#listen we all know what i said happens if i love a man enough

[disastrouslyyours]

Gentle

1400 words of me writing self indulgent fluff with my favorite husband. <3

no big cw apply, just domestic mushy gushy couple stuff and some implied suggestiveness

It was evident in the creases of his crow’s feet, the folds of his laugh lines, the dusty rose color on his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Yet so exceedingly stubborn, refusing to admit to the sensations my curious fingers caused him. He held his breath, digging deep to steel himself from the swirls I drew under his chin. Pressing a kiss to the same spot earned a soft sigh, one that could be interpreted any number of ways. He returns the sentiment with a kiss to my forehead. By wrapping his arms tighter around me he holds me closer, preventing any further exploration.

This was not the first time I had tested him while cuddling close after an evening together. Several times now had I been invited over to his home, several more has he been dragged up to my apartment. With the latter being the setting for this particular night, I felt emboldened by my home field advantage. While being squished up against him, I move my hands to rest on the back of his shoulders. Tracing around the outline of his shoulder blades results in a sharp inhale accompanied by his muscles constricting. He kisses the side of my neck, lingering just long enough to hear me giggle. I let him think he’s successfully distracted me, resting my hands on the small of his back. More slow, sweet, languid kisses follow the first one. I allow myself to laugh, almost as if to show him that it’s okay. He’s well aware that it is, greedily taking more of me as his fingers skitter up and down my sides. I melt into him, pliable beneath his hands, my lack of resistance a welcomed and familiar sign.

He always interrupts me in this way, flipping the script and turning the attention away from him. While I usually let him get away with his ploy, happy to bask in the affection he so readily offers, I’m not satisfied with this turn of events tonight. I’ve ruled out every other possibility for his reactions. It isn’t that Gray doesn’t want to be touched, for clearly he finds every excuse to be as close to me as possible. I can see his brain turn to mush whenever I play with his hair, curl around his arm, or even kiss his cheek. I swear that sometimes I even see steam come out of his ears, his eyes turning into little swirls as he malfunctions at my touch. It also isn’t that he’s experiencing pain, because he would just tell me if I hit a sore spot. He has a recurring knot in his shoulder, prone to wincing if he’s had a long day at work and likely to ask me to soothe the inflamed muscle. Therefore only one explanation exists for his reactions, one reason why he’d be so staunchly against drawing attention to himself.

I call him a handsome man, his favorite title, and he hums as I kiss the center of his throat. The subtle yet deliberate tilt of his head allows me to continue to lull him into a false sense of security, indulging him with more kisses down towards his collarbone. His skin is always so strangely cool, so much so that when I remove my hand from the small of his back I can feel the resonating heat I’ve transferred from my palms. His hands have settled against me, his thumb gingerly rubbing against my side in a soothing manner. I build up his trust again by keeping my hand as still as possible, kissing my way back up until I find his lips. Lips that, despite the rest of his body being a frigid landscape, are always warm. Maybe because he can rarely keep them off of me when we’re together like this. I let myself get lost in them for a moment, but make sure not to lose my goal. After a few more moments, once he’s relaxed completely, I seek the confirmation I need.

Three gentle squeezes to the soft muscle of his stomach is all it takes, three curls of my fingers grants me the greatest gift. Gray laughs, his lips parting between mine to let the sound bubble out. His hand immediately holds mine hostage, removing it from his person.

“You’re ticklish, Mr. Sterling.”

“Catherine.” He interrupts, squeezing my hand and ignoring the slight crack in his voice. “Do not.”

“Do not what?” I don’t wait for a reply, my free hand sneaking its way to his side to gently knead against it. Another laugh rises to the surface from his lungs, but he’s quick to steel himself again. He now holds both of my hands in one of his, sternly putting an end to my antics.

“No.” Is all he says, then presses an apologetic kiss to my forehead. I pout, crestfallen by his cold response. It didn’t feel right, he seemed to be hiding something, but what did I know? After having known each other for almost a year by now, there was still so much mystery to the man lying next to me. He sighs and releases hands, tilting my chin up so that I’d meet his gaze.

“Darling…” He runs his thumb along my cheek, and I lean against his hand. “… please don’t look so sad.”

I frown up at him. “You’re not being fair, Gray. You do this to me all the time.”

“That’s different.”

“How?” He doesn’t answer, but he does blush a soft pink color. “Literally how? It’s not like it’s a bad thing… I happen to think it’s cute.”

Several emotions flash across his soft gray eyes as they search my own. His silence unnerves me, makes my heart race anxiously.

“Maybe more than cute, if I’m being honest.”

My throat dries up as he continues to just look at me. He kisses me, but his pensive expression stays on his face. He drops my hands and my gaze. I want to give him space, respect his need to think, but I’m impatient.

“Look, if you don’t tell me what’s going on in that enigmatic mind of yours, I’ll coax it out of you.” I curl my fingers under his chin and he frowns.

“Catherine.”

I’ve never heard him say my name in such an icy way before. He’s issued it as a warning, sure, but those three syllables have always been warm and gentle underneath his stern facade. He sounds exasperated, frustrated even, and I stay silent. I fold my arms across my chest and inch back slightly, creating physical space between us. His expression turns to one of panic as he assess the distance between us.

“Darling, please…” He whispers, pulling me closer to him again and resting his chin on my head. “Please… just be gentle.”

I take a full beat to process his words. His fingers stroke my hair, slowly and methodically, as if to soothe the both of us. My heart leaps into my throat and I try not to sound too hopeful with my reply.

“Gentle…? As in… you’re good as long as I’m gentle?”

He kisses the top of my head and whispers in the affirmative. “Gentle.”

That single word strikes a match, promptly tossing it into the vat of gasoline pooling in my heart. I trail a single finger across his stomach and he shivers.

“Like this?” I murmur against his neck, and I can feel the way he holds his laughter in his throat.

“Be nice.” His words are shaky, almost breathless.

“I’m always nice to you, Gray Sterling.”

It takes another moment of exploration, but once all five fingers have made contact with his skin, Gray is giggling against my hair. The sound nearly makes my heart burst, and I maintain a slow, gentle pace to keep my promise to be gentle. I kiss under his chin and he hiccups, my heart nearly stopping entirely. With my fingers still moving, and even my opposite hand joining in, I test to see if he’ll let me keep kissing him there. The results of which yield a melting, pliable man in my arms, his lack of resistance unfamiliar yet very, very welcomed.

[shikai-the-storyteller]

I always tell my littlest cousins stories before bedtime (usually about gods and myths) but occasionally I tell them an original story, and I'm listening back to a recording I made the one time I thought to record myself telling one and I'm like "Wow, I’m actually a really good frickin storyteller."

(Yes, I’m a professional writer, but sometimes it’s nice to be reminded that I’m good at what I do.)

[somnoir]

Gotham's newest Crime Lord - part 3

Part 2 | Masterpost

"You know your way around the city." Dan commented, eyes narrowed once he realizes that Kitty and Johnny adapted a little too well to Gotham. Going to places even he didn't know existed, exploring and giving them intel he never realized was relevant. They knew history of Gotham in a way a local would. 

Johnny shrugged, turning back to Kitty who welcomed Ember with a bright smile. The two were squealing, talking about how they were going to help mess with Firefly after burning down a well-loved studio down town. 

For Dan, he wasn't going to intrude too much on his former rogues but... "You're from Gotham. Both of you." 

Johnny twitched, watching as Shadow moved to play with Elle in the air. 

"Yeah, we’re not too sure if our folks are still kickin’, but Kitty and me took off after they flipped over our thing. This place still gives me the heebie-jeebies, but hey, you guys are here. Gotham’s cool these days with all the furries and rogues runnin’ around." Johnny laughed, his cocky nature still burning bright, even when he looked almost melancholic at the memory of this place. 

No ghost was truly comfortable in their hometown, whether they died there or not. This was where they were born, where their lives began. 

"I see..." Dan mumbled, glancing to the space where Danny was usually in. His younger brother was off doing kingly duties again, slumped by work and the Observants pestering him about shit. 

There's a quiet knock on his door and Jeremy was poking his head into the room again. The ghosts didn't even care, continuing to be visible and floating around. Discomfort and a bit of fear was clear on the man's face but he turned to Dante with as much courage as he could muster. 

"Boss, we've got a lead on the missing kids." 

Ah, yes. The recent disappearances of children. He doesn't know where they go, what happens to them. All he knows is that children were picked of the streets and never to be seen again. 

"Someone's been takin' kids?" Kitty grimaced, not minding how Jeremy shuddered. "Dan, dear, darling! Send me and Johnny. We know this city better than Batman and his little birdies."

Again, Dan sighed. "Gimme a minute, Kitty. Not enough information." He grunts, turning to Jeremy to hand him the report. 

"Anything else?"

"Well... About the Bats..."

"They snoopin' around again?" 

"Trynna sniff out Phantom." Jeremy shrugs. "Red Hood's been pretty active. Heard he's been wonderin' about Phantom not visitin' the kids last week." 

"Thanks Jeremy. Tell Marigold I said hi." 

"Will do, boss!" 

Once Jeremy left, the other ghosts were swarming Dan like bees. Their eyes glittering with anticipation, excitement, and vengeance. It felt strange for them to pay attention, to follow him. Danny's always felt like the better leader, struggling and suffering in the role yet rising above it all. That was why he was the king now. 

"Alright, let's get to work. Most of these kids have one thing in common. Their skills. Flexible, acrobatic, and have some sort of combat training. Usually in self defence." Dan plugged in the USB into his laptop, projecting the screen on to the tv. "The latest disappearance is Layla Smithson. Fourteen. Gymnast and was sent to take taekwondo classes by her parents. Before that was Evan Chavez. Another gymnast but was also known to get into multiple fights."

"So whoever is takin' the kiddies, they go after the ones with pretty good skills." Ember hummed, turning to Kitty and then nudging her. "You've got anything to say about that?" 

"Well... Maybe." Johnny shrugs too. 

"Ooh! What about that nursery rhyme every Gothamites gets to listen. Y'know. About the court."

Dan frowned. "What court?" 

"The court of owls!" Kitty grinned, "Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadowy perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send the Talon for your head." 

"Who the fuck uses that kind of shit for a nursery rhyme?" Dan scowled, but considered the possibility. "Any idea if they're real."

"Very." Johnny warned, "When Kitty and I died, we came back here a couple of times. Explored the place and tried to dig up secrets that would have killed us if we were livin'. One of 'em was the court. A secret society of a bunch off rich bastards."

"Johnny," Dan warned, knowing that something was still being kept from him. 

"There's another thing..." Johnny hesitated but Kitty took his hand and continued. 

Kitty grimaced, "The Court of Owls has a bunch of soldiers. They got this chemical they use on people, turnin’ ‘em into their own assassins. From what me and Johnny dug up a while back, these assassins were trained when they were kids. They call 'em Talons."

Dan wanted to yell, scream. Burn down the cursed with it's cursed bricks. Fuck. Fuck. Was the world always so shitty? 

"You're telling me... There's an entire secret society that uses chemicals to turn children into assassins?" 

Children.... Fucking children. They were weaponizing kids!

Ancients, he might just commit mass genocide again. 

"Alright. Alright. We leave the living people out of this. The court? Their talons? I want all of you prepared. I'm gonna contact Danny to drag Skulker and Wulf's asses here immediately."

Elle grinned, "GRAB AMORPHO TOO! We're gonna need his help if we want to dismantle the court."

The office is vacated quickly, with Elle dragging Ember and Kitty for girl time and Johnny runs off with shadow. Dan is left alone, frustrated at the new information before he does his best to summon his brother, the very annoyed ghost king that appears before him in full royal regalia. 

"A bit busy, Dan. Still tryin' to fight the laughing magician to help with getting rid of the Anti-Ecto Acts. Constantine is running around trying to destroy the GIW now." 

Dan snorted. He knew about John Constantine. The crazy motherfucker who's soul fragments were scattered around and Danny had to deal with the paperwork and mission to collect them all. 

"I know, yeah, sorry. I get that's important. But we've got a situation here."

"What would that be?"

"Secret society of rich fruitloops that are worse than Vlad. They're kidnapping children and making them into brainless assassins."

Immediately, the room grows colder than the far frozen. Danny's eyes are as green as they could ever be, but his pupils were an icy blue that would have made Frostbite shudder. 

"What do you need?"

"Skulker, Wulf, and Amorpho." 

"I'll send them on your way. They'll be here within 3 hours." Danny sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I'll finish up things on my end to help."

"Sure thing, twerp."

"Fuck you." Fondly. 

"Fuck you too." Affectionately.

"OH! Your revenant was looking for you." 

"THE SEXY RED HOOD WAS LOOKING FOR ME?!" 

It was an entire week of silence. Of Wraith not doing anything at all. Even the rogues felt apprehensive to act on anything after Wraith's new subordinates started popping up to pester them. The reports were the same. Distorted footage, meta-human abilities, and a ridiculous amount of chaos. 

Apparently, Two face has waged war on one of them, named Ember. Riddler was also ready to throw hands with Specter. And then Harley and Ivy were hunting down a couple names Kitty and Johnny 13. Why they were named that, none of them knew. But considering Wraith and Phantom's titles, the entire group was Ghost themed. The majority of Gotham have taken to calling them the Ghosts. 

But then...

"Bruce... Get a look at this." Barbara's voice shook, horrified as she stared at the screen. Majority of the family was already in the cave, preparing to patrol once more. But their eyes were drawn to the screen. They all froze, struggling to fathom what the fuck was it they were looking. 

"Holy shit." 

Everyone was frozen, staring at the clear, untampered screen. 

Bruce sucked in a deep breath, reading the bloody message written on the wall of... He couldn't recognize it properly. "Farewell to the Court of Owls that once watched from their shadowy perch. Their talons covered in the blood of children they once purge. Farewell to their judge, the parliament says goodbye. To Talons, to owls, the ghosts says hi." 

And right beside the message was the hanging body of what Bruce recognized was the Judge of the Court of Owls. 

The Court of was in ruins. 

"Holy shit. HOLY SHIT!" Tim screeched, almost stumbling as he stared at the morbid message. "The Wraith and his ghosts took out the fucking court."

There was a loud rev of an engine, momentarily dragging their attention to Jason who was hurriedly getting of his bike and taking of his helmet. "Fuck, you've already seen it."

"You saw it in real life?! Where the fuck is that? The location is distorted but the entire thing is being broadcasted to the entirety of Gotham." 

"There are two of 'em. That one's on the clocktower."

Barbara snapped her head towards him, "MY clocktower?!" 

"Sorry 'bour that Barbie. But it got the job done for them, all of Gotham know about the court now."

Bruce grimaced, "And the other location?" 

"Arkham... The Talon is the one being hanged up there. The message is shorter: Bye-Bye owls. Shouldn't have messed with the dead." Jason clicked his tongue, "That's either about the fact that the court has been messing with the dead or it's cause Wraith's group is called the Ghosts." 

Jason shook his head, knowing for the fact that he'd have to track down Phantom soon. His eyes turned towards Dick, who stared at the screen as if a burden was just freed from him. Jason thinks it has. 

They had found out about the Court a little while ago, then found out about Dick's situation with them. How the circus he grew up in was one of the facilities that groomed Talons. How Dick was supposed to be recruited as one when his parents died. 

"Dick?" Jason murmured, gently taking Dick's hand. The other man jolted, his domino mask hiding whatever emotions there was in his eyes. 

"Little Wing..." 

"C'mon. Let's go grab some of Alfred's cookies. The rest of the family can deal with this." Jason quickly hurried his older brother out the cave, urging him to change our of his suit. 

Dick, once again, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, struggled to understand that his nightmare that was the Court was finally dead. Most likely slaughtered by the hands of a new crime lord, a rogue that seemed desperate to keep children safe. He held the tea tightly, closing his eyes as Jason sat opposite to him. 

The court was dead. 

Talon was dead. 

"I'm gonna go look for Phantom in a bit." Jason hummed, trying to appear comforting to Dick. 

And the image of the Judge of the court's body hanging from the clocktower flashes in his head again. 

"Jason." Dick whispered, "Get me a meeting with Wraith."

"What?" Jason blinked, "Dickie, no. Wraith might seem like a pretty nice guy with how he's protecting the kids, but he's still..." He paused, "He's still like me." 

"I need to meet him, Jaybird. I need to confirm that the Court is gone for good. He's the only one who can do that for me." 

"Why would Phantom even let you meet him?"

Dick frowned, sucking in a deep breath before taking Jason's hands. 

"Tell him that Nightwing was supposed to be a Talon."

Part 4 | Masterpost

[moondancediner]

Love of my Life

summary: the dagger squad meets hangman's best-kept secret

jake seresin x reader

word count: 1490

warnings: no editing, fluff

a/n: this popped into my head the other night... enjoy! also this gif makes me CHOKE ohmylord

song rec: love of my life - harry styles

masterlist

It wasn’t on purpose. Nights when you and Jake ended up at the same bar were never planned, mostly because your friends from work always wanted to go somewhere downtown, and Jake’s friends from work always wanted to go to the Hard Deck so there was never a chance for the two groups to intersect. 

Tonight, however, your friends had enough of hearing about all your nights at the Hard Deck with your fighter pilot husband who drops by work every once and a while with lunch or a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. They decided to venture out to the Hard Deck tonight for your monthly get-together and you weren’t going to miss an opportunity to ogle at your husband from across the bar while he played darts and pool with his Dagger Squad friends who just so happened to be in town visiting. 

And that’s exactly where you found yourself on this lovely Friday night. Your friend walked over to your standing table with another drink for you and you thanked her with a smile. She immediately started diving into some workplace gossip, keeping her voice quiet since so many of your colleagues had managed to make it out tonight. You half-listened to her go on how bad the break room refrigerator smelled the other day but your real focus was on Jake who was playing pool with Phoenix, Fanboy, and Bob. He had Bob on his team and you were surprised to see him actually give the man a chance to play without correcting or coaching him. 

You knew all about the Dagger Squad, when Jake was first sent out here you followed him, even knowing this wouldn’t be a permanent duty station, and he talked about everyone he was competing against non stop. From the moment he came home after training you were getting a full rundown of the days happening (you were sworn to secrecy of the top secret events, of course). You learned quickly who was who, even if you never got the opportunity to meet them. 

After the mission, you were pulling out boxes and getting ready to move what little belongings you brought over to the island when Jake came home and surprised you to your core. He accepted a teaching position here on the North Island and you were staying for the foreseeable future. 

You were shocked but over the moon. Jake would be in one spot for at least a couple years and wouldn’t be off on deployments and missions so often. You could start a family and he could actually be there for all of it. 

“Hello? Anybody home?” A hand waving in front of your face brought you out of memories and a trance you hadn’t realized you were in. You laughed and smiled at your friend, but not before catching the eye of Phoenix, who totally caught you staring at Jake. 

“Sorry, sorry, got a little lost there.” You waved her hand out of your face and took another sip from your drink. 

“I’ll say,” she laughed, “I mean, I get it.” Her eyebrows wagged and you laughed heartily, throwing your head back. She was always complimenting your choice of husband and you had to agree with her, he was fine as hell. 

