

You did your best to tune out the looks and murmuring throughout the entire meal, after which you got swept to one of the halls for an introductory talk for the new members. There were eleven of you in total, including you and Bakugou, the rest of whom you didn’t recognize. They didn’t even hide their surprise and awe when the two of you walked in and sat yourselves at the farthest row beside each other. You tried to radiate an aura of friendliness, smiling at the others when they looked at you, and then beaming at Bakugou whenever you caught him looking your way.

You could tell he was having a hard time playing the part, his smile strained whenever he attempted to return the motion. It was probably after the third time of trying to get a reaction from him when you mustered the courage to bring a hand to his shoulder, kneading the muscle as a form of an affectionate gesture, but mainly to get him to relax. He initially tensed at the contact, but eventually loosened up as you continued the action.

Soon enough, the talk commenced, with someone you didn’t know presenting himself as Kazuma, one of the officers of the organization. He went on to formally introduce the association, named The Quirk Coalition, as a group of like-minded individuals who aim for a future where quirks are nurtured and fostered to their fullest potential in a democratic society that puts a primacy on said powers. You noted how they conveniently left out the part where they detest the weak and the quirkless, although you did not comment on it. You only glanced at Bakugou one time, who looked onto the stage with tight lips.

Kazuma also went through the hierarchy of the organization, starting with Masaki at the top just as you suspected, then Sayaka and Kouki, followed by Hiroto and Omiru—the two who you recognized as the twins, looking like they just got their mugshot taken in the photos. Kazuma sat there at the lower tier alongside several other officers, under which were the regular members, totaling about 70—some of whom live in the headquarters and most going in and out, having normal jobs during the day and families to tend to.

You don’t know how they got it, but at the bottom row of the chart was a picture of you, right beside Bakugou dressed in his full hero gear.

You let the reality sink in as Kazuma droned on about the group’s beliefs, how they equally valued their ideals and the people who carried out these ideals. You made a mental note of this piece of information, before accidentally zoning out for the rest of the lecture.

The next seven days went on roughly the same way, with either of the twins serving as your unfriendly alarm to demonstrating PDA in the mess hall during breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with talks, history classes, support group sessions, and even quirk training nestled in between mealtimes.

You and Bakugou went through every single thing together, from sitting out the ‘classes’ where the teachers essentially waxed poetic about rewritten history with a strong bias against the quirkless, to attending what felt like group therapy where you each took turns sharing your ambitions and goals as members of the organization. Bakugou even partook in one of the quirk training sessions, wherein he practiced shooting precise targets while propelling himself in the air.

You couldn’t decide if he was trying to act all serious for the mission or was just showing off—could’ve been both, really, but regardless, his efforts were enough to catch the eyes of the fellow members working on their respective quirks. You, on the other hand, sat to the side and watched the pro-hero do his thing, not being able to ‘practice’ anything without a partner to ‘boost’—or really, manipulate.

Needless to say, you’ve both been busting your ass pretending to be eager, dedicated members, but aside from the information readily provided in the forums, you haven’t had much luck extracting details that could prove to be useful for the mission, a fact that you’re now planning to bring up with Bakugou, a full week into moving into the headquarters…

…After you finish checking the bedroom for bugs.

It’s become some sort of an unspoken nightly routine for the both of you. The second the door shuts behind you after the trackers have been taken off and you’ve checked that the cameras are pointed downwards, capped, and are not blinking anymore, you go to your respective halves of the room and thoroughly check each inch for a wiretap. Neither of you dare to say anything compromising until you’ve completed the survey, and even then you’ve telepathically agreed to watch your choice of words.

Still, you can’t deny the familiar sense of reprieve whenever this time of the day comes along, and you’ve since associated these moments with Bakugou with comfort.

Which is probably why you have the audacity to joke around.

“Are they comfy?” you ask just as you plaster your butt down into the couch. You’ve had your fun yesterday, sleeping easily in the soft bed. You watch Bakugou as he eyes you warily, sitting on the edge of the mattress, facing you.

He huffs, crossing his legs. “Are what comfy?”

You point to his feet with your lips. “The slippers. They were buy one take one, you know.”

At that, he smirks. You can’t help but feel your own smile growing.

“I don’t think that’s something you should be bragging about, princess.”

Flying right past the tail end of that sentence for your sanity, you force a frown on your face. “Why not? It was a great deal. And, I’m sure yours are comfy. Mine are.”

He leans back on his hands that are firmly planted at his sides. He’s still smirking. “So why bother asking me in the first place if you already knew the answer to the question?”

You open your mouth to retort a witty comment, but come up short. Bakugou’s smirk morphs into a grin when you do. You wrinkle your nose in disdain, “I was just trying to make small talk. You’re welcome, by the way.”

The pro-hero only chuckles at that, before sitting up and bringing his hands forward, one holding and wringing the other arm’s wrist.

You study him for a beat, and then the cameras, which are still turned down and capped with a lens cover.

And when he only continues the rotating motion, you finally speak up.

“…What are we gonna do now?”

Bakugou’s eyes shift upward from his wrist to look at you, the softness that was just in his gaze a second ago now replaced by his trademark caution. You try not to focus on the disappointment of having caused that, as well as the misplaced longing for what was once there.

It takes him a while to reply, his features contorted into a look of deep thought. But when he does so, he straightens his back. “We—”

A barrage of heavy knocks resounds from the door, startling both of you and cutting Bakugou off. It’s immediately followed by a gruff voice, which you can now easily recognize as Hiroto’s.

“You’re not making any noise,” comes his bite, although it’s slightly muffled. “You better think twice about planning something behind our backs, you two.”

You roll your eyes. You understand any hostility coming from the members, as you and Bakugou come with risks that can potentially harm the organization that they hold dearly. But even you can say that the twins are taking it a bit too far with the harsh treatment.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think their being extra hard on you has something to do with Masaki agreeing with the off-surveillance.

“Fucking relax,” Bakugou seethes in their direction. “Just because we’re not audibly having sex doesn’t mean we’re talking shit.”

You snort. Bakugou whips to look at you, the corners of his lips upturned.

That seems to put a plug on Hiroto, because the man doesn’t say anything after that. Once again, you’re met with silence, with you and Bakugou sitting on your respective furniture, looking at anything but each other.

It’s him, though, who finally breaks it a few minutes later with a clear of his throat.

“We keep at it—” Bakugou starts carefully, “—is what I was trying to say earlier. They’re gonna discuss the plans with us sooner than later.”

…Patience, huh?

You can do that.

Nodding, you adjust your position on your seat. You don’t dare to ask him to expound or add your own thoughts on the matter. Better to be safe than sorry, even though you’re pretty sure your room is free of bugs.

So instead, you finally give in and steer the conversation to something that’s been plaguing your mind ever since the commission kidnapped you a little over a week ago.

“Bakugou,” you begin, and he looks at you expectantly. You gulp. “Can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Depends on the question.”

“…So might as well shoot your shot,” he finishes when you don’t say anything.

Well, then.

You blurt it out before you can talk yourself out of it.

“Don’t get me wrong, alright? I know you’re strong and all that. But…” you trail off, fixing your eyes on him, “Why did they specifically want you of all heroes?”

Almost instantly, Bakugou’s smug expression is wiped off his face just as it falls.

You scramble to backtrack.

“Sorry if that’s too invas—”

“Are you sure we were batchmates?” he cuts you off, a brow raised in question. “Back in UA?”

You stare at him. Where is he going with this?

“Yeah?” you reply, not at all willing to try and jog his memory with the only prominent exchange between the two of you. So instead, you toss the query back at him: “Why?”

“Because if we were, you would’ve heard about the rumors about me, unless they weren’t as widespread as I thought.”

You feel your brows furrow. “Rumors?”

He peers at you for what feels like an eternity, before shaking his head in what you think is resignation. His body language has changed drastically, you note—the distinct confidence from earlier now long gone, having been replaced with…shame?

He heaves a deep breath.

“I was a bully,” he finally declares, meeting your gaze. “I bullied someone for being quirkless. I guess you could say I had a…” he hesitates, as if he’s trying to filter his words,” …certain mindset up until late into our first year.”

He shakes his head again, which is now bowed down toward the floor. “I did some pretty…awful stuff, to say the least.”

And before you can say anything, he beats you to it. “And don’t ask me about what I did.”

“I wasn’t going to,” comes your speedy response. That causes him to look up again and at you, a surprised look written on his face.

“Well, that’s a first.”

“I don’t have to know,” you reason, schooling your features into a neutral, even sincere expression. “Besides, I can clearly see there’s remorse. There’s no need to reopen that can of worms, especially if you’ve tried to make amends.”

You pause, eyeing him. “Have you?”

He tosses you a look of offense, as if you just accused him of being a serial killer. “Of course. And he’s forgiven me. What do you take me for?”

“Someone who feels remorse—” you chuckle, “—just like I said.”

He shoots you a glare, although it’s playful and has no bite to it. “Smartass.”

You grin at him. “I am smart, aren’t I?”

Bakugou doesn’t verbalize his agreement, but he doesn’t deny it either. Instead, he turns the table on you.

“You’re a guidance counselor, aren’t you? You use your quirk on your clients?”

You gasp, insulted. That grants you a smirk from him. “No! Of course, not. What do you take me for?”

He shrugs, “What? It makes sense to me.”

“So should this thing called ethics, which I follow and is very important, especially for people like me who work in the mental health field.”

That doesn’t seem to convince him. “Why’re you in this field, then? If not for its compatibility with your quirk?”

You think about it for a beat.

“I guess you can say my quirk did play a part in all of this, but not as my crutch,” you eventually explain. “Using it made me realize how much I like making people feel and do better, which is something that I now do with evidence-based techniques as a counselor. Plus, my job trains me in identifying emotions, which, you know…”

—helps with maximizing your quirk.

But you don’t say it out loud for fear of getting exposed, and it seems like that’d be unnecessary, because understanding flashes across Bakugou’s eyes. He nods, and that’s all you need to know he gets what you’re leaving unsaid.

“That’s a pretty noble cause,” he offers, although it comes out a bit awkward.

Still, you flash him a genuine smile. He looks away.

…Right at the wall clock, which now reads a little too late o’clock.

“You should get some sleep,” says Bakugou just as you are about to tell him the very same thing.

And when you don’t respond: “Are you sure you wanna sleep on the couch?”

‘What, are you proposing we share the bed?’

…Is what you would say if you were a fucking lunatic, which you’re glad you aren’t, because you don’t know how you’d survive this hell of a mission if you were.

Instead, you nod, shooting him a grateful look as you move to lay back and drape the blanket over your body. “Bask in the luxury of a proper mattress, your highness.”

You don’t get to see his reaction anymore in your new position, but you bet your cheap but surprisingly ergonomic slippers that he’s grinning with the way he snorts loudly.

“Stupid.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[demonic0angel]

Can you write some badhumor? I love them😭

(Hell yeah!! It got long bc I got excited lmao)

Nightwing was not in a great position right now. He was currently tied up, suspended off of the ground, injected with unknown drugs, and only moments away from being delivered to some new and unknown mob boss within Blüdhaven. All he could do was wait for an opportunity to escape until the drugs kicked in.

"I guess this is what they meant when an angel loses their wings, huh?" A low, velvety voice said. "You seem to have lost yours."

Dick looked up in shock. "... Wraith?!"

There, floating near the windows on the ceilings, was a being wearing black and white with glowing, floating hair and luminscently green skin. He smiled, flashing sharp fangs, and Nightwing felt his heart drop.

Wraith was a neutral entity that had appeared in Blüdhaven for an unknown purpose. There was little known about him, except that he was powerful, feared nothing, hated humans, and had a strange, unexplained fondness for Nightwing.

Although Nightwing could not trust him, he could not deny that Wraith hadn't done anything yet. For the most part, he just roamed Blüdhaven to follow Nightwing and watch him occasionally with flirty or cryptic comments before disappearing and then coming back at the most random times.

Nightwing shuddered as he realized that he was now vulnerable in front of this being with unknown motives.

"Hello, birdie," Wraith purred. "You seem a little... tied up."

Nightwing chuckled, hiding his inner nervousness. His body was beginning to shake from the drugs and the exertion of being extended off of the ground by his hands. "Yep. So could you untie me?"

Wraith floated down, touching upon the ground gracefully before prowling forward, head tilted as he observed Nightwing's tied up form.

"I could... but what's in it for me?"

Fuck.

Nightwing grit his teeth. His vision was growing blurry. Sweat began to bead at his brow as the heat within his body rose sharply. He glared at Wraith, who stood still, watching him with the eyes of a predator.

"If you can't, then just fuck off."

"You're more rude than usual, little bird."

Nightwing felt his body tremble as the pain and heat suddenly grew unbearable, like needles were stabbing into him over and over. His ears began to ring and the world started to swirl, spiraling into colors and dark spots.

"Ohhh. Oops."

And then his vision faded into unconsciousness and blistering heat.

In his slumber, he felt the comforting presence of something cold. He chased after the chill to drive off the sweltering heat, and as cool hands gingerly weaved onto his hair and scratched at his scalp, he fell deeper and deeper into a gentle sleep.

He woke up the next morning, eyes wide as he sat up in a comfortable and large bed.

He looked down on himself, where he was still dressed in his hero suit and mask, but all of his visible injuries were treated and bandaged. His sprained wrist was wrapped and splinted expertly, but there was nothing else that was out of the ordinary. He didn't not feel as achy or tired as he expected from such an ordeal yesterday.

Nightwing carefully climbed out of bed and then investigated the room. There were no cameras or recording devices, and the door was even unlocked and open. There was nothing suspicious about the room besides the fact that Nightwing was in it, alone.

He peeked outside of the room and then he went through the hallway, observing the place. It looked like a high-end apartment, and there was no one else but him inside. When he entered the kitchen, there was a meal prepared for him, wrapped up and cool on the counter.

There was a note attached to it as well, written in a messy scrawl.

'Nightwing, I hope you had a good rest. I can assure you that the food is not poisoned and the gang members have already been taken care of. Do not wreck the place, since it does not belong to me.

— Wraith'

Nightwing pursed his lips. He looked at the food on the tray and then at the apartment again. Everything looked cold, impersonal, but also neat and clean. Without a second thought, he snatched the entire meal tray before opening and window and jumping out with zero hesitation.

He landed on the roof of a building next door, mentally recorded the address of the apartment number, and when he got home to his own run-down apartment, he immediately began his investigation, though not without checking the food for poison first.

As the tests ran, he searched for the name of whoever owned the apartment complex.

The food was soon deemed clear before he could find anything, and Nightwing took a bite as he typed. He barely withheld a moan as the amazing flavors burst on his tongue. Nightwing's eyes lit up as he now regarded the food with more awe. He scarfed it down, barely able to focus on working the entire time, completely rejuvenated by the delicious food and rest.

The apartment was rented by a man named Daniel Nightingale, but owned by a man named Vlad Masters. Daniel was currently working as an executive assistant to the CEO of the Masters Company, who had recently moved locations into Gotham and Blüdhaven.

There were, however, no pictures of this assistant, and no reports or news of him.

Nightwing licked away the last remains of his breakfast from his lips, deep in thought as he tried to connect the dots between Wraith and this Daniel character.

If he looked into him now... then maybe he could find out more about Wraith?

(And maybe Nightwing could figure out the strange feeling in his chest that blossomed whenever he thought of Wraith, who had treated him with a strange amount of respect and interest all in once.)

[theonottsbxtch]

99 PROBLEMS PT2| MV1

an: after many requests, i've changed up our beloved max. this has not been proof read so pls don't judge i am tired and have had the shittiest week of my life i swear but im slaying i promise!

wc: 5.5k

part one

The morning after was a slow burn of pain.

Noah woke up with a headache that felt like someone was hammering on his skull, each pulse a reminder of his poor life choices. His mouth was dry, and the room seemed to spin even though he was lying still. The sunlight creeping through the curtains made his head throb even harder.

He groaned and pulled the blankets over his head, trying to bury himself in the comfort of the pillow, but it was no use. The light was relentless.

With a resigned sigh, he threw the covers off and staggered to the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror was enough to make him want to crawl back into bed—hair a tangled mess, his face pale, and his eyes bloodshot. He splashed water on his face, feeling the coolness settle his nerves slightly, but he still wasn’t ready to face the world.

A thought occurred to him—he hadn’t eaten last night, and he needed food if he was going to survive this hangover. He stumbled toward the kitchen, squinting against the light.

The kitchen felt like a foreign land. The open windows made it bright, the kind of brightness that seemed determined to make him suffer. Noah squinted, trying to locate anything he could eat without being blinded.

Lights off, he thought, grumbling. He reached up, turned off the overheads, and then fumbled his way around the counters until he found the stove. The dim light coming from the street lamps outside was barely enough, but it was better than the harsh sunlight.

He opened the fridge and pulled out eggs, butter, and a bottle of orange juice, setting them on the counter. He moved with the deliberate slowness of someone trying not to trigger the next wave of nausea, and as he grabbed a frying pan, something on the counter caught his eye.

A small bag. A lipstick. A pair of earrings.

Noah froze.

He had no idea whose stuff it was at first, but the instant he saw the ID half-hidden under a paper towel, he couldn’t look away.

He reached for it cautiously, flipping it over to see the name on the card: Rosa, 21 years old.

He stared at it, blinking in disbelief.

Twenty-one.

His brain took a second to process the shock. He’d seen a lot of women come and go last night, but this was different.

His dad—Max—had slept with someone only four years older than him.

He shook his head, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered, making the room feel hotter and his stomach churn.

He bent down, rubbing his temples to stave off the headache, and that’s when he saw them—clothes strewn across the floor. A dress in a heap near the kitchen table. A pair of high heels kicked to the side like someone was in a rush to get out.

Eugh, Noah thought, feeling his stomach twist in disgust.

Thank god he’d come home early with Charles. He’d heard the stories—heard about what Max was like when he had a good time—but seeing it for himself, well, it was a whole different level of uncomfortable. He would’ve had to witness this, the aftermath, the leftovers of his dad’s typical antics.

Noah closed his eyes, leaning back against the counter as if he could shut out the entire night. He’d had enough of his dad’s antics for the next year—or lifetime.

Sighing deeply, he pulled the pan from the stove and cracked the eggs into it, the sizzling sound a small distraction from his thoughts. The smell of cooking eggs filled the room, but it didn’t do much to calm his nerves. It was just another reminder that life went on, even when things felt messed up.

As he scrambled the eggs, he couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d seen—the lipstick, the earrings, the stupid ID. Four years older than me?

He made himself a plate of scrambled eggs, avoiding the now-infamous counter, and took a seat at the table. He sat there quietly for a while, the silence pressing in around him.

Noah was just finishing his eggs when he heard footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and to his surprise, Rosa—Max’s most recent conquest—emerged from the hallway wearing nothing but one of Max’s oversized t-shirts. She looked a little uncomfortable, and her eyes flickered nervously toward him as she stepped into the kitchen.

Noah immediately pointed toward the hallway. “The dress is right there,” he said flatly, trying not to look at her.

She hesitated, clearly flustered, and then lowered her gaze. “I—sorry, I just—uh…” She trailed off, clearly not sure how to act around Max’s son.

Noah watched her, already knowing the answer but still asking. “Why did you do that?”

Rosa bit her lip. “He’s... he’s Max Verstappen,” she said quietly, as if that somehow explained everything.

Noah felt a pit grow in his stomach. He leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “He’s at least fifteen years your senior,” he replied, his voice laced with disbelief.

She seemed taken aback by the bluntness, but nodded sheepishly. “I... know. I don’t usually—well, I guess I’m not exactly thinking straight when it’s him, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Noah said dryly, then added for her benefit, “It’s Max Verstapen, right?”

She bit her lip, then grabbed her dress from the hallway and quickly went to change. Noah couldn’t help but feel relieved—he had no idea what to say to her, and honestly, he didn’t need to.

The sound of footsteps coming from the hallway brought him back to the moment. A few seconds later, Max appeared, stretching lazily as he entered the kitchen. His hair was still a mess from the night, but his grin was as wide as ever.

“Morning mate,” Max said, ruffling Noah’s hair as he walked by. 

Noah just stared at him, unimpressed. “Twenty-one, really?” he asked, shocked.

Both of them ignored her as she walked out, Noah still in disbelief.

Max chuckled, clearly not fazed, and started rummaging through the fridge. He opened a carton of eggs, cracked a couple into a pan, and began cooking.

It wasn’t long before Max’s phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the screen and swore under his breath, muttering, “Fuck.”

“What?” Noah asked, curious, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Max looked up, his face briefly reflecting an uncharacteristic moment of stress. “My personal assistant,” he muttered. “She’s off annual leave today.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “What’s so bad about that?”

Max sighed dramatically. “She keeps my life together, kid. Without her, I’d be completely lost.”

As if on cue, they heard the front door creak open. The sound of heels clicking against the floor echoed in the hallway.

Max’s face fell. “Oh, double hell,” he muttered.

Noah looked at him, confused. “Who’s that?”

The door to the kitchen swung open, and a woman walked in, looking both exasperated and amused at the same time. She was in her early thirties, with sharp features and a no-nonsense attitude that immediately made her stand out.

She didn’t waste any time. “Blocking me during my annual leave doesn’t work, Max Emilian,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Max stood up straight, putting on his most charming grin, which, unsurprisingly, didn’t seem to work on her. “Hey, sweetheart, how was the holiday?”

She didn’t even look at him before turning her gaze to Noah, who was watching this whole scene unfold with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

She raised an eyebrow. “Who’s this?”

Max froze for a split second before clearing his throat. “Uh, this is my son... Noah,” he said, sounding almost awkward.

The second she heard “son,” her eyes widened in shock. “MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN,” she snapped, her voice sharp as a whip. “What on earth have you gotten yourself into now?!”

Noah couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the way she was laying into his dad. Watching Max get his ass handed to him by someone who clearly had authority in his life was, honestly, one of the funniest things Noah had seen in a long time.

He leaned back in his chair, his mouth twisting into a grin. “This is... amazing,” Noah muttered under his breath, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Max, on the other hand, looked like he was regretting every decision he’d ever made. “Sweetheart, come on,” he said weakly. “It’s not that bad.”

“No, Max,” she said, crossing her arms, unimpressed. “It’s exactly as bad as it looks. I leave you alone for three weeks, and you end up with a what? a 16 year old who clearly looks hungover!” She turned to Noah, her expression softening just a little. “Nice to meet you, by the way. But please—please tell me you’re smarter than your dad.”

Max groaned and rubbed his temples, clearly still nursing the hangover. “Ugh, I’m hungover,” he muttered, dragging himself to the kitchen table and sitting down.

She didn’t even glance up from the folder she was pulling out of her bag. “Don’t care,” she said with a roll of her eyes, clearly unimpressed by his state.

Noah snorted with laughter, the sound escaping before he could stop it. He couldn’t help it—there was something undeniably hilarious about watching Max get shot down so effortlessly. Watching the great Max Verstappen, the Formula 1 champion, get treated like an everyday guy was something he hadn’t seen before.

She caught the laugh from across the room and shot Noah a playful smirk. “You think this is funny, huh?” she asked, but her tone was light, not harsh.

Noah raised both hands in surrender, still grinning. “You have no idea,” he said, shaking his head. “This is gold.”

Max shot him a sideways glance but didn’t say anything—probably because he was too busy trying to drag himself through the worst hangover of his life. He ate his food silently, still looking miserable, while she—who, honestly, looked like she had her life together more than anyone else in the room—slid a thick folder across the kitchen table in front of him.

“Here’s the menu,” she said, flipping it open. “You’ve got a race in two weeks. Act like it.” Her voice was firm, almost maternal, but there was a certain softness to it that suggested she genuinely cared about Max’s well-being. And maybe Noah’s, too.

Max groaned again. “Really? The race is two weeks away. Can’t you just let me suffer in peace for one more day?” he asked, looking up at her with a feigned pout.

She didn’t even blink. “I don’t care,” she said again, flipping through the folder with surgical precision. “You’ve got media events, sponsorship meetings, and training sessions that you will attend. You can wallow later, when you’re not about to crash a car into a wall. So do me a favour and get it together, darling.”

Noah watched the exchange with a growing sense of admiration for her. She had a way of keeping Max in line that Noah hadn’t even thought possible. The pet names, the obvious affection she had for him, it was like a love language they both spoke—but she could flip into business mode faster than anyone he��d ever seen.

Max’s face softened, and he finally gave in, wiping his face and nodding. “Fine. Fine,” he muttered, his voice rough. “You’re right. Just... can I get through one cup of coffee before I start pretending I’m an athlete again?”

She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “You’re not pretending, you are an athlete,” she said, her tone turning teasing, but still with that edge of authority that made her impossible to ignore. “But I’ll let you have your coffee.” She shot a glance at Noah. “Don’t get any ideas. You’re not allowed to slack off like him.”

Max snorted. “What ideas? He’s seventeen,” he shot back, clearly exhausted but trying to rally for the sake of their ongoing back-and-forth. “You think he’s gonna let me off the hook?”

Noah grinned. “If you can get away with it, I might give it a shot,” he said with a wink, feeling a rare moment of camaraderie with his dad—well, his dad when he wasn’t being an idiot.

She just shook her head. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” She pushed the folder over to Max again. “I’m serious, Max. The team’s not gonna wait for you to nurse a hangover. You’ve got a busy week, and you need to start acting like it.”

Max finally straightened up, rubbing the back of his neck, but then something like a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He looked at her with that familiar cocky glint in his eyes, a look Noah had seen a hundred times before. But this time, it wasn’t as obnoxious—it was affectionate.

“Alright, alright, you got it, princess,” Max said, using one of his usual pet names. She didn’t flinch, but Noah swore he saw the faintest trace of a smile tug at her lips.

Noah felt like an outsider looking in on this little dynamic, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Seriously, princess? Can’t you do any better?”

She looked at him, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Don’t get me started on the pet names,” she warned. “You’ll regret it.”

Noah chuckled, obviously enjoying the banter. He turned back to her. “If I call you princess, will you cut me some slack?”

“Not in a million years,” she replied with a smirk, her voice as calm as ever.

Max sighed dramatically, clearly not used to being outside of a joke, but he dropped the act, finally flipping through the folder in front of him. “Alright, alright. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Noah leaned back in his chair, watching the two of them with a mix of awe and amusement. It was clear—she wasn’t just a personal assistant. She was the one who kept Max’s world from falling apart, and soon maybe Noah’s, too. He’d never seen his dad so... well, manageable before. She’d probably seen it all—his dad’s hangovers, his cocky attitude, his late-night escapades—and yet she still kept things running smoothly.

Maybe that’s what he’d needed all along—someone who could manage the chaos, someone who could actually keep him grounded.

“Well, I guess I can’t slack off anymore either,” Noah muttered, pushing away from the table and grabbing his plate. “Guess I’m in this with you, huh?”

Max looked up at him and gave him a playful nudge. “You know it, kid,” he said, grinning. “The real work starts now.”

She stood at the counter, her movements fluid as she made a cup of coffee for Max. She placed it gently in front of him, then gave him a look that made it clear she wasn’t done yet.

“Your room,” she said firmly, raising an eyebrow. “Strip your sheets, air it out. It smells like sex in there.”

Max groaned, but his tone was playful. “Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he muttered, picking up the coffee and winking at her as if it was no big deal.

Noah watched the exchange, silently chuckling to himself. It was actually kind of adorable how well Max and she worked together. They didn’t seem like just a typical boss-assistant duo—they had a rhythm, a comfort with each other that made it hard to believe they weren’t more than that.

She raised her eyebrows at Max, clearly not impressed by his teasing. “Go,” she commanded, making a shooing motion toward the hallway.

Max rolled his eyes but shuffled off to his room, his back already to them.

She then glanced over at Noah, her expression softening now that it was just the two of them. “Alright, kid,” she said, her voice changing slightly. “Now, how did you end up here?”

Noah hesitated, unsure how much to share. He wasn’t used to talking about his family—about his mum. But she had a way of making him feel safe. She didn’t press, didn’t rush him, but her eyes were kind, giving him the space to speak if he wanted to.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, trying to find the words. “I was an accident,” he finally muttered, looking down at the table. “My mum... she was one of the many girls in and out of his life. She never really stuck around, I spent more time with my grandma.”

She nodded, encouraging him with a soft, understanding smile. She was so good at making him feel like his feelings mattered, like he wasn’t just a burden. “And after that?” she asked, her tone gentle but full of curiosity.

Noah paused, swallowing hard. “She just had enough, I guess. She couldn’t wait until I turned 18, so she shipped me off here to my dad.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, a little embarrassed by how honest he was being. “I don’t know if she ever really wanted to be a mum. But when it came down to it, she couldn’t even handle me for a few more months.”

Her expression softened even more, and she leaned forward slightly, her voice low and comforting. “That must’ve been really tough on you.”

Noah gave a half-shrug, but there was a weight to it. “It was. But, I mean... what can you do? She made her decision, and now I’m here. With him,” he said, glancing toward the hallway where Max had disappeared, an almost nostalgic look on his face. He wasn’t sure whether it was disappointment or something else—maybe just the surrealism of the situation.

She watched him closely, like she was trying to read him. “Do you want to stay after your eighteenth birthday?” she asked carefully. “Or do you think you’ll go back to the States, I’m assuming that is where you’re from?”

Noah felt a tight knot in his chest at the thought. He hadn’t really thought about it—hadn’t been asked. His whole life had been in limbo for the past three weeks, ever since he’d arrived in Monaco. “I don’t really know,” he said, exhaling deeply. “I’ve only been here for a few weeks. I turn 18 in a couple of weeks... and I guess I’m still figuring things out. It’s... it’s a lot to take in.”

She nodded again, giving him time to process the weight of it all. “Of course,” she said, her voice warm. “But listen, if you want to leave, we can make up for the missed child support. If you don’t feel comfortable here, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, okay?”

Noah didn’t know what to say at first. He felt like he hadn’t even had time to adjust to life with his dad before people were talking about the next step. But then something in her words hit him. We can make up for the missed child support. She was offering him an option. She wasn’t trying to guilt him into staying; she was giving him a choice, and that felt... different.

“But if you want to stay,” she added with a smile, “we can make up for lost time. And I’ll take you shopping.”

Noah chuckled, feeling a little lighter at the thought of her offer. It was a small thing, but it was enough to make him feel like he had options. Like maybe, just maybe, he could make a life here.

“Shopping, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Is that the deal-breaker?”

She smiled knowingly. “A little retail therapy never hurt anyone. Plus, it’s a good way to build a real wardrobe.”

Noah smiled back, surprised by the warmth in his chest. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he wasn’t just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe—just maybe—he could find a place for himself here.

Over the next few days, Noah couldn’t help but notice the unique dynamic between his dad and her. It was almost like a carefully choreographed dance—Max would slack off, mess around, maybe even throw a tantrum, and she would step in like a well-oiled machine, putting everything back in order without missing a beat.

She was the one who could actually control him, Noah realised. Not that Max ever looked like he was being controlled—he had that cocky, self-assured air, like the world owed him something. But she was the one who could gently rein him in, who knew exactly when to cut him off, when to play the tough love card, and when to let him have his moment of weakness.

And Noah saw it. He saw how Max listened to her. He’d always thought that Max did whatever he wanted. But with her around, he noticed a shift. She was the one who could keep Max grounded in ways Noah never could, and in that, Noah saw something—something that made him wonder if, maybe, she was the only one who could be perfect for his dad.