“Fuck, I think one of his friends just caught me staring,” you said once the laughter died down. 

“Remind me again why he doesn’t tell them about you?” 

“It started off as a joke,” you start, “he wanted to see how long it would take one of them to notice, and now it’s just an ongoing bet we have.” 

“A bet I am about to win, by the way.” Jake suddenly appears behind you and you’re happy to see him until his words sink in.

“You’re not allowed to interfere!” You point at him and he just laughs. 

“No interference, I promise.” He leans on the table you two are standing at and you almost forget about the bet for a second because his green eyes still captivate you even after all this time. 

“Well, what are you doing over here then?”

“See now, that’s where it gets interesting because someone caught you looking at me,” he tips his beer over in the direction of his friends, who scatter like chickens when you turn your head to look at them, “and they bet me $20 that I couldn’t walk over here and get your phone number.” 

“Hmmm, seems like fair play to me.” Your friend interjects, looking contemplatively between you and your cheating husband. 

A noise comes out of your mouth, somewhere between disbelief and betrayal. You only had one month left before the bet was yours and you could claim your prize and now this happens, the perfect opportunity falls right into Jake’s lap. 

“Did none of them notice the giant ring on my finger?” You hold up your wedding rings, which glint even in the dim bar lighting and Jake takes your fingers in his hand, bending them towards himself before placing a kiss on your knuckles. You swoon. It’s impossible not to. “Don’t try to distract me, you’re in trouble.” 

“Come on darlin’,” His hand fell away from yours but moved slyly around your hip, where it curled around the belt loops of your shorts, and just then, while his face was inching towards yours, your wedding song came on. 

“When did this song get added to the jukebox?” 

“I may have put in a special request.” His smile did you in. You met him halfway and when your lips met that familiar kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight. Jake pulled away just to smile at you some more before pressing a few quick kisses to your lips. When he backed away enough, you took the chance to look over his shoulder and see what his friends thought. 

The entire group was standing around, completely gobsmacked at what just occurred and you could only imagine what was running through their minds. 

“After you, Mrs. Seresin,” Jake whispered in your ear. You gave him the best glare you could but he just laughed and grabbed your hand to walk you over to the group of people you already felt like you knew. 

Jake chuckled as you got within ear shot. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet someone,” he pulled you under his arm and you automatically slid your own across his back, “this is my wife.” He said it with genuine pride, a stark contrast to his usual cocky tone everyone was used to. 

“Wife?” Rooster repeated, dumbfounded.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Bradshaw.”

You ignored Jake and introduced yourself to everyone with a quick wave. “It’s nice to finally meet you all.” 

There was a beat of silence while you watched everyone process what was happening, but Phoenix broke it with a laugh. “You’ve been holding out on us, Bagman!” 

“Yeah, what the hell, man!” Rooster seemed downright offended that Jake would keep such a secret from them and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“It’s not all Jake’s fault,” You come to his defense, “we had a bet going, which I just lost.” 

“What bet did you two have?” Bob asked, coming forward to introduce himself to you properly. 

You shook his outstretched hand, smiling. “We wanted to see how long it would take for someone to figure out he was married.”

“You… you don’t wear a wedding ring?” Rooster seemed to be having the hardest time with this revelation and it was cracking you up. 

Jake pulled his dog tags out from under his shirt, proudly turning them around to display his gold wedding band that perfectly matched the one around your finger. They both belonged to his grandparents and he was so proud to give you his grandmother's band on your wedding day. 

Phoenix studied the two of you for a moment, watched the way you started to sway to a song and Jake immediately joined in, watched how his attention always drifted back to you, and how his entire cocky dimenor melted away as soon as you were near. 

“So, what’s the story? How did you manage to bag Hangman?” Natasha asked, leaning her hands on the pool cue in front of her. 

Jake pretended to be offended. “I’m not that wild.” 

You roll your eyes affectionately before diving into the story of how you and Jake met. It was nothing spectacular or anything you would want to make a movie about, but it was a whirlwind romance that ended in the two of you married in the Seresin family’s backyard three summers ago. 

When you finished your story, all smiles for your husband, Rooster raised his beer in a toast. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Seresin.” 

Jake couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to let the team in on his best-kept secret, even if he was gonna pay for her losing the bet later on tonight. 

---

thanks for reading ily

Requests are open 🫶🏻

[pucksandpower]

Love Again

Charles Leclerc x widow!Reader

Summary: you never thought you would be able to let someone else into your heart after your husband passed away, but when a bucket list your husband left you to fulfill inadvertently leads you straight into Charles’ path, you learn exactly what it means to love again

Warnings: death of significant other

The funeral is everything you expected it to be and nothing like you imagined. The church is suffocatingly full, every pew occupied, and the walls themselves seem to press in on you.

You sit in the front row, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, knuckles white against the black fabric of your dress. You haven’t said a word since you walked into the church, since you caught sight of the casket at the front, draped in a flag. You can’t speak because if you open your mouth, you’re certain you’ll break apart.

You focus on the details instead. The way the flowers — lilies, his favorite — are arranged with too much precision. The way the air smells faintly of old wood and incense. The way the murmur of the crowd sounds like it’s coming from underwater. Your head is spinning, but your body is still, a statue carved out of grief and shock.

You hear the scrape of a chair being moved and look up just in time to see the man taking the pulpit. You recognize him, vaguely, as someone from the organization — Doctors Without Borders. He was there when it happened. He was there with him.

He clears his throat, glances down at a piece of paper in his hand, then up at the crowd. “I’m not sure I have the right words for this,” he begins, his voice low and trembling just enough to be noticeable. “But I’ll try.”

You hate him a little for that — for having to try. You don’t want him to try. You want him to fail, to stumble over his words, to not be able to get them out. But he doesn’t. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“James was ... the best of us. You all know that. He was selfless, tireless. He didn’t just want to save lives — he did it. Every day. In the most dangerous places, under the most terrifying conditions. He was a healer in the truest sense of the word.” The man’s voice catches for a second, but he pushes through it. “And he was my friend.”

You flinch at that, a sharp pain slicing through your chest.

“He saved us that day,” the man says. “He saved all of us.”

The church is so quiet now, you could hear a pin drop. You can’t take your eyes off the man at the pulpit. You want him to stop talking. You want him to stop telling you things you can’t bear to hear. But he doesn’t stop.

“We were in the middle of the compound when the shelling started. It came out of nowhere. One minute we were patching up a kid who’d been hit by shrapnel, and the next, the whole world was exploding around us. We were trapped. There was no way out.” The man’s voice lowers, almost like he’s talking to himself now. “But James ... James didn’t hesitate. He ran toward the blast, toward the fire. He pulled people out, dragged them to safety.”

A tear slips down your cheek, and you swipe it away angrily.

“He was hit by the last shell,” the man continues, his voice trembling now. “He was trying to get one of the nurses out. She was trapped under some debris. He managed to free her, but then the shell hit, and ...” The man’s voice falters, and he closes his eyes for a moment. “He didn’t make it.”

There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, a ripple of shock that moves through the room like a wave. You feel it crash over you, pulling you under. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You can’t do anything but sit there and listen as the man finishes his eulogy.

“He died a hero,” the man says, his voice breaking. “He died saving lives, the way he always wanted to. And I ... I don’t know how to make sense of it. I don’t know how to make it okay.”

He steps back from the pulpit, his head bowed, and there’s a moment of silence so thick, it’s suffocating. You feel like you’re drowning, like the walls of the church are closing in on you. You need to get out, but you can’t move. You’re frozen in place, trapped in your grief.

Finally, you manage to take a breath, and it feels like your lungs are on fire. You get to your feet, unsteady, and start to make your way down the aisle. You can feel the eyes of everyone in the church on you, but you don’t care. You need to get out. You need air.

You push through the heavy wooden doors and stumble out into the daylight, gasping for breath like you’ve been underwater for hours. The sky is too blue, the sun too bright. Everything is too much.

You lean against the wall of the church, pressing your forehead to the cool stone, trying to steady yourself. But the tears come anyway, hard and fast, and you can’t stop them. You don’t even try.

You don’t know how long you stand there, sobbing into the wall, but eventually, you hear footsteps behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is — your husband’s best friend.

“Hey.” His voice is soft, hesitant.

You don’t respond. You can’t. You just keep crying.

“I ... I’m so sorry,” he says. He steps closer, and you can feel the warmth of his presence beside you. “I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say,” you manage to choke out, your voice raw.

He’s silent for a moment, and then he takes a deep breath. “James ... he gave me something. To give to you. In case ... in case something happened.”

You turn to look at him, your vision blurred by tears. He’s holding an envelope, white and plain, with your name on it in James’ handwriting. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“He asked me to give it to you,” he says, holding the envelope out to you. “But only when you’re ready.”

You stare at the envelope like it’s a bomb about to go off. You don’t want to take it. You don’t want to know what’s inside. But you reach for it anyway, your hand shaking.

“Take your time,” he says softly. “There’s no rush.”

You nod, clutching the envelope to your chest like it’s a lifeline. You can’t bring yourself to open it, not yet. You don’t even know if you ever will.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He nods, his eyes full of sympathy and something else — something you can’t quite place. “I’m here if you need anything,” he says. “Anything at all.”

You nod again, not trusting yourself to speak. He lingers for a moment, like he wants to say something more, but then he just gives you a small, sad smile and walks away.

You watch him go, the envelope still clutched tightly in your hand, and you feel the weight of it like a stone in your chest. You know that whatever’s inside is going to change everything, and you’re not sure you’re ready for that.

But you don’t have a choice.

***

The envelope sits in the top drawer of your nightstand, hidden beneath an old notebook and a stack of receipts you keep meaning to throw away. It’s been there for over a year, untouched.

Some days, you forget about it entirely, letting the routine of work and lonely dinners numb the ache in your chest. But most days, it lingers in the back of your mind, a quiet hum of guilt and grief that you can’t quite shake.

You know you’re supposed to open it — James left it for you, after all. But every time you reach for the drawer, your hand hovers just above the handle, frozen. Because what if the letter makes it worse? What if the words on the paper bring everything crashing back down on you, when you’ve spent so long trying to build yourself back up?

So you leave it. Days turn into weeks, and then months, until a whole year has passed. Friends have stopped asking how you’re doing, their well-meaning calls and texts fading away into awkward silence. You don’t blame them. It’s not like you’ve been much of a person to be around.

But today, for some reason, you can’t ignore it any longer.

It’s raining outside, the kind of steady drizzle that makes the world feel smaller, quieter. You sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the drawer like it’s going to open itself. The house is still, too still, and the sound of the rain against the window only amplifies the silence.

Your hand trembles as you pull the drawer open. The envelope is right where you left it, the edges slightly yellowed now, but the ink still bold and clear: your name, in James’ handwriting. Seeing it sends a pang through your chest, like someone’s reached inside and squeezed your heart.

You sit there for a long time, just holding it. It’s ridiculous, really. It’s just paper. But it feels heavier than anything you’ve ever held.

“Just open it,” you whisper to yourself, but the words feel hollow, like they belong to someone else.

Finally, with a shaky breath, you tear the seal.

Inside, there’s a folded letter. Beneath it, another piece of paper — something thicker. You hesitate, then unfold the letter first. The handwriting is familiar, the slant of the letters uniquely his. You read it slowly, your eyes scanning the words with a mix of dread and longing.

My love,

If you’re reading this, then I’m not there with you. And I’m so, so sorry for that.

I wish I could tell you how much I wanted to come home. How much I needed to come home to you. But I know that wherever I am now, I’m still with you in some way. I have to believe that. Otherwise, I think I’d lose my mind.

This is the part where I’m supposed to tell you to be strong, to keep living your life. And you will. I know you will. But it’s okay to fall apart first. It’s okay to break, to cry, to scream at the universe for being so damn unfair. I would.

There are so many things I wish we could’ve done together, so many things we talked about but never got the chance to do. So I’m leaving you with something. A list. It’s not a list of things you have to do — it’s a list of things I wish we could’ve experienced together. But more than that, it’s a list of things I want you to experience. For both of us.

The first one’s a bit selfish. But the last one ... that one’s for you.

I love you more than words can ever say. And if there’s any way for me to still be with you, to still be a part of your life, then I hope this is it.

Yours always,

Jamie

By the time you finish reading, tears blur your vision, dripping silently onto the letter. You wipe at your face, but the tears just keep coming. His words cut through you, raw and tender, like a wound that’s never fully healed.

You sit there for what feels like hours, the rain outside matching the rhythm of your sobs. It’s only after you’ve cried yourself out that you remember the second piece of paper, still folded in the envelope.

With a shaky breath, you unfold it.

It’s a bucket list. Five items, written in James’ scrawled handwriting. Your heart clenches as you read them, one by one.

1. Go to an F1 race. You know how much I wanted to see one in person. Do this for me. I want you to feel the rush, the excitement. It’s something I never got to experience, and I want you to feel it for both of us.

2. Visit that little café in Paris we always talked about. The one by the Seine with the red awning. We were supposed to go there on our honeymoon, remember? Have a coffee, eat too many croissants. Just sit there and watch the world go by.

3. Take a road trip with no destination in mind. Just drive. Don’t plan anything. Turn down random roads, get lost, stay in tiny motels, and eat at diners where they don’t know your name. I always wanted to do that with you.

4. Dance in the rain. We talked about doing it, but we never did. Just let go and do it. Don’t care if people are watching. Don’t worry about looking silly. Just feel the rain and think of me.

5. Find love again. I know this one is hard, and I know you might not want to think about it right now. But promise me that one day, when you’re ready, you’ll open your heart again. It doesn’t have to be soon. It doesn’t have to be anyone like me. But don’t close yourself off to it. You deserve that kind of happiness.

You sit there, staring at the list, your chest tight and your hands trembling. It’s so ... James. The way he could be both lighthearted and deeply thoughtful, the way he always wanted you to live fully, even if he couldn’t anymore.

But how can you? How can you even think about doing these things without him?

You read the list again, and this time it feels different. Less like a burden, and more like a challenge. A promise, almost. To live. To try.

But the last item — that’s the one that breaks you. Find love again. The words echo in your mind, and you can barely breathe through the weight of them. It feels impossible, inconceivable. And yet, it’s the one thing James wanted most for you.

A knock at the door pulls you out of your thoughts. You quickly wipe your eyes, folding the letter and the list back into the envelope before shoving it into the drawer again. You stand up, trying to compose yourself.

When you open the door, you find his best friend, the one who gave you the letter in the first place, standing there. His expression softens the moment he sees your face.

“You finally opened it,” he says gently.

You nod, unable to speak for a moment.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him. “I’ve been wondering when you would.”

“I ... I couldn’t,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not until today.”

He sits down on the couch, and you join him, the silence between you heavy but not uncomfortable.

“What did he say?” He asks softly.

You hand him the list, unable to find the words yourself. He reads it, a small smile tugging at his lips as he reaches the last item.

“That’s James,” he says, shaking his head. “Always thinking about everyone else.”

You laugh, but it comes out as more of a sob. “How am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to just ... live my life without him?”

“You’re not,” he says, his voice gentle. “You’re supposed to live your life with him. By doing these things, you’re keeping him with you.”

You stare at the list again, your heart aching. “But the last one ...”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then, quietly, he asks, “Do you think he’d want you to be alone forever?”

You shake your head, tears spilling over again. “No. But I don’t know how to ... move on.”

“You don’t have to move on,” he says. “You just have to keep moving. One step at a time.”

You nod, even though it feels impossible. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe this list isn’t just about James’ dreams. Maybe it’s about helping you find your way back to yourself.

“I guess I’d better start with number one,” you say, your voice shaky but determined.

He smiles, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe — just maybe — you can do this.

***

The roar of engines echoes through the air as you step out of the taxi, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The circuit sprawls out before you, a sea of red, blue, and green flags waving in the hands of thousands of fans, all buzzing with excitement. You clutch your ticket tightly, the edges crumpled from your nervous grip.

It took everything in you to get here. The flight, the hotel, the whole ordeal of buying a ticket from some sketchy reseller online — all of it felt like a test of your resolve.

But this is for James. You repeat that to yourself like a mantra. He would’ve loved this, you think, as you look up at the towering grandstands. The hum of the engines, the electricity in the air, the sheer intensity of it all — it’s exactly the kind of thing he would have dragged you to, his enthusiasm infectious.

But now, you’re here alone. And that thought twists in your chest, a painful reminder of why you’re doing this in the first place.

You make your way to the entrance, the ticket clenched in your hand. The queue moves quickly, fans eager to get to their seats, their conversations a mix of English, French, Italian, and other languages you can’t quite place.

You try to blend in, keep your head down, and avoid drawing attention to yourself. Just scan the ticket and get inside. That’s all you have to do.

When it’s finally your turn, you hand your ticket to the attendant, offering a small, nervous smile. He takes it without much thought, scanning the barcode with the device strapped to his wrist. But instead of the usual beep, there’s nothing — just a blank screen.

The attendant frowns, tries again. Still nothing.

“Uh, let me just check something,” he says, his tone suddenly cautious.

You feel a cold knot forming in your stomach. “Is there a problem?”

He doesn’t answer right away, fiddling with the scanner, trying different angles. The queue behind you is growing restless, and you can feel eyes on your back. Finally, he looks up at you, sympathy in his eyes.

“I’m really sorry,” he says quietly, “but this ticket isn’t valid.”

You blink, not understanding. “What do you mean? I bought it online ...”

“It’s a fake,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “You must’ve been scammed. It happens sometimes with resellers.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You feel the color drain from your face, your mind reeling. Fake. Scammed. The ticket crumples in your hand as you step aside, trying to make sense of it. How could this happen? You did everything right — or at least, you thought you did.

“But ... I paid a lot for this,” you stammer, the reality of it sinking in. “I-I don’t understand.”

“I’m really sorry,” the attendant repeats, glancing over your shoulder at the impatient crowd behind you. “There’s nothing I can do. You’ll have to contact whoever you bought it from.”

You nod numbly, stepping away from the gate. The world around you seems to blur, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. You feel like you’re suffocating, your chest tight with a mixture of humiliation and despair. This was supposed to be the first thing you did for James, and you can’t even get that right.

You don’t know where you’re going, just that you need to get away from the entrance, away from the people. Your legs carry you to the far side of the parking lot, where the crowds thin out and the noise dulls to a low hum. You lean against a concrete pillar, your breath coming in shaky gasps.

It’s too much. The weight of it all — the grief, the loneliness, the pressure you’ve put on yourself to make this trip meaningful — it’s crushing you. You slide down to sit on the curb, burying your face in your hands as tears spill over.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words meant for James, though you know he can’t hear you. “I’m so sorry ...”

You’re so caught up in your tears that you don’t notice the figure approaching until he’s right in front of you. When you finally look up, your vision is blurry from the tears, but you can make out the silhouette of a man standing there, watching you with concern etched on his face.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice is soft, with a lilting accent you can’t quite place, but it’s gentle enough to cut through the fog of your despair.