It was race week, and everything was running at full throttle. Max was his usual self, the high-octane Formula 1 driver, constantly on the go, living off adrenaline and the expectations that came with it. They boarded the private jet with a few of the other drivers, and as soon as they were in the air, Max and his mates turned their attention to technical talk, while Noah, feeling out of place but not entirely unwelcome, found a seat beside her.

As the engines hummed in the background and the landscape below them blurred into a sea of clouds, Noah let himself relax for the first time in what felt like forever. She was reading through a set of files, occasionally glancing up at him with that comforting, steady gaze she had perfected.

“So...” Noah said, breaking the silence after a while, “How did you get this job?”

She looked up, offering him a warm smile as she closed the folder in her lap. “That’s a loaded question,” she said, her voice playful but still laced with that underlying wisdom. “How much time do you have?”

Noah grinned, leaning back in his seat. “I’ve got all the time in the world, it seems. Might as well learn something interesting.”

She chuckled softly. “Fair enough. Well, I’ve always had a thing for organisation. I’ve worked in a lot of high-pressure environments, but this—” she motioned around the jet, a flick of her hand that encompassed the luxury, the chaos, the busy hum of the race world “—this was different. I actually came into it by accident.”

Noah raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Accident? How does someone accidentally end up working with the best Formula 1 drivers in the world?”

She shrugged casually, like it was no big deal. “I used to be a personal assistant for a couple of big-name corporate execs, and after some... interesting situations, I realised I needed a change. My family had always been involved in motorsports, so I started working for a racing team, just answering emails, scheduling meetings. Then one day, Max’s manager called me in to help out with his chaotic schedule. The rest is history.”

Noah laughed. “I’m guessing Max’s schedule is a nightmare?”

She gave him a knowing look. “You could say that.” She lowered her voice as though she was telling him a secret. “Max’s not the easiest guy to manage, but we get along just fine.”

Noah nodded, his curiosity piqued. “What’s it like... working with him? I mean, really working with him?”

Her expression softened, and for a moment, she seemed almost nostalgic, like she was remembering the past. “He’s a pain, honestly. He doesn’t listen half the time, and he thinks he can do whatever he wants. But that’s Max, right? He’s got this fire in him, this energy that doesn’t let anyone or anything hold him back. And... well, someone has to keep the wheels turning when the engine’s running at full speed. That’s where I come in.”

Noah couldn’t help but grin. “Seems like you’re the only one who can actually keep him in line.”

She gave him a small smile, her eyes sparkling with that quiet confidence. “I don’t keep him in line—I just know how to get him to do what’s necessary. There’s a big difference.”

The jet hummed steadily, and Noah leaned back in his seat, thinking about what she’d said. She was good. Too good at her job to be just another assistant. She was like the secret engine that kept Max running, and Noah didn’t think he’d ever fully understand why she chose to work with him, but he didn’t mind. She clearly had everything under control.

“So, do you like it?” Noah asked, after a beat of silence. “The job? I mean, it’s got to be crazy, right?”

She smiled at the question, looking thoughtful. “It’s a lot, yes. But it’s also rewarding. I’ve always loved a challenge, and Max... well, he’s a big one. But he’s also got a heart under all that arrogance. It’s just buried deep. You’d have to stick around long enough to see it for yourself.”

Noah stared at her for a moment, absorbing her words. He wasn’t sure if he believed she meant that, but it made him wonder about his dad in a way he hadn’t before. Maybe she was the one person who understood Max better than anyone. Better than he did, that’s for sure.

As the flight continued, the other drivers gathered in the back, talking racing tactics and joking among themselves. Max glanced over at Noah, giving him a quick nod before returning to his conversation with the others. But even from where he sat, Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but he felt... maybe a little bit more at home in this strange new world.

It wasn’t just about living up to the chaos or trying to impress his dad. It was about finding a balance between who he was and what this life could offer him. And maybe, just maybe, the one person who could make him see it clearly was sitting right in front of him, offering him coffee and a chance to truly know her story.

Race day had arrived, and the atmosphere was electric. The entire paddock was buzzing with energy as the team prepped for the race. Max’s PA was in the hospitality area, typing away at her laptop, responding to emails and making sure everything was in place for the post-race debrief. Her calm, focused demeanor was the eye of the storm, while around her, chaos seemed to swirl.

Noah had been lingering nearby, watching the action unfold. The race cars lined up, the drivers warming up in their suits, engineers giving last-minute adjustments. But Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that there was still so much he didn’t understand. Formula 1 was more than just fast cars; it was strategy, timing, and a whole world he hadn’t fully cracked yet.

She noticed him staring into the pit, looking like he was trying to figure it all out, and her lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. She closed her laptop and pushed her chair back, standing up.

"Hey," she called over to him, "You look a little lost. Want to get some fresh air?"

Noah blinked, his gaze lifting to meet hers. "Sure. I mean, I could use a break."

She motioned toward the balcony, a quieter spot away from the noise of the paddock. "Come on. Let’s go up there. I'll teach you a few things about the race."

They made their way out, and as soon as they stepped onto the balcony, Noah took in the view of the circuit below. He hadn’t even noticed the race started. Or was this the formation lap? He was sure he read something about that. The track was alive, filled with motion, the cars zipping around as the tension built toward the start.

She leaned against the railing, her arms folded as she studied Noah. “So, how much do you know about all this? The strategy, the pit stops, all that?”

Noah shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. “I know a decent amount. I mean, mum sometimes put on the race for me to shut me up, but I didn’t really get into the details. She wasn’t into it, and I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it.” He paused, then added with a bit of a sheepish grin, “So I know the basics, but it’s a lot more complicated than I thought.”

She nodded, a knowing look crossing her face. “Yeah, it’s a lot more than just fast cars and fuel. Let me give you the rundown.”

She began explaining the finer details of race strategy—the tire choices, how teams monitored fuel and tire degradation, the timing of pit stops, the importance of keeping track of the weather. As she talked, Noah found himself listening intently, his mind absorbing the information. She wasn’t just teaching him about the race; she was showing him how the puzzle pieces fit together.

“You’re getting it,” she said, smiling at him as he absorbed it all. “The strategy isn’t just about winning; it’s about staying ahead of the competition at every turn. A good driver can have the skill, but it’s the team that makes them successful.”

Noah nodded, feeling a new sense of respect for everything that went into a race. “I get it now. It’s more than just the guy behind the wheel.”

She grinned. “Exactly.”

The sound of the race engines revving up brought them both back to the present. The cars were lining up, and she could feel the tension building as the race was about to begin. She turned toward Noah, her tone shifting slightly. “Alright, time to get back to work. Max has quite a few places to make up.”

They both turned toward the pit, and with a knowing glance, she led Noah back inside.

The race was intense, but as the laps ticked down, Max started to pull away from the pack. Noah could see it happening before anyone else—his dad was dominating, racing like the champion he was. It wasn’t just about the car; it was about Max’s relentless drive.

And then, it happened. Max crossed the finish line in first place, and the entire team erupted in celebration. Noah felt a strange mix of pride and awe. This was his dad—he was winning, and it was like nothing else mattered in that moment.

She was already moving, heading straight for the garage to make sure everything was set for the post-race celebrations. Noah followed behind her, curious but also wanting to see what happened next.

As they entered the garage, Noah couldn’t help but ask, “Why are we back here?”

She turned to him with a knowing smile. “Away from the cameras,” she said simply. “Sometimes the celebrations should be private.”

The doors opened just as Max walked in, his face flushed with triumph, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on her. Without a second thought, he crossed the space in long strides, pulling her into a tight hug.

Noah watched them, a small smile tugging at his lips as he saw the chemistry between them. It was impossible to ignore—the way Max’s arms wrapped around her, how she laughed softly in his arms, as though they had all the time in the world. It wasn’t just the physical connection between them, it was the way they fit together. They had this unspoken understanding, this quiet intimacy that Noah couldn’t deny.

For the first time, he felt like an outsider—just a kid who had stumbled into a world he didn’t fully understand, yet somehow found himself caught in the middle of something bigger than himself. Watching them together, he couldn't help but think they were cute—and it was a thought that made him feel oddly warm inside.

Max pulled away from her, looking down at Noah with a mischievous grin. “Atta boy, kid,” he said, pulling Noah into a hug. The older man’s arms enveloped him easily, and for a second, Noah felt the weight of everything—his confusion, his place in all of this, but also the new undeniable love for moments like this, moments he never had. 

It was rare, moments like these, where Noah felt like he truly belonged in this world, like he wasn’t just a spectator in anyone’s life. The hug felt like a reassurance, like Max was showing him, in his own way, that he was happy he was here.

As they pulled apart, Noah found himself grinning, the rush of the race and the moment of connection filling him with something he couldn’t quite name. But whatever it was, it felt real.

She stepped forward, brushing off a stray piece of hair from her face. “Good job, Max,” she said, her voice soft but proud. “You didn’t screw it up for once.”

Max shot her a playful look. “Who are you calling a screw-up?”

She winked at him. “You, it’s just not obvious because I pick up your slack Max Emilian.”

Noah looked between them, watching the playful banter, and for the first time since he’d arrived in Monaco, he felt like things were... right. Whatever this was between his dad and her, it was something real. And maybe, just maybe, it could be the foundation for something that could help him find his place in this chaotic world.

taglist: @linnygirl09 @mirrorball-6 @miyasuni

[cheyisagirlkisser]

pitfighter vi who has been fucking random hookers to let off some steam, then meets reader and assumes she’s a hooker too, reader gets offended and says she’s a virgin, vi takes her virginity 🤍

Vi is gonna be a scumbag in the beginning because I need her to be!! This request kinda made me laugh imagining my reader all pissed off about Vi’s dumbassery

Content: 2.2k words, face-riding (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), Vi slaps your tits, grinding on Vi’s lap, slight corruption/cherry chasing kink, Vi is a whore in this boo, most of this is from her perspective so she calls the brothel girls whores n stuff

The blonde's lips were parted, her eyes glossed over and her cheeks rosy. Her body was shaking with every thrust Vi delivered to her cunt. Over and over again, it wasn't even something Vi had to think about. She did this like it was a job, clocking in just to leave and never come back for her girls. Brothel girls, the ones on the streets, sluts who watch her fights, it's all game.

It's so fucking boring though.

All the same high-pitched moans and the same movements she gave to all of them. It started out to be addicting and distracted her enough from all of the feelings muddling her head. When she was with a girl, she felt oddly clear in the head. Same didn't go for the women who she had practically impaled on the Zaun community strap she had going around.

When the blonde finally came, she fell limp into the bed. Breathless, but not wrecked. Vi hadn't been wrecked in a long time.

She thought that the cycle would never get old: sleep half the day, train, go make some money as a pit fighter, get plastered, and find some hooker to lay with. Every piece of self-sabotage was like a guilty pleasure, but the more it branded her mind, her life, the more she just wasn't in for it anymore. That was, until she saw you.

It was another regular day for her. She woke up at 2 in the afternoon and sloppily punch her punching-bag over and over again until her brain shut off and her knuckles were even more bruised than yesterday.

This time, the fight didn't go so well.

Usually, Vi was able to get the majority of her anger out on whatever unfortunate, burly man was thrown into the ring with her. Comically enough, she lost. Her body was weak and she still had so many pent-up emotions. She didn't have the time to go searching the streets or bar for some girl to bring home; maybe the brothel would be worth it.

When she walked in, she was greeted with the sight of dim lights, red hues glowing from lamps to give the rooms a sensual appearance. Behind curtains were cries of pleasure small, mischievous giggles.

Vi approached the front desk and didn't waste any time - she wasn't in the mood to waste time. She needed to fuck some random prostitute and she didn't care who.

"Just give me whatever 50 coins is worth," she deadpanned, frisking out her coin bag before something caught her eye. In the corner of the room, sat on a sofa, was you.

You were unlike any prostitute she'd ever laid eyes upon. You looked sweet, delicate. You looked like a fucking flower, the softest complexion she had ever witnessed in a brothel. Your hair looked so soft and she for the first time in a while, she had a rush of adrenaline wondering what it'd be like to tug on your hair and break that soft, innocent face of yours.

What the hell were you doing working at a whore house?

"Hello..? Earth to Vi?" Babette sounded amused.

Vi didn't answer, she was in a fucking trance. This was the first time she actually felt an attraction to a girl working in a place like this. She quickly made her way over to you, sitting alone with the sweetest expression on your face.

"How much do you cost?" Jeez Vi, you're such a scumbag..

Your face quickly tilted up to face her, confusion plastering your soft features. "What do you mean?"

Vi held back the urge to snort. You were playing innocent, huh?

"I want a night with you. How much?"

At that, you quickly shook your head. "Oh, no..I'm just-"

"This act is so fucking adorable, holy shit. None of Babette's whores act all sweet like you, huh?" She let out a laugh at her own joke. "Bet you're one of the men's favorites."

Your nose crinkled at that, your lips parting not with arousal or breathlessness, but because you were..offended?

"Excuse you?! I'm not a prostitute! I'm here to bring something to a friend!" Your eyes didn't meet hers, "I don't..do that stuff."

Oh, shit..were you actually a virgin?

"O-Oh..wow, sorry.." Vi rubbed at her head, embarrassed, but something in her, something in her scumbag system blurted out the next words. Just the idea of taking a pretty, delicate girl's virginity sent blood pumping between her legs. God, she was such a pervert..

"Well, you don't have to actually be a prostitute, you know.." She trailed off, observing your reaction to her words.

You looked even more confused now. "To..what.."

"I'll still pay to if I can take you home with me."

"What?!" Your face was so cute, all scrunched up and clearly embarrassed. She was so excited to fuck that pissed off look you had going on away.

"C'mon, I'm sure you need the money. I need to release some stress, and I promise I'll try to go easy on you," she snorted, adding on, "we can pretend it's your honeymoon or something."

You paused at that.

Vi was right; you really did need the money. Rent was due soon and you only worked at some bar for scraps of coin. She had a lot of money from previous fights, and you could see the sheer amount in her little bag. You didn't want to spare your dignity to become a common whore, but what could you do?

"Okay."

Vi had you seated in her lap back in her bed, your body trembling like a leaf every time she planted another kiss on your neck. You were just so damn cute, all shy and sensitive to her lavish amount of attention. It made her pulse beat faster, and she was immediately hooked.

She forgot all about the other girls. No, she needed you right now.

"You're so soft, you know that..?" She whispered into your ear, lips brushing over the cartilage and making your breath hitch slightly. "And you smell like flowers and lotion, it's a surprise nobody has loved you like this."

Her voice so saccharine and greedy, her words so truthful and desperate, and her mouth so warm- it made you dizzy in the head, and you were already softly squirming in her lap for friction, your hands pulling at her jacket to bring her closer.

"Please, I need you...feels so good when I'm on you." You admitted, choking out a cute little squeak when she grasps at your hips and guides your motions. It is all so addicting, like you're discovering a whole world of pleasure you never had before, but this still isn't enough.

Vi was losing it. You were all cute, squealing and grinding into her lap, doing more than any brothel worker could do for her. Your breaths were coming out in pants and you sounded like the other girls did on their fourth orgasms. She wondered how you'd sound once she had you that far. Earlier, she was so pissed off and wanted to slam her cock into anything she could. Her aggression soon faded, simmering down to a softness, to a need to blow your mind with this experience rather than just fuck you and go.

"How 'bout you ride on my face for me?" She spoke against your neck, going back to leaving bruising marks onto your soft skin. When her lip pressed onto your pulse, she could feel how your heart was practically beating out of your chest.

"W-What?! What if I hurt you?" You're worried about hurting her? That is comical. You should've been worried about yourself. I mean, you were in bed about to get fucked by a butch pitfighter. Now that she knew you were needy for her, begging for her like a whore when you were a sweet virgin, she was going to treat you like a whore, she decided - as passionately as possible.

Vi laughed and laid back, tugging at your cute little shorts to get you out of them and onto her face, "I can handle huge men, I can handle a girl. Get on my face, right now."

You were quickly out of your clothes, in nothing but a cute patterned pair of socks. You hesitated a bit before finally letting yourself sink onto her-

Vi wasn't having it. With a quick grab of your hips, she lowered you onto her face completely and began to eat you out.

The way she devoured you was akin to how she ate right after she got out of prison; all messy and desperate, with an obvious sense of bliss mixed within. All this time, all the call-girls and prostitutes who couldn't do it for her, what she really needed was you.

You didn't moan like them when she lapped at your clit but rather tangled your fingers into her hair and whined. The way you made the sounds like you weren't just feeling good, but like you needed this just as much as her left her more messed up than she could ever even dream of being.

You were still so sensitive to all Vi was giving you, trying to squirm away for relief only to find yourself bound on top of her, her lips rubbing against your clit with a hunger that sent butterflies throughout your system, stomach and pussy clenching like never before.

“A-Aghh, Vi! Please, it’s too much…”

Vi only slipped her tongue into your hole and you jolted, violently trembling on her lap in a way she’d never seen before.

When your orgasm came, and it came fast but hard, your hips frantically ground against her face for more, crying out her name.

“Vi! Please, don’t stop…”

Every flutter of pleasure was like a blessing until it finally slowed down into nothing. When it was over, your knees almost buckled and you nearly crashed onto her head. Vi laughed, pulled you onto the bed so that she could settle on top of you.

" 'm gonna finger this sweet pussy, m'kay?"

Apparently she expected an answer and not just a whine, because she delivered a firm smack to your breast, not painful but hard enough to make you gasp.

"Tell me what I'm going to do to you." She was being so authoritative over you and didn't even know why. Why was she so obsessed with having you follow her every command?

"Y-You're gonna finger me.." You repeated back to her, voice shaky after your last orgasm.

"Yeah, that's right.. you really are just a flower, aren't you? All sweet 'n delicate." As she spoke, two fingers teased your dripping hole, causing you to grip at her bedsheets. Vi liked that, liked that you were so responsive. She wasn't able to get that reaction out of her other girls.

Finally, her fingers parted through your inner pussy lips and into you, making you gasp. It was an unfamiliar feeling; you weren't innocent, obviously touching yourself, but usually really only on the outside. You never could get yourself to cum, it felt too weird feeling around inside of yourself. Vi's touch, however, made you weak in the knees.

Where you lacked, she seemed to hit right exactly where you needed it. Deep inside your walls, you felt her fingers curl and rub at your g-spot and all you could do was tighten your grasp at Vi's poor bed and take everything she was giving you.

"Good girl. You take me so fuckin' well, don't you?" You whined at her praise, spurring her on to press more firmly against your walls, her fingers pumping so deeply your vision was unfocused, your breaths coming in pants rather than steady inhales and exhales.

Vi took the time to lavish attention onto your neck, alternating between bites and soothing laps at the area which only made you writhe more. "Feeling good? You wanna cum and make a mess for me?"

You nodded, your body practically shaking with the need to give her what she asked, to give yourself what you needed. "P-Please, make me cum!"

She did.

Your body shook underneath her, your hips bucking up into her touch as far as they could. It like all the tension in your body had been let go and all you could do was enjoy it. Sex with her was just so enjoyable, and the way she let you have your own pleasure and not tease you or giggle at the way your throat let choked out moans escape? God, you were so fucked. Literally and figuratively, too. You weren't supposed to lose your virginity like this, but how would you ever be able to resist her again? You were sure to become Vi's little fuck-toy, especially if she had her way.

Afterwards, Vi pulled you into the shower and just held you.

She had not held a girl in so long, and she used to think she would never again. It didn't interest her to care for someone, but you were so sweet and lovely, all she could think to do was take care of your body after giving it so much. She didn't wanna overwhelm you too much.

Fuck, why was she suddenly so caring? She'd grown up that way, sure; still, she thought she would stay away from actually loving someone after all the loss she felt.

For the first time in months, Vi would let a girl sleep in her bed tonight.

[monamipencil]

🧍‍♀️i can't even describe my emotional state rn

i was so happy to read pt.2. i thought it'd be happy. v, you weren't lying when you said angst, no comfort. THIS HURTS. THIS IS SO ANGSTY BUT ALSO SO SOFT, AND I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT TYPE OF EMOTION I FEEL ATP

but my god, your writing skills??? i love that so much. and i love LOVE your world building. this was so fun to read. i can't wait to read more from you!!

annotations;

avoiding his reflection in the mirror as usual.

oooh, this makes me curious

Upon the first splash of water hitting his face, he thought of you. It was inevitable. The image of you sitting on the ground, surrounded by trees. That night, he left you for good. That night nothing made sense.

🧍‍♀️it does make sense honey, you're just in denial.

“Jeonghan, don’t go.” He recoiled, shaking his head and mentally reprimanding himself for thinking of you. But your last words to him were a curse, echoing inside him every night, refusing to leave.

ow ow ow, ok. that cut, deep.

How come he did not think that by killing every single demon within the town’s radar he was putting a target on you for other hunters?

since when have you used your brain? (yes im insulting him, how dare he?)

Jeonghan missed you.

THIS IS ANGSTY BUT ALSO SOFT AHHHHHH

The pull. The feeling he got every time he closed his eyes, the need and deep craving for you that made him go insane. He let himself feel it. It tugged inside him, like a thread that was tied to his very core.

your descriptions >>>> i actually felt the pull. v, i love your writing

The same thigh he had been rubbing since he woke up. It made no sense.

IT MAKES SENSE, YOU IDIOT

A sheen layer of cold sweat covered your face and neck, breathing hard. “Fuck you,” you sighed when he stopped squeezing your flesh.

lmfao. i love her 🫶

“Why haven’t you fed?” he asked, and it took you a while to understand that he was reprimanding you.

he's worried.

“I’m not talking about human food,” he said with annoyance, shooting you a look that made you shrink in your seat. “Why haven’t you been feeding?”

HE'S WORRIED. eating my fist rn, this is soo ughhhh, adorable and heart breaking at the same time. idek what emotion im feeling atp.

You saw him walking away from the car, putting his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket, his long hair tied in a messy ponytail.

PONYTAIL JEONGHAN ?!?!

You knew him well enough to tell when something was bothering him. And you knew what it was.

this is ... domestic and soft.

With a sigh, you walked inside the room.  “One bed?” you turned to him with an exasperated look.

qsadfghjnmhngbfrdszghyjuhn, AHHHHHH-wait, you guys have fucked countless times.

Jeonghan frowned, not at you but at the thing stirring inside his chest. That feeling he got only when he was with you. “When is the last time you fed?”

HE'S WORRIED WHAT IF I THROW MYSELF OUT OF THE WINDOW

“You’ll die,” he sentenced after some seconds. “Are you insane?”

me when a man does the bare minimum, but my bar is in hell.

“Why do you want to become human?” the words sounded ridiculous as he uttered them.

oh ... 🧍‍♀️she's down bad

Jeonghan had never seen a demon cry, let alone one that wanted to become human. It made no sense.

IT MAKES SENSE HEXSBKNDFMGFHGVFCDSFGH YOU IDIOT

“Is that necessary?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him as he sank under the covers with you.

lmfao, this guy is slick

He found himself entirely pressed to your body, his front to the back of yours. His nose buried in your mane of hair, an arm draped over your waist.

fuck, this is so domestic, and soft, and cute, and lovely, and sweet, and-i can't.

Jeonghan pressed his fingers on your chin gently, tugging you so you locked your pretty eyes with his. “Does it not, really?”

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 🦅🦅🦅

“Did you think I would want you more if you were human?” he asked without heat in his words, his gaze reading your features over and over. “Did you think that would give you a shot at a normal thing happening between us?”

🧍‍♀️she's just down bad, ok? go easy on her.

By this, you meant, the out-of-the-ordinary need for him, the desperate craving that refused to let you live. Maybe then, the bond between you would not be so unbearable.

asdfghjkl i love this. so angsty and so soft, and i dont even what the fuck im feeling

“What?” he bit back, holding your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks. “What will you do, eh?”

AHHHHHHWDSNHAOVFUBRHJL DFCVMDSCVBNHDNHTBGFVDC AH YOON JEONGHAN THE MAN YOU ARE

Nothing in existence would make him stop wanting you, damned to hell or not.

But did he miss you the same way you did? Did he crave to hear your voice like you did his?

fucking hell, oh he fucking did.

“Scary baby demon, what are you going to do?” he teased again, kissing the apple of your cheek, his breath caressing your ear. “I want to see that,” he said mockingly. “Make me suffer.” “I’ll be mad at you.” “I ache for you,”

“You fucking brat,” he spat, pressing his face on yours, giving you a hard kiss in the process. “Delusional little demon. Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?” “Did you really think… I’d stop wanting you?” he panted in between his hard thrusts, the strain in his voice telling you how close he was to his release. “I’ll never stop wanting you.”

this is my live reaction. im actually dead, this is my soul typing

“I won’t do it again,” “That’s it… that’s my girl,”

WTF OMG IM JUST A GIRL, I CANT- I CAN'T

“Jeonghan,” you started, your tone reducing itself to a whisper. “There is a reason why we can’t get rid of each other.”

say it. SAY IT

“It makes no sense,” he whispered dejectedly. It made perfect sense.

im killing myself if my soulmate goes through stages of grief instead of happiness when it is revealed.

Jeonghan sighed, touching your forehead with his. “That’s a high price to pay,” he whispered.

well, what do you expect? this is the third time, SHE'S DOWN BAD

“I like you the way you are.”

oh my FUCKING GOD I LOVE THEM, YOUR HONOR.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled. Fool. He was a fool.

whyyyyy NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

FOR ONCE, JUST ONCE, WHY CNA'T THEY BE HAPPY

the traitor | yoon jeonghan

› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader › aus: demon hunter jeonghan, supernatural au, demon reader › genres: angst, smut (18+) › word count: 8.4k

› 🎧: mood – dpr ian | shameless – yuni | symphony – highvyn ft. jey | read your mind – meloh | dive – jooyoung | dead man running – seulgi | for us – v | moonstruck – enhypen | war-r-r – colde

› this one shot is part 2 of the curse - hannieween fest

› warnings after the cut! READ THEM CAREFULLY 🗣️

› warnings: smut with plot, unprotected p in v sex, oral sex (both receivers), pussy drunk jeonghan, cockdrunk reader, cum swallowing, creampies, cowgirl, mating press. pet names: baby, baby demon (hers)

› disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

› author's note: this is part two of my demon hunter hannie! hehe i loved writing it sm and thought to give you a follow-up part!

› additional note: this isn't proofread

the traitor

JEONGHAN WAS WOKEN UP BY A TINGLING FEELING. As a hunter, he needed to pay attention to a few things, like sudden surges of emotions. Hunches. Tingling sensations were not particularly something he would consider in the bunch. But alas.

He pushed himself up, swinging his legs at the rim of the bed and stared at his knees for a long second. He took a deep breath, rubbing his leg. It was pointless, he thought when he could not find a reason to leave his bed in the middle of the night.

But being a hunter also meant he needed to be on high alert nearly all the time. In his experience, sometimes it was a good idea to pay attention to those moments when nothing made sense at all, such as this.

Sucking in a breath, he got up, stretching his arms over his head as he went over to the small bathroom, avoiding his reflection in the mirror as usual.

Upon the first splash of water hitting his face, he thought of you. It was inevitable. The image of you sitting on the ground, surrounded by trees. That night, he left you for good. That night nothing made sense.

Needless to say, he was exercising all of his will not to go back to you.

Stop trying to make sense of everything.

After that, he debated whether to go back to bed or not. He could take a bottle, try to numb his senses and finally get a good night of sleep. But he needed to stay sharp.

It was a lost game. He got dressed, throwing his pair of black pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Finally strapping his chest harness on with his knife. Going out in the middle of the night meant to him that he was out for blood.

That was his way to distract himself.

“Jeonghan, don’t go.”

He recoiled, shaking his head and mentally reprimanding himself for thinking of you. But your last words to him were a curse, echoing inside him every night, refusing to leave.

Jeonghan let out a long exhale as he wandered through the night. The streets of the town were completely deserted, he knew he would have to stay out for some hours before he found a target.

These nights, he had been hunting until he travelled three towns over. All because he cannot find it in himself to sleep, he has to fight the urge to seek you out somehow.

Maybe this will be the night he breaks.

There was nothing in this town. It was too safe, too clean. He knew it would not be long until he had to move to a different town and start over. He had been commissioned to travel to different parts of the globe to find something to hunt down, so maybe he was doing his job right.

So why did he come back to this shitty town? 

Something spiked in his nightly walk. There was something unusual in the air and it was not good. Jeonghan had really good senses, but his intuition was something that discerned him from the rest. Sometimes, people would tell him that his intuition was something out of the ordinary for hunters. So he paid more attention to that rather than his other senses.

He subconsciously rubbed his leg and caught his hand just as it dawned on him.

“Jeonghan, don’t go.”

Fear set in, and adrenaline kicked in as he started for a run. He had been stupid. So fucking stupid. How come he did not think that by killing every single demon within the town’s radar he was putting a target on you for other hunters?

Jeonghan knew the town by heart, but he could travel to your apartment with his eyes closed. Countless were the nights he stumbled upon your front door, burdened with misery all over. This cannot be the way he finds you dead.

“No, no, no, no…” he had been repeating the word like a prayer as he climbed through a labyrinth of stairs, panting, sweating until he burst the door open, already knowing you would not be there.

He called your name, either way, his voice bouncing back the walls. There was something off. A glass was shattered, pushed against the corner of the room. One of the chairs was drawn back, in the middle of the way. Jeonghan painted a scene of what could have gone down.

You were probably having the bowl of cereal that was abandoned on the table when the other hunter burst in. Jeonghan could not catch the scent of the other hunter, so that meant whoever that was, they masked themselves well.

No, you would have felt his presence before he could even breathe in your direction. Even if you were young, you were not completely inexperienced in the world of hunters. He made sure of that.

Another possibility was that you were asleep when the other hunter came. The sheets of your bed were tossed to one side. Jeonghan crouched next to the mattress, a terrible feeling sinking inside him upon getting your scent lingering on the pillowcases.

Jeonghan missed you.

“Where are you?” he whispered, closing his eyes to focus on your scent.

You smelled like freshly picked flowers. The smell he would get in the early morning after a night of rain. The fact that you did not smell like death, or blood made it hard for him to focus sometimes.

He opened his eyes, his focus falling on the open window. Then, he knew why he could not make a story from his surroundings. He had been wrong to assume it was just one hunter.

Someone had also come through the window. You were trapped from the beginning. His chest contracted painfully. But somehow he knew you were not dead yet. Have you been taken? For what end?

The possibilities were endless. Even if hunters had a long history of hating demons, some of them were missing some screws in their heads too.

Jeonghan needed to find you, soon.

Making his way down the stairs, part of him wondered why try at all. He could be rid of you once and for all. He could probably turn a blind eye to this and wait for your name to appear on the ledges. He would be free from the fucking pull that lead him to you every time.

The pull.

The feeling he got every time he closed his eyes, the need and deep craving for you that made him go insane. He let himself feel it. It tugged inside him, like a thread that was tied to his very core.

Jeonghan had refused that feeling ever since he met you, thinking it was some kind of trick you played on him. Silly little hunter got all wrapped in a demon’s finger.

But if he dared to give in to the pull, everything smelled of you. Every gulp of air he took as he walked in the direction his senses told him, he saw your face, your teary eyes as he walked away. Fool, he was a fool.

He was led to the forest, the same path he had gone through when he saw you last. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he should go back and hunt you down.

But then he heard noises, leaves rustling, and a small intake of breath. The sweet way you drew air into your lungs.

He thought of risking calling your name, but he did not know if the hunters were around. So he just followed the sound of your movements until he could get his sight on you.

You could barely walk right. Something had brought you to your knees, your arms were shaking as you forced yourself to stand up, with a low grunt.

Jeonghan called your name this time, making you lift your head.

He stopped abruptly at the sight of something shiny in your fist.

“Don’t move,” you said, punctuating each word painfully.

“What happened?” he asked, his tone declining in sickening worry, his gaze coasted at each of your limbs, zeroing in on your thigh. The same thigh he had been rubbing since he woke up. It made no sense.

“Step back, Jeonghan,” you panted in pain, raising the knife at him when he made a motion toward you.

“You didn’t notice me coming,” he muttered, analyzing the situation quickly. He sent his gaze around, seeing if there were signs that there was someone lurking by. “Let me take a look at that.”

“How did you find me?” you asked, letting yourself plop back to the ground, letting go of the knife.

Jeonghan got to your side, dropping to his knees to look at your thigh. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, eyeing you. “I’m going to touch you now.”

You nodded and braced yourself for the searing pain in your leg. “Two hunters came for me,” you said, clenching your jaw tightly to resist the pain throbbing in your skin, around the gaping hole that was turning black.

“I know,” he said, examining the open wound. “Did they stab you?”

You shook your head twice. “They were using a crossbow. Silver arrows,” you explained despite the need to rest your head on the ground and sleep through it. “I feel dizzy.”

Jeonghan shot you a look. He was worried. “It’s the poison, they must’ve poisoned the arrows to neutralize you,” he said at once. “What did you do to the arrow?”

“I used it on one of them,” you replied with half a smirk that slowly vanished as Jeonghan started to press on the wound, seeing any signs of anything odd or unfamiliar.

“Sorry,” he breathed as you tensed in pain. “I need to see if there’s anything in there,” he explained, but what did not satiate the doubts running in his mind.

“I can’t heal it,” you repeated and now he could see that beneath the pain and the need to deflect it with humour, you were scared.

“I know, I know,” he told you, giving you a stern look. “I can help you but you’ll have to be quiet.”

“Are you missing this opportunity to gag me?” you quipped but your tone was made weak by the fear of feeling pain.

Demons were used to pain, yes. But you were a fairly young demon and lived for most of your life in the human world. Such pain was not welcome for you.

“Breathe,” he instructed and used his hands on your thigh to squeeze the blood that had gone black and tacky around the wound.

You gritted your teeth, writhing in pain on the cold ground. “Stop, stop, stop,” you cried out, trying to get his hands off you.

But Jeonghan was quicker, and stronger than you at that moment. He did not deter from his task to squeeze the poisoned blood out of you despite your desperate cries for him to stop.

You lied, nearly limp from the exhaustion the pain had put you through. A sheen layer of cold sweat covered your face and neck, breathing hard. “Fuck you,” you sighed when he stopped squeezing your flesh.

“I’m not done yet, I need pressure on the wound,” he said, moving back to unfasten his belt with his bloodied hands. He strapped the belt around your upper thigh, forming a tight tourniquet.

“Hurry,” you said through heavy breaths. As you eased your back on the ground, Jeonghan caught sight of the dark wings splayed beneath your body, a clear sign that you could not conceal yourself any further.

Jeonghan made no comment about the weakened state you were in. A knot was set in his stomach upon realizing that you were dying. He grabbed one of the vials he kept in his hunter’s belt, it contained a white liquid. “This is going to sting a little,” he murmured, unstoppering the vial with his mouth and not pausing before pouring the antidote on your open wound.

Your hand flew to clench at his wrist, letting out a scream that was quickly muffled by his hand clasped in your mouth.

“I’m nearly done,” he said with a composure that you could see through. Beneath that, Jeonghan was worried you would not make it.

“Am I going to be all right?” you asked in a daze, slurring out your words.

“Drink this,” he pressed the vial to your lips, pouring the rest down your tongue, which you gulped willfully, it tasted like white vinegar.

You rested your head on the ground, taking slow and deep breaths as though you had just finished running a marathon.

“You’re going to be all right,” he said after a quick examination of the wound. “But you’ll need to feed soon.”

“Right,” you mumbled in understanding. By feeding, Jeonghan did not mean human food. Although you could eat human food just all right, it did not sustain what your soul craved.

He meant sins. You needed to feed off human sin. They made you stronger, and faster. They gave you the fuel needed to fight hunters. Going off sins for a while made you just as strong as an average human.

“Why haven’t you fed?” he asked, and it took you a while to understand that he was reprimanding you.

“Been busy,” you sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.

The last thing you heard was Jeonghan mumbling, “We’ll need to move soon,” before you fell into a deep sleep on a floor covered by dead leaves. 

Upon regaining consciousness, you noticed with some slowness that you were not surrounded by trees, and you were moving. Your wings were cradling you, so that meant your horns were on sight too.

You tensed up, drawing in a shaky breath, palming your body in search of the knife that you stole from your attackers.

“Easy,” Jeonghan murmured next to you, a hand on the wheel, the other on the shift stick.

“Where are we?” you said, looking around.

“Radewood town,” he replied nonchalantly, eyes set forward on the road.

“Why?” you asked slowly, hiding your wings, from his view, then your horns.

“How’s your leg?” he asked instead, glancing at your thigh.

The wound had stopped bleeding, it was no longer oozing that black substance that had Jeonghan looking worried. You hissed painfully upon searching it with your fingers. The blood had dried, but it was not healing at the speed you would normally have.

“It hurts,” you mumbled, biting your bottom lip. “It’s not healing.”

Jeonghan nodded. “You need to feed,” he reminded you with the same tone of reprimand of earlier.

“Well, I fled without stopping to grab my purse so,” you sighed. “I don’t have money.”

“I’m not talking about human food,” he said with annoyance, shooting you a look that made you shrink in your seat. “Why haven’t you been feeding?”

You blinked slowly at him and shook your head after deciding that there was no answer that would please him. “I have–,”

“Don’t say you have been busy,” he cut in.

“Well, it’s the truth,” you said with a clear tone that gave away your lie.

But Jeonghan could feel it. Whenever you told a lie, there was a change in the air that only he could notice as a hunter. No human could ever detect your lies, only people like him.

“You know I know when you’re lying,” he said flatly, throwing you a dark look.

“Be content with that,” you bit back. “I’m not telling you anything else.”

Jeonghan shook his head, deciding not to press any further on the matter. He licked his lips, filling his lungs with the fresh midnight air that swept in through his rolled window.

“Jeonghan,” you called softly and did not proceed with your question until he glanced your way. “Why are you helping me?”

Jeonghan turned on a different street again, checking his rearview mirror, pretending to ready his answer. “I don’t know,” he replied.

There it was the empty void extending between you and him. If he lied, you would have sensed it too.

“How did you find me?” you pressed, trying to the best of your ability to analyze him. You were still weak, but you could still observe him despite your foggy brain.

“I don’t know,” he repeated with a low tone that barely cut through the noise of the engine of the car.

It made no sense. The way he found you in the woods was not done with any of his training. He simply closed his eyes and let him be taken to you. He did not even think twice as he carried your body to his car and started it, taking you far away from the town where you would be at risk of being hunted down.

“We have to lay low for now,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes as he cut the engine on an empty parking lot.

You raised your gaze to the motel sign, flaring in red neon light. “Is this your version of laying low?” you said with a sarcastic huff. “We could’ve done that back in the forest.”

Jeonghan opened the door, not bothering to look at you or give you a reply. “Stay here.”

You saw him walking away from the car, putting his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket, his long hair tied in a messy ponytail.

You could run away. You did not know if Jeonghan was even aware of this. Maybe he was, you had a bad leg, and you were growing weaker.

Plus, there was the fact that he was now aware that he could trace you with his eyes closed.

You swallowed hard, waiting for him in the passenger seat of his old Mustang. You were going nowhere.

Some minutes later, you saw Jeonghan exiting the building and walking towards your door, which he opened to retrieve his belongings, which were his belt and his knife.

“This way,” he mumbled, motioning to one of the doors with a jerk of his head.

Reluctantly, you exited the car, closing the door behind you. Jeonghan turned and walked over to the door, introducing the key, and opening it for you.

You knew better than to fight it. There was a quiet storm brewing in the man’s head, and you were in its eye. You knew him well enough to tell when something was bothering him. And you knew what it was.

With a sigh, you walked inside the room.  “One bed?” you turned to him with an exasperated look.

“I didn’t think you would mind,” he froze by the doorframe.

“Whatever,” you waved a hand dismissively before he could offer to change it.

As soon as Jeonghan closed the doors and the blinds, you started to the bathroom, taking all of your clothes off in front of him. You made no invitation, no offer but you still left the door open, the sound of the shower filling the tiny room.

Jeonghan made another small inspection, looking out of the window through the blinds before deciding to relax. He took his jacket off, leaving it neatly by the chair that was pushed to one corner of the room. He took his boots off, sitting down on the chair with a low grunt of exhaustion.

As he sat up straight, he caught sight of his hand, only noticing because he had started moving it, rubbing his palm on the exact spot where you had been injured.

“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself, raising his gaze as you returned to the bathroom, wholly naked, pressing a towel to your hair.

“You okay, hunter?” you eyed him curiously, like a cat that just noticed a flashy light.  

Jeonghan frowned, not at you but at the thing stirring inside his chest. That feeling he got only when he was with you. “When is the last time you fed?”

“Here we go again,” you rolled your eyes but continued towel-drying your hair without bothering to respond.

“Answer me,” he muttered when you turned your back on him. Your reluctance to answer his question might have given him the answer.

“The last time we saw each other,” you said, your words echoing his own thoughts.

“Why?” the word was sharp like it took everything in him to suppress the dark emotion pulling on his every nerve. “That happened months ago.”

“Why do you care so much?” you spat, turning around to face him.

The question seemed to make him return to his senses, his eyes flickered with an emotion that you were to weak to catch. “I don’t,” he replied, stepping back from his initial anger.

“I’ll feed whenever I want to,” you said and this time you did not lie.

Jeonghan stood up, commanding your gaze to lift up to find his. “So you’re not hungry?”

You bit your tongue. Your eyes were dead, and despite the hot shower you had just taken, you were cold to the touch as Jeonghan curiously raised a hand to your shoulder. It was pointless, your plan had crashed and burned miserably.

“I’ve heard stories…” you whispered, closing your eyes to repel the sensation firing inside you. “Stories of ways a demon can become human. You can’t become human if you’re feeding off them, right?”

When Jeonghan did not reply, nor move you opened your eyes again. He was still rigid in the same trance he had been upon finding you injured and bleeding in the forest.

“You’ll die,” he sentenced after some seconds. “Are you insane?”

You brushed his hand off. “I knew you’d say that,” you whispered with a pained look, turning around to sit down on the bed.  

“Why do you want to become human?” the words sounded ridiculous as he uttered them.

“Not your business, Jeonghan,” you replied impishly, throwing the towel to him, which he saw coming, catching it with ease.

“It is if you’re running away with me,” he said. Your temptation to feed could become dangerous. And he was toeing that line too deliberately.

“I didn’t choose to run away with you,” you bit back with an indignant huff.

“That’s the thanks I get?” he rolled his eyes in annoyance. “What was I supposed to do, then? Leave you to die? To be found by them?”

He did not need to explain who he referred to. The two hunters must have noticed that Jeonghan ran away with his things, his car, leaving an empty place behind. And you are nowhere to be found. He was a traitor.

“Maybe,” you whispered, lowering your gaze to your lap. You skirted the pads of your fingers around the wound that still refused to heal completely.

Jeonghan stood before you, using a hand on your chin to force your teary eyes on him. A finger scooped your tear as it rolled down your cheek. The tear glistened on the pad of his thumb as he showed it to you, a shocked expression plastered on his face.

Demons felt emotions, yes. But nothing like sorrow. Jeonghan had never seen a demon cry, let alone one that wanted to become human. It made no sense.

“It’s possible, Jeonghan,” you whispered shakily, letting your tears flow freely.

“Humans are weak. They get sick, they die. Besides, the guilt of everything you’ve done as a demon will crush you,” he said, dropping his hand from your chin. “Why would you want something like that?”

“I’m done talking,” you said childishly, turning over to draw the covers of the bed and tucked yourself in. “Goodnight.”

He blinked perplexedly at you. The best option was to wait for another opportunity to bring up the matter, but for now, he needed to rest. He disposed of his chest harness, and his knives, leaving them on the old and battered bedside table, where he could reach out if needed.

A smile threatened to break on his face when you turned slightly at the sound of him taking his pants off, then his long-sleeved t-shirt, discarding his clothes at the foot of the bed.

He paused, tugging the band of his black boxers with his fingers. He took them off, making things fair.

“Is that necessary?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him as he sank under the covers with you.

“Just playing your game,” he said, tugging the hair tie loose before lying his head on the pillow next to yours.

“I’m not playing any games,” you huffed with annoyance, turning over so your back was to him once again.

There it was the ripple in the air between you and him. Jeonghan did not need to comment on it, but you hated it.

Hunter abilities or not, Jeonghan would be able to read through your lies blindfolded. He was just that good at reading people, reading you.

Jeonghan stared at the ceiling, his heartbeat going a mile per hour, like a bird’s wings batting frantically inside his chest. He swallowed hard, resisting the urge pushing him to raise his hand at you, to reach out and touch your skin.

You closed your eyes, commanding yourself to sleep. But it was nearly impossible. Jeonghan’s scent was too distracting. The hunger caved a hole deep inside you. It was no ordinary hunger, it was one that had your soul twisting.

You balled your hands into fists, sinking your face into the pillow. His lust was nearly palpable, looming over you like a monster preying on you.

However, you were too weak to actually act upon it. Soon, you fell asleep, not noticing when or how.

Jeonghan however, was too riddled with questions to do the same. He turned his head on the pillow, seeing your wet hair, your naked shoulder. His thigh throbbed in something that reminded him of pain, though his flesh was fine and did not hurt.

Why would you want to become human? What could be a good enough reason to want to abandon your life full of pleasures? It made no sense. Jeonghan had never heard of a demon becoming human, but he saw you crying, so that must mean that it could be done.

Still, it meant that there was a price to be paid. There always was.

Wandering through endless questions, Jeonghan fell asleep. Now and then he was reminded of your presence in the bed, feeling your warmth or hearing you move beneath the sheets.

Even if he were not a light sleeper, the distraction of your warmth was enough to stir him awake. He found himself entirely pressed to your body, his front to the back of yours. His nose buried in your mane of hair, an arm draped over your waist.

And he was hard. Fuck, he was so hard it was starting to become annoying. It would be so easy to slip himself inside your pussy, waking you up in the process. He had done it countless times before.

He let out a silent sigh through his nose, only getting the scent of your hair when he breathed in. Your hand found his arm parked on the curve of your waist, you were awake. Jeonghan pressed himself another inexistent inch further, his hard cock wedged on your ass.

“Jeonghan,” you mumbled sleepily, turning over to see him. You threw him an innocent look, big eyes, pouting lips. “What are you doing?”

He responded by giving you a confused look. In other times, you would not even ask questions, you would just let him take you, take whatever he wanted, for however long.

Jeonghan brought a hand to your chin, his touch igniting your skin, making you blink dumbly. “How long are you going to keep resisting it?” the words flew out of his mouth before he could even comprehend his own question.

But he knew what you were doing. He was an expert in pushing his feelings down, particularly, he knew what it felt like to resist this pull.

“However long is necessary, Jeonghan,” you replied, but your tone wavered in the urge to press yourself against his hand, to feel him.

“Why?” he asked, his eyes skirting through your reaction. He knew you wanted this, why were you refusing him?

“If I keep this for long I might get what I want,” you whispered, avoiding his eyes in utter shame.

“Why do you want to become human so desperately?” he asked again, looking at you with an obfuscation that was hard to mask.

You shrugged, keeping your sunken gaze on his chiselled chest. “That doesn’t concern you.”

Jeonghan pressed his fingers on your chin gently, tugging you so you locked your pretty eyes with his. “Does it not, really?”

Your brow furrowed, your gaze darkening. Feeling like you were being mocked, your eyes watered again. “Fuck off, Jeonghan,” you scoffed weakly, trying to free yourself from his grip.

He did not want to see it, but your reaction told him everything he needed to know. It took him some seconds to shake the perplexion off. It made no sense. “Did you think that being human would change things?”

You made no verbal reply, scoffing as you brushed his hand off you one more time.

But you knew him well enough to expect that would not work on him. He needed an answer now, and he would stop at nothing to get it now that he knew it fully concerned him.

“Did you think I would want you more if you were human?” he asked without heat in his words, his gaze reading your features over and over. “Did you think that would give you a shot at a normal thing happening between us?”

“No, Jeonghan,” you rolled your eyes, but he could see how much his questions had pierced through you. “Quite the opposite.”

He made a motion to pull his head back on the pillow as if that gave him a better frame of your face. “What?”

“I want this to stop,” you whispered, rolling over the bed to sit up with a sigh.

Jeonghan looked at your back, you let your head drop forward, sniffling softly but you were fully crying now.

“Maybe being human will make this stop,” you whispered, motioning a hand between his body and yours. By this, you meant, the out-of-the-ordinary need for him, the desperate craving that refused to let you live. Maybe then, the bond between you would not be so unbearable.

Jeonghan sat up too, trying to read any signs of your words being insincere. But he found nothing, the quiet tension falling in the room startled him, and it made him uncomfortable. Even more, the battering inside his chest was making it difficult to even breathe.

“That makes no sense,” he mumbled with a hollow tone.

“It makes perfect sense,” you bit back, throwing him a sad look.

You were weak, nearing a state that you did not comprehend. Becoming human meant that you also had to deal with human emotions, and they were flowing freely through you, giving you a taste of what you were about to face as a human.

However, making yourself human condemned you to a myriad of threats. Not just mortality. You would become a demon that betrayed its own kind. A traitor, too.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, trying to hold your gaze to read you better.

“I want to be rid of you by whatever means necessary,” you hissed, coating your words with venom.

“Liar.”

There was a shadow of a smile on his face, and before you resorted to a crazed fit of violence, you decided to crush your mouth with his, kissing him with enough vehemence it would hurt him if he were human.

But he was tough enough to take you. He released a grunt in your mouth that was from half arousal, half annoyance at you.

“You’re a baby,” he grunted between hard kisses. “A bratty, fussy, melodramatic demon.”

“Shut up, Jeonghan,” you hissed. “Shut up or I swear–,”

“What?” he bit back, holding your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks. “What will you do, eh?”

“Don’t try me right now,” you said, kissing him repeatedly you were running out of breath.

“That’s exactly what I want to do,” he chuckled. “Did you think that making yourself human would make me stop wanting you?”

“Yes,” you hissed, pushing him back onto the bed with all the strength you had.

Jeonghan was stronger than you at that moment, but he allowed you to handle him with a triumphant smirk on his face. Nothing in existence would make him stop wanting you, damned to hell or not.

Though it made him curious to know. “Do you want to stop wanting me, then?” he leaned his head to his shoulder.

“It would be nice to stop craving you all the time,” you said, sinking your face in the crook of his neck to kiss him.

“Liar,” he grunted, holding your hips as you made a trail of kisses down his beautifully scarred chest. “Even worse, you’re a masochistic one at that.”

The guilty giggle escaping through your lips gave him all the reassurance he needed. You were now soaking up his need for you.

“Gods,” he breathed when your lips reached his hipbone. Your touch would never satiate the craving need inside him, but this night he would at least attempt to.

His fingers tangled in your hair, keeping his grip light but it would become difficult as you gave him a long lick from his ball sack to the tip of his cock. “Fuck,” he gritted, tensing as you wrapped your mouth around the bulbous head of his cock. “Yes, baby, just like that.”

The room fell silent again, but now all that surrounded you and him was lust and bliss. It had your blood revelling, sizzling beneath your skin to take him into your mouth. His fingers thread in your hair, caressing you as you bobbed your head up and down on him, sucking him off eagerly. You were tasting him, not only his skin, his arousal, but his lust. It drove you crazy.

“Gods, I fucking missed you,” he drawled, closing his eyes briefly before he lost all control. He wanted to push his hips, to drive his cock into your throat. But he also wanted to take this patiently.

You explored him with your mouth, just like your hands were exploring his body. Not that his nakedness was new to you, but you had just gone months without touching him. And not for a single second did you forget the taste of him, you also missed him.

But did he miss you the same way you did? Did he crave to hear your voice like you did his?

Your transition from demon to human was painful, and you were throwing it all away in one night. And Jeonghan was willingly letting you feed off his lust, you were relishing the taste of his greed, sucking off the last bit of the self-restraint he had in him.

His fingers curled around your hair, clenching his jaw as he moaned in pure pleasure. He let out a gasp when your tongue swirled around his cockhead. “Keep doing that, baby,” he said languidly, following the movements of your head on him.

A strangled moan bubbled in your mouth, and you followed his command, rolling your tongue around his blunt head.

Jeonghan smirked knowingly. You weakened whenever he treated you with softness, so words like baby drove you crazy. He threw a look down at his body, capturing your eyes, darkened with a lascivious greed that only fueled his. “Touch yourself,” he said with a gruff tone. “I want you to come with me.”

You sneaked a hand between your thighs, moaning salaciously when your fingers stroked your clit.

Jeonghan sighed, blinking slowly at the sight of you, thinking of your drenched pussy, your fingers coated in your arousal as you rubbed fast swirls around your clit. “That’s it, baby, just like that,” he praised, brushing your hair back with his long fingers. “You’re such a good girl for me, you don’t even know it.”

You moaned around his cock again, succumbing to a fast orgasm, your body trembled slightly.

“Coming,” he whispered, his mouth falling open as ropes of cum spurted down your throat, moaning at the sight of you drinking him off completely, licking to the last bead of his cum. You littered the reddened cockhead with sweet pecks trailing down to his shaft, eliciting a raw chuckle from him.

“That was amazing,” he whispered, enjoying the twinkle in your dark eyes upon being praised by him.

Jeonghan sat up, hooking one arm around your waist to throw you back onto the mattress. “Your turn,” he said with a wolfish grin.

You had recuperated the color in your cheeks, but you were still weak enough to fight his strength. You grunted as your head hit the pillows, but returned the smile at him. “You’ll see when I get my strength back.”

“Ooh, scary,” he said, grazing his lips on yours.

“You’ll see,” you remarked.

“Scary baby demon, what are you going to do?” he teased again, kissing the apple of your cheek, his breath caressing your ear.

“I’ll make you suffer,” you mumbled faintly, closing your eyes as his lips reached the underside of your jaw, making you tilt your head back for him.

“I want to see that,” he said mockingly. “Make me suffer.”

You sighed a moan when he kissed your throat, giving you a broad stroke with his tongue, tracing your collarbones. “Jeonghan…”

“Don’t throw another tantrum like that again,” he murmured against your skin, leaving another kiss on the plain of your breasts, before adding, “I’ll be mad at you.”

A spark of wrath got mixed along with greed and lust, it was not new to you, but it was rare.

“It wasn’t a tantrum,” you argued, though your tone was made weak by his lips, his tongue licking one of your nipples, making you arch your back.

He paused, “I don’t care,” he decided at once. “You’re not doing it again.”

“You don’t get to decide what I do, Jeonghan,” you mumbled breathily, moaning as his mouth wrapped around your nipple, suckling at it softly once, then swirling the tip of his tongue around it.

Jeonghan did not respond verbally to your obvious lie. He did not have a say in your choices, but there was a force greater than him or you that tied you to him. So every choice you made, every choice he made, was bound to affect you both.

“How’s your leg?” he asked, moving your thighs gently to slot his waist between them. His fingers traced a circle around the scar that was beginning to form.

“Better,” you sighed.

“Mmn,” he smirked at you, leaning over to kiss your lips. “Will it heal completely by the time I’m done eating you out?”

“Why, are you in a rush?” you quipped, arching an eyebrow at him.

There you were, he smirked. “I ache for you,” he whispered, letting his forehead fall upon yours. The shame coursing through him made you recoil but sensing it, he added quickly: “You have not only starved yourself but starved me with your stupid little plan.”

“You avoided me too,” you accused.

“I know, I was a fool,” he confessed, running his palms all over your body as if he could not do anything else. He sank down, leaving wet kisses down your tummy, his hands palming your breasts, his fingers lingering on your sensitive nipples.

You bit your lip, only in your most crazed fantasies did you dare to imagine him saying this. “You were,” you whispered. “The biggest fool.”

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, kissing your mound generously, his hands grabbing your thighs with the lightest of touches before licking your pussy with a broad stroke.

“Jeonghan!” you cried out, brushing his dark hair gently as he ate you out like a starved man, licking your folds thoroughly, his tongue sliding up to your clit to then suckle at it.

You arched your back, not caring about the light pain throbbing on your thigh. Jeonghan was giving you everything you needed, giving your pussy open-mouthed kisses, drinking your arousal in with pleased moans.

“Fuck-k,” you gritted weakly, letting yourself be swept away by the gentle waves of your orgasm building inside you. “I m-missed you too, Jeonghan,” you mumbled.

He raised his gaze to yours, blinking slowly at you, pressing his tongue on your swollen clit, moving it swiftly in figure-eight motions, driving you to the edge. You gripped the bedsheets with one hand, the other flying to grab at the railings of the headboard.

“I’m close,” you gasped, breathing rapidly, welcoming the pleasure barreling through your body. “I’m close, I’m–, Jeonghan…” you closed your eyes, repeating his name over and over as you climaxed in his mouth.

But Jeonghan was not stopping. He continued making out with your pussy, enjoying the taste of your arousal pooling in your entrance, licking your folds with raunchy moans. His hands held you down as you shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm, caressing your tummy languidly.

“Jeonghan,” you called, shuddering when his hand caressed your thigh as he littered it with kisses.

“See? Healed,” he placed another kiss, right where your scar used to be.

You used your newly regained strength to push him, flipping the positions over so you were now straddling him. You let out a pleased sigh, effortlessly pinning his body down on the mattress.

“I take that you’re all set now,” he smirked, his hands roving all over your thighs.

Gods, you were a sight to behold. Your wings were at full display, resting freely at your sides. Your dark horns, curving back from the crown of your head, were on sight too. That meant you were comfortable around Jeonghan. You trusted him.

“Not yet,” you said, grabbing his hardened cock in one hand, planting the other on his abdomen for support as you eased your pussy down his length.

“Fuck,” Jeonghan gritted, his hands flying to grab your hips as you started rolling them on him.

“What’s wrong, hunter?” you teased, leaning down so your face was close enough to prop kisses on his lips. “Lost your footing?”

“You got me for a second there,” he admitted with a smirk. “Didn’t think you’d recuperate your strength that quickly.”

“Mm, keep that in mind next time you kiss it better,” you said, trapping his bottom lip with your teeth, nibbling it softly.

Jeonghan moaned, your hips picking up the pace mercilessly, knowing the exact pace and motion that drove him insane. He closed his eyes, sighing out the euphoric feeling of being with you, like this, consuming each other.

“It won’t happen again. You’re not doing this to yourself again,” he said with a faint tone.

“You don’t make choices for me,” you retaliated, sinking yourself down on him with pleased sighs, planting your hands on his chiselled chest.

In a blur, Jeonghan grabbed your wrists with one hand flipping your bodies over, pinning your body with his hips on yours, his hand holding your arms above your head. Jeonghan moved his hips slightly, finding your entrance with his hard cock quite effortlessly.

Jeonghan gave a few shallow thrusts, stretching your walls, making your mouth part, giving way to a long moan. “Fuck, Jeonghan,” you groaned lewdly.

“Say it,” he hissed, rolling his hips on yours slowly, but pushing his cock inside you deeper each time he thrusted in. “You won’t do it again.”

“Fuck you,” you gritted, falling deeper into the puddle of pleasure he was slowly submitting you into.

“Say. It,” he commanded, his thrusts gaining strength, becoming harder at each motion of his hips on yours.

You wrestled his grip on your wrists, without using your full strength. “No,” you said with a hollow tone, the pace of his thrusts knocking the wind out of you.

“You fucking brat,” he spat, pressing his face on yours, giving you a hard kiss in the process. “Delusional little demon. Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”

“Stop,” you gasped, shame heating your cheeks.

Jeonghan released his grip on your wrists, not letting you regain control by grabbing your thighs, throwing them on his shoulders before resuming with his near animalistic thrusts, groaning on your mouth as such, like an animal.

“Jeonghan!” you cried out, his cock reaching inside you deeper… and deeper.

“Did you really think… I’d stop wanting you?” he panted in between his hard thrusts, the strain in his voice telling you how close he was to his release. “I’ll never stop wanting you.”

“Jeonghan…” you moaned.

“Say it.”

“I won’t do it again,” you said, trembling on the bed, reaching out to hold him right before you came undone beneath him.

“That’s it… that’s my girl,” he gasped, his bottom lip parting, releasing a raw grunt. Jeonghan moaned your name as he came, fucking his cum inside you with sloppy thrusts until he stopped, breathing hard on top of you.

Jeonghan eased your legs from his shoulders, deciding to rest his head on your chest. The sound of your heartbeat resonated through his head as he took a long breath. Your fingers caressed his nape lazily, shuddering under him when Jeonghan ran a fingertip on one of your wings.

This made no sense. To Jeonghan, everything had been black and white. His world was rigid, surrounded by unbreakable rules that made him into the person he was until he met you. Now, he was but the shadow of the man he was. He used to hate himself for wanting you. You were the thing he was raised to hate, to kill.

He did everything to keep you away. He bedded other women, he drank himself to sleep to not dream of you, he flew himself to different parts of the world.

And there he was, blissfully nestled in your warmth, in your embrace.

“Would you hate it if I became human?”

“No,” he replied after some seconds. “But I don’t want you to do it because you think that’s going to change something between us. Some things aren’t meant to change.”

“How can you be so sure?” you asked with a tiny tone.

Jeonghan raised his head, curiously looking at you. Even back with full strength, you still clung to some human vulnerability. “I’m not sure,” he confessed. “I don’t understand many things. But I know that changing yourself won’t bring you happiness, only misery.”

“I’m just tired of this,” you said, and it did not matter that you could not cry anymore, he knew that the statement hurt to say.

Jeonghan got to his knees, pulling out of you gently to slump his body next to yours. He took one long look at you, reminiscing of what he felt when he knew you were slipping away. It was fear, that was undeniable, he was too familiar with that feeling. But never like this.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said with a light frown.

“How did you find me, Jeonghan? How did you know I was in trouble?” you dared to ask again, now your words taking another meaning.

Jeonghan paused. “I just did,” he said but rolled his eyes when you saw through his lie. “I felt something.”

“Jeonghan,” you started, your tone reducing itself to a whisper. “There is a reason why we can’t get rid of each other.”

He went rigid, his eyes coasting all over the features of your face.

“Have you ever tried to… kill me?” you asked, hating how your words came off while lying naked next to him.

“You’d know it if I had,” he said, taken aback by your questions. “Why are you asking me this?”

“There is a reason why you can’t kill me,” you said, despite how crazy you were sounding. “I know you’ve felt it…”

Jeonghan sat up on the bed, gripping the bedsheets to steady himself. He felt lightheaded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” you whispered, sitting up next to him.

He ran his hands on his face harshly. “Stop that. This isn’t a game.”

“The last time we saw each other, you felt something,” you pressed, searching his eyes as he faced you.