You quickly wipe at your eyes, trying to compose yourself, but it’s a losing battle. “I’m fine,” you manage to choke out, though it’s clear to both of you that you’re anything but.

He doesn’t move, just crouches down in front of you, his brow furrowed. “You don’t look fine. What happened?”

You shake your head, embarrassed by the whole situation. “It’s stupid ... I just — I bought a ticket, and it’s fake, and I ... I just don’t know what to do.”

The words tumble out between hiccups and sniffles, and you feel ridiculous for crying in front of a stranger. But he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, his expression grows even more sympathetic.

“That’s not stupid at all,” he says gently. “You came all this way for the race, didn’t you?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep from crying again. “Yeah. But now I can’t even get in. I feel like such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he reassures you, his tone firm but kind. “People get scammed all the time. It’s not your fault.”

You look up at him then, really look at him. He’s young, probably around your age, with messy brown hair and striking green eyes that seem to radiate warmth. He’s wearing a plain black T-shirt and jeans, nothing that would make him stand out in a crowd, but there’s something about him — maybe the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only person in the world that matters right now — that makes you feel a little less alone.

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not really a fan. It’s just ... something I had to do.”

He tilts his head, curiosity in his eyes. “For someone else?”

You nod again, fresh tears welling up. “My husband. He ... he passed away, and this was on a list of things he wanted me to do. I thought ... I thought I could at least get this right.”

The man’s expression softens even more, if that’s possible. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just sits there with you, letting the weight of your words settle between you.

“I’m really sorry,” he says finally, and you can tell he means it. “That must be so hard.”

You shrug, wiping at your face again. “It is. But I wanted to do it anyway. For him.”

He nods, and then, after a brief pause, he says, “What if I told you I could help?”

You look at him, confusion and hope warring in your chest. “What do you mean?”

He smiles, and it’s a kind, genuine smile that makes you feel like maybe things aren’t as hopeless as they seem. “I might be able to get you into the race. If you’re okay with that.”

Your heart skips a beat, a flicker of hope sparking to life. “How? Are you some kind of VIP or something?”

He laughs, a soft, melodic sound that eases some of the tension in your chest. “Something like that. Just trust me, okay?”

You don’t know why, but you do. Maybe it’s because he’s the first person who’s really listened to you in a long time, or maybe it’s because you’re so desperate to make this work. Either way, you nod.

“Okay,” you say, your voice a little stronger now.

He pulls out his phone and dials a number, glancing back at you as he waits for the call to connect. “This might take a minute,” he says with a reassuring smile.

You watch him, your heart pounding as you wonder just who this man is and how he plans to help you. But as you sit there, your tears drying and the noise of the race humming in the background, you can’t help but feel a glimmer of something you haven’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

***

Charles doesn’t leave your side while he waits for the call to go through, his green eyes focused on you as if making sure you’re still okay. The sincerity in his gaze is almost unnerving, and for a brief moment, you forget about the pitiful mess you’ve become, losing yourself in the quiet strength he radiates.

Whoever he is, it’s clear he’s not just a fan — there’s something about him that feels different, like he’s used to handling situations like this with a calm confidence that most people can only fake.

He speaks briefly into the phone, in a language you don’t understand, and within minutes — faster than you would’ve thought possible — a Ferrari team member rushes toward you both, holding a shiny red VIP pass. The emblem glints in the sunlight, and as he hands it over to Charles, your brain starts to catch up. Your eyes flicker between the pass, the Ferrari logo, and Charles, who’s now holding the pass out to you with that same reassuring smile.

“Here,” he says gently, placing the pass into your trembling hand. “This will get you into the paddock, and pretty much anywhere else you want to go.”

You stare at the pass, then at him, the realization dawning on you slowly. Ferrari. VIP. Charles. It suddenly clicks into place, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. He’s not just a concerned fan. He’s someone important.

You swallow hard, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Who ... who are you?”

He chuckles, but it’s soft, not mocking, more like he finds the situation endearing. “I’m Charles. Charles Leclerc. I drive for Ferrari.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, the words you want to say sticking in your throat. You’re mortified that you didn’t recognize him, that you didn’t put it together sooner. You’ve heard the name before, of course — who hasn’t? But you’ve never been into F1, and you hadn’t expected to meet someone famous today.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, looking down at your feet. “I didn’t realize ...”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Charles interrupts, waving off your apology. “You’ve had a rough day. The last thing you need to worry about is recognizing some racing driver.”

“But I should’ve known ...” you begin, but he cuts you off again, this time with a playful smile.

“Now, why would you know that? You already told me you’re not a fan,” he teases lightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “And I’d much rather be remembered as the guy who helped you out than as that Ferrari driver you didn’t recognize.”

You can’t help but laugh, albeit weakly. His charm is disarming, and it’s hard to feel embarrassed when he’s making it so clear that he doesn’t care about your mistake.

“Thank you,” you say, meaning it. “For all of this. I don’t know how to repay you.”

Charles shakes his head, his expression turning serious again. “You don’t need to repay me. Just enjoy the day. Experience everything to the fullest — in honor of your husband.”

You blink at him, the mention of James sending a fresh wave of emotion through you. But instead of the sharp pain you’ve grown accustomed to, it’s more of a gentle ache this time, softened by the kindness of the stranger-turned-friend standing before you.

“I know what it’s like to lose people you love,” Charles continues, his voice low and sincere. “And I know how important it is to keep their memory alive by doing things they would’ve loved. It’s not easy, but ... it’s worth it.”

You don’t know what to say to that. The depth of his words, the understanding in his eyes — it’s like he’s speaking directly to the part of you that’s been hurting the most. And suddenly, you feel a connection to him that goes beyond the superficial. He gets it. He understands.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “Really, thank you.”

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a long moment before he stands, offering you his hand. “Come on. Let me show you around.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. His grip is warm and steady, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. You let him lead you through the bustling parking lot, your heart still pounding but now for a different reason.

There’s something surreal about walking next to Charles Leclerc, knowing he’s one of the biggest names in the sport and yet treating you like you’re the important one.

As you approach the entrance to the paddock, the atmosphere shifts. It’s a different world in here, a world of precision, speed, and power. Team members rush about, focused and intense, the hum of engines a constant background noise. But as you pass by, more than a few heads turn, eyes widening as they take in the sight of you walking with Charles. He doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn’t care.

“Here we are,” he says as you reach the Ferrari hospitality area, gesturing to the sleek red building with the prancing horse logo proudly displayed. “You’re my guest today, so feel free to make yourself at home. The team will take good care of you.”

You look up at the building, feeling a little overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say. This is ... it’s too much.”

“It’s not too much,” Charles insists, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s exactly what you deserve today. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stops you. He’s serious. He really wants this for you, and the sincerity in his voice makes it clear that this isn’t just about being nice. It’s about giving you something good in a time when good things have been hard to come by.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice soft. “I’ll try.”

Charles smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay. “That’s all I ask.”

He leads you inside, where the air is cool and the decor is modern and sleek, all polished surfaces and red accents. A few team members glance your way, but Charles waves them off, his focus entirely on you.

“I have to get prepped for the race,” he says, stopping just inside the entrance. “But I’ll come see you afterward, okay?”

You blink, taken aback by his offer. “You don’t have to do that,” you stutter. “You’ve already done more than enough. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

Charles just shakes his head, that same determined look in his eyes. “I want to. Besides, I’ll probably be in a better mood if I know you’re here cheering me on.”

The thought of actually cheering for him, of being invested in the race, is a foreign one. But the way he says it, so casual and confident, makes it seem almost natural.

“I don’t really know much about racing,” you admit, feeling a little silly.

He grins. “Don’t worry, you’ll pick it up quickly. And if you have any questions, there’ll be plenty of people around who can help. Just relax and enjoy it.”

You nod, still feeling a little out of your depth but also oddly comforted by his words. He makes it sound so simple, so easy, like all you have to do is show up and everything else will fall into place.

“Okay,” you agree. “I’ll try my best.”

“That’s all I can ask for,” Charles says, his smile widening. “I’ll see you after the race.”

He gives you a small wave before turning and heading off, his stride confident and unhurried. You watch him go, still trying to process everything that’s happened in the last hour.

It’s almost too much to take in — the ticket fiasco, meeting Charles, the VIP pass, and now being his personal guest for the day. It feels like you’ve stepped into someone else’s life, one filled with glamor and excitement, so different from the quiet, grief-stricken world you’ve been living in.

But as you take a deep breath and look around at the world Charles has invited you into, you can’t help but feel a spark of something you haven’t felt in a long time — hope. Maybe, just maybe, today will be a good day.

***

You sit in the Ferrari hospitality suite, watching the festivities from a distance. The energy in the room is electric, everyone buzzing with excitement over Charles’ win.

His face is plastered on every screen, grinning as he holds up the trophy, spraying champagne with the other drivers on the podium. The cheers echo in your ears, but there’s a strange numbness in your chest, a disconnect between the celebration and what you’re feeling.

You’re happy for him, of course you are. But the fact that Charles just won a race feels surreal, like something out of a dream. And you’re not sure where you fit in the dream — or if you fit in at all.

The hospitality suite is more crowded now, filled with people congratulating one another, toasting with glasses of champagne and sparkling water. The clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter fill the air, making the room feel smaller, more enclosed.

You keep to the side, clutching your phone and fiddling with the VIP pass Charles gave you earlier. The weight of it around your neck is a constant reminder that this isn’t your world.

The minutes tick by, each one stretching longer than the last. You tell yourself it’s okay to leave, that Charles won’t mind if you slip out quietly. After all, he’s got plenty of people to celebrate with. People who belong here, who know him well, who are part of his world. You’re just a stranger he happened to help.

But something keeps you in your seat, a small flicker of hope that he might actually come back. It’s silly, really — he’s a race winner, he should be out there celebrating, soaking in the victory. Still, you find yourself glancing at the door every few minutes, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he’ll keep his promise.

Nearly an hour and a half after the race ends, just as you’re convincing yourself to leave, you spot him. Charles enters the suite, now changed into a Ferrari branded polo, hair damp from what you assume was a quick shower. He’s scanning the room, and when his eyes land on you, they light up in recognition.

Your breath catches in your throat as he makes his way over, weaving through the crowd with a purposeful stride. He looks different out of the car, more relaxed, though there’s a tiredness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Hey,” he says, slightly breathless when he finally reaches you. “Sorry it took me so long. There were media duties, and then a debrief with the team after the podium ceremony.”

You blink up at him, stunned that he actually came. “You — You came back.”

“Of course I did,” he replies, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I told you I would.”

You shake your head, still in disbelief. “But you should be out there celebrating. You just won a race, Charles. You didn’t have to come just to see me.”

Charles waves away your concerns, his smile widening. “I came because I wanted to. Celebrations can wait.”

There’s a sincerity in his tone that takes you off guard. He’s not just saying it to be polite or to make you feel better. He actually means it. You search his eyes for a sign that he’s just being nice, but all you find is that same genuine warmth that he’s shown you from the start.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you murmur, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from anything.”

“You’re not keeping me from anything,” Charles reassures you, his voice gentle. “I’m glad you stayed.”

You nod, still feeling a little out of place, but his words soothe some of your anxiety. “Congratulations, by the way. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you,” he says, and there’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart skip a beat. “It was a good race.”

There’s a brief silence, the noise of the room fading into the background as you stand there, just the two of you. You’re not sure what to say next, the weight of the moment making it hard to think straight. But Charles doesn’t seem to mind the quiet, his presence calm and unhurried.

After a few moments, Charles clears his throat, his voice hesitant. “Are you staying nearby?”

The question catches you off guard, and you blink up at him, not quite sure where he’s going with this. “Um, yes, I’m staying at a hotel downtown.”

His eyes brighten at that, and he gives you a small, almost shy smile. “I’m staying in the same area. There’s a great restaurant nearby. Would you like to join me for dinner?”

You’re taken aback by the offer, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. Dinner? With Charles Leclerc? It feels like too much, like something you shouldn’t accept. You don’t want to intrude on his life any more than you already have.

“Charles, you don’t have to spend time with me,” you start, shaking your head. “You’ve already done so much-”

He interrupts you gently, his voice firm but kind. “I want to spend time with you.”

The way he says it, so straightforward and sincere, leaves no room for doubt. He’s not asking out of obligation or pity — he genuinely wants your company. And the thought of having dinner with him, of spending more time with someone who actually seems to care, is suddenly more appealing than anything else.

“Okay,” you say softly, meeting his gaze. “I’d like that.”

His smile widens, and you can see the relief in his eyes. “Great. Let’s get out of here, then.”

You follow him as he leads the way out of the suite, the noise of the celebrations fading behind you. The cool evening air greets you as you step outside, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink as the sun sets. Charles is quiet as he walks beside you, his presence comforting in its steadiness.

As you reach the paddock parking lot, you spot the familiar red of a Ferrari, and you can’t help but smile at the sight. It’s fitting, in a way, like everything about this day is part of some surreal, unexpected adventure.

Charles opens the passenger door for you, waiting until you’re settled before rounding the car to get in himself. The engine purrs to life with a smooth growl, and you feel a thrill of excitement as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the open road.

You glance over at him, taking in the relaxed set of his shoulders, the easy way he handles the car. It’s strange how comfortable you feel with him already, like you’ve known him for longer than just a few hours. Maybe it’s the way he’s treated you from the start — with kindness and understanding — or maybe it’s just the way he carries himself, with a quiet confidence that makes you feel safe.

As you drive through the city, the lights of downtown reflecting off the car’s polished surface, you can’t help but wonder what this evening will bring. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this way — hopeful, curious, maybe even a little excited. And as Charles navigates the streets with practiced ease, you start to think that maybe, just maybe, you’re finally ready to start living again.

***

The restaurant is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, it’s all exposed brick, warm lighting, and rustic charm. The kind of place that feels both intimate and alive with history, where every detail seems to whisper stories of countless other dinners, other nights, other lives.

You follow Charles to a corner table, noticing the way the candlelight flickers across his features, softening the angles of his face. There’s a natural ease about him, a kind of unspoken confidence that makes you feel a little more at home in this unfamiliar setting. He holds out a chair for you, and as you sit down, you can’t help but feel like you’ve stepped into a scene from someone else’s life.

“This place is incredible,” you say, glancing around at the cozy surroundings. “How did you find it?”

Charles smiles, settling into the chair across from you. “It’s one of my favorites. A friend introduced me to it a few years ago. I come here whenever I’m in town.”

You nod, taking in the atmosphere, the scent of fresh bread and herbs mingling with the low hum of conversation. It’s the kind of place that feels special, even if you didn’t know anything about it.

The waiter appears to take your order, and before you know it, the table is filled with plates of beautifully arranged dishes, each one more enticing than the last. Charles gestures for you to start, and you pick up your fork, feeling a little more at ease with each bite.

“This is amazing,” you say between mouthfuls, savoring the flavors. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anything like this.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Charles replies, watching you with a soft smile. “It’s one of the things I miss most when I’m traveling — good, simple food.”

There’s a comfortable silence as you both enjoy the meal, the clinking of silverware and the quiet murmur of the other diners providing a gentle backdrop. You’re grateful for the peace, for the way Charles doesn’t push you to talk, doesn’t ask any questions that feel too invasive.

But as the meal draws to a close, you sense a shift in the atmosphere. Charles seems to be choosing his words carefully, his expression thoughtful as he looks across the table at you.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” he begins, his tone gentle, “but ... would you like to talk about your husband?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you’re not sure if you can answer it. It’s been so long since anyone asked, since anyone cared enough to ask, and you’re not sure if you’re ready to go back to that place, to open up the wound that’s still so raw.

But there’s something in Charles’ eyes, a quiet understanding, that makes you feel like it’s okay to share this part of yourself with him. Like maybe he can handle it, even if you’re not sure you can.

“He was on a mission in ... well, it doesn’t really matter where. There was an attack — one of those random, senseless things that happen in places like that. He was helping a patient when it happened. They said he died a hero, but ... it doesn’t feel like that to me. It just feels like he’s gone.”

The tears that you’ve been holding back all evening finally spill over, and you don’t even try to stop them. You’re tired of pretending to be strong, tired of keeping it all inside. And somehow, with Charles sitting there, listening so intently, it feels okay to let it out.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that must be like.”

You wipe at your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. “It’s been over a year, but ... it still feels like it was yesterday, you know? Like I’m still waiting for him to walk through the door, to tell me it was all some terrible mistake.”

Charles reaches across the table, his hand covering yours in a gesture that’s as comforting as it is unexpected. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” he says softly. “And you don’t have to rush through it either. Grief doesn’t have a timeline.”

His words are like a balm, soothing some of the raw ache that’s been sitting in your chest. You nod, unable to speak, afraid that if you do, the tears will start again and won’t stop.

There’s a brief silence, and then you continue, feeling the need to explain, to make him understand. “He left me a letter ... and a list. A bucket list, of things he wanted us to do together, but he didn’t get the chance. He asked me to do them for him, to ... to live the life he didn’t get to.”

Charles leans forward slightly, his eyes locked on yours. “What’s on the list?”

You hesitate for a moment, but then you reach into your purse, pulling out the folded piece of paper that’s become a permanent fixture in your life. You unfold it carefully, smoothing out the creases before passing it across the table to him.

He takes the list from you, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment before he begins to read. You watch his face as he scans the items, his expression shifting from curiosity to something deeper, something almost reverent.

He’s quiet for a long time, and you wonder what he’s thinking, if he’s judging you for carrying out such a personal task, for holding on to a life that’s no longer yours.

But when he looks up at you again, there’s no judgment in his eyes — only empathy, and maybe even a touch of admiration.

“Have you done any of these yet?” He asks, his voice soft.

You nod your head. “I’ve only just started. The first item was to go to an F1 race ... that’s why I’m here.”

Charles’ gaze softens even more, and he nods slowly, as if understanding the weight of what you’ve shared. “And Paris?” He asks, his tone careful.

You can’t help but laugh a little, despite the heaviness in your chest. “Paris ... I mean, who doesn’t want to go to Paris? But I don’t know when I’ll have the chance to tick that one off the list.”

Charles is quiet for a moment, then he hesitates, as if he’s debating something in his mind. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and tentative. “You know ... the summer break has officially started. I don’t have another race for a month, and I don’t have anything I have to do for over two weeks.”

You blink at him, not quite understanding where he’s going with this. “Okay ...”

“I’ve always loved Paris,” he says, his gaze steady on yours. “And ... I know we’ve only just met, but I would love to help you tick off the second item on your list.”

You stare at him, your mind reeling from what he’s suggesting. Go to Paris? With him? It’s crazy — it’s absolutely insane. You don’t know him, not really, and the idea of going on such a personal trip with someone you’ve just met feels like stepping into a world that doesn’t belong to you.

But there’s something in the way he’s looking at you, something in his voice, that makes you think that maybe, just maybe, it’s not as crazy as it seems. Maybe it’s exactly what you need.

“Are you serious?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles nods, his expression earnest. “Sometimes the best things in life are crazy and spontaneous. And ... I know it’s a lot to ask, but I really would love to help you with this. I want to be there for you.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat, a mix of emotions swirling inside you — fear, excitement, uncertainty, and something else you can’t quite name. It’s terrifying, the idea of letting someone new into your life, of opening yourself up to the possibility of connection, of loss.

But at the same time, it feels like a lifeline, like a chance to finally start living again.

“I ... I don’t know,” you stammer, unsure of how to respond. “It just seems so ...”

“Crazy?” Charles finishes for you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” you admit, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Crazy.”

He leans back in his chair, studying you with those steady, kind eyes. “Maybe it is. But sometimes the craziest things turn out to be the most important.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you weigh the decision. It would be so easy to say no, to stay in your safe, controlled world where nothing ever changes. But where has that gotten you? Nowhere.

And then, almost without realizing it, you find yourself nodding, your voice small but determined. “Okay.”

Charles’ eyes light up with something close to relief, and he smiles at you — a genuine, warm smile that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this is the right choice.

“Okay?” He repeats, as if needing to hear it again.

“Okay,” you say again, a little more certain this time. “Let’s go to Paris.”

You both sit there for a moment, the reality of what you’ve just agreed to sinking in. It feels like the beginning of something — something that scares you as much as it excites you.

Charles reaches across the table, gently taking your hand in his. “Thank you,” he says, his voice sincere.

You look at him, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not alone in this.

***

You’re still reeling from the decision when the check arrives at the table. Charles grabs it before you can reach for your purse, waving away your protests with an easy smile.

“Trust me,” he says, his tone light but firm, “this one’s on me.”

You thank him, still half-convinced that this is all some surreal dream you’ll wake up from any minute. As you step outside, the cool evening air brushes against your skin, grounding you in the reality of what just happened.

You’re going to Paris. With Charles Leclerc. You glance at him, wondering how he can be so calm when your world has just been flipped upside down.

“Okay, so ... what’s the plan?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady as your mind races with all the logistics you need to sort out.

He turns to you with that relaxed smile, as if planning a spontaneous trip to Paris is the most natural thing in the world. “Plan? We drive back to the hotel, grab our things, and head to the airport.”

“The airport?” You blink at him, thrown by the suddenness of it all. “I haven’t even booked a flight yet. Or a hotel. Or anything.”

Charles chuckles softly, shaking his head. “You don’t need to worry about any of that. I’ve got it covered.”

You open your mouth to argue, to tell him that you can’t possibly let him do this, but he cuts you off before you can say a word.

“Really,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s no trouble at all. I’m an F1 driver, remember? I’ve got more than enough resources, and I want to do this for you.”

You stare at him, at the easy confidence in his tone, at the sincerity in his eyes. You know he means it, but it still feels like too much. “Charles, I ... I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“You’re not.” He steps closer, his expression softening. “This is something I want to do. For you. For your husband. Please, let me help you.”

There’s a quiet intensity in his voice that makes it impossible to argue. You nod slowly, feeling a mix of gratitude and disbelief. “Okay ... thank you. I just — I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assures you. “Just pack your things and meet me back here in a few minutes. We’ll take care of the rest.”

And just like that, you find yourself heading back to your hotel, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. You pack quickly, throwing your essentials into your suitcase with trembling hands. The reality of what’s happening starts to sink in, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed by the sheer craziness of it all.

You pause, standing in the middle of the room with your half-packed suitcase, wondering if you’re really doing this. Paris. With a man you’ve just met. It’s all too surreal, too spontaneous, too-

There’s a knock on your door, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You open it to find Charles standing there, his expression calm and reassuring.

“Ready?” He asks, as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

You take a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah ... I think so.”

“Good.” He smiles, and somehow, that simple gesture is enough to steady you. “Let’s go.”

You follow him downstairs, your heart racing as he drives you both back to his hotel. He parks the car, and you watch as he disappears inside, returning a few minutes later with a small duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“That’s it?” You ask, surprised at how little he’s carrying.

He nods, tossing the bag into the back seat. “The team will pack up the rest of my stuff and have it sent home later.”

You don’t have time to process the implications of that before he’s back in the driver’s seat, navigating the streets with the kind of ease that comes from years of traveling. You try to keep up with the conversation, but your mind keeps drifting to what lies ahead, to the sheer audacity of what you’re about to do.

It’s only when you pull up to a private airstrip that the full reality of the situation hits you. You step out of the car, staring in awe at the sleek, chartered jet waiting on the tarmac. The sight of it leaves you breathless, the sheer scale of what Charles is doing for you almost too much to comprehend.

“Charles ...” you begin, your voice catching in your throat.

He turns to you, his expression soft. “Yes?”

“This is ... I mean, I don’t know what to say. This is more than I could have ever imagined. Are you sure-”

“I’m sure.” His tone leaves no room for doubt, and he reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “Come on. We’ve got a flight to catch.”

He leads you up the steps, and before you know it, you’re inside the luxurious cabin, sinking into a plush leather seat. Everything about the jet screams opulence — the polished wood accents, the soft ambient lighting, the quiet hum of the engines in the background. It’s the kind of luxury you’ve only ever seen in movies, and you can’t quite believe that it’s real, that you’re really here.

Charles takes the seat across from you, his expression relaxed as he buckles his seatbelt. “Comfortable?”

You nod, still too stunned to form a coherent response. He smiles at your wide-eyed wonder, and you realize that this kind of thing must be second nature to him. For you, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience. For him, it’s just another day in the life of an F1 driver.

“Just sit back and relax,” he says, as if sensing your thoughts. “We’ll be in Paris before you know it.”

The flight itself is smooth and uneventful, the hours passing in a blur of disbelief and quiet conversation. Charles keeps things light, sharing stories from his racing career, and you find yourself relaxing more with each passing minute. It’s easy to forget about your worries when you’re with him, easy to get lost in the charm of his stories and the warmth of his smile.

Before you know it, the plane begins its descent, and the lights of Paris come into view below, twinkling like a sea of stars. The sight of the city leaves you breathless, the sheer beauty of it almost too much to take in. You press your face to the window, unable to tear your eyes away from the breathtaking panorama of the City of Light.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Charles’ voice is soft, and when you turn to look at him, there’s a wistfulness in his eyes that tugs at your heart.

“Yes,” you whisper, feeling a surge of emotion welling up inside you. “It’s ... it’s perfect.”

The plane touches down smoothly, and within minutes, you’re whisked away in a sleek black car, driving through the streets of Paris as the city comes alive around you. The streets are bustling with life, the cafes and bistros glowing with warm light, the air filled with the sound of laughter and music.

It’s everything you’ve ever imagined and more, and you can’t believe you’re really here, experiencing it all with Charles by your side.

The car pulls up in front of an exclusive, centrally located hotel, and you step out onto the cobblestone street, your heart pounding in your chest. The hotel is grand, its facade illuminated by golden lights, and as you step inside, you’re greeted by a world of elegance and sophistication.

You barely have time to take it all in before you’re being led to a two-bedroom suite with the most stunning views of the Eiffel Tower you’ve ever seen. You stand by the window, staring out at the iconic landmark as it sparkles against the night sky, the reality of your situation hitting you all over again.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles steps up beside you, his gaze focused on the view outside. “Believe it,” he says softly, his tone filled with quiet conviction. “You’re here. We’re here. And tomorrow, we’ll start checking off that list.”

You turn to look at him, your eyes filled with gratitude and something else — something you’re not quite ready to name. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t even know how to begin to thank you.”

He smiles, a warm, genuine smile that lights up his face. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad I can be here for you.”

You feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you, and before you can stop yourself, you reach out and pull him into a hug. It’s a long, lingering embrace, filled with all the gratitude, all the emotion you can’t put into words. Charles holds you close, his arms wrapped around you in a way that makes you feel safe, comforted, understood.

When you finally pull back, there are tears in your eyes, but they’re tears of relief, of something like hope. “Good night, Charles,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

“Good night,” he replies, his voice just as soft. “Sleep well. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

You watch as he heads to his own room, and then you turn back to the window, staring out at the glittering Eiffel Tower. It feels like a dream, but for the first time in a long time, it’s a dream you’re ready to embrace.

***

The sun is already high in the sky when you finally open your eyes, the weight of the past few days still pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. The exhaustion is bone-deep, the kind that makes every movement feel like wading through thick syrup.

You stretch out in the luxurious hotel bed, the cool sheets tangling around your legs as you blink against the soft light filtering through the curtains. Paris. You’re in Paris. The thought slips through your mind, almost unreal, as if you might wake up any second to find yourself back in the monotony of the past year.

You sit up slowly, taking in the spacious room with its elegant furniture and the faint sounds of the city outside. It’s almost noon, you realize, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. Just as you’re about to contemplate the day ahead, there’s a gentle knock on the door connecting your room to Charles’. You almost forgot about him for a second — almost.

“Good morning,” you call out, your voice still thick with sleep.

The door opens, and Charles steps in, a smile lighting up his face as he sees you. “Good afternoon, you mean,” he teases lightly, leaning against the doorframe. “I was beginning to think you might sleep through the whole day.”

You rub your eyes, shaking your head as you try to fully wake up. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

He nods, his expression softening. “No rush. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

It’s that statement that hits you more than it should. All the time in the world. You used to believe that too. You push the thought away quickly, not wanting to drown in it.

“What’s the plan?” You ask, forcing yourself to focus on the present, on this strange, wonderful day that’s somehow yours.

Charles grins, his eyes sparking with something mischievous. “How do you feel about lunch at a little café by the Seine?”

Your heart skips a beat. The café. The red awning. It’s what your husband wanted, what he wrote down on that list. You swallow, trying to keep your emotions in check. “That sounds perfect.”

Charles seems to sense the shift in your mood, his smile softening into something more understanding. He doesn’t push, just nods and steps back, giving you space to get ready. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

When he’s gone, you take a deep breath and head to the bathroom, the reality of where you are and what you’re doing starting to sink in. You can’t help but think of the letter, the list. Of the man who should be here with you instead of buried under the earth. You splash cold water on your face, trying to shake off the melancholy that clings to you like a second skin.

By the time you join Charles downstairs, you’ve managed to put on a smile, though it feels fragile, like it might shatter at any moment. He greets you with a warm, reassuring look, his eyes scanning your face as if to check that you’re really okay. You nod, and he leads you outside, where a car is waiting.

The ride to the café is quiet, filled with the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of the city. Charles doesn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless chatter, and you’re grateful for that. Instead, he lets you stare out the window, watching as the streets of Paris unfold before you like a storybook.

When the car finally pulls up in front of the café, your heart clenches. There it is, just like your husband described it: the small tables lined up outside, the red awning casting a warm glow over everything, the view of the Seine just beyond. It’s almost too much. You hesitate, feeling a lump in your throat, but Charles is already out of the car, holding the door open for you.

“You okay?” He asks quietly, his gaze steady on yours.

You nod, though you’re not sure if you believe it. “Yeah. Just ... it’s exactly like he said.”

Charles doesn’t say anything, just offers his arm in a gentle, old-fashioned gesture. You take it, letting him lead you to a table by the water. The waiter greets you with a smile, and Charles orders for both of you without hesitation — coffee and croissants, just like on the list.

The sun reflects off the Seine, making the water shimmer like it’s made of liquid gold. You sip your coffee slowly, savoring the rich taste, though your thoughts are a million miles away. You can almost see your husband sitting across from you, that goofy grin on his face as he tries to explain something in broken French to the waiter. You smile at the memory, even as it twists something painful deep inside you.

Charles doesn’t interrupt your thoughts, just lets you have this moment. You’re grateful for that. The croissants arrive, warm and flaky, and you find yourself laughing softly as you break off a piece, thinking of how your husband always complained that they never made them right back home. Here, though ... here they’re perfect.

“This was his favorite place,” you say suddenly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “He talked about it all the time. Said it was the best spot in Paris, hands down.”

Charles listens, his eyes never leaving your face. “He had good taste.”

You smile, though it wobbles a bit. “He did.”

There’s a pause, a comfortable one, where you both just sit there, watching the world go by. It’s everything your husband wanted, everything he put on that list. And yet, it feels different — like you’re living a dream that isn’t entirely yours.

After a while, Charles speaks up, his tone gentle. “Have you thought about what you want to do next?”

You blink, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “Next?”

“With the list,” he clarifies, his eyes searching yours. “I mean, you don’t have to ... but if you want to keep going, I’d like to help.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Charles holds up a hand, cutting you off before you can start. “I know what you’re going to say,” he continues, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “And I’m telling you right now, you’re not bothering me. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.”

You look at him, really look at him, and see nothing but sincerity in his eyes. It’s overwhelming, this kindness he’s showing you, this willingness to be a part of something so deeply personal. You don’t know what to say, how to express the jumble of emotions swirling inside you.

“Charles, I-” You falter, trying to find the right words. “This isn’t your responsibility. You’ve already done so much ...”

He shakes his head, cutting you off again. “It’s not about responsibility. It’s about doing something that feels right. And this — being here with you, helping you through this — it feels right.”

The tears well up before you can stop them, spilling over as you look away, embarrassed by how easily they come. Charles doesn’t say anything, just reaches across the table to take your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice breaking on the words.

He squeezes your hand gently. “You don’t have to thank me.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I don’t want you to feel obligated ...”

“I don’t,” he assures you, his voice firm but kind. “I promise you, I don’t.”

You nod, blinking away the last of your tears. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He echoes, a hint of a smile in his voice.

You smile back, a real one this time. “Okay.”

There’s a quiet moment where everything feels ... settled, like a weight has been lifted from your chest. It’s not gone — not by a long shot — but it’s lighter, more manageable. You can breathe a little easier, see a little clearer.

Charles leans back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. “So, what do you say we finish this coffee, eat a few more croissants than is probably advisable, and then figure out what our next adventure is?”

You laugh, a real laugh that surprises you with its brightness. “I think I’d like that.”

And so you do just that. You sit there with Charles, sipping coffee and eating too many croissants, watching the world go by as the sun moves slowly across the sky. It’s peaceful, almost idyllic, and for the first time in a long time, you feel a flicker of something that might be happiness.

As the afternoon stretches into evening, Charles brings up the rest of the list again, but this time, you don’t try to wave him off. Instead, you find yourself talking about it, really talking, and it feels good to share it with someone who actually seems to care.

You tell him about the road trip with no destination in mind, about the other things your husband wanted you to experience. It’s bittersweet, but there’s a warmth to it too, a sense of connection that you didn’t expect to find.

“We’ll enjoy a few more days in Paris,” Charles says, his voice steady and reassuring, “and then we’ll hit the road. No plans, no deadlines. Just ... see where it takes us.”

You look at him, feeling that same pull, that same inexplicable draw that’s been there since the moment you met him. It’s crazy, all of this — crazy and spontaneous and completely out of your comfort zone. But maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you need.

“Let’s do it,” you say, your voice stronger than you expected. “Let’s do the road trip.”

Charles’ smile broadens. “Perfect. We’ll make it an adventure.”

***

The morning sun filters through the curtains of your hotel room, casting a golden glow that seems to soften the world around you. You stretch in bed, feeling a lightness in your chest that you haven’t felt in a long time. There’s a sense of anticipation humming through your veins as you get ready, knowing that today marks the beginning of a new adventure.

When you step into the lobby, Charles is already there, leaning casually against a pillar, dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans. He grins when he sees you, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Ready to go?” He asks, his voice warm.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach.

Charles nods, gesturing for you to follow him. “Come on, then.”

You step outside, and your breath catches in your throat. Parked at the curb is a sleek black Ferrari, its curves gleaming under the morning light. You glance at Charles in surprise, your eyebrows shooting up.

“Where did you get this?” You ask, your voice tinged with disbelief.

He chuckles, shrugging nonchalantly. “Let’s just say I know a guy.”

You shake your head, a laugh bubbling up despite yourself. “Of course you do.”

Charles opens the trunk, helping you load your bags inside. There’s a thrill in the air, a sense of freedom that you haven’t felt in ages. Once everything is packed, he opens the passenger door for you with a small bow, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Your chariot awaits,” he says.

You roll your eyes, but the gesture makes your heart warm. You slide into the car, sinking into the plush leather seat as Charles walks around to the driver’s side.

“Ready?” He asks, his hand resting on the gear shift.

You glance over at him, meeting his gaze. There’s something reassuring in his eyes, something that makes you feel like, for the first time in a long time, everything might just be okay.

“Ready,” you say, and with that, he starts the engine, the car roaring to life.

The two of you set off, the city of Paris fading in the rearview mirror as the open road stretches out before you. There’s no set destination, no strict itinerary — just miles of road and the promise of wherever the day might take you.

For the first hour, you drive in comfortable silence, the hum of the engine and the wind rushing past your ears. You watch as the landscape changes, the bustling city giving way to rolling fields and quaint villages. The farther you go, the more the tension in your chest eases.

Eventually, Charles turns to you with a grin. “Pick a direction. Left or right?”

You blink, looking at the fork in the road ahead. “You’re letting me decide?”

“Of course,” he replies. “This is your adventure, after all.”

You hesitate for a moment, then point to the right. “Right.”

Charles nods and turns the wheel, the Ferrari smoothly gliding down the chosen path. “Right it is.”

The day passes in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. You turn down random roads, sometimes doubling back when you realize you’re hopelessly lost, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no rush, no pressure to be anywhere but right here, right now.

You stop at a tiny roadside café for lunch, the kind of place where the menu is handwritten on a chalkboard, and the waitress knows the regulars by name. The food is simple but delicious, and you can’t help but savor every bite, feeling more alive than you have in months.

After lunch, you continue driving, the hours slipping away as you explore hidden corners of the French countryside. You pass through small towns where time seems to have stood still, with cobblestone streets and old stone houses that look like something out of a fairytale.

As evening approaches, you start to feel the weight of the day settling in your bones. You glance over at Charles, who looks just as content as you feel, his hand relaxed on the steering wheel.

“Should we start looking for a place to stay?” You ask, your voice soft.

He nods, glancing at a sign by the side of the road. “There’s a small inn a few miles ahead. We can try there.”

You hum in agreement, the idea of a cozy inn sounding perfect after a day on the road. The Ferrari winds its way through narrow streets until you arrive at the inn, a charming, ivy-covered building that looks like it’s been plucked straight out of a storybook.

Charles parks the car, and the two of you head inside. The lobby is quaint, with old wooden beams and a stone fireplace crackling in the corner. The innkeeper, a kindly older woman with a warm smile, greets you as you approach the front desk.

“Bonsoir,” she says in a lilting accent. “How can I help you?”

Charles steps forward, his voice polite as ever. “Bonsoir. We were hoping to get a room for the night.”

The innkeeper’s smile falters slightly, and she glances at the reservation book. “Ah, I’m afraid we are nearly full tonight. There is only one room left, and it has only one bed. I’m sorry.”

Your heart sinks, and you glance at Charles, unsure what to do. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but you also don’t relish the idea of finding another place so late in the evening.

Charles, however, seems unfazed. He turns to you with a reassuring smile. “It’s up to you. We can stay or keep looking.”

You bite your lip, weighing your options. The day has been long, and you’re both exhausted. Finally, you nod. “Let’s stay.”