“It makes no sense,” he whispered dejectedly.

It made perfect sense. The grip that you had on him was unlike anything else he had faced. Time after time he tried to run away, to put distance between you and him. He always found his way back to you somehow, either by greed, by lust or purely by fate. He never knew why, he was bound to you.

“Look at me,” you said, and his gaze found you. “There’s no point in fighting this. I know you’ve tried it before, I tried too.”

“It’s–,”

“Impossible?” you scoffed with a mocking smile.

It was a sick joke. A demon and her hunter. The lamb and the wolf, chasing each other endlessly.

“Is this why you thought becoming human was an option?”

You paused but nodded slowly after some seconds of pondering.

Jeonghan sighed, touching your forehead with his. “That’s a high price to pay,” he whispered.

He knew your next words before you uttered them, “I’m willing to pay it, Jeonghan.”

“I don’t want you to,” he gritted out his words, even if he did not understand, he could not stop fighting it any longer. “I like you the way you are.”

Demon or not, you felt something in your chest, tugging at you. “That’s not the problem,” you shifted back, looking at his confused face.

“I can’t have any ties to anyone,” he said. “Someday I’ll end up dead fighting something stronger and quicker than me.”

“After today’s events, I think it’s clear that I am chased by the same danger.”

“I’ll grow old, and slow,” he added.

“I would too, if I were human. No one would hunt me down,” you countered, not convinced by the obfuscated look on his face. “I wouldn’t have to feed from you.”

“You could die in the process,” he said, and that was the final reason he needed.

“Jeonghan–,”

“No,” he shook his head.

At that, you stopped fighting. You got out of bed, slowly picking up your torn clothes and putting them on without looking back at him.

His heart faltered, looking at you as you sat down on the edge of the bed, next to him. “Don’t go,” he mumbled.

“Give me a reason to stay.”

Jeonghan swallowed his words, taking a last look at your eyes. Something tugged at his heart, urging him to stop you. But you were slipping through the door before he could spring to action.

Fool. He was a fool.

› author's note: heyyyooooooo

once again i have nothing to say. i just need jeonghan on his knees, begging for forgiveness and mercy

anyway, stay tuned for my next hannieween fest piece!! next post will be loser hannie!! hehe

toodles!

support me on ko-fi?

© RIGHTS RESERVED TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[damiansgoodgirll]

WOOOOO THE REQUESTS ARE BACK!!!! I’ve been looking forward to this day.

SO

Would it be entirely insane of me to ask for a Damian x Fem! Reader comfort fic.

Basically

Damian gets home and finds reader has had a horrible week while he was gone and he just comes home, gives her all the love.

Kisses, cuddles, hugs…comfort food.

JUST LOADED WITH ALL THE FLUFF

What ever you want, just fluff and tlc. Maybe even comfort sex if you wanna throw smut in there cause comfort.

What ever you want. I enjoy anything you write tbh.

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️ a lot of comfort and love

walking zombie

you were tired.

no, not tired - exhausted. and not only physically but mentally too.

as christmas approached, work suddenly multiplied and you found yourself from working almost 12 hours a day.

barely getting any sleep or eating unhealthy food, you got to the point where you were almost ready to explode.

you and damian barely saw each other. if you were at home, he was travelling for work and if he was at home, you were either at work or passed out in bed.

you missed him. you missed his comfort, his hugs, his sweet kisses, his smile, his hands over your body. you missed him and you felt like you’ve been neglecting him, hating yourself even more.

damian understood.

he knew how much you loved your job even if he didn’t agree on the overworking part, he still supported you and tried to help you as much as he could around the house.

you didn’t know how it happened but on friday afternoon you got to leave work earlier. a smile spreading over your face as you ran into your car and drove back home.

there was peace as damian wasn’t home yet - he’s been working almost all week and you couldn’t wait to see him. he was supposed to come back around dinner time and a sweet idea of cooking him a welcome home dinner crossed your mind but the moment you stood up and reached for the kitchen, all of your energies left your body.

you loved damian so much but you weren’t in the mood for cooking. you weren’t in the mood for making a mess in the kitchen knowing that you would have to clean up everything. you just weren’t in the mood.

instead, you opted for taking a warm shower. you needed to release some stress and a shower was all that you needed. looking for something to wear, you found a damian’s hoodie and a pair of his boxers - you loved the way his clothes smelled of him - so you opted for those.

once in the shower you felt all your muscles relax and thinking that the weekend was approaching put you in a good mood. you already imagined yourself spending all weekend in bed with damian, eating chocolate and watching romantic christmas movies - that was your meaning of paradise.

feeling a little relaxed, you stepped out of the shower and did your short skin care routine before wearing your boyfriend’s clothes and heading back to the living room.

you were so eager to see him after a week that you tried your best to stay awake and wait for him but the moment your head touched the comfort of your couch, you were far gone.

a creaky noise woke you up. coming from the front door, your eyes opened a little and saw damian’s figure standing in front of you as he was putting his suitcase on the floor.

“damian…” your tired voice made him turn to look at you.

“hey mi amor, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you up” he immediately apologised when he saw your sleepy face.

you fell asleep? “what - what you mean? what time is it?”

“it’s already nine o’clock” he smiled.

“what? i’ve slept for three hours? i wanted to make dinner for you and me…i can’t believe i slept all this time” you were slightly disappointed in yourself. you wanted to wait for him. you wanted to welcome him home and yet you managed to fall asleep.

“woah, mi amor, take it easy, it’s okay, you were tired and you rested a little bit, nothing’s wrong with that…” damian slowly approached you and sat down on the couch next to you.

“i wanted to make something nice for your welcome home” you confessed making him smile even more “but i fell asleep, i’m sorry…”

“why are you apologising hermosa?” his soft voice asked.

“because i really wanted to do something for you…but i just had the worst week of my life, i really missed having you here, i even took a shower to relax myself and i still managed to mess it up…” you didn’t mean to sound so vulnerable but the week that just passed took a big toll on you and you were feeling all of the stress and anxiety left behind.

“you don’t have to do anything for me hermosa” his hand gently took your chin and made you look into his eyes “you had a rough week and you have all the right to take time for yourself…in fact, why don’t you stay here, you can rest a little more if you want, i’ll take a quick shower and then i’ll order take out for the both of us? i missed you so much this week and i wanna take care of you…”

how could you say no when he asked so politely?

“okay…” you gave up knowing that he wouldn’t take a no for an answer.

“perfect” he smiled before leaving a gentle peck on your lips “rest a little mi amor, i’ll wake you up when food comes, you look like a zombie”

you laughed a little “i feel like a zombie…”

“that’s why you gotta rest” he reminded you.

softly closing your eyes, it took you less than a minute to fall back asleep. damian was cautious and trying to make less noises possible as he moved around the house.

quickly washing himself, he changed into more comfortable clothes and ordered some food. he unpacked his suitcase and once everything was done, he sat on the couch next to you. turning the tv on, he put on something fun to watch as his mind wasn’t in the mood for some kind of weird plots.

feeling a shiver down his spine, he looked at you and saw how curled up on yourself you were. he took a fluffy blanket and gently covered your body.

hearing a knock on the door, he stood up and got the food.

“amor…” he whispered in your ear, trying to wake you up gently. leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, you felt something tickling you “wake up princesa, food is ready…”

yawning, you opened your eyes and the first thing you noticed was the blanked upon your body. before you could ask damian about it, he answered for you “you seemed cold, i wanted you to be comfortable” he said.

your heart melted. damian was so thoughtful and you knew you couldn’t live without him “thank you” you genuinely smiled.

“shall we eat? cause i’m starving” he joked making you smile.

“oh absolutely…”

“here, come here baby, i wanna feel you close” damian patted next to him as you sat back on the couch “no, not there, here” he pointed to his lap.

“how are we going to eat in that position?” you asked.

“trust me, i’ll find a way, i just wanna have you close” and so you sat on his lap.

it was a little uncomfortable for him to eat but he wouldn’t tell you. he missed you and he knew that you missed him too. from the way you were laid on his chest, your head between his shoulder and neck as you ate the hamburger he got for you, watching whatever the tv was playing.

you missed soft moments like those.

once finished damian insisted that you stayed there on the couch as he cleaned the coffee table from all those food papers.

“how are you feeling hermosa?” he asked once he sat on the couch with you in his lap again.

“better…”

“yes?” he softly asked.

“yeah, i feel like it’s you…you got me in a good mood” you snuggled your head between his shoulder and face again as you inhaled his scent.

“well, i’m glad to hear that” he smiled “you tired?”

“no, not physically at least, even if my body it’s a wreck” you joked but before you could speak, damian’s hand slipped under your shirt and began to massage and softly stroke your back.

“relax your body baby, and relax your mind…i’m here now” he whispered before his lips touched the skin of your face “relax against me” and you did as he told you.

while his hand was working magic on your back, his lips kept leaving soft kisses over your face, making you completely relaxed into your lover’s arms.

“we’re gonna stay in bed all weekend baby” he whispered making you nod your head “and i’m gonna properly take care of you, you need to relax and rest” and you honestly loved that idea.

“dam…” you whispered.

“mh?” he softly looked down at you.

“thank you, for everything…”

“don’t thank me, i love you, i love taking care of you” he smiled before gently kissing you. you missed having his lips on yours “close your eyes baby, let me take control…you’re safe”

and in fact, you knew that you were in good hands.

[satinestales]

❝between truth and desire❞ | armand x fem!reader

pairing: armand x fem!reader, 4k+ words

summary: As you and Armand recount your shared history to your old friend Daniel Molloy, your words falter, and your memories blur under the weight of time and emotion. Later, Armand ensures you remember exactly how it truly happened—or at least, how he wants you to.

warnings: armand's manipulative gremlin ass, sexual tension, mind control?, unrealistic version of top armand, blood play, blood-sucking as a form of oral sex, not proofread, mention of claudia's death, english is not my native english

For the past three hours, you’ve been reminiscing about your life in 1940s Paris with your old friend, now a successful journalist. It’s been surprisingly easy, sharing those memories of joy and excitement, especially with Armand by your side. Daniel’s sarcastic comments make you laugh, keeping the mood light even when the stories dip into something more bittersweet.

Armand’s hand rests on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles. That small, familiar touch pulls you back into the past, and for a fleeting moment, it almost feels like you’re there again—back in Paris, on your very first date.

You shared stories about the Théâtre des Vampires, describing its grandeur and eerie charm in vivid detail. Armand never interrupted, just sat quietly beside you, listening. Every so often, he’d chime in, adding little details you’d forgotten, his voice soft and steady. It felt natural, the two of you piecing the memories together like a story only you could tell.

Every eye in the room was on you, the silence in the mansion broken only by your voice. It was steady, serious, as you recounted those final days in the coven—when the air grew colder and the others fell quiet. You remembered how Louis had sensed it first, even before Claudia or Madeleine. And you remembered it too, that creeping tension, the way it lingered unspoken.

But here and now, you spoke of it clearly, without a single stutter.

"It was a cold night when I woke up," you began, your voice calm despite the weight of the memory. "Louis was already gone, and I couldn’t find any trace of Claudia." Armand’s hand rested gently on your thigh, comforting you, while Daniel’s sharp gaze seemed to pierce straight through you. "I assumed they’d gone out together," you continued, glancing down for a moment, "since I’d spent the last few days with my love."

You felt Armand shift beside you, his lips curling into a faint smile as he tilted his head, studying you with that quiet intensity. Even after all these years, that look still had the power to make you blush.

"About four hours later, there was a knock at our door," you said, your voice wavering between fear and sarcasm. "I hadn’t invited anyone, so I figured it was Armand dropping by for one of his unannounced visits. But when I opened the door..." You paused, your eyes narrowing slightly at the memory.

"Santiago was standing there," you continued, "and behind him were Celeste and Estelle, both wearing those ridiculous judges' wigs." The words spilled out, edged with a dry, bitter humor that couldn’t quite mask the unease curling in your chest.

You couldn’t help but hear Daniel’s chuckle at the mention of the wigs, but it didn’t faze you. You pressed on, even though you felt Armand’s gaze shift, no longer warm or affectionate. It had become something colder, sharper, something you couldn’t quite place.

“I woke up in the theater, on the stage,” you continued, your voice steadier now, the weight of the memory pressing down. “Claudia, Louis, and Madeleine were next to me. Our Achilles’ heels torn, so we couldn’t run.”

You felt the silence stretch, thick with tension. Even Daniel’s amusement seemed to fade as your words lingered in the air, heavy with the truth of what had come next.

Daniel raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “I assume they put you on trial? For what, exactly? Killing Lestat, I presume?”

You could only nod, the memories flooding back in a rush. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to push them back, but they lingered like a shadow, heavy and impossible to ignore.

“And where was your love, Armand?” Daniel asked, now turning his gaze to Armand, who hadn’t shifted an inch. He was eerily still, his eyes fixed on you, unreadable and unblinking.

The silence that followed was thick, like a fog that refused to lift. Armand’s presence filled the room, and you could feel the weight of his attention pressing against you, more suffocating than comforting.

"I have to jump in here," Armand’s voice broke the silence, smooth and almost mocking. "I think my love's memory is a little foggy."

You were forced to look at him, his words pulling your gaze like a magnet. His lips curled into a crooked smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. Those eyes—dull, black, devoid of warmth—stared at you with an unsettling calm, as if he were carefully rearranging the pieces of a puzzle you didn’t fully understand.

"I know how the trial happened," you said, forcing a smile at him, trying to reclaim some control. "You don’t have to speak for me."

Armand’s hand, which had been lightly resting on your thigh, stilled. The tension between you thickened, but he didn’t back down.

"I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important," he replied, his voice smooth, though the undertone of something darker lingered. "But if we want the people to know the truth, we should give it to them. Don’t you think so?"

He tilted his head again, studying you with a gaze that felt both tender and unsettling. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your ear. His touch, so gentle, pulled a reaction from you before you could stop it. You leaned into it, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin, despite the coldness in his eyes. It was a comforting, familiar warmth, but it made your heart skip nonetheless.

"So what exactly happened?" Daniel asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he waited for an answer, his eyes flicking between you and Armand.

Before you could respond, Armand’s voice sliced through the air, gentle but commanding, as though he had already decided the direction this conversation would go.

You wanted to speak, to reclaim the words, but your mouth wouldn’t move. It was as if your mind had sealed your mouth shut, leaving you unable to break the silence Armnd had claimed. You sat frozen, a quiet tension building, unable to shake the feeling that the answer would come from him and not you.

"I want to apologize for the false answer you were given," Armand said, his voice smooth and reassuring, though there was an underlying edge to it. "Nobody can blame her. It’s been a few decades, after all."

His thumb began to trace gentle circles on your thigh, an attempt to soothe the growing tightness in your chest, but his words felt like a weight on your heart.

"I was aware of the coven's plan," he continued, his gaze never leaving you, "and went to warn my dear American friends. But when I arrived, I could find only mon cœur."

He turned to you then, a soft smile curling at the corners of his lips. The warmth of it washed over you, but there was something distant in his eyes, as though he were pulling you into a memory you couldn’t quite grasp.

You didn’t remember the way he described it, not at all. But as he spoke, you couldn’t help but wonder—maybe, after all these years, it was easy to forget.

It took another three hours before Daniel finally asked for a break, suggesting that the conversation continue the next day. You didn’t object; in fact, you welcomed the pause. Armand, as always, was by your side, leading you toward your bedroom.

As he walked behind you, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, the tension in the air was palpable, thick enough that you could almost cut it with scissors. You’d made a mistake today, one that almost painted Armand in a bad light. You couldn’t say you were scared—not exactly—but you weren’t thrilled either.

The quiet weight of his presence behind you was enough to send a shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure what to expect once the door closed behind you, but you knew it wasn’t going to be an easy night.

You expected Armand to speak once the door was closed and locked, but he remained silent, allowing the quiet to settle between you. The stillness wrapped around both of you as you went about getting ready for bed, the only sound was the soft rustling of fabric and the distant hum of the house.

But as you changed into your bedrobe, you felt it—his gaze, heavy and unwavering, burning into your back. His eyes followed the curves of your body, lingering on every movement, never once leaving you. It was unnerving, that constant watchfulness, like he was cataloging each detail of you, and yet, somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to look back.

It wasn’t until you lay back on the bed, stealing glances from where you sat, that you watched Armand get comfortable in the robe you’d bought him. He didn’t rush, moving with a natural ease that always seemed deliberate, as though every gesture was meant to be noticed.

He was beautiful in a way that never stopped catching you off guard. Like when his hair fell in loose waves, brushing just over his eyes, and even the slight crook of his nose added to his charm, making him seem more real, more human—if only just. You couldn’t help but admire him, even after all this time.

He knew it. Of course, he did. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips gave him away. He didn’t need to meet your gaze to know you were watching. He always knew when your attention was on him—and he soaked it in like sunlight.

"The conversation almost got out of control today," Armand said, his voice breaking the silence. He turned to face you, his head tilted in that way he always did, his eyes slowly scanning you from head to toe.

"I'm sorry," you said with a soft chuckle, your gaze warm as you looked up at him. As he stepped closer, his presence seemed to fill the room, his figure towering over you in that quiet, commanding way of his.

"Guess I got the facts wrong," you continued, your tone light but unsure. "Even though... I can’t quite recall the version you described to Daniel."

He stayed quiet for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you shiver. It felt like he was trying to see right through you, to penetrate your thoughts and mind with nothing more than a look.

You knew he could. He was an ancient vampire, after all, with gifts far more powerful than most could comprehend. But even as the thought crossed your mind, you pushed it away. Armand would never take advantage of that, not with you.

You loved him too much to doubt him, even for a second. And perhaps, deep down, you knew that was exactly what he wanted—to be loved without question.

"My dear," he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips as he slowly bent his knees, kneeling in front of you. His hands rested lightly on your ankles, grounding you as you propped yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze.

"It’s been decades," he continued, his tone gentle, almost comforting. "It’s only natural to forget or mix things up. After all, I was there to correct you. Nothing bad happened." His lips curved into a smirk, the words flowing sweetly, meant to soothe.

But as his gaze lingered on you, you couldn’t help but catch it—the faint spark of coldness in his eyes. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there, sharp as a blade hidden behind silk.

"I’m always going to be there," he added, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand moved slowly, trailing up from your ankle to your knee, the touch light but unyielding.

He never broke eye contact, his gaze locking you in place. There was something possessive in the way he looked at you, something that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t fear—not exactly—but the weight of his promise, the intensity of his presence, was enough to make you quiver.

"Good," you said with a nod, doing your best to ignore the warmth swirling in your stomach. Even after seventy years, he still had that effect on you. You chuckled, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Because I’ll hunt you down if you ever dare to leave."

Your tone was light, but the weight behind your words was anything but. You meant it. Armand had his secrets, just as you had yours, but one thing you shared was an obsession—an all-consuming need for each other.

You couldn’t imagine your life without him; in truth, you could barely remember the life you had before him. as though the years before he arrived had been erased. Every memory you held close revolved around him, around the two of you together.

And you were determined to keep it that way. Forever.

"I would never," he said softly, a small smile gracing his lips before he leaned in and pressed them to yours. The kiss was brief but filled with warmth, meant to reassure you, to steady the swirling emotions inside.

As he pulled back, his face lingered close to yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered, "I didn’t tell Mr. Molloy the whole truth. When I went to warn you... I left out some things."

Your brow furrowed in confusion, your heart pounding as you hung on to his every word. "What’s that?" you asked, your voice soft, as you reached up to gently place your hand on his cheek.

He looked almost unreal, like a sculpture of a devil—sinful, beautiful. The candlelight bathed him in a warm glow, casting shadows that only deepened the beauty of him. His dark skin seemed to drink in the light as if he were made of something otherworldly.

You had seen angels before, in your long life, but none could compare to the beauty of the devil kneeling between your legs. The one who had always held you in his thrall. The one you could never, ever escape.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his presence fill the space between you, his body slowly overpowering yours. With a gentle but firm push, he guided you onto your back, the weight of him settling above you, dominating yet tender. His lips found the crook of your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses against your skin, while his hands drifted down to your waist, pulling you closer.

A quiet moan escaped your lips as his lips traveled to your collarbone, each kiss sending shivers of electricity down your spine. His touch was slow, deliberate, and as his fingers slid to the top of your robe, you could feel the tension in the air tighten around you.

"After you opened the door and I came to warn you about the coven’s plans..." His voice was low, almost a whisper, as his hand lingered at the top of your robe, barely brushing your skin. He moved his lips over your neck, your jaw, finally finding yours in a deep, searching kiss. "I couldn't prevent it."

His kiss grew more intense, and you wanted to ask him why—why didn’t he stop? Why hadn’t you left? But before you could, his lips silenced you, pressing against yours as his other hand slipped beneath your waist, pulling your body flush against his. The warmth between you overwhelmed everything else, leaving you breathless and speechless, caught in the weight of the moment.

Your hands instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. You needed him in that moment, more than anything else in the world. Everything else—the journalist in your house, the unfinished conversation, the looming threats and dangers—disappeared. None of it mattered.

The only thing that existed was him—his touch, his lips, the warmth of his body pressing against yours. Your mind raced with thoughts of him, drowning out every other sound, every other thought. Nothing else mattered. Just him. The feeling of him. The weight of his presence. That was all there was.

You felt his hand pull away from your chest, and a soft, frustrated sound escaped your lips in protest. But before you could voice more, he guided his wrist to your mouth. His eyes never left yours, dark and full of unspoken intentions.

You knew exactly what he wanted—what both of you craved. His pulse throbbed beneath your lips, and without hesitation, you sank your fangs into his wrist, the familiar, cinnamon taste of his blood filling your senses. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. The warm droplets fell from your chin, tracing down your neck and chest, as you drank deeply, savoring every drop. His blood was always sweeter than you remembered, more potent, more familiar than anything else.

It felt like home.

You couldn't stop. Every drop of his blood filled you with a rush of heat, the world around you starting to blur as your senses sharpened. Your eyes closed instinctively, your head tilting back as pleasure coursed through you. His blood was intoxicating, and you were lost in it, unable to think of anything else.

The soft moans and whimpers escaping from Armand only pushed you further, each sound making you crave him more. You heard his voice, faint and distant, but it barely registered as you kept drinking, the taste of him flooding your senses. His hands gripped you, but you hardly noticed, lost in the sensation of him.

You wanted more. Needed more. His blood, his presence, it was all that mattered. And for a moment, everything else faded away.

You didn’t know how long it had been—minutes, hours, maybe just seconds—lost in the feeling of his blood coursing through you. All you knew was the way his face shifted when he gently pulled his wrist from your mouth, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. His blood still lingered on your tongue, warm and intoxicating, slowly dripping down your chest as you let go of him, your body humming with the aftermath.

He loomed above you, but now his head rested against your chest, seeking solace in the warmth of your skin as his breath steadied. You stroked his hair, fingers threading through his dark curls, trying to ground him as much as yourself.

Your fingers traced the mess on your chest, and without thinking, you brought them to your lips, savoring the last lingering taste of him. The warmth, the sweetness, it felt like the only thing that mattered, and you couldn’t stop yourself.

As Armand rested on you, his breath warm against your chest, the fog in your mind began to clear, just a little. Flashes of the past few hours started to resurface—his visit, the warning about the coven, the tension in the air. It all felt distant, like you were trying to grasp a dream you couldn’t quite hold onto, but there it was. A few more pieces of the puzzle fitting together, the edges blurring into something you could finally begin to understand.

You couldn't remember how many times he'd done this—how many times he'd stepped in to help, to keep you from slipping into that haze, to save you from the things you couldn’t hold onto. Each time, he was there, gently piecing you back together, never asking for much in return. A small knot of guilt twisted in your stomach. Maybe you hadn’t realized how often he’d carried this weight for both of you.

But then you felt his hand tighten around your waist, his presence anchoring you, and that guilt faded away, swallowed by something deeper. It wasn't just about him fixing your memories. It was how, despite everything, he made you feel like you were never truly lost. Like you were still whole, still his.

"Je t’aime chaque jour davantage, Arun," you whispered, the words flowing from your lips like a secret you'd been holding onto for eternity.

Armand lifted his head to meet your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. He was so consumed by you, so focused on every word, every look you gave him, that even the smallest detail, the evidence of your connection, went unnoticed. And for some reason, that made you smile.

"Je t’aime moi aussi, mon cœur," Armand murmured, his voice soft, reverent, as he rested his chin against your chest. His eyes, those dark pools of mystery, were half-lidded, and for a moment, you could see the rawness of his desire in the way his flushed cheeks caught the candlelight, his waves of dark hair falling over his forehead like a veil. The world outside of him and you ceased to exist.

You ran your fingers through his hair, losing yourself in the softness of it, in the way he seemed to melt against you. He was so beautiful, every inch of him a reminder of the eternity you'd spent together. He was warmth and darkness, light and shadow all at once—an enigma you couldn’t unravel, no matter how many lifetimes you lived.

Eternity would never be enough, not when it came to him. You needed him, needed to consume him. To become one with him in every sense of the word. Your lips ached to kiss him, not just his mouth, but his very skin, every inch of him, to touch the bones of him.

And he wanted the same.

You could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his body pressed against yours, as if his very soul was entwined with yours. What you two shared wasn’t just love. It wasn’t just desire. It was an all-consuming need—an obsession that humans could never truly understand. It was a bond that reached beyond anything they could comprehend, an unspoken language of the heart and mind. You didn’t need to say it; you both knew.

There was no end to it. Only the now. Only him.

"I'm starting to remember," you murmured after a few quiet moments, feeling Armand settle closer beside you. His fingers lazily traced the fabric of your robe, a soft touch that made you feel safe, anchored. "When you came to warn me. It's still a little foggy, but it’s there. I’m sorry I doubted you."

You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his gaze on you, calm and steady. The fragments were falling into place, his words reassuring you, reminding you of things you hadn't been able to fully grasp. His version of the events felt so right, so natural, and you couldn't help but let the memories shape themselves around what he had shared. You trusted him completely. And yet, beneath it all, a quiet whisper in the back of your mind wondered how easily you’d forgotten things before. But that thought was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it came, leaving you only with the certainty of what Armand had guided you to remember.

"I'm glad you're remembering now," he whispered against your neck, his fangs grazing the delicate skin. "But if you ever forget something, I’ll always be here to help restore your memories."

A smile tugged at your lips as his hand slid beneath your robe, his fangs sinking into your neck, tasting your blood. The sensation was beyond anything you had ever imagined, a pleasure that consumed you completely. You leaned into his touch, surrendering to the feeling of his fangs, the weight of his presence, and the rhythm of his hunger.

With each kiss, each bite, your memories grew clearer. You could recall every detail of that night. Yes. He had come to warn you, just as he had said. Santiago was responsible for Claudia's death, and Lestat had helped orchestrate it. The truth was finally clear to you. You could only trust Armand. Everyone else had betrayed you, deceived you. In his arms, you found safety. On his tongue, you found clarity.

You would never let him go. He was yours, and you were his.

For all eternity.

[ameliaenya404]

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬.

Pairing: Keigo takami x reader

Content: Comfort | fluff | slight angst

Late-night comfort with Keigo.

"Are you still awake?" You whisper the question into the dark void of the room.

You hear a soft shuffle behind you, the shifting of covers, and then a warm arm thrown across your mid-section.

"Yeah," Keigo's hazy voice is right up against your ear, although you don't turn your head to look at him.

Not that you can see much in the pitch-black of your bedroom.

His voice is heavy with sleep, all syrupy and warm. He probably wasn't awake but Keigo's a light sleeper, your whispered question probably woke him up. You feel a tinge of guilt, for interrupting the rare amount of rest he gets.

"What's wrong?" He mumbles after a beat of silence. Your hand finds his beneath the covers, his calloused rough palm against yours as you interlink your fingers with his.

"I can't sleep," you say in honesty. Your lips feel dry, your skin tight and your eyes burn with the need to close but your incapable of shutting your mind off.

"Mind if I turn the light on?" Keigo asks and you give a small hum of agreement.

You can feel the covers shift and the bed creak gently as he sits up and leans over to flick the bedside lamp on. The warm light flickers on and the view of the popcorn ceiling your glancing up reveals the off-white color and swirls of plaster on it.

"What's on your mind birdie? You look stressed," Keigo asks, nuzzling against your neck. The sound of his warm voice is like being bundled up in soft blankets and being handed a cup of warm hot chocolate as the wind blows violently outside.

"I just don't feel good," you sigh. If you had the energy in you, you'd beat yourself up over bothering him. But you can't even will yourself to be upset yet. You're just tired. You just wanted him to make you feel better. Or worse. Anything but how you're already feeling.

"I know baby, I know." He lets out a deep sigh, pulling you closer gently. His big warm hands running up and down your back as the scent of him fills your senses. Vanilla, left over from his cologne.

"Will it ever be okay Kei? Like...will I feel alright?" You ask. He always had the answer. Or an awnser. You didn't care if it was right or wrong, you just wanted something to cling onto and believe.

"It's been okay before, yeah? You've felt good before, so it'll come back." Keigo hummed.

He wasn't wrong. There were times you felt good, really good. Sure of yourself. Confident in what you were doing. Like you had a good grasp on your life. Maybe you still do. It wasn't uncommon for your feelings to lie to you. Just because your feelings were valid didn't mean they were right all the time.

If it came in waves then you'd feel good again. You didn't know when, neither of you were psychic. But the pattern didn't lie, maybe it'd be soon or far off. It'd come though. And that offered comfort. Your chest felt lighter.

"Yeah?" You mumble, glancing up at him. His eyes were so pretty, you could get lost in those pools of amber and swirls of gold. His lips quirked up in a soft smile and you couldn't fight back the small smile you gave back.

"Yeah. You feel better now?" Keigo says, and you nod in response.

"Mhm, a little." You give him a soft kiss on his lips, no more than a second long but it helps. A lot.

"A little goes a long way," he chuckles, "Now c'mon, come here." He grunts softly as he moves you closer to him, letting you rest your head on his chest as he flicks the light back off.

"Thank you....night Kei, I love you." You whisper, snuggling up against his warmth, feeling safe as his arms wrap around you.

"Night chickadee, sweet dreams."

[bruhnze]

Personal Records Ch.4 - epilogue

Summary: this is an epilogue chapter of the series 'Personal Records' that i wrote. It's an AU where Lucy is a personal trainer and Ona is a realestate agent. In this chapter we are eight years after they got together. Ona and Lucy have 2 kids. This epilogue can be read separately, but if you want to read the other parts, those can be found here. And a big thank you to @pinkygirl28 for helping :)

Warnings: Minors DNI, smut. fluff.

Words: 11.458

“Good morning, birthday girl,” Ona leaned over her wife’s shoulder, whispering in her ear and placing a soft kiss against the side of her face, just next to her ear.

Lucy was lying on her stomach, arms wrapped around her pillow, and one knee bent up. Ever since they had kids, Lucy had miraculously started sleeping better. As soon as she hit the bed, she could fall asleep, waking only when one of their two sons came into the room, or when the alarm went off on the rare occasions the boys slept in. Only on very special days—she was woken up by her wife.

Lucy stirred and groaned. “What time is it?” she murmured into the pillow.

Ona chuckled, kissing Lucy’s bare shoulder. “Six fifteen, my love.”

“Six fifteen?” Lucy took a deep breath, rolling over and stretching with a lazy smile. “Hmm, are you waking me up before the alarm for any particular reason, Mrs. Bronze-Battle?”