The innkeeper hands Charles the key, and he leads you upstairs to the room. It’s cozy, with a low ceiling and a large, comfortable-looking bed dominating the space. There’s a small window overlooking the garden, where the last rays of sunlight are casting everything in a golden hue.

You drop your bags by the door, glancing at the bed. It’s big enough for two, but the thought of sharing it with Charles makes your heart flutter nervously.

Charles seems to pick up on your hesitation. “I can sleep on the floor,” he offers, his tone gentle. “It’s no trouble.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not making you sleep on the floor.”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods, his expression softening. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

You both get ready for bed, the atmosphere between you growing more relaxed. When you finally climb under the covers, you can feel the warmth radiating from Charles’ side of the bed, a comforting presence in the quiet room.

For a while, you both lie there in silence, the only sound the faint rustling of the sheets as you try to find a comfortable position. Despite your earlier nerves, you find yourself inching closer to him, drawn by the sense of safety he brings.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, your voice barely audible in the darkness.

“Goodnight,” he replies, his voice soft.

You close your eyes, letting out a slow breath. And then, almost without thinking, you shift closer, until your head is resting on his shoulder, your body curled against his side.

Charles tenses for a moment, and you almost pull away, but then his arm wraps around you, holding you gently. He doesn’t say anything, but the way he holds you is enough. It’s not romantic or suggestive — just a simple, comforting embrace that makes you feel less alone.

You relax into his warmth, feeling a sense of peace wash over you that you haven’t felt in what feels like forever. The road trip, the bucket list, everything fades into the background as you allow yourself to just be in this moment.

For the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped in the safety of Charles’ arms, you can’t help but think that maybe — just maybe — you’re starting to heal.

***

The morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the small inn room. You stir slightly, the warmth of the shared bed coaxing you into a slow wakefulness. Charles is still beside you, his breath even, his face relaxed in sleep. It’s almost surreal how peaceful this moment feels, as if the world outside has paused just for the two of you.

You turn onto your side, propping yourself up on an elbow, and watch him for a moment. The lines of worry that usually crease his brow are gone, replaced by a serenity that makes him seem younger, almost boyish. You wonder how he manages to carry so much weight on his shoulders and still offer you comfort, still make you feel like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

The faint clatter of dishes from downstairs pulls you out of your thoughts. You slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him just yet. The cool wooden floor sends a shiver up your spine as you pad over to the small window. The view outside is a picturesque scene of rolling hills and a cobblestone street winding through the tiny village. It’s the kind of place that feels untouched by time, where life moves at a slower, more deliberate pace.

A soft knock on the door startles you. You glance back at Charles, who stirs but doesn’t wake. Quietly, you open the door to find the innkeeper, a woman in her late fifties with a kind face and a warm smile.

“Good morning,” she whispers. “Breakfast is ready whenever you and your friend are.”

You nod, offering her a smile in return. “Thank you. We’ll be down soon.”

She leaves you with a slight nod, and you close the door softly behind her. Turning back to the bed, you see Charles is awake now, blinking away sleep. He stretches lazily, his eyes finding yours, a sleepy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Good morning,” he says, voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “The innkeeper says breakfast is ready.”

He nods, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I’ll be down in a minute. You go ahead.”

You hesitate for a moment, but then you nod and head downstairs. The small dining area is cozy, with a fireplace crackling softly in one corner. The smell of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee fills the air, making your stomach rumble in anticipation. You take a seat at one of the wooden tables, the innkeeper greeting you with a pot of coffee.

“Is it just the two of you?” She asks, pouring you a cup.

“Yes, just us,” you say, taking a grateful sip. The warmth of the coffee spreads through you, waking you up fully.

“Such a lovely young man,” she comments, a twinkle in her eye. “You’re lucky to have someone like him.”

You smile at that, unsure how to respond. Are you lucky? It feels strange to think of Charles in that way when the loss of your husband is still so fresh, still so raw. But you can’t deny that Charles has brought something into your life that you didn’t know you needed — comfort, companionship, and maybe even a little bit of hope.

Charles appears a few minutes later, his hair slightly tousled from sleep, but he looks more awake now. He greets the innkeeper with a polite nod before taking the seat across from you.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks, reaching for a piece of the fresh bread.

“I did,” you admit. “And you?”

“Better than I have in a while,” he says, and there’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you believe him.

The innkeeper returns with plates of food — scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, fresh fruit, and more of the bread you’ve already sampled. It’s simple, but it’s the kind of breakfast that warms you from the inside out, reminding you of the comforts of home.

As you both eat in companionable silence, Charles looks up at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Have you ever been to Monaco?”

You pause, caught off guard by the question. “No, I haven’t. I’ve heard it’s beautiful, though.”

“It is,” he agrees, a smile playing on his lips. “Would you like to go?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Of course I would, but realistically, I know I probably never will. Life has a way of getting in the way of things like that.”

Charles’ smile widens, his eyes glinting with mischief. “That’s not true at all, actually.”

You raise an eyebrow, not sure where he’s going with this. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because my mother is expecting us for dinner tonight,” he says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You stare at him, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Wait, what?”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. “You heard me. We’re going to Monaco. My mother has been asking about you, actually.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to find the words. “Charles, I ... I don’t know what to say. That’s ... that’s incredibly sweet, but I don’t want to impose. And we haven’t exactly been planning on going to Monaco.”

“You’re not imposing,” Charles insists, reaching across the table to take your hand. “She’s already expecting us, and it would make her really happy to meet you.”

You look down at his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch seep into your skin. There’s something about the way he says it, so earnest and sincere, that makes it hard to say no.

“Are you sure?” You ask, your voice soft.

“Absolutely,” he says, squeezing your hand gently. “Let’s make the most of this adventure, okay?”

You take a deep breath, nodding slowly. “Okay. Let’s go to Monaco.”

The drive to Monaco is nothing short of breathtaking. The Ferrari roars to life as Charles maneuvers it expertly along the winding coastal roads, the Mediterranean Sea sparkling to your right. The windows are down, and the wind whips through your hair, carrying with it the scent of saltwater and the promise of something new.

Charles hums along to the music playing softly through the speakers, glancing over at you every so often with a contented smile. There’s something about the way he looks at you that makes your heart flutter, and you find yourself smiling back, unable to resist the infectious energy that seems to surround him.

When you finally cross the border into Monaco, it feels like stepping into another world. The city is a blend of old-world charm and modern luxury, with grand buildings perched on cliffs overlooking the sea and sleek yachts bobbing in the harbor. The streets are bustling with life, but there’s an air of sophistication and elegance that sets it apart from anywhere else you’ve been.

Charles navigates the narrow streets with ease, eventually pulling up in front of an apartment building that exudes quiet elegance. He cuts the engine and turns to you with a smile. “We’re here.”

You take a deep breath, your nerves suddenly kicking in. “I’m nervous,” you admit.

Charles reaches over and takes your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “You have nothing to be nervous about. She’s going to love you.”

You nod, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach as you step out of the car. Charles comes around to your side, taking your hand once more as he leads you up the steps to the building. The door opens with a soft creak, and you find yourself in a beautifully decorated foyer, the scent of fresh flowers filling the air.

Charles leads you down a hallway, stopping in front of a door with a gold number plate. He looks at you, a reassuring smile on his face, before knocking softly.

The door opens almost immediately, and there stands a woman who can only be Pascale. She’s petite, with kind eyes and a warm smile that reaches all the way to her eyes. Her face lights up when she sees Charles, and she immediately pulls him into a hug.

“Charles, mon chéri,” she says, her voice filled with affection.

Charles hugs her back, and you can see the love between them in the way they hold each other, the way they speak without words. When they finally pull apart, Pascale turns her attention to you, her smile softening even more.

“And you must be Y/N,” she says, stepping forward to embrace you as well. Her hug is warm and comforting, the kind of hug that only a mother could give.

You hug her back, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of maternal warmth, and it brings tears to your eyes. But they’re good tears, the kind that remind you that maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to heal.

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you,” Pascale says, pulling back to look at you. “Charles has told me so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you reply with a small smile, trying to compose yourself.

Pascale laughs softly, a musical sound that fills the hallway. “Only the best.”

Charles takes your hand again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Shall we?”

Pascale nods, stepping back to allow you both inside. As you step into the warm, inviting space, you can’t help but feel a sense of belonging. For the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

***

Pascale’s apartment is cozy, filled with warm lighting and the comforting smell of something delicious simmering in the kitchen. You’re still standing by the door when she pulls you into a tight hug, her embrace firm yet gentle, and in that moment, you feel a wave of unexpected comfort.

“Welcome, mon ange,” Pascale murmurs in your ear, her voice soft and motherly, the kind you haven't felt in so long. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

You blink back the tears that suddenly prick at your eyes. There’s a part of you that’s still surprised to be here, in Monaco, of all places, with Charles — let alone meeting his mother. “Thank you,” you manage to say, feeling a little overwhelmed by her warmth.

Charles gives you an encouraging smile as he slips out of his shoes, motioning for you to do the same. “Come on,” he says lightly, “I told Maman we’d help with dinner.”

You glance at Pascale, who’s already moving toward the kitchen. “Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Pascale calls over her shoulder. “You’re our guest, and in this house, guests are family.”

Charles nudges you playfully. “She means it. Better get in there before she tries to do everything herself.”

You follow them into the kitchen, trying to shake off the nerves that have settled in your stomach. The space is as welcoming as the rest of the apartment, filled with the sounds of something sizzling on the stove and the scent of fresh herbs. Pascale is already at work, her hands moving deftly as she chops vegetables with the ease of someone who’s done this a thousand times.

Charles rolls up his sleeves and grabs a cutting board, handing you one as well. “Here,” he says with a grin, “let’s show Maman what we’ve got.”

You’re not much of a cook, but there’s something about the way Charles and Pascale move around the kitchen that makes you feel at ease. Before long, the three of you are working together, chopping and stirring and laughing as Pascale regales you with stories from Charles’ childhood.

“He was always getting into trouble,” she says with a fond smile, passing you a bowl of something that smells divine. “Climbing trees, chasing after the neighborhood cats ...”

“Maman,” Charles groans, but he’s grinning, his eyes sparkling with that same mischievous glint you’ve seen more than once.

You chuckle, picturing a younger Charles, wild and full of energy. It’s easy to see where he gets his charm — Pascale is a force of nature, and the love she has for her son is palpable in every word, every look she sends his way.

As dinner comes together, you find yourself opening up to Pascale in a way you didn’t expect. She asks about your life, your past, and though it’s hard to talk about your husband, something about her gentle demeanor makes it easier.

“I’m sorry,” you say at one point, when the conversation dips into quieter territory. “I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

Pascale shakes her head, her eyes full of understanding. “You didn’t, dear. It’s important to talk about the people we’ve loved and lost. It keeps them with us.”

Her words resonate with you, and for a moment, you just stand there, letting the warmth of the kitchen and the comfort of their presence wash over you.

“Your husband,” Pascale says after a beat, her voice soft. “He sounds like he was a wonderful man.”

“He was,” you whisper, your throat tightening with emotion. “He really was.”

Pascale reaches out, covering your hand with hers. “And you,” she says gently, “are an incredible woman.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just nod, swallowing back the tears that threaten to spill over. Charles catches your eye from across the kitchen, giving you a small, encouraging smile, and you feel a surge of gratitude for him — for bringing you here, for making you feel like you’re not alone.

Dinner is a simple affair, but it’s one of the best meals you’ve had in a long time. The conversation flows easily, and for a while, it feels like you’re part of something you’ve been missing for so long — a family.

At some point during the evening, you and Pascale find yourselves alone at the table. Charles has stepped out to take a call, leaving you with Pascale, who has been watching you with a thoughtful expression.

“You know,” she begins, her voice gentle, “when Charles told me about you, I could see how much he cares. He’s a good boy, my Charles, but he doesn’t let people in easily.”

You feel your cheeks warm under her scrutiny. “He’s been ... incredibly kind to me,” you say softly. “I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

Pascale nods, as if she already knows. “He’s been through a lot, just like you. Losing his father, and then Jules ... it changed him.”

There’s a sadness in her eyes, and you realize that, like you, she’s carrying her own grief. “I’m sorry,” you say, the words feeling inadequate. “I didn’t mean to bring up-”

“Don’t apologize,” Pascale interrupts, reaching across the table to take your hand. “It’s good to talk about these things, to remember. Charles ... he doesn’t talk about it much, but I know it’s there, always.”

You nod, understanding all too well. The weight of loss is something that never truly goes away; it just becomes a part of you.

“I see a lot of his father in him,” Pascale continues, her voice wistful. “That determination, that drive to be the best. But it’s more than that. He’s got a good heart, my Charles. He cares deeply, even if he doesn’t always show it.”

You smile, thinking of the way Charles has been with you — patient, understanding, always knowing just what to say to make you feel better. “He does,” you agree. “He’s ... he’s been more than I could have ever asked for.”

Pascale’s gaze softens, and for a moment, she just looks at you, as if she’s seeing something she’s been hoping to find. “I’m glad he has you,” she says finally. “I think you’re good for each other.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that, so you just nod, feeling a strange mix of emotions swirling inside you. It’s too soon to think about what all of this means, but there’s a part of you that can’t help but wonder where this is going — what it could become.

Before you can dwell on it too much, Charles returns, his usual easygoing demeanor back in place. “Everything okay?” He asks, glancing between you and Pascale.

“Perfect,” Pascale replies with a smile, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you think she knows more than she’s letting on.

The rest of the evening passes in a comfortable blur, with more stories and laughter, and by the time you’re getting ready to leave, you feel like you’ve known Pascale for much longer than just a few hours.

As you’re putting on your coat, Pascale pulls Charles aside, and you see her lean in close, whispering something to him. He nods, his expression serious, and when he glances back at you, there’s something unreadable in his eyes.

“What did she say?” You ask when you’re finally alone with Charles, walking back to the car.

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just that she likes you,” he says simply. “A lot.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words, but there’s also a flicker of something else — something that feels a lot like hope.

“She’s wonderful,” you say honestly. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Charles stops walking, turning to face you. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says softly. “I’m just glad you came.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re an incredible person, you know that?”

You blink, taken aback by the intensity in his gaze. “I’m just trying to get by,” you admit quietly.

He nods, his hand lingering on your cheek for just a moment longer. “Aren’t we all?”

You don’t know how to respond to that, so you just give him a small smile, hoping he understands.

You reach the car, and Charles opens the door for you, his hand resting lightly on your back as you slide inside. There’s something different in the air between you, something unspoken but undeniably there, and as you drive away from Pascale’s apartment, you can’t help but wonder what it all means.

What you do know, though, is that you’re not alone anymore — not really. Charles is here, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

***

The drive from Pascale’s apartment to Charles’ place is filled with comfortable silence, punctuated by the occasional hum of the engine and the soft tunes playing on the car’s stereo. You find yourself stealing glances at Charles every now and then, noticing how relaxed he seems, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, the other is lightly to the rhythm of the music. His calmness was contagious, and you lean back in your seat, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

When the car finally pulls into an underground parking garage, Charles cuts the engine and turns to you with a soft smile. “Ready to meet Leo?” He asks, his tone almost teasing.

“Leo?” You echo, raising an eyebrow.

“My dog,” Charles clarifies, his smile growing. “He’s ... enthusiastic, to say the least.”

You laugh lightly. “I think I can handle enthusiastic.”

Charles leads you to the elevator, and a few moments later, you are stepping into a sleek, modern apartment. It is tastefully decorated, with large windows that offer a stunning view of the city. Before you could take in all the details, a high-pitched bark echoes through the space, and a small beige dachshund comes skidding around the corner, his tiny legs moving at lightning speed as he raced toward Charles.

“Leo!” Charles greets the dog with a wide grin, crouching down to scoop him up. The dachshund wiggles excitedly in his arms, his tail wagging furiously. “This is Y/N,” Charles introduces, turning Leo’s attention to you. “Be nice.”

You kneel down, and Leo wasted no time leaping from Charles’ arms to yours, showering your face with a flurry of enthusiastic licks. You can’t help but laugh as you try to fend off the affectionate assault, gently rubbing the little dog’s back.

“He’s adorable,” you say, looking up at Charles with a wide smile. But when your eyes meet his, you noticed the way he was watching you — softly, intently, as if seeing you in a new light. It was the kind of look you hadn’t seen since ... since James. The thought hits you with a sudden pang, but there is no sadness in it. Just a quiet, tender acknowledgment of the past and the present.

Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat as he straightens up. “I’m glad you like him,” he says, his voice a touch quieter now. “He’s been good company.”

You stand, Leo still wriggling happily in your arms. “I can see why.”

Charles smiles again, that same gentle warmth in his eyes. “Come on, let me show you to your room. I had one of the guest rooms made up for you.”

You follow him down a short hallway, the soft pads of Leo’s paws following close behind. Charles pushes open a door, revealing a cozy, well-appointed room with a large bed, a dresser, and a window that looks out over the city skyline. Your bags are neatly placed at the foot of the bed.

“I hope it’s comfortable enough,” Charles says, glancing around the room as if assessing it himself.

“It’s perfect,” you assure him, setting Leo down on the floor. The little dog immediately hops onto the bed, circling a few times before settling into a comfortable spot.

Charles chuckles. “Looks like you’ve already got company.”

You smile, sitting on the edge of the bed and giving Leo another affectionate pat. “He’s a good boy.”

There’s a pause, comfortable and full of unspoken things. Charles lingers by the door, as if he wants to say something but is weighing his words.

“If you need anything,” he finally says, “my room’s just down the hall. Don’t hesitate to knock.”

You nod, appreciating the offer more than you could put into words. “Thank you, Charles. For everything.”

His gaze softens, and for a moment, it seems like he might say something more. But instead, he simply nods, giving you a small, almost bashful smile before stepping back into the hallway.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, his voice warm and sincere.

“Goodnight, Charles.”

As the door closes behind him, you’re left alone in the quiet room, Leo’s soft breathing the only sound. You sit there for a moment, letting everything that had happened over the past few days wash over you. The unexpected kindness of a stranger who is becoming so much more, the gentle way he helped you navigate the grief that still lingered like a shadow ... and the way he looked at you, as if he saw something in you that you’d almost forgotten was there.

With a deep breath, you lie back on the bed, Leo curling up beside you. The city lights twinkle through the window, casting a soft glow across the room. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling a sense of peace that had eluded you for so long. Maybe, just maybe, you are beginning to heal.

And as you drift off to sleep, you find yourself thinking of the days to come, and the possibility of something new and beautiful growing from the ashes of what you’d lost.

***

The next morning, Charles is practically buzzing with excitement as he leads you out of his apartment and towards the harbor. His hand is warm and sure around yours, and you can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

The sky is a brilliant shade of blue, the kind of color that seems to only exist in this part of the world, with the sun glinting off the water and the scent of salt in the air. The harbor is alive with activity, the gentle hum of boats rocking in the marina, the occasional laughter of tourists, and the distant sounds of a city going about its day.

“I’m taking you to my favorite spot,” Charles says, his voice light and cheerful. “It’s a bit of a hidden gem. The tourists don’t usually find it, but the locals love it.”

You laugh softly, looking up at him as you walk side by side. “Sounds perfect. I’m always up for good food.”

Charles grins at that, his eyes twinkling with a boyish charm. “Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.”

The walk is leisurely, and as you near the harbor, you notice how Charles slows his pace, as if wanting to savor every moment. The way he talks about Monaco, you can tell how much he loves it here, how much this place means to him. It’s like seeing the city through his eyes, and you find yourself appreciating the little details more — the old stone buildings, the narrow streets, the way the sunlight reflects off the water.

The brunch spot is tucked away, a small, unassuming place with a few tables outside, shaded by a striped awning. The smell of fresh coffee and baked goods wafts through the air, and you immediately feel at home. Charles greets the owner like an old friend, exchanging a few words in rapid French before leading you to a cozy table by the window.

You sit down, and Charles orders for the both of you — pastries, fresh fruit, eggs cooked just the way you like them, and, of course, coffee.

As you sip your coffee and nibble on a flaky croissant, you take in the surroundings. The café is quaint and charming, with wooden tables and mismatched chairs, the kind of place where you could easily spend hours just watching the world go by. It’s clear that Charles has a deep connection to this place, and you feel honored that he’s sharing it with you.

“This place,” you say, setting your coffee cup down, “it’s perfect.”

Charles smiles softly, his gaze lingering on your face. “I knew you’d like it.”

For a while, the two of you talk about everything and nothing — his childhood in Monaco, your favorite books, the little things that make life sweet. There’s a comfort in the conversation, a sense of ease that comes from being with someone who understands you, who doesn’t need you to be anything other than yourself.

After brunch, Charles suggests a walk along the harbor. The day is warm, the sun high in the sky, and as you walk, you can feel the tension of the past few days begin to melt away. The conversation flows easily, laughter coming more often than not, and you realize how much you’ve missed this — missed feeling alive, missed the simple pleasure of being in the moment.

But as the afternoon wears on, the sky begins to darken. You glance up, noticing the heavy clouds gathering overhead, and before you can say anything, the first raindrop falls.

Charles looks up at the sky, a grin spreading across his face. “Looks like we’re in for a bit of rain.”

You laugh, holding out your hand as the raindrops begin to fall faster, harder. “A bit? This looks like a full-on storm.”

The rain comes quickly, turning from a light drizzle to a steady downpour in a matter of moments. The tourists around you scatter, seeking shelter under awnings and in shops, but Charles doesn’t move. Instead, he looks at you, his expression playful, his eyes daring.

“Come on,” he says, taking your hand again, this time with more urgency. “Let’s do something crazy.”

You’re about to ask what he means, but then you see the look in his eyes, and you know. You know exactly what he’s thinking.

Without another word, he pulls you into the open, right into the middle of the empty street. The rain is cold against your skin, soaking through your clothes in seconds, but you don’t care. You don’t care about anything in this moment except the feeling of the rain on your face, the sound of Charles’ laughter, the way he spins you around like you’re in the middle of some grand ballroom instead of a rain-soaked street.

You let go. You let go of all the sadness, all the pain, all the fear. You let go and dance, not caring if you look silly, not caring if anyone is watching. It’s just you and Charles and the rain.

For the first time in a long time, you feel free.

And then, without even thinking, you lean in, and Charles is there, meeting you halfway. His lips are warm and soft against yours, a stark contrast to the cold rain, and you can feel the gentle pressure of his hands on your waist, holding you close, grounding you in this moment.

The kiss is slow, tender, as if Charles is trying to convey everything he’s feeling without saying a word. There’s a sense of rightness in it, like this is where you’re supposed to be, like this is what you’ve been missing.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, the rain still pouring down around you, but neither of you seems to care. You look up at Charles, his hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping down his face, and you can’t help but smile.

“I’ve never danced in the rain before,” you say, your voice barely audible over the sound of the downpour.

Charles grins, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Neither have I. But I’m glad my first time was with you.”

You laugh softly, leaning your forehead against his. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

He chuckles, his arms tightening around you. “Maybe a little. But sometimes the best things in life are a little crazy.”

You close your eyes, letting the moment wash over you, feeling the weight of the past few weeks slowly lifting off your shoulders. For the first time since you lost James, you feel like you’re truly living again. And it’s because of Charles.

The rain shows no signs of stopping, but you don’t care. You could stand here forever, in this moment, with Charles’s arms around you and the rain falling like a blessing from the sky.

But eventually, the cold starts to seep into your bones, and Charles pulls back, his hands still on your waist, his eyes searching yours.

“Let’s get out of the rain,” he says softly. “We don’t want to catch a cold.”

You nod, reluctantly stepping out of his embrace, and together you make your way back towards the apartment, the rain still falling around you, but your heart feeling lighter than it has in months.

As you walk, Charles slips his hand into yours again, and you glance over at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. You’re not sure what’s happening between you and Charles, but for the first time, you’re not afraid of it. You’re not afraid to see where this might go.

When you reach the apartment, you’re both soaked to the bone, your clothes clinging uncomfortably to your skin, but you’re laughing, unable to stop the joy bubbling up inside you.

Charles unlocks the door and ushers you inside, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I think we might need to dry off a bit.”

You laugh, nodding in agreement as you look around the familiar space. Leo is waiting by the door, his tail wagging furiously as he barks excitedly, clearly not pleased that you both got caught in the rain without him.

Charles crouches down, rubbing Leo behind the ears. “Hey, baby. We didn’t mean to leave you out of the fun.”

Leo licks Charles’s face enthusiastically before trotting over to you, looking up with big, expectant eyes. You can’t help but smile as you reach down to pet him, feeling a warmth in your chest that has nothing to do with the rain.

Charles stands, his eyes soft as he watches you with Leo. “Let’s get you some dry clothes,” he says gently, leading you down the hall.

You follow him, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. There’s something about being here, with Charles, that feels right. Like maybe, just maybe, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

And as Charles hands you a towel and one of his oversized shirts, you realize that maybe you’re finally ready to start letting go of the past and embracing whatever the future holds. With Charles by your side, it feels like anything is possible.

As you dry off and change into the warm, comfortable clothes Charles gave you, you can’t help but smile at the thought. Maybe this isn’t just about ticking off items on a bucket list. Maybe it’s about finding yourself again. And maybe, just maybe, it’s about finding something more.

***

You fall asleep that night, still feeling the warmth of Charles’ arms wrapped around you as he whispered a soft goodnight. His gentle kiss, tentative yet filled with an unspoken promise, lingers on your lips even as you drift into slumber.

But in your dreams, the world shifts.

You find yourself standing in a place both familiar and strange — a field of golden wheat, the sun setting in the distance, casting a warm, orange glow across the horizon. The sky is endless, blending into shades of pink and purple, as if the heavens themselves were painted with the softest brushstrokes.

And there he is. James.

He’s standing a few feet away, his back to you, hands in his pockets, the way he always used to stand when he was deep in thought. The wind rustles the wheat around him, and for a moment, you just watch him, your heart aching with the longing that never really goes away.

“James ...” Your voice is soft, trembling, almost afraid that speaking his name will shatter the dream.

He turns slowly, his familiar smile, that same one that used to make you feel like everything would be okay, spreads across his face. He’s exactly as you remember him — tousled brown hair, slightly crooked nose from that time he tried to impress you by skiing down a slope far too steep, and those eyes, those deep, warm eyes that always seemed to understand you better than you understood yourself.

“Hey, you,” he says, his voice carrying the same teasing lilt that always made you laugh, no matter how bad your day had been.

You move towards him, your feet sinking into the soft earth, but it feels as though the distance between you never changes. The closer you try to get, the farther he seems. “I miss you,” you say, and your voice cracks under the weight of the words. “I miss you so much, Jamie.”

“I know,” he says, and his voice is soft, understanding. “I miss you too, but I’m here now.”

You finally reach him, your fingers itching to touch him, to feel his warmth, but there’s a hesitance within you, a fear that touching him will break the fragile illusion. “I’m scared,” you confess, the tears that have been gathering in your eyes finally spilling over. “I’m scared of moving on, of letting go … of forgetting you.”

James takes a step closer, and suddenly, he’s right in front of you. You can feel his warmth now, the comforting presence that had always been your anchor. He lifts a hand, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb, just like he used to.

“You won’t forget me,” he says gently, his voice a soothing balm to your wounded heart. “You carry me with you, always. I’m a part of you, just like you’re a part of me.”

You close your eyes, leaning into his touch, memorizing the feel of him, the sound of his voice. “But it feels like I’m betraying you … with Charles.”

James chuckles softly, a sound that vibrates through you, filling you with a warmth that you hadn’t felt in so long. “Charles Leclerc, huh?” He steps back slightly, enough to meet your gaze fully. “Never knew you had a thing for fast cars and dangerous men.”

You can’t help but smile through your tears. “He’s … different. He’s kind, and patient, and he makes me feel … alive again.”

“That’s good, Y/N,” James says, his tone earnest, as if he’s trying to make you understand something crucial. “That’s what I want for you. I don’t want you to be stuck in the past, living with a ghost. I want you to live, to be happy, to love again.”

“But you-”

“I’ll always be with you,” he interrupts gently. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here,” he says, pressing a hand over your heart. “But you need to let yourself be happy. You need to let yourself find love, even if it’s not with me.”

A sob escapes your lips, and you cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stifle the sound, but James pulls you into his arms, holding you close. “It’s okay,” he murmurs into your hair. “It’s okay to love someone else. I want you to. You deserve that.”

You bury your face in his chest, inhaling the scent that’s so uniquely him — earthy and warm, like freshly cut grass on a summer’s day. “I don’t know if I can,” you whisper. “It feels like losing you all over again.”

“You’re not losing me,” he reassures, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “You’re gaining something beautiful. And if you’re worried about my approval ...” He grins, that mischievous glint in his eye that you always loved. “I mean, he’s no Max Verstappen, but Charles Leclerc? I guess he’s almost good enough for you.”

A laugh bubbles up from your chest, even as tears continue to fall. It’s absurd, really, this moment, this conversation, but it’s exactly what you needed.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” you murmur, shaking your head with a small smile.

James shrugs, a carefree gesture that was so him. “What can I say? I always had a soft spot for Max. But Charles … he’s got potential. Just … give him a chance, okay? For me?”

You nod, even though the idea terrifies you. “I’ll try,” you whisper. “For you.”

James smiles, a sad, but proud smile, and he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, the same way he used to when he wanted to comfort you without words. “That’s all I ask. And Y/N ... don’t wait too long, okay? Life is too short for that.”

“I won’t,” you promise, even though your heart is heavy with the thought of truly moving on.

James takes a step back, his form beginning to fade into the golden light of the sunset. “I love you, Y/N. I always will. But it’s time for you to live again.”

“Goodbye, Jamie,” you say, your voice trembling as he becomes more and more ethereal, like a shadow dissolving in the light. “I love you.”

He smiles one last time, his figure almost completely faded now. “And I love you. Always.”

The dream fades, and you’re left standing in that field of golden wheat alone, the sun sinking below the horizon, casting the world into twilight. But there’s a peace in your heart that you haven’t felt in a long time, a quiet acceptance that maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to start letting go.

When you wake, your cheeks are damp with tears, but there’s a soft smile on your lips. You lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, replaying the dream in your mind, feeling the weight of James’ words settle in your heart.

You know what he said is true. You know it’s what he would want. And you know, deep down, that it’s time to start allowing yourself to heal, to open up, and to let someone else in.

And as you think of Charles, of his patience, his kindness, his quiet understanding, you can’t help but feel a tiny spark of hope flickering in your chest — a hope that maybe, just maybe, you can find love again.

***

The morning light filtered through the curtains of Charles’ dining room, casting a soft, golden hue over the room. You sit at the table, trying to focus on the breakfast in front of you — a selection of pastries, fresh fruit, and coffee that Charles had lovingly laid out. Yet, the thoughts swirling in your mind make it hard to concentrate. Charles sits across from you, his eyes occasionally flicking up to meet yours, a small, contented smile playing on his lips.

The memories of the past few days are almost surreal: the unexpected road trip, the rain-soaked dance that ended with your first kiss, and the way Charles held you afterward, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. It’s been a whirlwind, but a beautiful one. And yet, as you take a sip of coffee, reality nudges its way back into your thoughts.

“I ... I should probably head back home soon,” you say, your voice hesitant, as if saying the words might make them less real. “I need to get back to work.”

The air in the room shifts. Charles’ smile fades just a little, replaced by a look of understanding, tinged with something you can’t quite place. Sadness? Disappointment? He sets down his coffee cup, his fingers playing with the handle as if it could offer him some guidance on what to say next.

“Of course,” he replies, his tone gentle, though you can hear the effort it takes to keep it light. “You have responsibilities, a life back home ...”

There’s a pause, the kind that stretches a moment into something heavier, more significant. The silence is thick, filled with the unspoken truth that neither of you wants to confront: this bubble of time you’ve been living in, where only the two of you exist, is about to burst.

“I like you,” you blurt out, the words tumbling out faster than you can stop them. They hang in the air, raw and vulnerable.

Charles looks up, his eyes locking onto yours. “I like you too,” he says, his voice low, steady, and filled with something that makes your heart skip a beat.

You both sit there for a moment, staring at each other, the weight of your mutual confession settling between you like a third presence at the table. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“I want to see where this goes,” you continue, your voice trembling slightly as you try to gather your thoughts. “But I don’t know how ... I mean, you’re always traveling for the races, and I-”

“Come with me,” Charles interrupts, his voice firm, almost urgent. “To the next race. And the one after that. I don’t want this to be just a beautiful memory. I want you there with me, every step of the way.”

His words hit you like a wave, washing over the fears and doubts that had been quietly gnawing at the back of your mind. The idea of uprooting your life, of stepping into his world, is daunting — but the thought of not being with him is even more unbearable.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. “Are you sure?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to get in the way, or make things complicated.”

Charles leans forward, his hand reaching out to cover yours. His touch is warm, grounding. “You wouldn’t be in the way. I want this. I want you. And if it gets complicated, then we’ll figure it out together.”

The sincerity in his eyes is almost overwhelming. You’ve spent so long guarding your heart, protecting yourself from the pain of losing someone again, that the idea of opening up to love, to Charles, feels both terrifying and exhilarating.

“Two and a half weeks,” he continues, a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s when the next race is. Come with me. We’ll have more time to figure this out, whatever this is.”

You nod slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Okay,” you say, your voice firming up with the decision. “I’ll come with you.”

A bright, relieved smile breaks across Charles’ face, and in that moment, you know you’ve made the right choice. Whatever happens, you’ll face it together. The thought is both comforting and thrilling.

Charles stands up, pulling you gently to your feet. “I think we should seal this decision properly,” he says, his tone light, teasing.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the mood from becoming too serious. “And how do you propose we do that?”

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he steps closer, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he leans in, capturing your lips with his in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s different from the kiss you shared in the rain — this one is slower, more deliberate, filled with the promise of everything that could be. You melt into him, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders as you kiss him back, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

When you finally pull away, breathless and a little dizzy, Charles rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a contented smile on his lips. “I’m really glad you’re coming with me,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of emotion.

“So am I,” you whisper back, your heart swelling with a mixture of hope and anticipation.

For the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. And as you stand there in Charles’ arms, the future doesn’t seem so scary anymore. In fact, it looks pretty damn wonderful.

***

18 Months Later

The cemetery is quiet, a solemn stillness that wraps around you and Charles as you walk down the winding path lined with weathered tombstones and ancient trees. The sky above is a muted gray, the kind that seems to reflect the heavy emotions you’ve been carrying with you.

Your hand is tightly clasped in Charles’, his grip firm and reassuring, but you can feel the slight tremor in his fingers. He’s nervous, though he tries to hide it behind a small, gentle smile.

You haven’t been here since the funeral, since that awful day when you laid James to rest. The thought of returning to this place has always felt too overwhelming, like reopening a wound that never fully healed. But now, over a year and a half later, you’re here again, and this time, you’re not alone.

You lead Charles to the spot where James is buried. It’s a modest grave, marked by a simple headstone that bears his name, his dates, and a short inscription that never fails to bring tears to your eyes: Beloved husband, healer of hearts, taken too soon.

Charles lets go of your hand as you kneel in front of the grave, gently brushing away the few leaves that have settled on the stone. You trace James’ name with your fingers, the cold granite grounding you in a way that words never could. Charles stands a few steps behind you, giving you space, but his presence is a comforting anchor in this sea of grief.

You’re not sure how long you stay like that, silent and lost in memories, before you finally speak. “Hi, James,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come back. I-I brought someone with me. I think you’d like him.” You swallow the lump in your throat, tears slipping down your cheeks. “His name is Charles. He’s ... he’s very special to me. You’d probably think he’s not good enough for me, but you were always a little biased.”

A small, bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you glance back at Charles, who’s watching you with a mixture of love and concern. “Would you ... would you mind giving us a moment?” Charles asks softly, stepping forward. “I — I’d like to talk to James, if that’s okay.”

You blink up at him, surprised by the request, but the earnestness in his eyes makes you nod. “Of course,” you murmur, rising to your feet. You lean in to kiss Charles on the cheek, squeezing his hand one last time before stepping away, giving him the privacy he’s asked for.

Charles waits until you’ve moved a respectful distance away, then turns his attention to the grave. He takes a deep breath, crouching down so he’s at eye level with the headstone. He feels awkward, talking to a man he’s never met, a man who was such a huge part of your life. But he knows this is important, that he needs to do this — for you, for James, and for himself.

“Hi, James,” Charles starts, his voice low and unsure. “I-I hope you don’t mind me talking to you like this. I’ve heard so much about you, and I know how much you mean to her.” He pauses, running a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. “I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for loving her the way you did, for making her so happy. She deserves that, you know? She deserves all the happiness in the world.”

Charles’ throat tightens, and he has to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. He hadn’t expected this to be so hard, hadn’t expected to feel this intense connection to a man he never knew. “I’m ... I’m going to propose to her,” he finally says, his voice shaking. “And I wanted to ask for your permission, if that’s okay. I know I can’t replace you, and I wouldn’t want to. You’ll always be a part of her, and I’ll never try to take that away.”

He swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest. “But I love her, James. I love her so much, and I promise I’ll take care of her. I’ll do everything I can to make her happy, to make sure she feels loved every single day. I know she still loves you, and I’m okay with that. There’s more than enough room in her heart for both of us.”

Charles reaches out, placing a hand on the cool stone of the headstone, as if trying to make a connection with the man resting beneath it. “We’ve been talking about her moving to Monaco with me soon,” he continues, his voice steadying. “And I promise you, she’ll have free reign of my private jet to visit you whenever she wants. I’ll make sure she never feels like she has to choose between us.”

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “I hope that’s okay with you, James. I hope ... I hope you’re at peace, wherever you are. And I hope you know that I’m going to love her with everything I have. I’ll do my best to make her as happy as you did. Thank you for that.”

Charles stays there for a moment longer, his hand still resting on the gravestone, before he finally stands. He wipes at his eyes, surprised to find them wet with tears, and glances over at you. You’re watching him, a mix of curiosity and love in your gaze, and he gives you a small, reassuring smile.