“Well, with a birthday comes presents,” Ona teased. “You don’t turn forty-one every day, so—”

Lucy gasped, clutching her heart dramatically as she let her head drop back on the pillow. “Babe, I just had a nightmare, oh my God, it was so realistic but so scary,” she said in an exaggerated whisper. “I dreamed that my wife accused me of being forty-one.”

Ona rolled her eyes. “Glad to see you’re still the same weirdo.”

Lucy’s mouth fell open in mock offense. She rolled over and hovered over Ona, holding her wrists beside her head. “Calling the birthday girl a weirdo? Pfft and here I was, thinking I’d get a quickie or something.”

Ona chuckled, pretending to fight for her freedom. “Well, if you keep holding me like this, nothing like that can happen.”

Lucy leaned in, brushing Ona’s neck with her nose and lips, placing a few teasing kisses. “Ahh, so it was the reason you woke me up?”

Ona swallowed. Even after all these years of marriage, she still felt an undeniable pull toward Lucy. She was so attracted to her. Lucy could just... ugh, she was amazing. “Yeah. Didn’t you hear me go to the bathroom a few minutes ago?” Ona said, blushing slightly.

“No, why?”

Ona chuckled. “I put a nice set on.”

Lucy released Ona’s hands and sat back, straddling Ona’s hips carefully, not letting her weight rest on her wife. The covers slid off her back, revealing Ona in a green lingerie set.

Lucy smirked, amused. “Hmm. Happy birthday to me, indeed.”

She shifted, parting Ona’s legs and kneeling between them, before leaning forward to kiss her wife.

“Mmm, even brushed your teeth,” Lucy noted, pulling back.

Ona chuckled, wrapping her legs around Lucy’s hips. “Mhm. I went all out.”

Lucy smiled, gazing into Ona’s eyes. “I love you so much.”

Ona reached up, cupping the back of Lucy’s neck. “I love you too, baby. But a quick reminder: the alarm will go off at exactly seven o’clock.”

With a scrunch of her nose, Lucy leaned in, kissing Ona deeply, her hips grinding gently against Ona’s covered center.

When Ona gasped, Lucy slipped her tongue into the kiss, deepening it.

After a moment Lucy broke away for a breath, Ona bit her lip. “Love it when you kiss me like that.”

“Mm, I love kissing you like that,” Lucy murmured, leaning in again. “My wife.”

“Fuck. You know I am,” Ona said, lifting her head off the pillow to kiss Lucy again.

Lucy smirked, still grinding her hips as she buried her face in Ona’s neck. “Can we use the strap?” she asked sweetly, planting soft kisses. “It’s been a while,” she added with a pout.

“Please,” Ona said breathlessly, nodding as her legs loosened around Lucy.

Lucy kissed her way down Ona’s body, sliding the lace bra up to expose her chest. “Gunna fuck you so good, babe,” she whispered lowly before running her tongue over Ona’s hardened nipple.

Ever since Ona had the kids, her chest had become more sensitive and had stayed that way. She threaded her fingers through Lucy’s hair, guiding her gently to avoid sucking too hard or biting, as Lucy sometimes forgot this fact. Lucy groaned. “I missed this.”

Ona chuckled, letting her head fall back on the pillow. “It’s only been a week, amor.”

“Only?” Lucy looked up at Ona with a smirk before continuing downward.

Lucy started kissing Ona´s stomach until she was squirming.

Smiling, she placed one last kiss before stepping out of bed.

But.. just as Lucy reached for the dresser drawer, the bedroom door opened.

Ona sighed, pulling her top back into place.

Lucy’s gaze shot from her wife to the door and back, disappointment flickering for a moment before worry replaced it. Why did their son look sad?

“Mommy,” their four-year-old mumbled as he walked into the room. “I dreamed... I-I-” A few tears rolled down his cheeks. “Lo siento,” he said, pouting and looking down at the floor.

“Hey, little man,” Lucy said, walking over to him. “What’s wrong?”

As she bent down to pick him up, she realized the issue. “Oh... did you dream you were sitting on the potty again?” she guessed gently.

“Sí,” the boy admitted, still staring at the floor.

“It’s okay, Lucas. You didn’t do it on purpose,” Ona reassured, getting out of bed. “No a propósito.”

“Mhm. Potty training is hard, and you’re doing so well,” Lucy added. “This is only the second time in two weeks you’ve had an accident.” Kneeling in front of her son, she asked, “And what do we always say?”

Lucas looked up, glancing between his two moms. “Accidents... will... eh... happen?”

“Mhm, exactly, accidents happen,” Ona said, pulling on her robe and joining Lucy.

“Come on, let’s clean you up,” Ona said, holding out her hand. “And your bed.”

Lucy followed them.

In the dinosaur-themed bedroom, Ona flicked on the light as Lucy pulled fresh sheets from the closet. Luckily, they’d put a hydrophobic mattress cover on, a lesson learned while potty-training their older son, Oliver, who was now six.

“Babe, you don’t have to do this. I can handle it,” Ona offered, setting clean clothes on the sink in Lucas´ bathroom. “You can shower and go relax downstairs before I start breakfast.”

Lucy smiled. “Of course not. We’re in this together.”

“We are a team!” Lucas called out, repeating the phrase his moms often said.

Lucy’s smile widened. “Yes, we are a team. Aren´t you such a smart kid.”

She exchanged a loving glance with Ona. They adored their little family.

Lucas beamed. “I can shower by myself. Mommies can make the bed.”

Ona chuckled. “I’ll help you with the shower, baby. You’re not getting out of this.”

“I’m not a baby.” Lucas frowned, huffing indignantly.

Ona rolled her eyes affectionately. “You look way too much like your mama.” She walked to the bathroom, setting the water on the right temperature.

“He said that because you called him ‘baby,’ by the way,” Lucy called as she stripped the bed. “Not because he wanted to do it alone.”

Lucas stood there infront of the shower, looking up at his mom. Waiting for her instructions. Ona laughed, realizing Lucy was probably right.

…

After getting Lucas dressed and his bed fresh again, the three of them headed downstairs. It was Friday, and today Lucy’s parents were arriving in Spain. This weekend, they would celebrate Lucy’s birthday.

“Buenos días, Ollie,” Lucy said in surprise, spotting the flicked-on light in the TV room. “Are you up already? Ya estás despierto?” she repeated in Spanish.

They were trying to raise their kids bilingual. When Ona was pregnant, they had discussed at length how to approach it. The options were Spanish, Catalan, and English. But they’d read that introducing three languages at home could confuse children. So, they chose to use Spanish and English at home, with Catalan being learned naturally through school.

“Ya no podía dormir más,” Oliver replied without looking up from what he was doing.

Lucy didn’t need to glance at Ona to know the look on her face. Ona always gave her the same amused expression whenever their boys mirrored her. Oliver was Lucy’s mini-me, no doubt about it—and Ona loved it.

Lucy walked over to see what he was up to behind the couch. There he was, stretched out on his stomach with the dog beside him, the iPad propped up against the couch. He was watching football videos, of course.

“What are you watching, cowboy?” Lucy asked as she climbed over the couch.

“The 2025 Champions League final, Barça against Chelsea,” he replied without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Mmm, that is a good one,” Lucy said appreciatively. “A classic.”

Football was their shared thing. Lucy watched both men’s and women’s matches whenever they were on, and from the time Oliver could sit up, he had joined her. It was adorable, and a little impressive, how much the boy knew about the teams and players.

“And good morning to you, Canela,” Lucy added, scratching the dog behind her ears. When Lucas had turned three, they had finally gotten a dog—a lifelong dream for Lucy. They had ended up with a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever, who Ona had named, much to Lucy’s playful regret.

“Why are you on the floor, anyway?” Lucy questioned as she petted her son’s head.

“I wanted Nela to watch with me,” Oliver said, still absorbed in the game. “I’m showing her women’s football so she can learn and play with me.”

“Aha,” Lucy said, holding back a chuckle. “So, I’m not good enough to play ball with you anymore?”

Oliver looked up, clearly thinking hard about her question.

“You are,” he finally said, “but sometimes you’re at work, and Nela is... siempre en casa.”

“Wow, you really thought about that, didn’t you?” Lucy grinned. “Well, I’m sure she can be your goalie.”

“Yes,” Oliver huffed. “She always takes the ball in her mouth, but I want to pass to each other—”

Suddenly, he gasped. “Wait! Mom!”

Lucy blinked. “What happened?”

“Your cumpleaños!” he shouted as he bolted off.

Lucy followed him with her eyes until her gaze landed on Ona. Her beautiful wife stood in the kitchen, their youngest sitting on the counter. The two women exchanged amused glances. Oliver could be an unpredictable whirlwind at times, always living in his own world.

“Alright,” Lucy chuckled. She picked up the iPad from the floor and set it on the coffee table before heading to the kitchen.

She came up behind Ona, resting her chin on her shoulder. “What’s cooking, good-lookin’?” she teased, placing a kiss just below Ona’s ear.

Ona chuckled, continuing what she was doing. “Making a birthday breakfast.”

“Mmm, I think my chances of a proper birthday breakfast sailed away with a dream about potties.”

Air escaped Ona’s nose as she laughed softly. “Tonight.”

“Oh?” Lucy teased, nipping at Ona’s neck. “With my parents under our roof? Naughty girl.” She buried her face between Ona and the fuzzy collar of her robe, planting playful kisses.

“My favorite breakfast is every breakfast,” Lucas said, sounding contemplative, as if he’d just discovered this truth about himself.

“Oh we know baby, you’re our little glotón,” Ona said, noticing his eager gaze fixed on the food.

In a softer tone, she murmured to Lucy, “Your parents are staying in the guesthouse.”

Lucy bit Ona’s neck teasingly, kissing the spot after, and pulled her wife closer by the hips.

Ona chuckled. “Maybe we can even set up a s-l-e-e-p-o-v-e-r for the boys there, too, in the context of ‘missing them.’”

Lucy laughed, pressing more kisses to Ona’s neck. “Mmm, I like the way you think.”

“Mommy, don’t eat Mama!” Lucas said, offended, pointing at the plates. “Breakfast! Casi listo... almost.”

Lucy pulled back with a grin, turning her attention to her son. “But I. Am. Hungry,” she said, slowly walking towards him like a monster.

“Nooo!” Lucas kicked his legs, laughing as his mother playfully clawed at him.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a little boy!” Lucy said as she swung him over her shoulder.

She carried the squirming, giggling Lucas to the sofa and gently tossed him onto it.

She leaned over, tickling him until his face turned red. “Stop, Mommy, stop!” he whined.

“Say clemència?” she teased, already slowing her attack.

“Piedad, piedad, por favor!” Lucas giggled.

Lucy raised her hands in surrender. “I guess the monster will have to go hungry.”

Lucas chuckled. “Noo-ooh, Mama is making yummy breakfast.”

“Ahh, that’s right. Mama is making breakfast.” Lucy smiled, scooping him into her arms and kissing his cheek. “She’s the best mom, isn’t she?”

Lucas nodded, his little hand resting on Lucy’s cheek as if studying her.

Lucy braced herself for whatever was about to come out of his mouth. Their boys’ words were often delightfully unpredictable.

“Yo amo a mamá,” he said softly, as if sharing a secret.

Lucy nodded knowingly. “Mm, yo también amo a mamá,” she whispered in his ear.

As they approached the kitchen, Lucy set Lucas in his chair and looked around the table to see if anything was missing. She grabbed the glasses and helped set them.

“Looks amazing, babe,” Lucy said as she took her seat.

“Mhm, and now it’s actually not so bad we’re up early, at least there’s plenty of time to eat,” Ona said, wiping her hands on a towel.

Lucy was about to protest Ona’s comment, but she was already heading out of the kitchen. Saying, “I’m going to check on Oliver, and then we can dig in. Okay Lucas? Espera a tu hermano.” Maybe more so directed at both Lucy and her son.

…

With a small bag, Ona returned to the kitchen, Oliver trailing close behind. He carried something in his hands too, holding it carefully like a prized treasure.

“Happy birthday mommy,” Oliver exclaimed, marching over to Lucy. He held up a colorful drawing and a necklace made of Hama beads, the little plastic pieces strung on a string in a colorful, lopsided design.

“For you,” he announced proudly, setting them on the table in front of her.

Lucy smiled as she picked up the necklace. “Wow, Ollie, very pretty. Did you make this all by yourself?”

Oliver nodded enthusiastically. “And the drawing too. It’s us playing football and Nela is there.” He pointed out the dog in the corner of the crayon-colored pitch.

“That’s a beautiful drawing Ollie, and the necklace too, lets see how it looks on me.” Lucy said, putting the necklace on with exaggerated care. “What do you think, mamá?’’ she smiled at Ona, ‘’Does it suit me?”

Ona leaned over, brushing her lips against Lucy’s temple. “It suits you perfectly,” she said with a soft chuckle, ruffling Oliver’s hair. ‘’You did a good job.’’

“And there’s more!” Oliver said, bouncing in place as Ona placed a wrapped box on the table. ‘’Mama has a present too.’’

“Ábrelo, Mommy!” Lucas clapped his hands excitedly.

Lucy chuckled and opened the gift carefully, revealing a sleek new watch inside. She looked at her family with a big smile. “Woahh, what’s that?” She asked as she held the watch up to show her sons.

‘’Ohh un reloj.’’ Oliver said, in awe.

“Do you like it?” Ona asked, watching her wife’s expression closely.

“I love it,” Lucy said, already slipping it onto her wrist. She reached out to pull Ona into a hug. “Thank you love, its beautiful.”

‘’I’m happy you like it,’’ Ona smiled, ‘’and you will get the other presents tomorrow.’’

…

They were finishing breakfast when the doorbell rang.

"Who is that?" Lucas yelled excitedly, sliding off his chair and dashing toward the door.

The heavy door creaked open as Lucas stood on his tiptoes to reach the handle. "Sophia!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around one of her legs before she had even fully stepped inside.

Sophia, took the little boy on her hip. When she stepped in to the kitchen with him she grinned, entirely unfazed by the scene before her. Since moving to Spain permanently and sharing Ona’s PA duties with another assistant, she had become a fixture in their lives. She was no stranger in navigating the chaos of the little family she adored so much.

“Well, isn’t this a sight?” she teased, her gaze sweeping over the kitchen. "What kind of special day is this, cariño?" she said to Lucas as she set him down. "You’re the only one who’s dressed."

At the table, Oliver froze mid-bite of his toast. Realizing he was still in his pajamas, he bolted upstairs before Ona could even open her mouth.

“You should come by every morning, Soph,” Ona said with a smirk, watching Oliver’s retreating figure.

Sophia smiled, “you know I’d happily help you guys with the boys every day, they’re adorable.”

Lucy, tipping back the last of her juice, gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry for the mess."

Sophia waved her off. “Don’t worry. How about I take the boys to school today? That way, you two can clean up and maybe even get dressed properly.”

Lucy and Ona exchanged a look of gratitude.

“That would be perfect,” Lucy said sincerely. “Thank you, Soph.”

“You always know how to make our life easier,” Ona added.

Sophia chuckled, brushing off their thanks. “Oh, and happy birthday, Lucy. I’ll bring your present tomorrow.”

Lucas tugged on Sophia’s hand, already babbling about school to her as she let herself be pulled toward the hallway to help him with his shoes and jacket.

Meanwhile, Ona and Lucy scrambled to pack the boys’ backpacks, just as Oliver reappeared downstairs, his hair still a mess.

"Did you remember to brush your teeth, Ollie?" Lucy asked, pulling a comb and hair gel from the cabinet.

“Mm-hmm,” he nodded earnestly.

“Good job,” Lucy said, pulling out a chair and patting the seat. "Now, come here. Let me fix that hair."

Oliver groaned but obediently climbed onto the chair, resigned to his fate.

…

As the front door clicked shut behind Sophia and the boys, a rare silence fell over the house.

“So,” Lucy said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “We’ve got about thirty minutes.”

“And I already cleaned the table and the kitchen,” Ona replied, gesturing toward the spotless room.

Lucy’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. "Think we can squeeze in a shower together?"

Ona’s grin mirrored her wife’s. "I was hoping you’d say that."

Together, they headed up the stairs. They’d barely made it to their room when the unmistakable ring of a phone broke the mood.

"Yours or mine?" Lucy asked, frowning, glancing at Ona.

"No idea. I’ll check, it might be Sophia."

Ona walked back to the kitchen and picked up Lucy’s phone. A moment later, she returned with a sheepish look. “It’s your mom.” She silently spoke.

Lucy groaned but took the phone, mouthing a silent apology before answering.

…

"Yes, Mum," Lucy said for the tenth time, pacing the room. “I’ll be there for pickup at exactly four fifteen.”

Her gaze darted to the bathroom where Ona was already in the shower. "No, no, mum, she can’t come with us. She has to—" Lucy’s words faltered as Ona turned, soaping her chest with deliberate slowness. "Yes, she has to pick up the boys.”

"Yes, yes, they’re fine. We called yesterday, remember? They’re really loving school," she continued distractedly.

Finally, Lucy sighed. "Mum, I’ve got to go. Love you too. Yes, bye. Bye." She hung up, letting out an exasperated breath.

“Fucking finally,” she muttered, tossing her phone onto the bed. Without wasting another second, she stripped off her t-shirt and boxers, let her hair tumble free from its elastic, and placed her new watch carefully on the sink counter.

“There you are,” Ona teased from under the spray of the shower.

Lucy stepped inside, turning on her side of the water. "Guess it’s gonna be tonight, huh? Five minutes won’t cut it and I don’t want to be hot and bothered all day."

Ona chuckled. "Tonight, I promise. We’ll make up for it."

Lucy smiled softly. "I love you, babe. Loved that you tried, though.’’ She laughed, ‘’the kids will get older eventually. At my 50th birthday, maybe we’ll finally-"

"Don’t talk about that," Ona interrupted, leaning in to kiss her. "They’re growing fast enough as it is."

"True," Lucy replied, her tone lighter. "But I won’t miss the bed-wetting phase."

“He’ll be fully potty-trained soon,” Ona reassured her.

"Yeah, he’s doing so well," Lucy said, her voice soft with emotion. A sudden wave of sentiment welled up in her, and she shook her head with a small laugh. "Ugh, birthday emotions. Damn, they’ve come early this year."

Ona kissed her forehead with a quiet chuckle. "I think it’s sweet."

Lucy wrapped her arms around her wife, pulling her close. "I just... I love how everything’s turned out. I could’ve never imagined meeting the love of my life that random summer day in London. But when you walked into my gym, I knew you were special."

“You always say that,” Ona said, resting her head against Lucy’s chest. "But I wasn’t exactly kind to you at first."

"Yeah, but you also told me I was fit, didn’t you?"

Ona laughed softly. "Physically, sure. I thought you were incredible. But I also thought you were a little annoying."

Lucy smirked. "And I thought you were a stuck-up bitch."

Ona laughed harder, her voice vibrating against Lucy. "Oh, how I love it when you bring up those first memories."

"Well, those are only the very first ones," Lucy quipped. "I tamed you pretty quickly, didn’t I?"

Ona gasped, feigning offense as she tilted her head back to look at Lucy. "Tamed!?"

Lucy grinned, running her fingers through Ona’s wet hair. "Oh, I don’t know. I think I worked my magic pretty fast."

"Magic" Ona scoffed, her cheeks flushing under the warm spray. "You just blackmailed me with sex."

"Sure, sure," Lucy teased, leaning in to press a kiss against Ona's lips. "But it worked so well that you ended up falling for me.’’

Ona rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. "Good sex is one thing, being amazing is another. I fell in love with all of Lucy Bronze, not just the physical bits."

"Mm-hmm," Lucy said, pulling her closer. "And look at us now. Two kids, a little doggie, all our friends and family, I wouldn’t trade my life for anything."

Ona softened, brushing her thumb over Lucy’s cheek. "Neither would I. You’ve made me happier than I ever thought possible."

Lucy leaned in again, their foreheads touching as the moment stretched out between them. The sound of water filled the silence.

Then the faint rumble of a car pulling up broke their moment. Lucy sighed, leaning her head against Ona’s shoulder.

"She’s back, isn’t she?" Lucy muttered, her tone half-annoyed.

"That’s Sophia for you," Ona replied, giving Lucy a quick kiss before turning off her side of the shower. "She’s quick."

…

Barcelona Airport – 16:17

Lucy stood near the arrivals gate, scanning the small crowd of passengers coming through one by one.

After a few more minutes, her parents appeared together. Her mom with her neatly trimmed bob and her dad with his jacket casually draped over one arm. It was very them, and in that moment, Lucy felt a rush of emotion for the second time this morning. She had missed them so much. She was so blessed her parents where still fit and able to come over to Spain for her birthday.

With a big smile she waved them over.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.”

“Lucy!” Diane beamed, quickening her step for a hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you in person. Happy birthday honey.”

´´Hi mom, missed you.´´ Lucy said, breathing in her mothers scent.

Joaquim followed close behind, pulling Lucy into an embrace after Diane had let her go. ´´Happy birthday Lucy.´´

“Thank you. Good to see you, Dad,” Lucy said, kissing him on the cheek, and taking their suitcase. “Come on, the car’s not far. Let’s get you two home.”

Minutes later Lucy had her parents settled in the car.

The highway stretched out in front of them as Lucy guided the car smoothly onto the open road. Diane sat in the front passenger seat, while Joaquim had settled in the back.

“How was the flight?” Lucy asked, glancing at her mom.

“Not bad,” Diane replied. “Well, I think it took long enough, but everything went smooth.’’

“Oh, it was fine,” Joaquim chimed in. “Taking off, blinking a couple of times, landing again. In twenty-thirty-two travelling is luckily very easy, and otherwise we would’ve never let you move here.” He added jokingly.

Lucy chuckled. “Well, I’m glad things where good, and now you’re here. The boys are going to be thrilled when they see you.”

“Can’t wait,” Joaquim said, leaning forward slightly. “They must’ve grown so much since last time we saw them.”

“They have,” Lucy said, smiling. “and Lucas is getting really chatty. He’s full of stories about school and what he’s learning. God, he has all these questions, I’m sure he will ask you guys many many questions too.’’ She chuckled at the thought.

‘’Adorable.’’ Diane smiled, looking at the road, ‘’and Ollie?’’

Lucy grinned, ‘’Oliver is still Oliver,´´ she shrugged, ´´he’s a smart boy, but he’s also getting a little cheeky.”

“Wonder where he gets that from,” Diane said, giving Lucy a knowing look.

“Definitely his grandparents,” Lucy replied dryly.

All three of them chuckled.

“So, how are the gyms going?” Diane asked after a couple minutes of silence, shifting in her seat to look at Lucy properly.

“Really well,” Lucy said. “We’ve had steady growth, and I’ve added a couple more trainers to the team. It’s been busy, but a good kind of busy.”

“That’s fantastic, love. You’ve worked so hard for it,” Diane said warmly. “And how’s Ona handling everything?”

“She’s good,” Lucy said. “Her schedule’s always a bit hectic, but it’s much more manageable now that she is outsourcing things more and more. Last month she’s actually been home a lot more, which is nice.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Joaquim said. “It sounds like things are good.”

“Honestly, I feel so blessed,” Lucy admitted. “I had never imagined my life turning out so perfect.” She looked over at her mom for a second, ‘’mom, had you ever thought?’’ She looked at her dad in rear view mirror, ‘’dad?’’ She looked back at the road, ‘’sometimes I cant even believe that its all real.’’

Her mom smiled, laying her hand on Lucy’s thigh. ‘’its real darling, and you deserve it.’’

Her dad laid his hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing, ‘’and we’re proud of you.’’

A comfortable silence fell. They where halfway through the drive, with about twenty five minutes left until they’d reach the house.

As the drive continued, Lucy glanced at her mom. “So, I was thinking for tonight… instead of going out to a restaurant, we could just order something in and eat at home. You’re probably tired after the flight, and this way we can actually relax and catch up properly.”

“Mhm sure, that sounds perfect,” Diane said without hesitation.

“Great,” Lucy said, relieved. “I’ll make sure we get something good.”

She hesitated briefly before adding, “Oh, and one more thing—the boys were wondering if they could stay with you in the guesthouse tonight, because they missed you two so much, but no pressure. It’s totally up to you.”

Diane’s face softened. “Oh, I’d love that. Wouldn’t you, Joaquim?”

“Of course,” he said. “I have earplugs in my toiletry bag, so if they’re as chatty as you said I’ll still be fine.”

“Good,” Lucy said, laughing. “But seriously, if it’s too much after traveling, don’t worry about it. They’ll be fine in the main house.”

“No, it’ll be lovely,” Diane insisted. “We’ll figure it out when we see them.”

“Perfect,” Lucy said

…

Lucy and Ona’s villa – 17:24

As Lucy turned onto the driveway, she noticed all the cars neatly parked in their spots. She had expected it, but the sight confirmed it—Ona and the boys were home. Earlier that afternoon, she had arranged the cars with tomorrow’s party in mind, leaving plenty of space for guests.

The party would be held inside. Even in Catalunya, October evenings could be chilly, especially for a gathering that would go late into the night. Tomorrow was the big celebration, the main thing was a cozy dinner with their friends and family to mark Lucy’s 41st birthday.

Most of the preparations had been completed earlier that day, much to Lucy’s relief. Tonight, they could just relax and catch up with her parents. The only thing left was the arrival of the caterers in the morning with the cake, food, snacks, and drinks. But for now, everything was ready.

As Lucy stepped out of the car, the villa’s front door opened. A little boy came sprinting toward them in his socks, while a slightly bigger boy lingered in the doorway, peeking shyly from behind his mama.

“Nana!” Lucas called out excitedly, his voice carrying across the driveway. “Grandpa!”

Lucy smiled, her heart swelling at the sight of her youngest. His joy was so bright it could melt anyone’s heart. Behind him, Oliver gave a small wave but didn’t step forward, still half-hidden behind Ona’s leg.

“Ahh, look at you.” Diane said warmly, leaning down to catch Lucas as he barreled into her arms.

Joaquim stepped out of the back seat, his face lighting up at the sight of his grandson. “Well, do I get a hug too?” he teased, earning a giggle from Lucas, who darted over to him for an embrace.

In the doorway, Ona gave Lucy a soft smile, holding Oliver’s hand as she whispered something to him.

After a moment, Oliver finally stepped out, timidly making his way over to Lucy.

“Come here, Ollie,” Lucy said gently, smiling as she crouched down with her arms open. Her eldest was so different from his brother, he could be very shy.

Oliver walked over, arms out, and Lucy scooped him onto her hip. “Do you remember Grandma and Grandpa?” she asked, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Oliver’s gaze stayed fixed on Lucas, who was eagerly chatting with his grandparents, recounting something that had happened at school.

“Grandma and Grandpa from England,” Lucy added softly. “They’re my mom and dad.”

That made Oliver look up at her with a silly smile. “I know that, Mom,” he said with a hint of sass, and Lucy swore she caught the beginnings of an eye roll.

“Okay, okay,” she chuckled. “Well, why are you so shy, then?”

Oliver shrugged, staying quiet for a moment, “Did they go on a plane?”

Lucy laughed. “Mhm, they did.” She carefully set him back down. “Why don’t you ask them how the flight was?”

Oliver turned and pressed his face against her legs, clinging tightly.

“Okay, you don’t have to,” Lucy said with a soft laugh. “Here, help me with the suitcase instead. Can you open the trunk?”

…

Lucy and Ona’s villa – 18:58

After catching up over drinks on the couch and deciding what everyone wanted for dinner, they placed their order. It would arrive around 19:30, leaving them with some time to settle Diane and Joaquim into the guesthouse. The small house on the property was perfect for family visits, with two rooms. The room they had made ready was the one with a double bed and a pull-out couch.

After everyone put their shoes on Lucy led the way to the guesthouse, pulling the big suitcase. Lucas ran ahead, with Oliver trailing close behind, clearly excited about staying with their grandparents. By now Oliver had warmed up to his grandparents, it always took just a bit of time.

Inside, Diane and Joaquim got to unpacking their suitcase. Joaquim had already hung up a few shirts, while Diane set their toiletries in the bathroom. They where staying over for a week.

“You’ve got everything you need here,” Lucy said, pointing at a stack of fresh towels in the cabin. “But extra towels or blankets for if it gets chilly, are in the closet in the livingroom, I’ve put the heat on now, in the evening it automatically goes down, tomorrow morning it goes up again.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Diane said, giving Lucy a warm smile. “This place is so lovely, its always a joy to stay over.”

Lucy glanced at the pull-out couch in the room, where Ona was helping Lucas tug off the cushions. “Let’s get this ready for you boys,” she said, stepping in to help.

Lucas and Oliver hovered nearby, clearly more interested in jumping on the pillows than helping. “I want this side.” Lucas declared, pointing to the end closest to the nightstand.

Oliver crossed his arms. “That’s where I was gonna sleep!”

“Boys,” Lucy said with a silent chuckle, thinking back to her own childhood, kneeling down to pull the couch into a bed. “If you want this to work, you’re going to have to figure it out. Otherwise, no one sleeps here.”

´´I´m the oldest,´´ Oliver said, challenging Lucas.

“Fine,” Lucas said quickly, backing down as he glanced at his moms. “You can have it, but when I am older I can choose too.”

Oliver smirked, ´´yes´´.

“Unbelievable,” Ona murmured with a smile, helping Lucy spread out the fitted sheet.

The boys’ excitement was contagious, their chatter filling the room. “Mom, remember when we all had to share a bed at a hotel?” Lucas asked.

“I do,” Lucy said, smoothing the top sheet. “It almost didn’t fit, you nearly kicked me off the bed.”

Lucas giggled. “That was Oliver, not me.”

“Right,” Lucy said with a smile, before turning slightly more serious, “Well, I hope you two will be on your best behaviour, otherwise mama and I will put you right back in your own rooms, grandma and grandpa had a long day, so they need good sleep tonight.´´

´´Ollie? Lucas?’’

The two boys looked up at her. ‘’Sí, prometido.’’

"Bé, bé, fills meus." Ona smiled warmly. "La mama està orgullosa de vosaltres."

‘’If they make the promise true, that is.’’ Lucy added semi-jokingly.

Diane smiled at the scene. “It’ll be fine, Lucy,” she assured her daughter.

“I know,” Lucy said, tucking in the corners of the blanket. “But just put Lucas down about half an hour before Oliver. So he will already be asleep, and Oliver won’t have to deal with him wiggling around.”

Diane nodded. “Mhm, we´ll put Lucas first.”

“Perfect,” Lucy said, stepping back to admire the made bed. “You two are going to have so much fun staying with nana and grandpa, right?”

“Síí, fiesta de pijamas!” Lucas said enthusiastically, hopping onto the pull out couch bed.

Oliver gave a more measured nod, but the small smile on his face showed he was just as excited.

…

Lucy and Ona’s villa – 21:04

After dinner, the family had moved from the dining table to the TV room for dessert.

This afternoon, Ona hadn’t been able to resist stopping at a bakery on the way back from school. Tomorrow there would be a proper birthday cake, but Ona had decided Lucy deserved something special on the day itself too. The boys had eagerly chosen a small chocolate cake, glossy with chocolate glaze and topped with a bright red cherry.

Lucy blew out the little gold candle Ona had placed on it. The boys cheered, urging their mom to make a wish.

Lucy glanced at her little family, and wished that things could stay this good forever. Smiling, she pressed a kiss to the side of Ona’s head before taking the knife Ona handed her.

Joaquim and Ona sipped glasses of wine, Diane enjoyed a cup of tea, and Lucy held a beer, even though it wasn’t exactly the temperature for it. The boys sat on little stools at the coffee table to minimize the chances of a chocolate catastrophe, while Lucy’s parents had settled into armchairs. Ona and Lucy had claimed the sofa, where Ona laid nestled against Lucy’s chest. Lucy had an arm draped around her wife, her other hand occasionally lifting her beer for a sip. One of Ona’s hands rested lightly on the inside of her knee.

Lucy felt happy, happy spending an evening with the people she loved most in the whole world. It was a perfect birthday.

The boys finished their cakes with sticky fingers and satisfied smiles. “Are we going to play a board game now?” Ollie asked hopefully, his eyes lighting up as Lucas immediately chimed in with enthusiasm.

“Oh, no, no,” Ona and Lucy said in unison, both chuckling.

“It’s way too late for that,” Lucy added. “We have to brush our teeth and get into our pajamas,” she said lazily, making no effort to follow through getting up from the couch.

The boys groaned in unison, dragging out the whines for effect.

Ona smiled amuzed at her wife, but to be honest she didn’t really feel like getting up either. “You two, first go in the kitchen to wash your hands, then go upstairs, put on your pajamas, and bring your toothbrushes down with you. Let’s go. Chop, chop.”

Lucas tilted his head in confusion, looking at Lucy. “My pj is in the laundry,” he said. “I need a new one..”

Lucy sighed, raising her beer for one last sip before setting it down. “He’s right,” she said.

Ona dropped her head with an exaggerated groan, she was just getting comfy. “Okay, okay. I’ll come up in a second, I’ll help,” she said, waving the boys toward the stairs. “You two go ahead. I’ll get it for you Lucas.”

Reluctantly, the boys shuffled off, Lucas muttering something incohearant while Oliver took his sweet time following behind, first stacking all the little plates.

‘’We’ll help em.’’ Diane said, chuckling at the two moms who where gathering courage to stand up.

‘’We?’’ Joaquim asked surprised.

‘’Or just me, if you don’t want to’’ Diane nonchalantly said, standing up. ‘’Come on, it will be fun. Nostalgic.’’

‘’Mom, you don’t need to.’’ Lucy said, ‘’Ona and I will do it, they’re-

‘’No, no, none of that.’’ Lucy’s mom said, holding a hand out for her husband, ‘’we hardly get to see them.’’

‘’Well, okay.’’ Lucy smiled, ‘’if you need help just call down.’’

‘’Raising you prepared us well enough,’’ Joaquim joked, ‘’we will manage.’’

The two grandparents disapeared to the hall.

Ona nestled herself further against Lucy. ‘’hmm, maybe your parents can come over more often.’’

Lucy chuckled, kissing the top of Ona’s head. ‘’I hope they make a good night.’’

‘’They will,’’ Ona leaned back slightly, facing Lucy.

‘’Mmm,’’ Lucy licked her lips, ‘´I really hope so.’’

Ona leaned in pecking a soft kiss to Lucy’s lips.

Lucy answered the kiss, her hand coming up to cup Ona’s head.

‘’it was a nice surprise,’’ Lucy said breaking the kiss, ‘’the desert.’’

‘’Yeah, couldn’t resist.’’ Ona chuckled, ‘´I let the boys choose because I know they have the same taste u have.’’

‘’Mhmm, love me a chocolate cake.’’ She took Ona’s hand, her thumb tracing the weddingring there, ‘’this reminds me of this morning,’’ she looked up at Ona, ‘’d’you know what Lucas said?’’ she smiled, ‘’did you hear it? It was while you where making breakfast.’’

‘’No.’’ Ona laughed, suspecting something funny, ‘’what did he say?’’

‘’It was so cute, he was whispering to me like it was a secret,’’ Lucy chuckled, ‘’Yo amo a mamá.’’ She reenacted her sons whisper.

Ona smiled, ‘’why did he say that?’’

‘’Oh it was when I was acting I was going to eat him, then he said I didn’t have to do that, because mama was making breakfast.’’ Lucy chuckled, ‘’then I said, yes mama is the best, isnt she? And then he was silent for a bit, like really thinking, I saw the gears grinding in his little head and then he said ’yo amo a mamá,’´ she chuckled, ´´I love these ages so much,’’ She said to Ona, ‘’now that they’re really thinking about stuff.’’

‘’Yeah its cute,’’ Ona smiled, ‘’and I love how you talk about me to the kids.’’

Lucy smiled, ‘’ofcourse, oh and you want to hear something else that was funny, Oliver is showing Nela video’s of womens football to try and get her to play with him.’’

‘’Really?’’ Ona chuckled, ‘´Les dejamos ver demasiados dibujos.’’ (we let them watch to many cartoons)

‘’Ah it’s just children's fantasy, he will grow out of it, for now im happy he lives in a world where that is his biggest mision,’’ Lucy smiled, pulling her wife closer against her again.

…

Lucy and Ona’s villa – 21:48

“Grandpa took his teeth out!” Oliver came running toward the couch, his face lit up with wonder and excitement. Lucy quickly set Ona’s glass aside for her.

“His teeth?” Ona asked, chuckling.

Oliver scrambled up onto the couch and into his moms’ laps, giggling. “Grandpa took his teeth out, tiene dientes de mentira.”

Lucy laughed, wrapping her arms around her oldest son in a bear hug. “Did everything go well up there? Is everyone alright?”

“Yeah,” Oliver said casually. “I came down because I’ve seen his drawings a thousand times.”

“Lucas is showing his drawings?” Ona asked, turning herself towards Lucy and their son.

“Yup.” Oliver blinked sleepily as Ona smoothed a hand over his hair. “Can Nela sleep over in the house too?”

Hearing her name, the dog wandered over.

“Hmm, we’ll ask Grandma and Grandpa,” Ona said, leaning in to kiss Oliver’s forehead. “But if they’d rather not, Nela will just sleep in her own bed.”

Oliver smiled, “but if they say yes, he can come?”

“She,” Lucy corrected gently, “and yes, if they agree, then it’s okay.”

“Are you coming to sleep at the house too?” Oliver asked, fiddling with Ona’s necklace. “and Mom?”

“No,” Lucy replied, brushing back a strand of his hair. “It’s just for you, Lucas, Grandma, and Grandpa, it´s a special sleepover.”

“And Canela.”

“Maybe Canela,” Ona said with a soft smile. “If they don’t mind.”

“Don’t mind?” Oliver asked, tilting his head.

“If they agree,” Lucy explained.

“I’ll go ask!” Oliver said, suddenly trying to wriggle free from Lucy’s arms.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Lucy said, holding onto him.

Oliver stilled, turning to look at her, questioning.

“Let’s wait until they’re back down,” Lucy said calmly.

“Mom will ask, okay?” Ona added. “Or Mama.”

The boy let out a dramatic huff but nodded. “Okay.’’ He wiggled again. ‘’But let me go.”

“What are you going to do?” Lucy asked, tilting her head at him.

“Pet Nela,” Oliver declared.

‘’Mkay.’’ Lucy smiled, letting him go.

Ollie slid off the couch and padded over to the patiently waiting dog.

…

Guesthouse – 22:36

The dog, of course, was allowed to stay at the guesthouse too, as grandma could never say no to her grandson. Lucy and Ona had walked along to the guesthouse to make sure the boys settled in comfortably. Oliver had brought a card game, and Lucas had chosen a book he wanted to be read from.

Lucy had made sure to leave the iPad in the livingroom of the guesthouse, reminding Oliver that if he woke up early, he could use it in the living room without waking Lucas or his grandparents. It was something they aggreed with him, after Oliver had spent a full week climbing into their bed at the crack of dawn because ‘he couldn’t sleep anymore’.

They had all gathered around the pull-out couch as Diane read the book aloud. It had originally been just for Lucas, but Ollie had climbed into bed too, at Ona’s suggestion. As expected, both boys had quickly drifted off.

After a short chat with Joaquim and Diane, who were just as tired and planned to read a little before heading to bed, Ona and Lucy made their way back to the main house. Lucy had reassured her parents multiple times that they should call or come by if anything was wrong.

The cold air greeted them as they stepped outside, and Lucy instinctively wrapped an arm around her wife. She pulled Ona close, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Love you,” she murmured softly.

Ona chuckled. “Mmm, are you about to get all romantic on me?”

Lucy smirked and moved behind Ona, draping herself over her as they walked. She rested her chin in the crook of Ona’s neck. “Mhm. Gonna put on some music...” she whispered, placing a kiss on Ona’s neck. “Turn on the nice lighting...” another kiss followed. “Maybe we’ll even dance a little...” she murmered, holding Ona’s hip and tugging her a bit closer.

Ona giggled, her wife’s antics could still make her feel giddy like the first times they where together.

‘’Come.’’ Lucy said, placing one last kiss to the side of Ona’s face before stepping besides her again, jokingly slapping her ass a couple of times. ‘’lets get inside.’’ 

…

As promised Lucy had put some music on. Her and Ona held eachother while the soft sounds of a romantic song filled their bedroom.

Lucy’s hands rested low on Ona’s hips, fingers tracing paterns softly. She dipped her head, brushing her lips against Ona’s ear. “Pick up where we left off this morning?” Lucy murmured.

Ona smiled, tilting her head to meet Lucy’s gaze. “I’ve actually been thinking about something.”

“Oh yeah?’’ Lucy raised an eyebrow, a cheeky smile forming on her lips. ‘’What’s on your mind?” She asked, thinking maybe Ona had fantasized about a new position or something.

“Do you remember what you said in the shower?” Ona asked, her voice sly, wearing a small smirk on her lips. “About how you won me over with good sex?”

Lucy grinned, a low chuckle escaping her. “Mhm, I remember our fun little hate dynamic thing we had going on back then.”

Ona rolled her eyes with a soft laugh. “It wasn’t hate, but sure,” she said lightly. “Anyway, for some reason I was thinking back about that one night, when you shoved that blouse in my mouth.” She paused, watching Lucy’s eyes darken. “Remember? when u did those makeshift cuffs from your belt... that night was...  something else.’’

‘’Mhm, I remember.’’ Lucy nodded, biting her lip. She observerd Ona attentively, questioning where Ona was going with this.

Ona played with the collar of Lucy’s shirt, ‘’What was it, like eight years ago?”

Lucy leaned back slightly, mock offense on her face, “are you really saying I haven’t done anything like that since?”

Ona laughed, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on Lucy’s chest. “You still bring it sometimes, don’t get me wrong,” she said, her tone teasing. “But I’m talking about that energy you had back then” She pressed closer, her lips brushing under Lucy’s jaw. “Especially like that night” her voice dropped slightly, her breath felt warm against Lucy’s skin. “That was a good night.” She pressed a kiss there, then another lower. “And I love how sweet you are to me now,” another kiss, slower this time, “but I’ve just been thinking about it a little bit today.”

Lucy huffed a small laugh, her hands sliding down Ona’s back. “I like making love to you better now. You’re my wife.” Pulling Ona closer with her hands on her ass.

“I can rile you up,” Ona whispered, her hands slipping under Lucy’s shirt, nails dragging lightly along her skin.

Lucy smirked, tilting her head to look down at Ona. “Oh yeah? How will you rile me up?” Her tone was playful, “You can cook now. You gave birth to our beautiful kids. You’re perfect.”

Ona rolled her eyes and leaned in close to Lucy. "Maybe I'll reveal what more I bought you for your birthday." She whispered.

Lucy chuckled, her hands sliding up Ona's sides before resting on her hips. "Ona," she murmured, her lips brushing over her wife's jawline, "let me just make you feel good, baby."

Ona tilted her head, her smirk teasing as her fingers toyed with the hem of Lucy’s shirt. She hooked her fingers behind Lucy’s belt, tugging her closer. "Or," she purred, drawing the word out, "maybe you won’t be so shocked anymore… because you’ve become just as much of a snob as I am?"

Lucy raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk. Without a word, she gripped Ona’s thighs and lifted her, pressing her firmly against the wall. The gasp Ona let out went into a breathless laugh.

"Oh you’re really after it, aren’t you, ma’am?" Lucy chuckled.

Ona’s mouth opened, ready to talk back, but Lucy didn’t give her the chance. Their lips crashed together in an urgent kiss, their tongues fighting for dominance as their hands moved hurriedly.

Fingers tugged at shirts, plucked at buttons, peeled away fabric until they stood naked, except for the jewelry they had on.

Lucy guided them to the bed, their lips never breaking apart while she lowered Ona gently onto the mattress.

Ona grinned against Lucy’s mouth, her voice sounded breathy as her hands roamed Lucy’s lower back. “There she is,” she murmured teasingly. “There’s my woman.”

Lucy hummed, her lips grazing the curve of Ona’s neck. “Oh, I was here all along, baby,” she whispered. “But keep talking, I love it when you try to be a brat.” She shifted back onto her knees, pulling Ona’s thighs over her hips as her hands began to trace the length of her wife’s legs.

Her gaze was locked on Ona’s face, taking in the flush that colored her skin.

After a moment Lucy shifted again. She leaned down, pressing slow kisses along Ona’s thigh, taking her time. Her lips lingered, her warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. "Still want to drag this out?" Lucy murmured, her voice sounding teasing as she reached the sensitive dip below Ona’s hipbone.

Ona arched slightly, her breathing uneven. "Yes," she whispered, but her tone betrayed her anticipation, the need building in her voice.

Lucy chuckled, the sound low and throaty, as her fingers slid along Ona’s sides, her touch was featherlight. She loved the effect she had on her wife.

Her hands gripped Ona’s hips, holding her down as she kissed her way lower. "You’re so perfect," Lucy murmured between kisses.

She leaned back for a moment, just to admire her. Watching the way her chest rose and fell, the want in her gaze. "I could look at you like this forever."

Ona bit on her finger, a soft chuckle escaping her. "Babe," she teased, her voice was playful but a little unsteady. "You’re getting soppy again."

Lucy tilted her head, grinning as she leaned in to press a kiss to Ona’s collarbone. "What, I can’t compliment my wife now?" she teased acting mock-offended. She paused, hovering over Ona with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Don’t you think I decide that?"

Ona’s fingers tangled in Lucy’s hair, tugging her closer, guiding her toward her chest. "Please, Luce decide whatever you want, but just fuck me," she said impatiently.

‘’I don’t understand baby.’’ Lucy smirked, her hands pinning Ona’s wrists above her head as she hovered over her again. ‘’You’re saying one thing and doing another?" she mused, ‘’do you want me to take controle or not?’’

"Luce," Ona groaned, squirming under her. "Do me."

Lucy bit her lip and shook her head amused. She kissed her way down Ona’s body again, teasingly slow.

Ona’s breath hitched as Lucy’s soft lips reached her stomach.

"Relax, baby," Lucy murmured against her skin, the warmth of her breath sending shivers along Ona’s spine. ‘’I’ll give you what you want.’’

Ona whimpered when Lucy finally dipped lower, her kisses moving to the inside of her thighs. Her thighs parted instinctively, her body was buzzing with anticipation.

Lucy’s tongue teased her, drawing a shaky gasp from Ona’s lips.

"Lucy," Ona whimpered, her fingers twisting in the sheets.

Lucy pulled back slightly. Ona saw her lips glistening as she smirked.

"Always taste so good," she murmured before diving back in, her hands gripping Ona’s thighs to keep her steady.

Ona writhed beneath her, unable to keep still as Lucy ate her pussy in a way that had never faltered in all their years together. She let her body relax on the matress, giving in to the pleasure.

After a few moments Ona’s breathing changed, telling Lucy she was close.

"Not yet," Lucy whispered. She kissed her way back up with open-mouthed kisses until she reached Ona’s neck. Her hands were everywhere. On Ona’s hips, her ribs, sliding along her sides, Lucy just wanted to feel her.

"Lucy," Ona tried, but her voice broke into a whimper as Lucy pressed a kiss just above her collarbone, her teeth grazing the skin lightly. She wanted to mark her wife. "Not in my neck," Ona managed to breathe out, shivering. Having just enough clarity to think about tomorrow’s party. "Luce-"

Lucy obeyed wordlessly, kissing down until her lips found a spot just below Ona’s nipple to mark instead, leaving a dark bruise behind.

She pulled back to admire her work, her gaze flicking up to meet Ona’s flushed face. "Perfect," she said softly.

Lucy placed a couple of soft kisses up to Ona’s face before pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. There was a beat of silence, charged with something unspoken as Lucy leaned in. They kissed, Lucy’s thigh pressing instinctively between Ona’s legs.

Ona hummed in response, her fingers digging into Lucy’s shoulders.

Breaking the kiss just enough to speak, Ona’s breath brushed over Lucy’s lips. “Your cock es lo único en lo que he pensado today.” she murmured, her tone sounding both begging and commanding. Her hands slid up, resting against Lucy’s chest as she pushed urging her to move. “I need you, Luce. Please, put it on for me.”

Lucy pulled back. “Need me?” she repeated. Her hands wandered down Ona’s sides, a deliberate slowness that made Ona squirm. “You’re being a little impatient, mamas.” She smirked.

Despite her teasing, Lucy shifted off the bed, the grin still on her face as she walked to the dresser. Ona propped herself up on her elbows, watching Lucy rummage through the drawer.

When Lucy turned back with the strap and lube in hand Ona’s breath hitched, her thighs pressing together. God, she had been waiting for this all day.

Lucy caught Ona’s gaze, she raised her eyebrow as she strapped the harness around her hips, tightening it with practiced ease. She smugly let Ona watch her. She knew she was good at sex, but especially wearing the strap always give her this special feeling. The way Ona gave herself to her.   

“Careful,” Lucy teased. “You’re drooling.”

Ona blush darkened but she didn’t look away, her eyes stayed glued to Lucy as she watched her coat the strap in lube. It was hot seeing Lucy run the thick rubber strap through her hands.

At the edge of the bed, Lucy grabbed Ona by her thighs, tugging her forward until she was perched right at the edge. Ona giggled softly, this was exactly the attitude she had been looking for.

“Luce…” Ona’s voice was barely a whisper now, thick with anticipation, her fingers digging in the bedspread.

Lucy cupped Ona’s cheek for a brief moment, before letting her thumb run over Ona’s bottom lip. Ona opened her mouth and let Lucy slip two fingers in. Ona made eyecontact with Lucy as she sucked on the digits before circling them with her tongue.

When Lucy was pleased with Ona’s work she let her fingers trail down, leaving a trail of Ona’s saliva behind before slipping between her legs.

As Lucy's fingers brushed against Ona’s heat, a smirk tugged at her lips. Their eyes stayed locked, and Ona knew exactly what that smirk meant. Lucy didn’t have to say a word, Ona could hear it in her head. But still her cheeks flushed deeper, because she was really wet and they both knew Lucy was the reason.

Lucy curled two fingers inside, drawing a groan from Ona.

“Mhm, I know, baby,” Lucy murmured. She leaned on her elbow planted on the bed next to Ona’s shoulder, her hand below Ona’s neck. She liked being close to Ona like this.

When Ona’s hips began to buck against her hand, Lucy pulled back. “So greedy,” she chuckled, reaching down to guide the strap to Ona’s entrance. ‘’I’ll give you more don’t worry.’’

Lucy pushed the strap in slowly, watching the way Ona’s lips parted.

Ona’s head fell back as she adjusted to the stretch. This was her favourite strap, it was a bit softer then their other straps.

‘’Mh fuck,’’ Ona breathed as Lucy started moving, she reached to cup her own chest.

“There we go,” Lucy muttered, “always so good for me.”

Lucy’s hips thrusted setting a steady rhythm. The wet sounds and the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin blended with the soft music playing in the background, joined by Ona’s moans, and the praises Lucy murmured between thrusts.

Ona’s body arched into her, her legs trembling as Lucy’s hands gripped her thighs.

Lucy shifted, lifting Ona’s legs over her shoulders. She wanted more, she wanted to fill Ona deeper.

"You feel so good," Lucy whispered, gripping Ona’s hips, leaning into Ona so her calves where flush against her chest.

Ona moaned as the new angle made Lucy hit that sweet spot again and again, her nails dug into the back of her own thighs. "More," Ona pleaded.

Lucy obliged, gripping Ona's waist to pull her closer as she sank the strap into her all the way to the base with every thrust.

Ona’s moans turned into broken whines as she teetered on the edge of release.

"That’s it," Lucy whispered, her voice hoarse from effort. "Let it go baby."

Ona came with a shuddering gasp, her body clenching around the strap.

Lucy slowed, helping Ona ride out her orgasm.

"Fucking beautiful," Lucy murmured, she let Ona’s legs down gently and leaned in, holding her close.

Lucy stayed there for a moment holding her hips still as she soothed Ona with gentle kisses until her breathing slowed.

She looked down at her wife with a satisfied smirk on her face. "You good, baby?"

Ona nodded, her eyes half-lidded.

Lucy’s lips brushed over Ona's damp skin, "I love you so much," she whispered.

All Ona could manage to let out was a hum.

After a moment, Lucy shifted, carefully pulling out. She reached down to unbuckle the harness, letting the strap fall to the floor with a thud and reached to the nightstand, putting off the music.

Her hands smoothed over Ona’s thighs.

Lucy smiled as Ona’s legs instinctively parted. She settled herself between her legs, pressing a kiss to the inside of one thigh before sliding her hands under Ona’s hips, lifting her slightly. Ona’s slickness glistened as it caught the dimmed light. Lucy felt a flutter between her own legs as she caught the smell of her wife. She leaned in, her tongue running up Ona’s sensitive folds, lapping up her essence.

Ona let out a soft, breathy moan, her hands moving to tangle in Lucy's hair. "Luce," she whimpered.

"Shh," Lucy whispered against her, her voice vibrating against Ona’s core. ‘’You can give me one more, baby.’’

Lucy’s tongue circled Ona’s clit. Ona’s body reacted instantly, her hips twitching as a whimper escaped her throat.

It wasn’t long before Ona’s breathing became quicker, her grip in Lucy’s hair tightening as her legs quivered.

Lucy groaned against her. She latched onto her clit, sucking down as her hands tightened their hold on Ona’s thighs, keeping her in place.

"L-Luce," Ona gasped, her voice cracking as her body arched off the bed.

Lucy continued, wanting to bring Ona over the edge again, she knew Ona could take it.

It didn’t take long before Ona’s body tensed, her thighs clamping around Lucy’s head as she let out a shuddering cry, her second release crashing through her.

Lucy slowed as Ona rode out the aftershocks.

When Ona finally relaxed, Lucy pulled back slightly, pressing soft kisses to Ona’s inner thighs before crawling back up to meet her face.

"That’s my girl," Lucy murmured. She kissed Ona’s forehead, then her nose, then her lips, her hands brushing back the hair from Ona’s face. Ona smiled sleepily.

Lucy carefully maneuvered them both to the middle of the bed, her hands cupping Ona’s face for a moment.

Ona was a sight, she was completely undone but she looked glowing. Lucy leaned down, nuzzling her nose against Ona.

Ona pulled Lucy in for a kiss. "Cuddles," she whispered needily.

Lucy smiled into the kiss, her arms wrapping around Ona. "Ofcourse," she whispered back. She pulled Ona close, feeling her warmth against her. Lucy kissed Ona’s temple before resting her head back on the pillow.

A comfortable quiet settled between them. Lucy’s hand found Ona’s, lacing their fingers together, holding her with a softness that was reserved only for her wife.

Ona’s head nestled against Lucy’s chest, as she recovered from her orgasms.

Lucy kissed the top of her head, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on Ona’s back.

"Can we just stay like this forever?" Ona mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. She laid comfortably with her cheek against Lucy’s warm skin.

Lucy smiled, her fingers brushing up and down Ona’s back. “Wouldn’t mind that,” she murmured before pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of Ona’s head.

Ona’s hands began to wonder, tracing the lines along Lucy’s toned stomach. She shifted to kiss Lucy’s neck.

“You don’t have to, babe,” Lucy said quietly as Ona kissed down, now reaching her nipple. But her tone came out unconvincing as a shiver ran through her at Ona’s touch.

Ona didn’t reply. Instead she smiled and tilted her head up to press a kiss to Lucy’s lips, silencing any further protests.

Lucy relaxed beneath her as Ona trailed her lips down her jawline, then her neck, leaving a trail of kisses until she was at her hips. She guided Lucy’s legs apart, settling herself between them.

Lucy’s breath hitched when Ona’s lips brushed over a sensitive spot just below her hip, the featherlight touch sending a rush of heat through her.

Her fingers threaded through Ona’s hair, gathering it into a ponytail.

Ona glanced up meeting Lucy’s gaze. A blush colored Ona’s cheeks as she caught the look in Lucy’s eyes. Lucy could look at her so hungry but impossibly loving all at once. She loved that look, it always made her want to give Lucy everything she wanted.

She lowered herself again. After all these years she knew exactly what worked for Lucy. She knew Lucy’s body like her own.

With her tongue she sucked on Lucy’s clit as her fingers teased her entrance.

The hand in Ona’s hair tightened, silently urging her on.

Lucy spread her legs wider, giving Ona full access with her feet pressing flat against the mattress, knees falling open.

Lucy's soft groans filled the room, her chest rising and falling as pleasure coursed through her.

Ona’s free hand tightened on Lucy’s thigh as Lucy's body began to tense.

“Fuck, Ona” Lucy groaned, her voice cracking as her release washed over her. Her grip on Ona’s hair tightened as her body shuddered from coming undone.

Ona didn’t stop until Lucy gently urged her away. She kissed her way back up Lucy’s torso, lingering over every freckle and every curve of her wifes body until she reached her face.

Lucy cupped Ona’s cheek, pulling her into a slow kiss, their breaths mingling as they tasted themselves on eachothers tongue.

Settling back against the pillows, Lucy wrapped her arms around Ona, holding her close as their bodies relaxed in the afterglow.

They laid there quietly, looking in to eachothers eyes lovingly. God, Lucy felt still so in love with this women after all those years. Ona was the love of her life, every day she thanked the lucky stars that things had worked out like this.

..

After a couple of moments Lucy leaned over and pressed a kiss to Ona’s forehead before sliding out of bed. “Be right back, baby”

Ona watched her, one eyebrow raised. “where are you going?”

“Toilet,” Lucy said as she disappeared into the bathroom.

A minute later, Ona heard the sound of running water and rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand. “Are you running a bath?”

“Yeah,” Lucy called back, ‘’thought it could be a nice seal to this perfect day, or is it too late?’’

Ona nodded sleepily.

When Lucy came back after a moment, she walked over to the bed. “Do you want to have a bath with me?”

Ona groaned theatrically but swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I’m tired.”

Lucy laughed, ‘’do I need to carry you?’’

‘’No,’’ Ona chuckled as she walked towards their bathroom.

Lucy helped her into the warm water and climbed in after her, settling in between Ona and the tub so Ona could lean back against her.

Ona let out a long sigh as she relaxed her muscles.

“Good?” Lucy asked, her hands resting lightly on Ona’s thighs beneath the water.

“Mm-hmm,” Ona murmured. “Very good.”

“You’re very good,” Lucy joked, placing a kiss to Ona’s temple.

“What?” Ona chuckled, turning her head slightly to meet Lucy’s eyes.

Lucy gave a small shrug, brushing a damp strand of hair away from Ona’s face. “Just that I love you very much.”

Ona smiled, turning back to rest her head on Lucy’s shoulder. “I love you very much too.”

They sat quietly for a while, the only sound the splashing of water as one of them shifted slightly.

Eventually, Ona broke the silence.

“Did you have a good day?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Lucy pressed a kiss to the top of Ona’s head and smiled. “Yeah, it was perfect.’’ She hummed as she thought back, ‘’A great breakfast to start, the beautiful watch you gave me, that lunch Soph ordered’’ she smiled as she thought back to the kebabs they had, ‘’having my parents here for dinner, and a chocolate dessert that I’m still thinking about. The boys staying over at theirs is a nice little bonus.” She tilted her head slightly, her voice dropping playfully. “But my favorite part was definitely the second dessert.’’

Ona hummed. “so a good day, eventhough you helped setting up your own party for tomorrow?”

“Ofcourse,” Lucy said. “I loved doing that with you and Soph, you two have done the most anyways, you have been planning it for weeks.”

“You make it sound like I planned some big event. It’s just dinner with our friends and family.”

Lucy smiled and kissed the side of Ona’s head. “Mhm, you’re not making me talk to random people, that’s exactly my kind of party.”

Ona smiled. ‘’I know you love small and low-key.”

“Mhm, and to be loved is to be known,” Lucy said, her hands running softly up and down Ona’s arms. “I feel very loved.”

“I am happy you had a good day,” Ona said, letting her head tilt back against Lucy again, ‘’and my favourite thing was definetly the second desert too.’’

…

When the water cooled, they climbed out, drying off quickly. Ona grabbed Lucy’s pyjama from this morning off the chair and slipped it on.

‘’Hey,’’ Lucy said acting offended, coming out of the bathroom too, ‘’what am I supposed to wear then? Your pj doesn’t fit me.’’ She mocked.

‘’You have more pj’s then this one,’’ Ona said, rolling her eyes but quickly getting in to bed because she knew she was being cheeky. She just felt like wearing Lucy’s pj from time to time, and she knew deep down Lucy didn’t mind.

Lucy pulled on some other pajama pants and a t-shirt, before also stepping in to bed.

Back in bed, Ona nestled against Lucy, her leg sliding between Lucy’s as she got comfortable.

“Hey,” Lucy said softly, brushing her hand along Ona’s back. “Thanks for everything today.”

“You’ve already said that,” Ona mumbled, her voice sleepy.

“I know. Just wanted to say it again.”

Ona smiled against Lucy’s skin. “You’re very welcome, Luce.”

Lucy pressed a kiss to Ona´s damp hair, ´´Night, my love.´´

´´Somnia’m, amor.´´

They laid in comfortable silence and Lucy felt Ona’s breathing slowing as she started to drift off.

Lucy closed her eyes, letting the warmth of Ona’s body against hers lull her to sleep too.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ My Favourite Person | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

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Summary: And as much as she wanted to ignore it, she knew that what she felt for him had become more than casual. [Inspired by Casual by Chappell Roan]

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Part 3 of my Is It Casual Now? series: Masterlist

The morning light was barely creeping into the room when she woke up, still nestled in Charles’ arms. His breathing was soft and steady, his face nuzzled into her neck. She’d almost forgotten how they’d ended up here—wrapped up in each other after a night of celebrations that neither of them seemed eager to end.

But her peaceful morning was interrupted by her phone vibrating almost nonstop on the bedside table. She groaned softly, trying to ignore it, but the constant buzzing wasn’t easy to ignore.

Careful not to wake Charles, she leaned over and grabbed her phone, only to see her group chat blowing up with notifications.

Friend 2: "Morning, mystery girlfriend. Saw the video. Care to explain all those face kisses?"

Friend 1: "So… how was your night? 😏 Don’t leave out any details."

Friend 2: "Did he put that winning energy to good use? Just saying, he looked like he had a lot to celebrate."

Friend 3: "Saw the videos. You guys definitely looked like ‘just friends’… in an alternate universe maybe."

She stifled a laugh, her cheeks heating up as she scrolled through their messages. Her friends were relentless.

Friend 1: "Are you still in his bed right now? Girl. Spill!"

Friend 2: "If I were you, I wouldn’t even be checking my phone right now. Priorities, babe."