You walk back over to him, slipping your hand into his, and he squeezes it gently. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I ... I don’t know what you said, but thank you.”

Charles just nods, pulling you into a hug, holding you close as you both stand there in the quiet cemetery, the weight of your shared love and loss settling around you. It’s not an easy moment, but it’s one that feels right, like a necessary step forward in the journey you’ve been on together.

As you stand there in Charles’ arms, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. You know that James would have approved, that he would have wanted you to find happiness again, to find love again. And now, with Charles by your side, you finally feel like you can do that.

Eventually, you both turn to leave, hand in hand, walking back down the path toward the cemetery gates. As you reach the car, you glance back one last time at James’ grave, a soft smile on your lips. “Goodbye, Jamie,” you whisper. “Thank you for everything. I love you.”

Charles opens the car door for you, and as you slide into the passenger seat, you feel a sense of closure, of new beginnings. It’s not about moving on, you realize, but about moving forward — carrying the love you’ve known with you into whatever comes next.

And as Charles drives away from the cemetery, his hand resting on your thigh, you know that whatever comes next, you won’t be facing it alone.

***

The reception hall is filled with soft, warm light, the kind that makes everyone look beautiful and the world seem perfect for just a moment. The clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter create a background hum that feels almost comforting in its familiarity.

You stand at the edge of the room, looking out at the faces of friends and family, people who have watched you navigate the hardest years of your life and who are now here to celebrate this new chapter.

Charles is beside you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back, a touch so natural that it feels like it's always been there. When he smiles at you, there's a quiet understanding in his eyes, a love that has grown deep and steady, rooted in the soil of shared grief and the careful, tentative steps toward healing.

You know he can feel your nervousness — he’s always been able to read you so well — but there’s no rush, no pressure. Just his presence, anchoring you as you take a deep breath and step forward to the microphone.

The room gradually quiets as people realize you’re about to speak. The lump in your throat feels almost too big to swallow, and for a moment, you think you might not be able to get the words out. But then you feel Charles’ hand squeeze yours, a silent encouragement that you can do this, and suddenly, it’s easier to find your voice.

“Thank you,” you begin, and your voice wavers a little, but it’s steady enough. “Thank you all for being here today. I know that every bride says this, but it really does mean the world to us that you’re here to share this day with us.”

You glance at Charles, who is watching you with that same soft look he had when you first met Leo. His eyes are full of pride and love, and it gives you the strength to continue.

“Most of you know that today isn’t just about celebrating the love that Charles and I share, but it’s also about honoring the past that brought us here,” you say, and you can see some people nodding, their smiles tinged with understanding. “A few years ago, I lost my husband, James. He was an incredible man — kind, compassionate, and so full of life. And when he passed, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, let alone find love again.”

Your voice catches, and you have to pause to take another breath. The room is silent now, everyone hanging on your words.

“James left me a letter,” you say, and there’s a faint murmur as people who don’t know the story lean in, intrigued. “In that letter, he left me a bucket list of things he wanted me to experience, things he wished we could have done together but that he wanted me to do in his memory.”

You reach into your pocket and pull out the now well-worn piece of paper, carefully unfolding it as you speak. “The last item on that list was to find love again.”

A few people gasp quietly, and you can see some wiping their eyes, moved by the weight of those words. You feel your own tears threatening to fall, but you blink them back, determined to finish what you’ve started.

“For a long time, I didn’t think I could,” you admit, your voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t think it was possible to let someone else into my heart after losing James. But then, I met Charles.”

You turn to look at him, and he smiles at you, a smile that is both gentle and reassuring. “Charles showed me that it’s okay to love again, that my heart is big enough to hold all the memories I have of James while still making room for new ones with him. He’s been patient, understanding, and so, so kind. And I know that James would have loved him just as much as I do.”

Charles’ eyes glisten with unshed tears, and when he squeezes your hand again, it’s not just to comfort you — it’s a shared moment of recognition, of understanding that this journey has been just as profound for him as it has been for you.

“I know that some people say you can only have one great love in a lifetime,” you continue, your voice growing steadier with each word. “But I think I’ve been incredibly lucky, because I’ve had two.”

The room is filled with the sound of sniffles and soft murmurs of agreement. You can see your family, who has been there through it all, nodding and smiling through their tears.

“So today, as we celebrate this new beginning, I want to take a moment to honor the man who brought us here. James, wherever you are, thank you. Thank you for loving me enough to let me go, for knowing that I needed to find happiness again. I know you’re here with us, in spirit, and I hope you’re proud.”

You pause, your heart heavy but full. “And to Charles, my Charlie … thank you for being brave enough to love me, even when it wasn’t easy. Thank you for showing me that it’s okay to hold on to the past while embracing the future. I promise to love you with all of my heart, forever and always.”

The room is silent for a long moment after you finish speaking, and then the applause begins — soft at first, then growing louder as people rise to their feet, clapping not just for you and Charles, but for the love that has brought you both here, and for the man who made it all possible.

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, pressing a kiss to your temple as the applause swells around you. “I love you,” he whispers, and you can hear the emotion in his voice. “Thank you for sharing that with everyone. It was perfect.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back, your voice thick with tears. “And thank you, Charlie. For everything.”

The rest of the night is a blur of laughter, dancing, and celebration. But the memory of your speech, of standing up in front of everyone and sharing your heart so openly, will stay with you forever. And as you and Charles step onto the dance floor for your first dance as husband and wife, you feel a sense of peace, knowing that James is watching over you both, smiling as you take this next step forward together.

The music begins to play, a soft, romantic melody that wraps around you like a warm embrace. Charles pulls you closer, his arms around your waist as you sway together, and for the first time in a long time, you feel complete. It’s not that the pain of losing James has disappeared — it never will — but it has softened, and in its place, there is a new kind of love, one that is just as strong, just as true.

As you dance, you rest your head against Charles’ chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The guests fade into the background, and it’s just the two of you, moving together in perfect harmony. You know that this moment, this dance, is the beginning of a new chapter, one that you never imagined you would have, but one that you are so grateful for.

When the song ends, Charles lifts your chin with his finger, his eyes searching yours. “You okay?” He asks softly, his voice filled with concern.

You nod, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. Instead, you press your lips to his in a tender kiss, one that says everything you can’t put into words. Charles holds you close, and as you pull back, you see the tears in his eyes, a mirror of your own.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and Charles smiles, his thumb brushing away the tear that slips down your cheek.

“No, thank you,” he says, his voice full of love and admiration. “For letting me be a part of this, for trusting me with your heart. I promise, I’ll take care of it.”

And as you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you know that you’ve found what James wanted for you all along — someone who will love you just as deeply, just as fiercely, as he did. Someone who will walk with you through the good times and the bad, who will hold your hand and guide you through the darkest days, and who will celebrate the bright ones with joy and laughter.

You’ve found love again, just like James wanted, and it feels like coming home.

***

You park the car under the shade of a sprawling oak tree, the leaves rustling softly in the breeze. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you step out, Charles following behind, holding Jacques in his arms.

The baby is cooing, tiny hands grabbing at Charles’ shirt as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. You pause for a moment, breathing in the cool air, trying to gather the courage to walk towards the familiar grave that you’ve avoided for so long.

Charles adjusts Jacques in his arms, the baby’s chubby legs kicking slightly as he looks around, taking in the new surroundings with wide eyes. You glance at Charles, and he gives you a small, encouraging nod. But this time, there’s no pressure. He’s letting you take the lead, letting you go at your own pace.

The last time you were here, you and Charles had just gotten engaged. The memory of Charles standing by James’ grave, asking for his blessing, is still vivid in your mind. And now, two years later, everything has changed. You’re married to Charles, and you have a beautiful baby boy. But standing here, in front of the man you once loved with all your heart, the weight of everything comes crashing down.

You take a deep breath and start walking towards the grave. The headstone is simple, elegant, just the way James would have wanted it. Fresh flowers have been placed there recently — probably by James’ parents, who visit regularly. A pang of guilt twists in your chest. You should have come sooner.

When you reach the grave, you kneel down, brushing your fingers lightly over the engraved letters of his name. The silence is thick, filled with everything you want to say but can’t find the words for. Charles stays a few steps back, giving you space, though you can feel his presence like a warm anchor, grounding you.

“Hi, Jamie,” you finally whisper, your voice trembling. “It’s ... it’s been a while, I know. I’m sorry for not visiting sooner.”

The words catch in your throat, and you have to pause, blinking back tears. You thought you were prepared for this, but being here, with so much time having passed, it’s harder than you imagined.

“I wanted to come sooner, but ... everything just got so overwhelming,” you continue, your voice breaking. “I’ve missed you so much. And I know you’re watching over us, but I needed to feel like I could do this ... like I could come back here and tell you everything.”

You glance back at Charles, who is now sitting on the grass with Jacques in his lap. The baby is looking up at the sky, oblivious to the somber mood, a tiny smile playing on his lips. When you turn back to the grave, the tears you've been holding back finally spill over.

“I want you to meet someone,” you say softly. You reach back, signaling Charles to bring Jacques over. Charles carefully lifts Jacques, walking over to you, and gently hands him to you. The baby gurgles, his small hand wrapping around your finger instinctively. You hold Jacques close, your tears falling onto his soft hair.

“This is Jacques,” you whisper, looking down at your son. “He’s named after you and Jules. Charles and I wanted to honor you both in some way.”

The name had been something you and Charles had discussed at length. When you found out you were pregnant, there was no hesitation in your minds who you wanted to name your son after. It felt like the right thing to do, like a way to keep a part of James alive in your new life.

“He’s ... he’s so beautiful, James,” you continue, your voice trembling with emotion. “I wish you were here to see him grow up. To be a part of his life. But I promise, I’ll tell him all about you. About how amazing you were, and how much you loved helping others. He’ll know his name carries a legacy.”

Jacques wiggles in your arms, and you press a soft kiss to his forehead. The tears continue to fall, but now they’re mixed with a sense of bittersweet acceptance. You look up at the sky, the clouds shifting lazily, and you wonder if James is watching, if he’s smiling down at you.

You glance at Charles, who is watching you with those soft eyes that seem to hold all the love in the world. He’s been so patient, so understanding, and in this moment, you realize how incredibly lucky you are to have found love again. It’s not something you ever thought would be possible, but here you are, standing between the past and the future, with a heart big enough to hold them both.

“Charles has been amazing,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’d like him, James. He’s so kind, and he understands ... he understands everything I’ve been through. He’s been so good to me, and to Jacques. I think you’d be happy to know that we found each other.”

Charles steps closer, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. The warmth of his body against yours is comforting, a reminder that you’re not alone in this. Jacques babbles, his tiny fingers reaching up to touch Charles’ face, and Charles chuckles softly, nuzzling his nose against Jacques' cheek.

You close your eyes, leaning back into Charles, letting yourself feel the full weight of the moment. The grief, the love, the hope — all of it swirling inside you like a storm that’s finally starting to calm.

“I love you,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I always will. But I’ve learned that it’s okay to move forward. To let myself be happy again. And I think ... I think you’d want that for me.”

The wind picks up slightly, rustling the leaves in the trees, and for a brief moment, you swear you can feel James’ presence — like a gentle touch on your shoulder, a whisper in your ear, telling you that it’s okay. That he’s at peace, and he wants you to be too.

You turn slightly, pressing a kiss to Charles’ cheek, then look back at the grave, feeling a sense of closure that you didn’t think was possible.

“We’ll be back to visit,” you promise, your voice steadying. “I won’t wait so long next time. And Jacques will grow up knowing who you were, what you meant to us. He’ll know his name is special.”

Charles squeezes your hand, and you nod, letting him know you’re ready to go. You stand, brushing off your pants, and take one last look at James’ grave. The flowers sway gently in the breeze, and you feel a strange sense of peace settle over you. It’s not goodbye — it’s more of a “see you later.”

As you walk back to the car, Charles keeps his arm around your waist, holding you close. Jacques is still babbling happily, completely unaware of the emotional weight of the visit. But that’s okay — he’ll understand when he’s older. For now, you’re just grateful to have this moment, to feel like you’re honoring both the past and the future.

When you reach the car, you carefully buckle Jacques into his car seat, making sure he’s secure before you get in. Charles closes the door behind you, and as he starts the engine, you glance back at the grave, giving a small nod as if to say, “Thank you.”

As the car pulls away, you lean your head against the window, watching the trees blur past. Charles reaches over, taking your hand in his, and you smile softly, squeezing his hand in return.

It’s a long drive back home, but you don’t mind. You have everything you need right here with you. And as you close your eyes, letting the gentle motion of the car lull you into a peaceful state, you realize that this is what James wanted for you — to find love again, to be happy, to live your life to the fullest.

And you will. For him, for Jacques, for Charles, and for yourself.

[smileysuh]

creep

🌙 staring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “If the roles were reversed - if you were a ghost bound to this apartment forever - you’re saying you wouldn’t watch me get naked every day?” He’s definitely got a point. As your eyes skim Mingyu's perfect form again, that tingle returns between your legs. There’s no reason for him to be as sexy as he is- murders aren’t the only shocking thing this man has under his belt and you can see that now. 

tw/cw. dark content warning, serial killer Mingyu, mention of suicide, touch starved mingyu, switch mingyu, pussy eating, pussy worship, blow job, hand job, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, big dick mingyu, pussy stretching, extreme voyeurism, mentions of non-consensual voyeurism, dirty talk, praise, choking, manhandling, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess. (his) good boy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.1k

🍭 aus. Halloween, ghost!mingyu, serial killer!mingyu, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I really can't explain this one other than saying I tried to make Mingyu redeemable by saying he only killed bad men 👀

Out of all the guy friends you have over, Jeonghan is Mingyu’s favorite. He’s always up to no good, talking shit that Mingyu can listen to for hours, and tonight, he’s brought a Ouija Board, which has spiked Mingyu’s curiosity. 

“Come on, it will be fun,” Jeonghan insists. “I’ve been wanting to do a seance in your apartment since you moved in three months ago.”

You’re not as impressed as Mingyu is about the idea, and neither are your other friends.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Seungkwan says for the fifth time since the rag-tag group of friends entered your home. “We said we’d come back here between Halloween parties and drink, we never said anything about contacting the dude that killed himself here.”

Mingyu remembers the day you visited the apartment for the first time, the way the realtor had downplayed what happened here. Times are tough, and the price reduction had enticed you, despite Mingyu’s tragic history. 

“Come on, don’t you guys wanna ask why he did it?” Jeonghan presses.

“He did it because he was a top suspect in a string of murder cases,” Seungkwan fires back. “Case closed.”

Jeonghan scoffs loudly. “But what if he didn’t do it? What if the real serial killer came here, killed him, and made it look like a suicide-”

“Hannie,” you interrupt with a sigh, “what’s with you and your infatuation with murderers?”

“Me?!” Jeonghan’s eyes widen. “Who’s the one who watches all my slasher films with me? Don’t pretend you're innocent here, we all know you have a thing for bad boys.”

Mingyu’s noticed your love for dangerous men, you’ve had your share of bad dudes over to this very apartment much to his annoyance. On the flip side, Mingyu does enjoy a good horror movie night, and you provide more than enough of those, especially this past month.

“We’re doing this,” Jeonghan insists, pulling the board out and setting it on the coffee table. “It’s Halloween. If there’s ever a night for this ghost to talk with us, it’s now.”

Seungkwan only groans, taking another shot while Seokmin and Soonyoung exchange worried glances.

“You don’t think the ghost is going to actually like… talk with us, do you?” the man in the tiger onesie asks, playing with his tail nervously. 

“Well, the veil is thinnest on Halloween… I guess there’s only one way to find out,” Jeonghan grins devilishly. 

Five minutes later, candles are set up and Seokmin is sheepishly turning off the lights before joining everyone by the board. 

Mingyu holds back, watching with interest.

“How do we start?” you ask.

“Imma rizz this ghost,” Jeonghan explains, looking around the room. “Is there a presence here with us?”

In the silence, Mingyu can hear an ambulance a few blocks away. He crosses his arms over his chest, watching.

“Don’t we have to touch the Ouija thing?” Seungkwan asks.

“Right.” Jeonghan reaches out only to have his hand slapped away by his friend.

“Not you,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “You’ll rig it.”

Jeonghan sighs. “Fine, I’ll ask the questions, you all touch the planchette.”

It’s almost laughable how reluctant Seokmin is to touch the board, but soon, there are four sets of hands on it while Jeonghan addresses the room again. 

��Come on ghost,” he pleads, “don’t make me look bad, come say hi. If there’s a spirit with us, please move the planchette and tell us.”

Mingyu figures now is as good a time as any to communicate, God knows he’s waited years. With a sigh, Mingyu approaches the board. He crouches down next to you, reaching out. His fingers slip right through the planchette, but when he touches Seokmin, the man shivers.

“You okay?” you ask, looking at your friend.

“It just got really cold,” Seokmin breathes, already turning pale.

Mingyu tries again, this time aiming for Seokmin’s hands. The ghost focuses hard, willing the planchette to move, willing Seokmin’s hands to become his own. 

The small tool begins to shift on the board. 

“Soonyoung, cut it out,” Seungkwan snaps.

“It’s not me!” the tiger insists.

Little by little, the planchette shifts to Yes, and Mingyu lets out a deep breath at the effort it had taken.

“So there is a spirit here with us?” Jeonghan clarifies.

Again, Mingyu moves the planchette, slightly off of Yes then back again, an affirmative.

“I knew it!” Jeonghan practically screams. “Are you the guy who died here?”

Another Yes, and Mingyu’s getting annoyed with the questions already.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

Mingyu’s a little surprised that you’re beginning a line of inquiry, but he’s pleased too. Using Seokmin’s hands, he begins to slowly reveal his name. With each letter, your group reads it out loud.

“M… I… N… G… Y… U… Mingyu?” 

God, Mingyu likes the sound of his name on your lips.

A shift to Yes has the whole room going quiet and Mingyu waits for the next question.

“Okay guys, seriously, who’s doing this?” Seungkwan asks, ever the non-believer. 

“It’s not me!” Seokmin insists, followed by Soonyoung, who even crosses his heart to prove his own innocence.

“Did you really kill those guys?” Jeonghan questions, drawing all eyes.

“You can’t just ask that!” You bat at your friend’s arm.

Mingyu considers his next action, but with a sigh, he reaches for Seokmin’s hands again, using him to push the planchette to Yes. In Mingyu’s eyes, all the men he’d killed deserved it. They’d been predators, and it takes one to know one. Mingyu had simply been the better predator.

“How many people did you kill?”

“Jeonghan,” you say again, harder this time.

“We’re fact-checking!” Jeonghan insists. “If he gives us the wrong number, then someone here is lying.”

Mingyu doesn’t like to be tested like this, but at the same time, he admires the man’s shiftyness. The ghost reaches through Seokmin, pushing the planchette to 5.

Seokmin lets out a gasp, tearing his hands away from the board and leaping to his feet. “Guys, I don’t feel good about this.”