Friend 1: "Okay, so… are you going to tell us what’s going on with you and Charles?"

Friend 2: "Girl, don’t even try to pretend! We all saw the videos."

Friend 3: "Face kisses? All over?? That doesn’t look like ‘just friends’ to me."

Friend 3: "Not to mention that ‘just friends’ don’t exactly spend the night… 😏"

She sighed, knowing they wouldn’t let it go easily. Her friends had always been relentless, especially when it came to her love life—or lack of one. She typed back a quick response.

You: "It’s not like that. Seriously. We’re just friends."

Friend 1: "Oh, just friends? Because he was all over you, and everyone saw it!"

Friend 2: "Exactly! There’s literally a thread online about how ‘in love’ Charles looked hugging you. It’s adorable."

Her cheeks flushed as she read through their messages, her stomach doing a tiny flip at the memory of Charles’ face lighting up when he’d found her in the crowd after his victory. The way he’d pulled her close, practically sweeping her off her feet, felt like a vivid, joyful blur. It had been so natural, so… right. She pushed the thought away and took a steadying breath. 

You: "No, really. He’s just… He’s just like that. He’s affectionate with everyone."

Friend 3: "Uh-huh. So why is the entire internet convinced he’s madly in love with you?"

A link popped up in the chat, and she clicked on it reluctantly. It led to a popular Twitter thread, where dozens of fans were posting clips from the day before. The first video showed Charles wrapping her in a tight hug at the barriers, his face beaming as he peppered her with kisses. She hadn’t even realized it looked that intense. But there, on the screen, it seemed undeniably intimate. They looked like they were in their own world.

You:“Come on, guys, He was just celebrating. It was a big moment.”

 she typed, trying to brush it off

Friend 1: "A big moment where he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Sure, we’ll believe that. 🙄"

Friend 2: "Have you even seen how everyone’s reacting? They’re calling you ‘Charles’ mystery girl.’ People are actually dying to know who you are."

The messages kept rolling in, and every one of her friends had something to say. She glanced at the thread again, scrolling through the comments.

Fan 1: "Did you guys see the way he looked at her? I’m deceased."

Fan 2: "Who is she, and where did she come from? Because they are TOO cute together."

Fan 3: "Charles Leclerc just won in Monaco and went straight to his girl like it was the last lap of his life."

The more she read, the more she could see why people might think there was something between them. She and Charles looked… cozy. Her cheeks warmed as she replayed their moment in her head. She couldn’t deny that the two of them together, lost in the celebration, had felt almost surreal.

But then, she shook her head, dismissing the thought. Charles was just excited. It didn’t mean anything.

You: "You guys are seriously reading too much into this. He’s just a friend. Nothing more."

Friend 3: "Right. Just friends who look at each other like they’re the only people on earth."

Friend 2: "Just friends who also happen to be practically plastered all over each other. You’re not fooling anyone."

She let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. She hadn’t expected things to spiral like this. Her friends’ teasing was relentless, and while part of her found it amusing, another part couldn’t shake the flicker of doubt that crept in.

Could there be more between her and Charles? They’d been spending so much time together, and he did seem unusually attentive, even when he was halfway around the world. She couldn’t deny the closeness they shared, but… dating? They weren’t dating.

But when she glanced back at the video, seeing the unfiltered joy in Charles’ eyes as he hugged her, she couldn’t help but think… maybe there was something there. Just maybe.

But she wouldn’t let herself dwell on it for long. Not with her friends gleefully piling on the teasing.

You: "Okay, okay! Enough! It’s nothing serious. Just a friend who won a race and got excited. End of story."

Her friends sent back a flood of laughing emojis, followed by a slew of more questions, but she simply set her phone down, laughing to herself. 

“What’s so funny?” Charles mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and his pout was almost enough to make her laugh again. He nestled his face into her shoulder, his breath warm against her skin. “I’m literally right here, and you’re laughing at your phone.”

She grinned, scrolling through one last message. “Are you seriously jealous of my friends right now? I’m in bed with you, remember?”

He let out a dramatic sigh, shifting closer until she could feel his lips just grazing her neck. “But you’re not laughing with me,” he complained, a whiny edge to his voice that only made him sound more endearing. “I want all your attention, not just some of it.”

“Oh, poor Charles,” she teased, lowering her phone to look at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “It must be so difficult being this needy first thing in the morning.”

“Needy?” he huffed, narrowing his eyes at her, though his lips quirked with a playful glint. “You make me this way, you know. It’s not fair.”

She poked his cheek, unable to stop smiling. “How tragic. Do you want me to make it up to you?”

“Maybe,” he murmured, his eyes brightening. He reached over, snatching her phone and tossing it to the far side of the bed. With a grin, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down and pinning her against the sheets. “No more distractions,” he declared, his tone playful but his gaze warm and intent.

“Charles!” She squirmed, laughing as he tightened his hold, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Say I’m your favorite,” he insisted, his voice taking on that stubborn, whiny edge.

“Not a chance,” she managed, her laughter spilling over as she tried to wiggle free.

He only raised an eyebrow, smirking as he started tickling her sides. “Then I’ll just have to keep this up.”

“Alright, alright!” she gasped, breathless with laughter. “You’re my favorite!”

He grinned triumphantly, loosening his hold but keeping her close. “See? Was that so hard?”

She rolled her eyes, still catching her breath. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it,” he whispered, his face just inches from hers, eyes shining with affection.

“Maybe,” she admitted softly, reaching up to trace a finger along his jaw.

Without another word, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, gentle kiss that melted away any lingering teasing. His hand slipped to her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin as he deepened the kiss, warmth and affection replacing all the playfulness from a moment before.

When they finally pulled apart, he pressed his forehead to hers, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Now, that’s how you start a morning,” he murmured.

She chuckled, her fingers playing with his messy hair. “You’re way too pleased with yourself, you know that?”

He grinned, pulling her even closer. “Just happy to have you here.”

After Charles left for his next round of races, life in Monaco settled back into its usual rhythm. The mornings felt quieter without him there to pull her back into bed, and her evenings held a little less warmth without his familiar presence beside her. Still, she filled her days with work, nights with friends, and tried not to think too hard about how easily she missed him.

Charles, however, was determined to make his absence less noticeable. His texts came in constantly—quick messages about his day, random pictures from the track, and even the occasional food pic with captions like, Would be better if you were here to share it.

He called often too, squeezing her into his schedule no matter how busy he was, even if just to say a quick goodnight. But sometimes, especially late at night, his voice would soften over the phone.

“I miss having you around, you know,” he’d say, a hint of a sigh slipping through. “Got so used to having you in my bed, it feels weird to sleep alone now.”

She’d laugh, leaning back in her own bed, wishing he were there to say it in person. “Is that so?” she’d tease, although his words always made her heart flutter a little.

“Yes, it’s terrible,” he said one evening, his voice warm and familiar in her ear. “I’ve been lying here, missing everything about you—your smile, that cute little laugh, even the way you take up half the bed.”

“Excuse me? I do not take up half the bed,” she protested, grinning to herself.

“Oh, you absolutely do. And you’re a pillow thief, by the way,” he shot back playfully.

“Pillow thief?” she scoffed, a laugh slipping out. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who steals all the blankets. How many times did I wake up freezing because of you?”

“Okay, maybe that happened… once or twice,” he admitted, chuckling. “But you didn’t mind, did you? You’d just scoot closer.”

“Maybe,” she replied softly, feeling a warmth spread through her. “Guess you’ll just have to keep missing me then.”

He chuckled, the sound low and full of affection. “I don’t like it,” he murmured. “I think about it way too much, actually… how much I miss having you here.”

The conversations always left her smiling, wrapped in a warmth that kept her thoughts drifting back to him more often than she cared to admit. But every so often, reality would remind her what this was supposed to be—light and casual, no expectations or promises. She tried to keep that in mind, even when he’d text her goodnight with a little heart emoji or send her random selfies, always making sure to stay connected in a way that seemed more than just casual.

One afternoon, scrolling through her social media, she stumbled upon a clip from Charles’s latest interview. Her curiosity piqued, she clicked on it, smiling to herself as she settled into the couch.

The interviewer was smiling, a teasing glint in her eyes. “So, Charles,” she began, leaning in conspiratorially, “there’s been a lot of talk about this mysterious someone you’ve been spending time with in Monaco. Is there a new girlfriend in your life? Will she be at the next race?”

At the mention of girlfriend, her heart skipped, a quiet, hopeful anticipation rising within her. She watched Charles’s reaction closely, waiting to see what he would say.

Charles chuckled, brushing off the question with an easy smile. “Oh, no, nothing like that,” he said lightly. “She’s just a really close friend.”

She blinked, feeling her heart sink just a little. The words just a friend echoed in her mind, leaving a faint sting that she hadn’t expected. She took a steadying breath, reminding herself not to read into it. After all, they’d never defined what they were, and she knew he didn’t mean to hurt her. They’d both agreed to keep things casual, to take it day by day without complicating things.

But as she replayed the clip, she couldn’t deny the tiny pang of disappointment gnawing at her. She tried to brush it off, telling herself she was being silly—after all, they hadn’t talked about being exclusive, and they’d never put a label on whatever this was between them. She hadn’t even thought she wanted one until now, but his words left her feeling strangely empty.

Later that night, as she lay in bed, she tried to shake off the ache. When he called, his usual cheerful voice greeted her, and she did her best to sound normal, even though the thought of just a friend lingered at the back of her mind.

“Hey, you,” he said warmly. “What’s my favorite person up to?”

She bit her lip, feeling the familiar warmth of his words soothe some of her unease. “Oh, you know,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light. “Just laying here, missing my favorite blanket thief.”

He chuckled. “Ah, so you finally admit it—I am your favorite.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” she shot back playfully, though there was a softness in her voice. “I still haven’t forgiven you for stealing my blankets.”

“Is that right?” he said, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “Guess I’ll just have to come back and make it up to you.”

She felt her heart skip a beat, imagining him back here with her. “Hmm, that sounds promising,” she teased, though her words held an honesty she hadn’t intended to let slip.

He paused, his voice softening. “I do miss you, you know. life just isn’t the same without you.”

His words tugged at her heart, leaving her conflicted all over again. She wanted to believe he felt the same way she did, but his casual dismissal earlier had planted a seed of doubt, one that made her wonder if she was letting herself fall for someone who wasn’t ready to catch her.

As they continued talking, she found herself drifting back to his earlier words in the interview, that easy laugh as he brushed off their connection as something platonic. And even though she tried to push it away, a small part of her couldn’t help but wish he’d called her more than just a friend.

When their call ended, she lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, her mind a tangled mess of emotions. She tried to remind herself that they were both free to come and go as they pleased, that neither of them had promised anything more than companionship and a little fun. But her heart had other ideas, leaving her to wrestle with the unsettling feeling that she was beginning to care far more than she should.

And as much as she wanted to ignore it, she knew that what she felt for him had become more than casual.

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[thehereticdiaries]

Into the Wonderland: Chapter Four

Chapter Summary: I'm building plot, it's cute and y/n actually gets a break for once. San's a menace and the alphas are horny bastards but nothing sexual happens YET

Warnings: not much, they talk briefly about kinks and bedroom dynamics but nothing explicit

Series Masterlist

You woke up the next morning later than normal. Thankfully, it was Saturday, which meant no classes to worry about for the next two days. You blinked the remnants of sleep from your eyes, looking up to see Hongjoong awake and scrolling on his phone. You rested your chin on his chest to admire his bedhead while he was still distracted. You only got a moment, though, since he felt you move when you woke up.

“Morning, did you sleep any better last night?” His raspy morning voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“Mhm,” you hid your face in his neck. “No nightmares for the first time in weeks.” 

“Good.” He kissed the top of your head, patting your hip afterward so he could get out of bed. “We should get back to the dorms. The others are worried since I didn’t come back last night.”

“You didn’t tell them?” You sat up and watched him make his way to your bathroom.

“Nope!” You rolled your eyes, checking your notifications before getting up to get dressed. You finished changing just before Hongjoong exited the bathroom. “You ready to go?”

“Actually, I remembered a couple things I wanted to talk to you about. I kinda forgot after doing the pack bond.” He sat next to you on your bed with one hand on your knee. “Okay, my first idea has to do with my apartment. I’m not sure if Mingi told you, but my grandmother gifted it to me. I’m not willing to sell it.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to,” Hongjoong’s eyebrows creased, prompting you to continue.

“Well, I was thinking that since I’m eventually going to move into the dorms with you all,” you didn’t miss the way he sat up straighter at the idea. “We could use my apartment as, like, an extra space for our heats and ruts. Just in case any of us want more privacy.”

“We can talk about it with the rest of the pack when we get back, but I think that’s a great idea,” Hongjoong agreed, tracing circles on your knee.

“The second thing has to do with what me, Seonghwa, and Yeosang discussed back when I first joined. We had a long conversation about our heats and how we handle them and who we handle them with and –”

“Y/N,” he interrupted your rambling. “It’s okay, you can just tell me.”

“I’mstillavirgin,” you muttered way too quickly. He stared at you with one eyebrow raised, silently asking you to repeat yourself. You took a deep breath. Honestly, you didn’t know why you were so nervous to tell him when it was so easy to talk about with the other omegas. “I am still a virgin.” The silence that followed made you anxious, only getting worse when Hongjoong closed his eyes and counted to ten.

“Okay!” He sounded almost too chipper. “That’s fine, no problem.”

“Riiiiiight,” you trailed off, baffled by his reaction. “Uh, that’s everything. We can go back to the dorms now.” You stood, grabbing your backpack and his laptop bag then leaving your apartment.

You and Hongjoong walked into an empty living room. He set both of your bags down, then wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind, effectively hiding your new mark. He covered your ears.

“Everyone in the living room!” He shouted and immediately footsteps approached from all over the dorm. His hands dropped back down to their original spot on your shoulders. One by one, the other pack members filed into the living room. No one sat, too on edge from the head alpha’s disappearance last night.

“Care to explain why you never came back last night?” Seonghwa questioned with a hand on his hip. 

“I’m sure most, if not all of you, have noticed how tired Y/N has been.” Everyone nodded and you hid behind Hongjoong’s arms. You thought you were hiding your exhaustion pretty well. “Our precious little omega has been having nightmares because of her piece of shit classmate.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell us?” Seonghwa’s voice filled with concern as he stepped forward to run a hand through your hair.

“I thought I could handle it, that they’d go away on their own,” you admitted softly, looking up at your elder omega through your lashes. 

“That’s why I didn’t come back last night. We’re not going to let her sleep alone, whether she’s over here or one of us is at her apartment.” Hongjoong flicked his eyes across each of his pack members. He smiled fondly when they all agreed with no hesitation. “How about some good news?” He stepped back, letting his arms fall from you to his sides. You were instantly crowded by the betas and omegas of the group, with San and Jongho lingering a tiny bit further away. 

“Yes! Holy shit, you’re officially ours, dollface,” Wooyoung laughed and ran his fingers over your new mark. Seonghwa swatted his hand away.

“Don’t touch it! It’s still healing,” he scolded the younger beta. Wooyoung held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, jeez.” San rested his chin on Wooyoung’s head to get a better view of your neck. You blushed under all of the attention. In the opposite corner of the room, Hongjoong whispered to Mingi and Yunho. They not-so-subtly glanced over to you every so often. Curiosity got the better of you, and you wormed your way out of the doting hands of Yeosang and Seonghwa. 

“What are we talking about?” You inserted yourself between Hongjoong and Yunho, the latter slinging an arm over your shoulders.

“Hongjoong was just telling us that you asked him to be there for your heat,” Mingi started with a sly grin.

“And that you want his claim during it,” Yunho concluded. You scrunched your eyebrows at them.

“Yeah? I think that’s pretty normal, so why are you guys acting weird?” You looked between the two taller alphas.

“I’m just warning you now: I don’t think either of us will be patient enough to wait until your next heat to add our own claiming marks,” Mingi stated with a shrug. You hummed and leaned into Yunho’s side.

“I wasn’t really expecting you to with how far apart my heats are.”

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong turned your head to him by your chin. 

“Seonghwa and Yeosang didn’t tell you? I’m on a suppressant that pushes them to every three months,” you explained.

“Is that healthy? Why do you need them, anyway?” Yunho asked next, trailing his fingers over your bicep.

“I need them because my heats were excruciatingly painful. Yes, they’re completely safe. The only side effect I really have basically took the pain and turned it to neediness,” you snickered at your attempt at a joke. No one else laughed. In fact, Yunho tensed at your side and Hongjoong had to close his eyes for a few deep breaths again. You looked at Mingi, but he was faring no better, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Okay!” Hongjoong had the same overly chipper tone as earlier that morning. “Thank you for telling us. I gotta go work on that mix more, see you in a bit.” He pecked your forehead then practically sprinted down the hallway, laptop bag in hand. The other two alphas left with similar excuses, leaving you alone in the living room. You were once again baffled by their reactions, and it must have shown on your face.

“Everything alright?” San asked as he re-entered the room. You sat on the couch with a huff. The beta set his gym bag on the counter then took the seat next to you.

“Yeah, I’m just confused, is all.” He arched his brow, gesturing for you to continue. “I’m confused with the way Hongjoong, Yunho, and Mingi reacted to something I said. This morning I told Hongjoong that I’ve never had sex, then just now I told the three of them about my heat suppressants and the way it makes me super needy. All three of them got really quiet and really tense. They’re not upset, are they?”

“Nope,” San managed to say between his giggles. “I promise they’re not mad. They were probably just trying to keep themselves in check.”

“What do you mean?”

“Honey, our pack is entirely doms and switches. Hongjoong has a huge corruption kink. Him, Yunho, and Mingi were holding themselves back from jumping your bones right then and there.” Your jaw dropped at his bluntness. This was interesting.

“Oh, you have to tell me more,” you insisted while poking his ribs. He laughed, gently pushing your hand away.

“Ah-ah, that’s gonna be something you have to discuss with everyone individually.” San checked his watch. “I gotta meet Changbin at the gym soon.” He stood to grab his bag, but paused to smirk at you. “I can give you a hint, though.”

“Yes! Tell me.” San leaned over you, bracing himself on the couch on either side of your head, effectively caging you in.

“Our alphas and your fellow omegas are all mean.” Your breath hitched, both at his proximity and his admission, red coating your cheeks and ears.

“What about you?” 

“Me? I’m one of the nice ones.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips then walked out the door like nothing happened. You gawked at the front door until someone cleared their throat from the hallway. Wooyoung leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“Does he always do that?” You pointed in the direction San went in, assuming he heard enough to know what you were talking about.

“Oh, yes. San is too patient for his own good. He’ll tease you for days just to see you get riled up and desperate for him,” Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows at you. 

“And he says he’s a nice one,” you scoffed, fanning your heated face with your hands. 

“He is, trust me.” With a wink, Wooyoung disappeared back down the hall. You shook your head, no less confused than you were 10 minutes ago. Jongho and Seonghwa passed through the room as you pulled your book out of your backpack. The latter grabbed a list off the fridge, meeting up with Yunho and leaving the dorm. The youngest pack member sat next to you, handing you a water bottle and draping your legs over his lap. You fell into a comfortable silence with the beta, each absorbed in your own activities while enjoying each other’s company.

The next day you woke up with Wooyoung practically on top of you. Last night when you left the dorm, he insisted on being the next one to stay at your apartment. You attempted to wiggle out from under him, making the beta whine in the back of his throat. He wrapped his arms tighter around your middle.

“Wooyoung, let go I have to pee,” you shoved his shoulder half-heartedly. He buried his nose in your hair, pointedly ignoring you. “Wooyoung.”

“Ugh, fine!” He reluctantly let you go so you could both get ready to go back to the dorms. You really need to figure out when you could move in, the back and forth was getting annoying. You barely had a chance to set your backpack on the couch when Yunho grabbed your hand and pulled you right back out the door.

“Yunho, where are we going? I wanted to work on my code,” you complained but didn’t fight him, easily letting him lead you outside where Hongjoong and Mingi waited.

“We,” he started, gesturing between himself and the other alphas. “Are taking you on a date.”

“What?! Why didn’t you tell me, I would’ve dressed nicer!” You looked down at your sweater and jeans.

“You look great, come on,” Hongjoong took your other hand, lacing your fingers together. You walked between the two with Mingi right behind you. It almost felt like you had bodyguards. They guided you through the subway and a short walk later you stared wide-eyed in the lobby of the Seoul Science Center. You, Yunho, and Mingi waited off to the side while Hongjoong got your tickets.

“I’ve never been here,” you grinned while looking through a pamphlet detailing the exhibits. 

“Really? That’s surprising, considering your field of study,” Yunho commented, accepting his ticket when Hongjoong held it out to him. 

For the next couple hours, your alphas followed behind you, listening intently as you gushed over the displays. You were happy to explain anything they didn’t understand and looking up the things that none of you knew. At one point you got stuck trying to figure out how to start a demonstration. You futzed around with the damn thing for nearly fifteen minutes before giving up. A young girl and her father came up beside your group. The girl was maybe ten-years-old at most, but she activated the demo in about three seconds. You collectively decided to browse the gift shop after that.

It was late in the afternoon when you returned to the dorms. You went to collapse onto the couch, groaning dramatically at Mingi pulling you into the kitchen to place you on the counter and stand between your legs.

“You’re letting them get away with too much,” Seonghwa remarked on his way into the living room. “Remember to share. You guys have had her all day.”

“Five more minutes, then she’s all yours,” Hongjoong responded as he and Yunho joined the two of you. 

“Any reason why I’m still being held hostage?” You raised an eyebrow at them.

“Kiss,” was the only explanation you got before Mingi dipped down to connect his lips to yours. One hand held the back of your neck, the other resting on the counter next to your thigh. His tongue slipped into your mouth, running along yours before pulling away with a light nip to your bottom lip. Satisfied with your dazed expression, Mingi gave you another quick kiss then left so Yunho could take his place.

“Did you have fun today?” He cupped your cheek with one hand, brushing his thumb over the flushed skin. You nodded rapidly, pressing your forehead to his. “Good.” The force of his kiss contrasted the gentle touches he trailed across your neck and hip. He licked into your mouth, guiding your tongue to his so he could suck on it. A string of saliva connected you when he pulled back to kiss down your jaw and neck. Hongjoong growled in warning when Yunho got too close to your mating gland. The younger alpha rolled his eyes, shooting you a wink before following Mingi’s path further into the dorms.

“Don’t be mean,” you tried to scold Hongjoong but your smile took the sting out of it. He pressed himself into you, pulling your legs to wrap around his waist.

“Oh, you haven’t seen mean yet, babe,” he smirked, eyes intense and lips ghosting over yours. You inhaled sharply to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape your throat. His mouth devoured yours, all tongue and teeth. Hongjoong’s self-restraint frayed at the edges as he allowed himself to roll his hips against yours once, just to hear your tiny moan. He tore himself away from you, leaning closer to your ear.

“I need to stop it here, my pretty omega. Or I’m gonna end up fucking you on the counter,” his voice sent a shiver through your body. 

“W-why can’t you?” You stammered and scratched his scalp at the base of his neck. He sent you a warning look that only succeeded at sending a rush of heat to your lower belly.

“The first time I fuck you is going to be during your heat,” he stated firmly. 

“But why?” Your whine was cut off by Hongjoong gripping your jaw. 

“Don’t argue. You should know this, sweetheart. We produce the strongest bond that way. Understand?” You pouted, but nodded against his hold. His eyes softened immediately. “Good girl. Go give some love to the others.” You tried to keep the praise from going to your head while he lifted you off the counter. At the doorway of the kitchen, Hongjoong steered you to the living room with a pat to your backside. 

“Finally!” Seonghwa quipped, pulling you to sit on his lap when you were close enough. His arms draped lazily around your waist. Yeosang scooted closer to maneuver your legs over his lap, resting his head on the eldest’s shoulder. “Are you staying here tonight or going back to your apartment?”

“As much as I’d like to stay here, all of my school stuff is back at mine. We gotta figure out when I can move in, and what room I’d be moving into,” you noted offhandedly. 

“Hmm, your heat’s in two weeks. Do you want to wait until after to talk about it with everyone?” Yeosang suggested.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you agreed and relaxed into Seonghwa’s chest to watch a movie that Jongho put on. After dinner, you and San returned to your apartment. You fell asleep that night tucked safely under the beta’s chin.

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

Series Taglist: @popcatx0 @m00njinnie @awkward-fucking-thing @fr34k4c1dr41n @nchhuhi @pixie0627

[leqclerc]

I honestly can’t believe I’m making a post like this but it’s impossible to pretend it’s just another race weekend and my life is continuing on as normal when it’s not.

Last night I lost my beloved dad, completely unexpectedly. He wasn’t battling an ongoing illness, but thankfully it wasn’t a tragic accident – his body just shut down and he never woke up from his afternoon nap. Just like that, gone far too soon and unfairly young.

I’m a very private and honestly quite shy and introverted person and I always tried to keep my private life from bleeding over excessively onto here, or my online persona in general, as online communities, and particularly the fandom here on Tumblr, though not always perfect, are my means of escape, a way to channel my passion, and all the intense feelings that come from following F1. But I can’t bear to say nothing about this at all and pretend all is well, when a big part of my F1 watching rituals was my dad.

There’s just three of us in our immediate family: me, my mom, and my dad. We functioned as a trio, as a close-knit team. It wasn’t always perfect, but we complemented each other; balanced each other out. When I got too high-strung or stressed he’d offer solace, advice, his sharp wit and incredible sense of humour.

Whenever we were at home we’d sit down and watch the races together. He wasn’t as deeply invested as I was – which sometimes irked me, like when he’d doze off in the middle of a “boring” race – but he was very knowledgable. He knew who my favourites were, of course, and always kept an eye out for them, how they were doing. It was incredible to have someone to react with, to discuss with, to talk strategy with, to laugh with. For the past ten years it’s been our ritual. We’d get the snacks out, get the broadcast on, and watch together. A lot of my feverish liveblogs were created during these watch sessions. He was there as I experienced some of the most beautiful and heartbreaking moments in the sport. He knew how much it meant to me and even if he wasn’t as much of a fan as I was, he did it all because he knew how much it meant to me. He knew I would check the schedule and we’d plan our family Saturday shopping trips around the calendar, as much as we could, so we’d always be back in time for qualifying. He was there with me for every race, even the early morning ones. When we weren’t at home and I had to watch the race “in the wild” he’d do everything to facilitate that. When we were apart and couldn’t watch together he’d text me about the races, or talk it over later on a phone call.

Over the past two years we visited Monaco and Maranello together, and I couldn’t be more grateful that he insisted on it, even when we had to travel far, even when it wasn’t convenient and we were about to take it off the list. He always found a way to make things work – for me. Because he knew I cared and he knew it would make me happy, that they were my little dream trips. Me and my mom were his whole world and he always did everything to put us first, to make sure we felt it.

I feel empty and numb. I lost a piece of myself that I can never ever get back. I lost an incredible dad and a true, loyal friend. I’m grateful for all the moments we shared and heartbroken for the ones that will never be. We were supposed to have so much more time. Watching races will never be the same again. Nothing will ever be the same again. I will miss him more than words could ever express. I love you, I miss you.

[heretoobsessstuff]

A little snippet from my "Babe can I call" WIP

(5 times John calls Gale in the middle of the night and one time Gale does instead"

Fourth time he called Gale in the middle of the night, he had a nightmare.

It was always different variations of the same scenario. He would be running through the forest, Germans following him, shooting behind him. They would catch him and knock him out. He would open his eyes and be back on that cart, the guy beside him mumbling prayers under his breath. He would turn to tell him to shut up and instead he would be met with Gale’s face, pasty and pale, blood coating the side of his face, dead. Sometimes there would be a bullet wound between his eyes, sometimes his head would be bashed in, sometimes Bucky couldn’t tell what had happened. Only that he was dead. 

He would usually wake up in a frenzy, panting like he had just run a hundred miles, clothes dripping with sweat. It would take him a while to get out of his head. He would gulp down a glass of water and close his eyes, reminding himself that those things didn’t happen. Gale wasn’t with him on the cart. He didn’t get shot or have his head bashed in with a shovel. He wasn’t there in that forest. It would take him a while but he would eventually calm down and either go back to sleep or smoke his way through a pack of lucky strikes. He would resist the urge to call Gale in the middle of the night  just to hear his voice. The morning would come and things would feel better.

This one was different. He was in London, back in the base, walking towards the barracks with his heart pounding. The air was thick with a sense of impending doom. He had a newspaper clutched in his fist , fingers grazing the line "30 bombers lost".

He swung open the door to see a faceless man in Gale’s bunk instead of him. He approached him with fear pooling in his gut. Hands shaking where he clutched the newspaper. “ Where’s Gale?” He asked. The guy frowned at him like he was crazy and said “Don’t you remember? Gale is dead” 

The grief had him by the throat when he woke up. He felt disoriented, he didn’t know whether he was in stalag or back in london. He didn’t know what time it was. He only knew that Gale was dead. He was dead.

[spiderb00]

Care and love - Manon Bannerman

Manon Bannerman X Reader  Synopsis - Your girlfriend had the most stressful day of all, the least you could do was treat her like a princess.  Genre – Fluff  a/n - honestly, I found it all so cute, I want a Manon for me :( (request)

Manon had had one of the most stressful days of her life, all she wanted was to get home and rest. As soon as Manon woke up, she saw that her day was going to be bad, she spilled coffee on her new shirt, was late for her appointment, and couldn't keep up with the girls' rhythm in the new choreography they were rehearsing. Manon was quickly frustrated, wishing that this day would end as soon as possible.  

It was only when she saw a message from you coming that she seemed to let out a breath of air that she didn't even know it held. Your message was simple, nothing out of the ordinary, just a "Hello my love, how is your day going?", that was enough for Manon to want to cry right there. 

Composing herself, the girl sent an objective message, she was too tired to type anything at that moment. So, knowing your girlfriend well, you knew something was wrong when she just replied with "I'll be at 10."  

When Manon opened the door to your apartment, with the copy of the key you had given her, you were in the kitchen, finishing dinner. Manon walked to where you were quickly, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her head on your shoulder blades. The girl stayed there for a long time, the two of you silent, just enjoying each other's warmth.   

"Hard day?" You asked, finally turning around and facing the shorter girl, Manon's hands still on your hips.   

"You can't even imagine. I kind of wanted to cry..." She says, as she passes her hands relaxedly up and down your skin.   

"Do you still want it?" You asked, of course if she wanted you would be her shoulder, where she could leave all the frustrations of that day.   

"Actually, I just want to take a shower, and be close to you." Manon says, intertwining her hands with yours.   

"Alright, I see, I've got you darling." You said, pulling away slightly, making Manon curious.   

Returning minutes later, you directed the girl to your bathroom, where she saw everything you had prepared for her. The bathtub was full, there were bath salts and lots of foam, scented candles were mirrored everywhere illuminating the bathroom, and music played softly over the speakers.   

 Again, Manon felt like crying, but not the one she had felt all day, no, this was more like a cry of joy, she was very excited to have a person who cared so much about her to do such a thing.   

"Oh my love, you didn't have to do that." She said, tears in her eyes as she stood facing you, standing on tiptoe and pulling you in for a light kiss.   

"I wanted to, besides, you deserve this, you're exhausted." You said as you guided her to take off her clothes.   

"Can you do just one more thing for me?" Manon asked unsurely.  

"Whatever you want my love." You say, looking at her with a smile that Manon found comforting.   

"Can you help me take the braids off? They're really starting to bother me now." She said, getting into the tub, you follow right behind.   

"Anything for you." You said, positioning yourself behind Manon.  

Now, Manon had her back pressed against your front, her braids slowly being delicately undone by you. Your hands seemed so soft that the girl swore she could sleep there, that moment seemed like calm in the middle of all the chaos she experienced earlier.   

When all her braids had been undone, you slowly got up from the tub, between kisses and caresses, you both put on your pajamas and soon after you were having dinner in front of the television, where Manon's favorite program was on.   

After you've washed all the dinner dishes, you and Manon immediately headed towards the bedroom, where the curly girl lay comfortably on your chest.   

"Thank you." Manon said softly.   

"You don't have to thank me, I love you, I'll do it as many times as you need." You said, kissing her forehead and pulling her to snuggle closer.  

A few minutes later, all you could hear was your girlfriend's soft breathing, and it was there, listening to her relaxed, that you fell asleep. 

hihi, here I am after my relatives left

[hungermakesmonsters]

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Thirteen

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smut with a capital S. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.8k

A/N : If you don't like cliffhangers, all I can say is I'm sorry...

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE

Master List

Chapter Thirteen

Then it’ll just be me and you.

Those words played over and over as you fell asleep that night. Some part of you knew you were setting yourself up for heartbreak if you dared to believe him, but a much louder part didn’t care. It had been so long since you’d had anyone in your life, so long since you’d trusted anyone. 

You’d never told anyone about your past before him, never told anyone what you’d done or what was done to you. No one else knew you like he did, and you were starting to think that you were the only one who really knew him. 

At least, no one else seemed to know this version of him.

This version of Billy was, for all intents and purposes, yours.

He was yours.

It was a terrifying thought and you still weren’t entirely sure how it had come to that. You hadn’t looked for it, hadn’t wanted it but, there you were, wrapped up in Billy’s arms, not wanting him to ever let go.

He fell asleep first which, given his injuries, wasn’t surprising. It was strange but, once you started thinking about it, you weren’t sure if Billy had actually slept in your bed since that first night he’d stayed. Usually you fell asleep first and always found him already awake when you woke.

Now, sleeping in your arms, he looked almost peaceful, the most at rest you’d ever really seen him. And it was nice (at least, when you willfully ignored the fact that he had stitches in his side, that you’d put there not thirty minutes before). Seeing him that way made things finally feel real between you, like a line had been irrevocably crossed, like you were in too deep to even think about backing out again.

You held him tight, wondering what the future might hold as you slowly drifted off.

It wasn’t until light was starting to peek through the window that you felt him stir and heard a broken mutter tear from his lips.

Your eyes opened and you lifted your head, looking at him and seeing that same pained expression on his face you’d seen the first time you caught him in the clutches of a nightmare. But this time you knew you couldn’t slip away and pretend you hadn’t seen anything - if only because you didn’t want to risk him thrashing about and tearing open his stitches.

“No -” he gasped, his whole body twitching. “No!”

“Billy,” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder and softly shaking him. “Hey, Billy, it’s just a dream. It’s okay.”

His eyes opened and he drew a sharp breath. For a moment he seemed lost, like he didn’t know where he was or maybe he thought he was still trapped in the dream, but then he saw you and his expression softened.

“Kitten?” His voice was scratchy, dry, and for reasons you didn’t entirely understand, hearing his morning voice made you feel warm inside.

“You were having a nightmare.”

Billy looked up at you, a flicker of defensiveness crossing his features, but he decided against denying what you’d seen.

“Did I wake you?” He asked, and you shrugged. “I’m sorry, kitten.”

You wanted to say something, to tell him it was okay or, at least, tell him you were glad you woke up before he could hurt himself, but Billy’s hand found your cheek and before you could even think, he was closing the distance to kiss you. And you sank into his lips, losing yourself in a sleepy but tender kiss, taking care not to agitate the already scabbed split lip.

When he finally pulled back, your fingers slipped through his hair, brushing it back away from his face.

“Thank you. For looking after me last night,” he said as his head dropped back onto the pillow.

“You don’t have to thank me, just promise me it’ll never happen again.”

“I promise. I - I’m gonna take care of things,” Billy said.

“What you said last night; that you were going to fix then and then it’d just be me and you...”

There was a question in there somewhere, you just weren’t sure how to ask it. Or, maybe you were too scared to ask it, too scared to think about a future that neither of you had really planned for.

“I think I might have to leave New York - at least for a little while - but I want you to come with me,” Billy answered.

Of course, you knew the rational response was to tell him no, to tell him he was being insane. You couldn’t just pack up your life and leave town with a guy you hardly knew, a criminal, a wanted murderer. But the words wouldn’t come and, instead, you fell into an uneasy silence.

“Is that a no?” He asked after a few awkward seconds.

“It’s... I don’t know...”

You braced yourself, expecting - you weren’t even sure what. Anger? Disappointment? But when had Billy ever really shown you anything like that? When had he ever tried to force you to do anything? Never. Even through his stalking of you and all his talk of changing your mind, it was his actions, not his words that helped you change your mind about him.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to decide right away,” he answered.

The next half an hour was spent in his arms dozing and trading more lazy kisses until, finally, your empty stomach started to grumble and you decided that you really should make sure Billy ate something.

Setting foot in the kitchen reminded you of the events of the night before and the mess you hadn’t cleaned up; the first aid kit and bloody towels still on the floor. 

Without a word, Billy started to tidy up as you headed for the coffee. It struck you that you hadn’t asked how he was, if his injuries were hurting. And, even after having that realisation, you didn’t ask. It wasn’t that you didn’t care or didn’t want to know, you just... didn’t want to think about it. You didn’t want to remember having to sew up what you were pretty certain was a knife wound.

You filled the coffee pot and set about making pancakes. While you were no Martha Stewart, you knew your way around a frying pan well enough to make enough pancakes for you and Billy to share.

“This is nice,” he said, smiling softly across the table as you ate.

“Yeah,” you agreed. Because it was, even if it was also a strange thing to be experiencing with him for the first time.

“Only thing that would make it better is a view,” he said, continuing when you shot him a questioning look, “mountains or maybe a lake. Or a place on the coast. A little cabin in the middle of nowhere, with a porch where we could sit and have breakfast.”

You couldn't stop the smirk that spread across your lips.

“What?” He asked, fighting off a smirk of his own.

“I don’t know, it just seems very... domestic for both of us.”

Billy let out a laugh and you barely stifled yours by lifting your coffee mug to your lips. You didn’t want to admit it but it sounded nice, like something you could want.

“I think...” he started before, uncharacteristically trailing off, almost seeming uncertain of himself for a second, “... I think I’d like something domestic. I mean... if it was with you...”

Again, you found your lips covered by your mug, not sure if the smile on your lips was genuine or nervous. His words had butterflies taking flight in your stomach. With anyone else, you’d assume it was just a line, but Billy seemed so uncertain that he was even capable of that and you knew he wasn’t just saying it.

After breakfast, you found him an old sweatshirt, a big thing you’d bought for yourself from the menswear department to wear during last winter. The dark red suited him, and you had half a mind to tell him to keep it.

Then, your sweet and domestic morning was over. Billy was heading towards the door, still looking somewhat worse for where but, instead of walking out the door, he stopped and turned to you.

“Thank you,” he said, “for everything. I know you never asked for any of this...”

You took a step forward, confused by the sudden change in him.

“Being with you, being able to be like... like this, I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before,” he continued. “I don’t remember ever feeling like I belonged before you, not even with Frank and his family. So, thank you.”

For a few seconds you stood in a stunned sort of silence, and Billy seemed to take that silence to mean that you had nothing to say. Panic rattled in your chest as he started to turn towards the door.

“Wait,” you said, already starting to clear the distance between you as Billy stopped and turned back towards you. “Why does this feel like goodbye?”

Before you could think to stop yourself or bring yourself to care, your fingers were around his wrist, holding him, stopping him from just walking out and leaving things like that.

“Careful, kitten. I might start thinking you’re falling for me,” he responded with a gentle smile, completely dodging the question.

The panic continued to grow as he gave a little tug against your grip, like he was trying to slip away from you, and you just couldn’t fight the feeling that it might be the last time that you ever saw him. Your mind raced over everything he’d said, about how you could be together... after he fixed things. After he took care of things.

You’d been so stuck on the you and me part of things that you hadn’t even considered what needed to be fixed and how he was going to go about it, but now there was no stopping the sinking sensation in your gut.

Unconsciously, your fingers tightened around his wrist.

“Don’t go,” you pleaded. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to -”

He cut you off with a kiss, his body desperately crashing into yours. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of the red sweater and, before you knew what you were doing, you had started pulling him back into the apartment and towards your bedroom.

“I’ve been waiting months for you to ask me to stay. For you to want me to stay,” he muttered against your lips, not giving you a chance to respond to his confession before pulling you into another devouring kiss.

His hands pulled at your clothes, as yours did his, both finally giving in to the need that had been building since the first night you’d shared together. Your fingers ran down his bare chest, over the bandages, to his jeans, tugging open the fastenings, eliciting an eager sound from Billy, while he was busy trying to pull your slip over your head.

An awkward shuffle ensued as he kicked out of his boots, and he let out a low groan against your lips as your hand gripped his cock, starting to stroke and letting out an eager sound of your own as you felt him grow hard.

All you knew in that moment was that you wanted him. You craved him, hungered for him, feeling as you felt yesterday morning. You wanted to hold him tight, claw at his skin and make a place for yourself beneath his ribs.

It felt like the floodgates had opened, that all the thoughts and feelings you’d spent years denying yourself, years telling yourself that you could have, were all rushing to the surface.

You pushed Billy backwards onto the bed and followed him down, swallowing down any complaints he might have with another kiss. Suddenly you were put in mind of that moment weeks ago, when you'd accused him fucking you like you only existed for his pleasure. In retrospect you hated that you'd said it, that you'd dare to even think it because, even now, as he kissed you and held you, you knew that he had your pleasure in mind just as much as his own.

Right then, you were the one who wanted to fuck Billy and have him that way, you need for him overwhelming any other more rational thought.

Your lips pulled from his, trailing a searing path from his lips, along his jaw and down his neck. He groaned as you sank lower, as you dragged lips and tongue over his chest and stomach, doing your best to avoid his bandages, moving to settle yourself between his legs.

“Did I die last night?” He muttered. “Because I think I've gone to heaven.”

You might have laughed if you weren't at eye level with his cock. Your hand slipped around him again and gave a squeeze, pulling another groan from him. Billy bit his lip as he looked at you and you could tell he was craving the exact same thing as you. 

Slowly, you started to move your hand, stroking his shaft, feeling him grow harder still. Your eyes dropped, taking in the sight of him and the way his cock was already leaking for you.

Leaning you ran your tongue up him from root to tip. The sound that spilled from him had your thighs clenching. Never in your life had a man made such a desperate sound for you, and you found yourself wanting more. You wanted everything. Every desperate look, every weak and eager moan. The way his breath caught and the way he said your name like you were all he was capable of thinking about.

It made you feel powerful and in control, it made you feel strong in a way you’d never experience before. And if you could turn a man like Billy to putty with just a swipe of your tongue, well, you quickly came to wonder just what else you could do.

Parting your lips, you kept your eyes on him as you took him into your mouth. Billy inhaled sharply, swearing as your lips slowly slipped down the length of his cock to where your hand still rested.

You’d always enjoyed doing this, always enjoyed knowing that you could control a man’s pleasure and decide just how much you wanted to please him and how; hard and fast to blow his mind, or slow and sensual to make sure he came back for more. But, with Billy, you found that you wanted both. You wanted everything.

You wanted to drive him crazy, for him to have an experience like no other, but you also wanted him to come back. No. Not come back. You wanted him to stay.

A soft moan was muffled by his cock as you started to move, not too fast but fast enough to really get him going, fast enough to make him think you were pushing him towards sweet oblivion.

Your hand gripped his thigh and you were almost surprised when one of his own hands covered yours, like he just needed to touch you. Turning your hand, you took hold of his hand, and let slip another moan when you felt his other hand lightly gripping your hair.

He wasn’t used to this, you decided. Billy obviously wasn’t used to giving up control, and that he was giving it up to you had to mean something. For a second you faltered, remembering that he was just like you, that he had been hurt too, and you wondered if the loss of power in the situation was making him uncomfortable. But one look at Billy told you that he was anything but uncomfortable.

After a few minutes your mouth pulled away from him, though your hand continued to stroke his spit-slicked cock.

“Are you enjoying this?” You asked in the most sultry voice you could manage, smirking up at him.

Billy seemed to struggle for an answer for a moment, left so scattered and unfocused by your actions.

“Yeah, kitten. I’m really fucking enjoying it,” he said breathlessly.

“Good.”

You let him slip between your lips again, this time using your tongue, tracing the vein on the underside of his cock as you sank lower and lower. Your hand moved out of the way and you tried to relax your throat, taking him as deep as you could, blinking back tears when he nudged the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

His hips moved seemingly of their own accord, bucking upwards,forcing more of his length into your mouth, pushing his tip down the back of your throat. You whined at the sensation but didn’t pull back.

“Fuck... I’m close,” he groaned.

Those words from any other man would have marked the end, you’d have pulled away and made sure to finish him with your hand, but this was Billy. Whatever there was between you, you didn’t want to pull away, didn’t want to leave things feeling only half finished. So, you doubled down, starting to bob your head faster while you continued to tease him with your tongue.

Billy gave a grunt and one final warning, that you chose to ignore, before you felt him pulse and spill in your mouth. You stayed where you were, watching him as his eyes closed and his chest shuddered. It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

You didn’t pull back until he was done, swallowing down every last drop before letting his cock fall from your lips.

The look on his face quickly became one of sheer astonishment.

“You are so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his hand giving yours a squeeze.

“I know.” A smirk spread across your lips.

You waited a moment before slowly crawling back up the bed, over his body, keeping his hand in your as you did. Lingering over him, you lips inches from his you found yourself getting lost in his dark eyes wondering what a future with him would hold and if everyone morning could be like this one.

“You’re thinking too much,” Billy said, lifting his head, closing the distance so he could kiss you.

“How do you know?” You muttered into the kiss.

“I can hear the cogs turning,” he answered, his lips pulling into a smile against yours.

A laugh escaped you, and you felt a warmth spread through your whole body, a feeling of happiness, of belonging that you weren’t sure you’d ever really felt before.

“Maybe you should do something about it,” you told him before gently nipping his bottom lip, still trying to be mindful of his freshly scabbed-over split lip.

You expected a joke, or some sort of response, instead Billy flipped you onto your back, kissing you deeply, roughly, giving you a glimpse of the dominance you knew was lurking beneath the surface just waiting to be released.

He pressed himself between your thighs as he kissed you, his cock still hard. A whine spilled from you and your back arched, betraying your desperation as Billy’s lips began to move down your neck. He mirrored your previous actions, though he took far more time descending your body, letting his lips and tongue explore your breasts, teasing each nipple into an aching, hardened peak before continuing downwards.

Billy shot you a playful look before running his tongue around your navel, giving you a hint of what was to come.

Yes, you thought to yourself, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips and tongue against your core again. You were already wet for him, already feeling needy and so ready for anything that would follow.

His teeth nipped at your hips before he started to suck a love bite into your skin.

“Mine,” he said.

And you didn’t dare correct him.

By the time he was between your lips, close enough that you could feel his hot breath on your sensitive flesh, you were already trembling.

You held your breath and stared down at him, and an eager plea managed to escape you; “please, Billy.”

Billy obliged.

You moaned as fingers parted your folds and he lowered his head.

There was no slow and gentle teasing, there was no gradual build up - it would have been pointless anyway, you already felt halfway to orgasm before he’d even touched you

He started with long strokes along your slit and up to your clit, letting out hungry, filthy groans at the taste of your arousal.

The rhythm of his tongue was relentless, pulling breathy moans from you with every swipe. He ate  pussy like a starving man, a man possessed of a hunger he just couldn’t sate. The thought might have made you laugh at any other time, but the only sounds you were capable of making were those mewling moans that made you sound just as hungry as him.

Fingers dipped inside you, eagerly curling, already knowing exactly how to touch you. In the few times that you’d allowed him to do this, Billy had already learned you inside and out, and there was no doubt in your mind that, this time, this was just foreplay.

Billy was going to fuck you again.

“Billy,” you gasped and writhed under his attention, your fingers tangling in his hair as you ground your hips against his face. “Fuck, that feels so good...”

You couldn’t see it but you were sure you felt his lips pull into a smirk against you.

Whether he’d intended to or not, there was no doubt in your mind that Billy had ruined you for anyone but him. Your toes curled and your grip on his hair tightened. You barely even realised it but you were letting out desperate whines and moans, crying his name and begging him not to stop.

Soon enough pressure was coiling inside you, and you were pushed closer and closer to the edge by his fingers and tongue. The moment he nipped at your throbbing clitwith his teeth, you were a goner, panting and gasping between your cries as you came undone. Your whole body shook from it, violent tremors sparking from your core and racing you and down your spine. 

You continued to shudder and shiver beneath him as he moved back up the bed, his fingers gripping your chin lightly, forcing you to look at him. His lips and chin were wet, covered in your arousal, and there was no sexier sight in your mind.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked.

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation. 

But Billy didn’t move, instead he seemed to be caught in some thought that he couldn’t quite escape from.

“I don’t want it to be just about my pleasure,” he told you.

Something inside you ached, hurt that he remembered those words you’d spoken to him in anger. You shook your head.

“It’s not - it won’t be,” you said. “I want this, Billy. I want you. The real you.”

You wanted the dominant Billy, the one that made you question your boundaries, the one that made you feel alive and possessed, the Billy who made you feel like no one else ever could.

He still didn’t move, so you reached between your bodies and took his cock in your hands, teasing the tip between your folds.

“Please, Billy - fuck, I need you...”

It sounded desperate, pathetic even, but there was no lie in the words. You did need him. You needed this - whatever the fuck this even was.

His free hand gripping your hip and, before you could even think, his hips were moving. You cried out as his cock filled you in one hard thrust, your back arching up to meet him.

“Fuck,” you moaned, pressing your head back against the pillow, as far as his grip on your chin would allow.

“I knew you liked it rough,” he said, smirking down at you.

It took you a couple of seconds to get over the fact that he was buried to the hilt inside you, and to get used to the feeling, but not as long as you might have thought.

“Are you gonna tease me or fuck me?” You answered back, your playful challenge letting him know that you wanted him to fuck you. You wanted him to do what he wanted.

The fingers on your hip tightened, holding you in place as he moved a little, giving a couple of slow, shallow thrusts, before almost pulling out of you completely. You breath caught in your chest but was quickly expelled as he slammed into you again.

Your arms wrapped around him and held on for dear life as Billy started to fuck you, the hard and fast motion of his cock inside you, more than enough to have you letting out whines and moans of pleasure, your eyes quickly threatening to roll back in your head.

Months of frustration came to the fore and, despite how overwhelmed you felt, your hips started to move, bucking up to meet his every thrust. You felt indestructible in that moment, completely unbreakable.

He kissed you, dominating your mouth while he fucked you senseless. And you let him. No, you encouraged him. You wanted it, needed it, craved it. There was no going back, not after this.

“Oh fuck - fuck!”

It crept up on you from nowhere, driven to another orgasm by him and everything he was doing to you. Your thighs trembled violently against his and your back bowed off the bed, but Billy didn’t slow even for a moment. He fucked you through the heights of your pleasure before hish hands started to pull at your legs, pulling them upwards, bending you beneath him so your ass and lower back were no longer on the bed.

As he continued to move inside you, you felt him sinking deeper, an awkward mixture of pleasure and almost-discomfort filling you as the tip of his cock nudged your cervix. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, “your mine, kitten.”

You didn’t have the chance to answer. Any thought you might have had was cut short the moment you felt his cock hit that special, sensitive spot inside you. His name spilled from your lips as a plea and a prayer, begging him for more of the same. And Billy didn’t disappoint.

He easily forced you to come again, leaving you sopping wet around him, enough that every movement filled the room with a slick sound that might have embarrassed you with any other man. But, with the look on Billy’s face, you were anything but embarrassed. In fact, you were almost proud of the effect you were having on him.

His thrusts became rougher and more stilted and you could tell her was chasing his end as your walls continued to flutter and pulse around him. But that wasn’t enough for Billy.

“Billy!” You cried out as you felt his thumb against your clit, rubbing the swollen bundle of nerves as he continued to fuck you.

“One more, kitten,” he groaned through gritted teeth. “Need you to come one more time.”

Not that you had much say in the matter. If you’d been able to speak, you would have sworn until you were blue in the face that you couldn’t come again, but less than a minute later, you felt that coiling tension again.

Your whole body tensed, every muscle seeming ready to snap as you came for him again, your pussy clenching around his cock so tight that Billy swore. And, a moment later, he was following you over the edge and into oblivion.

It wasn’t until he came that you realised he wasn’t wearing a condom but by then it was too late and you didn’t care. You couldn’t care. You were too fucked-out to even thinking about it beyond knowing you’d need to get the morning after pill. He continued to move, hips jerking roughly against yours, forcing himself into the deepest part of you as he emptied himself. You barely realised that you were moaning his name, over and over, clinging to him and holding him tight, losing yourself in the feelings that you’d spent months denying.

“You’re mine,” he grunted as he finally stilled inside you, his cock buried deep.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t deny it.

In some ways you knew it was true.

He lowered your legs and practically collapsed on top of you, trailing lazy and wet kisses over every inch of skin his mouth came across, while you wrapped your arms tightly around him. You closed your eyes, basking in the afterglow, enjoying the sudden stillness, and the feeling of your bodies still intimately joined.

“You okay?” He asked softly, nuzzling his face against your neck, not seeming to care that you felt like a sweaty and gross mess after all of that.

You gave a gentle hum in response, which clearly wasn’t enough for Billy. His head lifted and he looked at you before he repeated the question.

“Yeah, Billy, I’m good,” you told him.

“It wasn’t... too much?”

Again, something ached inside you. You hated that you were the cause of his doubts and insecurities.

“Billy, I - “ you shook your head, “- no, it wasn’t too much. It was just enough. It was... amazing.”

He smiled as you reached for him, cupping his cheek and tenderly running your thumb over his scarred skin. You leaned up to press a chaste and tender kiss to his lips, smiling softly as the gentle sound that escaped him.

“Good. I only ever want to make you happy.”

“Then stay with me,” you said, remembering exactly what had brought you to this moment in the first place.

“I - I will, but there’s something I have to do first.”

You couldn’t believe that that was the conversation you were having, especially while he was still buried inside you.

“Can - can you just hold me for a little while?” You asked.

There was obviously no point in trying to stop him from leaving, but you knew that you could slow his departure, even if it was just for a little while. Billy didn’t give an answer, instead he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you to feel that slow trickle of his cum between your legs while he settled beside you and gathered you up in his arms.

Somehow, despite everything, you managed to drift off for a little while, held safely in his arms.

But the perfect moment couldn’t last forever.

Billy roused you after forty or so minutes, telling you that he needed to go. You both moved slowly as you got out of bed, dressing as if it was the last thing you wanted to do. Then, you found yourself at the door again, this time in Billy’s arms, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’ll be back. Then we can decide what comes next,” he said.

You nodded but found yourself lost for words until the door was open and he was stepping though. “Be careful, Billy. Please.”

For a second, he paused, no doubt because of the tremor in your voice, but instead of stepping back into the apartment and restarting the whole process all over again, Billy nodded.

Then he was gone.

Fighting, inexplicable tears, you closed the door and headed to the bathroom to shower before ending up back in bed, laying and staring up at the ceiling for a couple of hours until your phone started to vibrate.

“Jenna, what’s -” you started, but Jenna didn’t give you a chance to speak.

“Don’t come into work tonight.”

“What? Why?” Your heart started to pound nervously beneath your ribs.

“The Homeland Agent has been back, asking about Billy... and asking about you,” Jenna said, a seldom heard worry in her voice.

“What about me?”

“I don’t know, Sam said someone - some agent - was asking questions, wanting to know your full name, where you lived, stuff like that.”

Fuck. You felt your chest tighten, your lungs already feeling like they were on fire.

“What did he tell her?” You dared to ask, though you dreaded the answer.

“That he didn’t know - ‘cause he doesn’t, right? He only knows what you’ve told him.”

Thank fuck for that. One of the many reasons you’d taken the job at Sam’s was that he didn’t ask questions; he didn’t care who you were or where you were from as long as you could pull a pint and wouldn’t dip your fingers into the register.

“Fuck, Jenna, what am I gonna do?” You asked, voice trembling, betraying your fear.

“I don’t know, just - just hang tight for a few days, I’ll tell Sam you had a family emergency out of state or something,” Jenna  offered.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just - just be safe, okay?”

“I will.”

The call ended, leaving you filled with dread and panic. Immediately, you tried to call Billy, but there was no response.

You thought about grabbing your bag from the wardrobe and leaving everything behind but, for the first time in your life, you felt like you had real reasons to stay; Billy and Jenna. 

There was no resting, no sitting still as the afternoon gave way to evening. Jenna texted you to let you know that Sam thought you were in Oregon with family, helping arrange a funeral but, other than that, you heard nothing. You tried Billy a few more times but got no answer.

Every noise outside had you on your feet, expecting a knock at the door - or for someone to knock down the door - but it never came.

By the time your phone did ring, you were so fraught that you almost jumped out of your skin.

Billy. It was Billy.

“Billy, I tried to call, Agent Madani is -”

Something stopped you, some horrible noise; a sharp but struggled intake of breath.

“Billy?”

“Kitten, I -” he started, his voice sounding weak, like he was in pain, “- I... I’m sorry.”

Already there were tears in the corners of your eyes and your mind started to race over every worst case scenario you could think of.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on, Billy?”

“It’s all fucked up, I - I thought I could reason with him...”

“Frank? You went to see Frank?”

There was no point trying to hide the panic you were feeling. Every time you’d seen Billy after run-ins with Frank, he’d been left a mess.

“I wanted an end to it but -” he let out a hiss of pain.

“Billy, what’s wrong?” you asked again, desperate for an answer that would assuage all your fears.

“Kitten, I - I think I’m dying...”

End Note : Okay, so, this chapter got longer than intended (lbr it's because of all the smut) so next week will be the last full chapter, but there is also an epilogue planned. I'd say I'm sorry about the cliffhanger ending, but we all know by now that I enjoy leaving you hanging for a week.

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt (and on AO3 at some point in the hours after).

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[gojoscinnamonroll]

i wish i could forget what you did last december...

cw: sukuna angst, mentions of death & infidelity, sfw

it was december 23rd, and you were laying in bed moping over your first love, ryomen sukuna. it had been a year since you and your ex had called it quits, and it doesn't help that you've known the stubborn and selfish boy your whole life.

the two of you had always been inseparable since a young age despite your differences. he first came up to you at the park at the age of 5 when you were bawling your eyes out because your doll had broken it’s arm and offered you his robot toy. "tch. stop crying and take this, have it. you shouldn't cry, it makes you look weak." the bratty little boy extending an arm out to you to hand you the toy. "what are you playing anyway?" sniffling and taking the robot from his hands, you gave him a toothy grin telling him how you were playing castle.

and since that moment, the two of you were always together everywhere. all through out the school years and even into university. always at each other's houses every weekend and sometimes, for days on end. and when the holiday season came around every year? you two were practically attached at the hip. christmas was never really his thing— mostly because he didn’t understand what a big deal it was, but he knew how special it was to you so he was always by your side to celebrate with and for you. along the way, maybe sometime during one of the many decembers spent together over the years, you both had realized the feelings for each other were deeper than you both thought. however, the romantic feelings grown for each other always ended up being suppressed due to one factor— fear.

when sukuna had lost his parents during his third year, it was hard on him and it took a toll on him mentally. he had basically moved in with your family. taking care of him, giving him a place to stay, and giving him comfort. for that, (though he would never say it) he was eternally grateful but he lived in terror of letting you know his true feelings for you because he thought that in this sick and twisted world, if he was loud about what he loved, the world would take that away.

eventually, sukuna did overcome his worry for his love for you, confessing how he felt at a temple in the winter and was just as relieved when you admitted your mutual warmness for him. your relationship with him began blossoming beautifully, healing him from the pain and darkness he was fighting prior, and as if you two weren't already entwined enough, it was increased tenfold.

"we belong together. you know that? you are not to ever leave me woman. i would not know this thing called life without you.” leaving a kiss on your forehead as he embraced you. "yeah yeah, think we knew that from the start when you gave me your robot toy when you were a bratty little kid." you giggled as you hugged him tighter and he rolls his eyes hiding the slight blush on his cheeks.

until one night when attending a christmas eve party, you got up to grab another drink and came back to a scene that shattered your heart into pieces just like the glass that slipped from your hand... he was kissing somebody else??? arms around the other like nothing?? "i- i don't understand? did he just forget about me? w-what.." your heart and mind racing a million thoughts at once, but you did know one thing for sure... to get the hell out of there. you grabbed your stuff, tears falling from your eyes uncontrollably as you called a friend to come pick you up and take you home since he was the one that drove and you were already a few drinks in.

when you got home, you didn't even bother to call or text him because of all the sadness and rage you were spewing out. you were also a very emotional person, so you knew speaking to him in this state of mind was going to get you nowhere. drained from all the events of the night, you passed out on your bed and woke up the next morning with 50 missed calls, 20 text messages from sukuna and a knock on the door of your apartment. you opened the door automatically knowing who it was and told him, “it’s over ryomen. you can have her. don’t ever contact me again. forget about me. we clearly don’t belong together.” he tried to hold the door open with force to prevent you from closing it, in hopes you would hear him out. "listen, it was a mistake, you have to hear me-" you cut him off. "go away. i don't want to hear what lame made-up, kiss butt, sorry excuse you got." you said coldly and slammed the door in his face, all the memories from the night prior replaying in your mind as you sobbed on your cold floor.

it was difficult for the two of you to deal with. not only because it was over between you and your boyfriend, but also because it was the end of a friendship with your best friend that you’ve known since forever. you struggled with accepting it was true but you knew you should’ve also known better because he was a mess. a beautiful one at that, one that only you could understand. difficult for him because he thought that the universe and world was being cruel to him all over again for taking what he loved the most and what all he’s ever known away from him again. but maybe it was time for the two of you to go your own ways and discover that maybe there was more to this world than just the two of you.

so once you’ve finally came around to that conclusion, deciding maybe it was time to start seeing other people and probably give your heart to someone else, find somebody special who is not him, hoping it would save you from tears and more heartache. you tried it. over and over. but nobody could ever get you or know you like he did. so you just gave up. and you hated it even more that this had happened during your favorite holiday which sukuna knew it was.

which brings you to where you are now, wondering how sukuna is doing even though you knew you shouldn’t. you couldn’t help it no matter how hard you tried. after all, he was your soulmate, your childhood best friend, the one who helped you through it all. as you lay on your bed staring at the lights of your christmas tree, deep in thought, you shed a few burning tears as you cried out, “damn it ryo, why the hell did you have to ruin everything last december, you know this is the time of year we are supposed to do everything together. you broke my heart with no warning, left me a freaking mess, you-“

you hear a knock on your door and wiped your tears away with your sweater sleeve as you sat up in your bed. “who could be out there in the middle of a snowstorm right now??” you thought as you open the door to see him standing before you. “apologies for pestering you at a time like this. mind if i come in?”

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