“But it’s just started to get juicy!” Jeonghan tuts. 

“We’re not going to force Seokmin to do this if he doesn’t want to,” you sigh, also removing your hands. “I think this is enough for tonight.”

Jeonghan’s not so easily convinced. “But we just made contact!” 

“It’s almost midnight, I thought you wanted to be at the bar for eleven fifty so your bouncer friend would let you in,” you point out.

“Let me in…” Jeonghan raises a brow. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Honestly?” you sigh. “I’m getting a bit tired.”

“But it’s Halloween!”

“And we’ve already been to one party and just used a Ouija board,” you laugh. “I think I’ve had enough fun.”

“You’re boring!” Jeonghan groans. 

“And you’re crazy!” you retort, heading to turn on the lights. “Say goodbye to your ghost friend, take another shot, and get out of here so I can get some sleep.”

Mingyu likes it when you take charge like this. He stands from the table, coming to join you as you head to the kitchen to get your friends their last shots. He’s always liked sticking close to you, your second ghostly shadow. 

The last tenant had been a guy, and the view had never been very great, but with you around? Mingyu is constantly entertained, in the most perverted ways possible. He’s really enjoying the skimpy outfit you’re wearing, and he can’t wait to watch you take it off. Maybe you’ll have a shower once your friends are gone- you’ll make his night if you do.

“Goodbye,” Seungkwan says loudly, pushing the planchette to the word scrawled in big writing. Mingyu’s not so easily dismissed, but Seokmin lets out a breath of relief as the board is closed and packed up.

You all take one last shot, and Mingyu can practically taste the tequila on his tongue. It’s been forever since he had anything to drink, or eat, or fuck for that matter. 

He misses it every day. 

The ghost hangs back as you hug your friends goodbye, with Jeonghan trying for five minutes to convince you to join the last bar outing. You stay firm, and Mingyu grins to himself when you finally close the door, shutting you in together.

You busy yourself with cleaning up the kitchen, putting the shot glasses and bottles away, then, to Mingyu’s pleasure, you head toward the bathroom. He follows closely, slipping in behind you before you can close the door. As a ghost, Mingyu can walk through walls, but it’s an unpleasant experience, one he avoids when he can.

He watches you turn on the shower, facing the mirror to remove your false eyelashes. You’re so pretty, and when you begin to take off your outfit, Mingyu practically drools. He can stare at your naked body for hours and not get bored, in fact, he has. 

You step into the shower, closing the curtain. Your silhouette is still as beautiful as ever, and Mingyu can feel his cock getting hard as he watches you. Voyeurism is something he’s always enjoyed, even as a human, and now that he’s a ghost, it’s something that makes Mingyu’s undead life go round. 

He palms himself through his jeans, looking for relief but also not wanting to take things too far. Knowing you, he’ll probably get a free show if he waits long enough. Your sex drive rivals even his own, and Mingyu’s nothing if not a good boy who knows how to be patient. 

***

You get out of the shower feeling refreshed. Your blood is still buzzing slightly from the drinks you’ve had, but you feel clear-headed as you wipe the mirror, looking at yourself while you wrap a towel around your naked body.

Your phone dings and you look down at it, reading Jeonghan’s contact name. It’s a text to tell you that your friends have gotten to the bar, and another request for you to join. You can only laugh, setting your phone down just as the clock hits midnight.

There’s movement in the corner of your eye and you turn your head, locking eyes with a tall, dark-haired man standing by the door of your bathroom.

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you immediately grab the closest thing, a hairbrush, hurling it at the man. He doesn’t even try to dodge it, and it hits him square in the chest. His gaze dips down, and he looks completely shocked that you’ve just thrown something at him.

“Get out of my house!” you scream, reaching for the next item-

“Not your expensive moisturizer!” the man yells, holding up both hands and backing up. “How are you going to explain breaking that to Jeonghan?!”

You freeze a little at his words, thoroughly confused. “How- how do you know-” You look down at the bottle of moisturizer that Jeonghan had bought for you last month. “Did Jeonghan put you up to this?!”

“Put the bottle down,” the man says, still holding his hands defensively. 

“You’re some creep in my bathroom!” you retort. “You don’t get to tell me what to do!” You grab your phone next. “I’m calling 911.”

“God, please don’t,” he sighs.

“Start talking!” you insist.

“I’m not Jeonghan’s friend-”

“Then who the fuck are you, and how did you get into my apartment?!” You lift the moisturizer again, ready to throw it at his face.

“Mingyu!” he belts. “I’m Mingyu!”

“Jeonghan definitely put you up to this,” you declare, feeling something like relief. This is just some prank-

“I’m serious,” the handsome man tells you. “I’m Mingyu-”

“You expect me to believe that you’re the ghost of that serial killer who died here years ago?” you scoff.

“Yeah, it was me with the Ouija,” he tries to explain.

“Prove it,” you insist, still not believing him. 

“You want me to tell you something only a ghost would know?” he laughs. “How about this, I know you hide your sex toys in a box under your bed. I know the last few guys you’ve had over couldn’t make you cum so you’d finish yourself off with your vibrator once they left. I know you still say your first boyfriend’s name whenever you cum, for some stupid reason-”

Your heart is thundering in your chest. There’s no way he can know all of that- no one knows all of that-

Why is everything he’s saying sex related?

An unfamiliar feeling washes over your form. It’s something like fear, but there’s an underlying emotion there too- a tingle between your legs. Is this guy really a ghost? Is he your ghost? Has he been watching you since you moved in?!

“Believe me now?” Mingyu asks. He must have seen the way you’ve faltered, moisturizer bottle lowering to your side.

“How-” You swallow thickly. “How are you here?”

“That’s actually a good question,” Mingyu admits, looking down at his form. “This doesn’t usually happen.” 

“The veil is thinnest on Halloween,” you breathe, remembering what Jeonghan had said earlier. “It’s midnight…”

“Sounds right to me.” The ghost nods. 

“How… how long are you going to be visible for?” you ask, eyes dragging across his large body.

“I don’t know… but, when you threw that brush at me, it hit me.” Mingyu steps toward you and you move back, hitting the wall. “Don’t be scared, I just wanna touch you-”

“As if that makes me feel any better!” You’re frozen as his hand reaches out, fingers coming to gently brush your collarbone. You shiver at the cold contact.

“You.. you felt that!” Mingyu’s eyes widen with shock.

“Are you going to kill me?” you ask.

“What?!” He laughs, moving even closer.

“You’re a serial killer, aren’t you?” This is just your luck.

“I only killed men, guys who were predators.”

“Like you.”

“Like me,” he admits. “But… my brutality never came out toward women.”

The ghost has no right being this beautiful, and he’s saying the right things. You can’t believe you’re actually starting to relax a little. You’ve definitely seen too many horror films-

“You… you’ve been watching me,” you point out.

Your words seem to make him almost bashful, his gaze dipping to the floor. You see his skin flush a pinkish colour and it’s almost endearing. “Uh… yeah.”

“And you were in here while I was having a shower too… You are a bit of a creep, aren’t you?”

“Every other tenant here has been a guy!” Mingyu exclaims. “You’re the first one who’s actually caught my attention.”

“I feel like you’re just horny after years of being alone.”

“You would be too,” he insists. “If the roles were reversed - if you were a ghost bound to this apartment forever -  you’re saying you wouldn’t watch me get naked every day?” 

He’s definitely got a point. As your eyes skim Mingyu’s perfect form again, that tingle returns between your legs. There’s no reason for him to be as sexy as he is- murders aren’t the only shocking thing this man has under his belt and you can see that now. 

“Can I…” he swallows thickly. “Can I kiss you?”

You can’t believe you’re actually considering this.

“Come on, please?” Mingyu asks. “I haven’t touched someone in so long, haven’t been touched-” 

A dead serial killer who sort of respects your autonomy and is begging for you? 

“We don’t know how long this is going to last,” he continues. “I need to feel something, need to feel you-” 

“Fucking a ghost wasn’t on my Halloween bingo sheet,” you joke.

“It will be fun,” Mingyu insists. “I know what you like, I know your kinks, I know you, better than all those other guys you’ve fucked so far. Come on, princess, let me make you feel good.” 

It’s kind of creepy that the ghost even knows your preferred pet name, but it sounds so pretty coming from him. 

You weigh the pros and cons. 

Pros: He’s one of the sexiest men you’ve ever seen. He actually wants to make you cum. He already knows your kinks. He might be a touch obsessed with you, which would do wonders for your ego.

Cons: He’s literally a dead serial killer creep who’s been watching you jack off and get fucked for a few months. He could also disappear at any second.

Well, you can’t pass this up, especially since you have no idea how long this will last. And when he’s gone, he’ll stay gone. There are technically no strings, none that you can see at least.

And to top it all off, you’re extremely horny. You’d stayed back from going to the bar with your friends specifically to fuck yourself stupid tonight, and now, you have a ghost willing to get the job done for you.

“Okay, big guy,” you sigh. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Mingyu doesn’t waste a second. He grabs your face, cupping his large hand around the back of your skull to pull your lips to his own. 

You’re a little shocked, but you melt into his embrace quickly, pressing your hands to his beefy chest while his tongue licks at your lip, begging for entry. You open your mouth to him, and he kisses you deeper, letting out a low groan as he shifts you in his embrace, grabbing at your hip to pull you closer.

It’s been years since he’s touched anyone, but he kisses with the best of them. 

It’s almost too easy to get lost in Mingyu, your mind going pleasantly blank as you make out with the ghost. 

You’re eating up the sounds he’s making too. His mouth is eager against your own, all tongue and plump lips. It’s clear that your ghost has been very touch-starved. His hand gropes at your waist, toying with the towel still wrapped around your body. 

You can’t help yourself, you reach a hand between your bodies, cupping his cock through his jeans.

Mingyu pants against your lips, breaking the kiss to look down at where you’re touching him. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, pressing his hips forward for more friction.

He’s literally adorable, and so receptive. 

“You’ll take care of me first though, right?” you toy, squeezing your hand tighter around the large bulge in his pants.

“Yeah,” he swallows thickly, nodding. “Been wanting to taste your pussy for fucking months.”

Your core throbs at his words- he’s got a big dick and he likes oral? Your night just keeps getting better.

“Then you should taste me,” you tell him. “I’m even sweeter than I look.”

Mingyu lets out a deep groan, and then he’s sinking to his knees on the bathroom floor. His mouth finds your calf, and his large hands grab at your leg, adjusting it onto his shoulder while his lips ascend to your thigh. 

You lean back against the wall, trying to catch your breath while the large man gets closer and closer to where you need him most.

He reaches up, grabbing at your towel and tugging. In one motion, you’re naked for him, and the cool air of the bathroom has your skin tingling, nipples pebbling with interest.

Mingyu spreads your legs wider, and you can feel his breath on your pussy. You reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair. He looks up at you, eyes dark with lust, and then he’s diving in. He’s all tongue, the wet muscle pushing into your hole to taste you while he releases an almost animalistic groan of appreciation.

It’s clear this man is a pussy lover, and you can’t believe he’s gone so long without having his mouth on one. You’re more than happy to make up for the lost time, enjoying the feeling of him pressing his face closer to your wet core, tongue lapping at you while he begins to grind his nose against your clit.

He definitely knows how to eat, and you find yourself closing your eyes, enjoying the feeling building in the pit of your stomach. His hands are on your hips, but one trails up, grasping for your breast. The added stimulation of his thumb and pointer pinching your nipple has you crying out, hips rutting toward his face.

He just feels so good- and when his lips move to suction around your clit, your thigh quakes on his shoulder. “Fuck-” you moan loudly, shocked that it’s been this easy for him to get you to the cusp of an orgasm. 

Most men don’t know how to handle you, but it’s clear that he does. 

You can feel yourself practically dripping, and you’re not sure if it’s pussy juice or the ghost’s drool, but you don’t really care. It’s sinful and sexy and dirty- exactly what Halloween should be. 

Mingyu lets go of your breast, adjusting his hand- two fingers slide into your core while his mouth continues on your clit, and you swear this purgatory-bound sinner has just taken you to heaven. 

You’re a mewling mess now, moans and gasps leaving you uncensored while his thick fingers stretch out your core, pushing in and out while his tongue flicks at your most sensitive spot.

“I’m gonna cum,” you tell him, eyes clenched shut as the knot in your stomach is pulled tighter and tighter-

The man between your legs groans in response, driving his fingers into you faster and harder, his mouth making lewd sucking sounds around your clit. 

It’s everything you need to reach your high and you gasp loudly, tangling your fingers in his hair while your orgasm washes over you. Your hips buck against his face, only for his free hand to pin you to the wall, his motions never ceasing while you cry out, your core throbbing around his fingers.

No one has ever eaten you out this good. Your mind is practically blank, body completely overwhelmed with the pleasure surging through you. 

It’s almost too much for you to handle, and you find yourself tugging at Mingyu’s hair, trying to pull him away-

He won’t budge, growling heavily against your core. The vibration makes your legs twitch, and you’re not sure you’ll even be able to stand if he keeps this up-

Finally, Mingyu pulls away. He’s panting hard. His fingers slip out of your pussy only for him to place them in his mouth, sucking them clean while he groans lewdly. “Fuck,” he mumbles, looking up at you with stars in his eyes. “That was so good.”

You can’t even speak yet, too breathless from the mind-numbing orgasm to even think. 

Mingyu stands up, and you have to tilt your head to retain eye contact. God, why’s he so big and fuckable?

“Look at you, princess. You usually have good comebacks.” He leans forward, breath hot against your face. “Ghost got your tongue?”

You can’t help but laugh slightly, and Mingyu grins down at you. Then he’s cupping your cheek again, bringing his lips to yours. You can taste yourself as he kisses you deeply, but you don’t even care. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, pressing your boobs against his chest.

You need to be closer to him. Need to feel him, fully.

Mingyu reaches down, grabbing your ass and lifting you off the ground. Your legs wrap around his hips and the ghost carries you through the apartment, gently setting you onto your bed.

He towers over your now and your pussy throbs at the idea of how well he’s about to wreck you.

“You still want me, right?” he asks. “I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

You nod, licking your lips. “I know you will.”

“I’m a good boy,” Mingyu says quietly, eyes dipping down to your core.

“Then be a good boy and take off your shirt, I want to see you.”

He’s quick to comply, tearing off the black fabric to reveal his muscular chest. Your pussy throbs at the sight alone. His arms are huge, biceps bulging deliciously, and his pecs look downright biteable. Then there are his abs-

You sit up, trying to contain yourself. “Pants next.”

“Fuck, princess,” Mingyu groans, already working on his belt. “Has anyone ever told you how fucking perfect you are?”

“You’d know if they had, wouldn’t you, Ghost?” 

“These fucking dudes you have over,” Mingyu clicks his tongue, “none of them have known how to treat you right.”

“But you do?”

“Of course!” he scoffs, pushing his pants and underwear down, revealing the biggest cock you’ve ever seen. “Name one other guy who’s eaten your pussy like I have.”

He knows you too well.

“I should return the favour,” you suggest. 

“Fuck, I’d die all over again if you did.”

You get onto your knees, shuffling closer. You kiss him first, cupping his cheek with one hand while the other moves down to his cock, stroking him gently while he whines against your lips. He ruts his hips, forcing more friction while you grin into the kiss. 

“Needy Ghost,” you laugh.

“Need you so fucking bad,” he agrees. 

“Then I shouldn’t keep you waiting, should I?” 

“Please, don’t.”

You begin to kiss down his neck, taking your time as you trail your mouth across his body. You appreciate every centimeter, all the way down his pretty chest and abs. You trace your tongue along his hip bone and the ghost shivers, letting out a shuddery breath. “Holy shit.” 

“You’ll be nice and praise me while I have my mouth full, won’t you, handsome?” You sneak a glance up at him as you take him in your hand, adjusting his cock. 

“Yeah-” He swallows thickly. “I know how much my princess loves being told she’s a good girl.”

“Am I your good girl?” 

“So fucking good,” he nods eagerly. “So fucking good for me I can’t even believe it.”

You smile to yourself, pressing a chaste kiss to the head of his leaking cock that has the Ghost practically whimpering. 

“Fuck, can I- can I grab your hair?”

“Uh huh,” you lick a stripe along the head of his cock, circling it with your tongue while the gorgeous man shivers at the contact. 

“Please don’t tease me,” he begs, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “I don’t- don’t know how much time I have with you, and I’ll die if we spend the whole time teasing and I don’t even get to feel your perfect fucking pussy-”

You wrap your mouth around his cock, agreeing with what he’s saying, and it earns an immediate moan of appreciation from the man towering over you.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good- you feel so fucking good-”

You swirl your tongue around his length, running it along the crease between the head and shaft. Mingyu’s grip tightens in your hair as more breathy moans spill from his lips. 

He’s much too big to fit in your mouth, so you pump what you can’t reach, using your saliva as lube to make stroking easier while you suck on him. Your eyes are closed, mind focused on pleasuring him the way he’d just pleasured you in the bathroom.

It feels good to be giving something back to him, especially as praises and words of encouragement fill the room. “Just like that, just like that, holy shit-”

You take him as deep as you can go, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, which constricts around him.

“Oh my god-” he practically whimpers, fingers flexing in your hair. “Please let me fuck your face, please, I want it so bad-”

You make a sound of affirmation and that’s all it takes for Mingyu to release a low groan, pushing his hips forward. He hits the back of your throat again and you do your best to clear your mind, focusing on anything but the gagging sensation as he begins to use your mouth for his own pleasure.

“Holy shit, good girl, good fucking girl-” he moans, quickening his pace. His grip on your head keeps you where he wants you, and it’s clear he’s being cognizant of not making you gag too hard. He seems to know your boundary, know just what to do without making it too much.

“Fuck, it’s too good- you’re too fucking good at this, princess,” Mingyu pants. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum but I promise I’ll still fuck you, I promise my recharge time is quick-”

You suction your cheeks harder around him and Mingyu practically cries out, grip tightening in your hair so hard it almost hurts. He’s a garbled mess of swear words now, and a few thrusts later he’s cumming down your throat, releasing the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard while his hips shudder with effort.

“Holy shit, good girl, good girl-” he groans, motions slowing as he cums rope after rope- “Taking me so fucking well, oh my god-” 

Mingyu pulls out of your mouth, breathing hard. He looks down at you while you also take a few deep breaths. 

It’s the oddest thing. His cum hadn’t tasted like anything. There was no salt or musk- it was just… different. You suppose he’s a ghost, so that could account for the lack of flavour, and you almost prefer it that way. 

“That was so good,” Mingyu tells you. “You’re good, right?” 

You nod, pulling away from him to fall back against the bed again. “I’m perfect.”

“Yeah, you are,” the ghost laughs. 

“So are you going to make me cum again, or…?” you cock your head to the side, assessing him.

He’s still trying to catch his breath, cheeks all flushed, hair a tangle of dark curls. He looks beautiful.

“Fuck, yeah,” Mingyu grins, and the smile lights up his whole face. “I know you probably want two or three more, you’re insatiable like that, aren’t you, princess?”

“I guess it takes one to know one,” you laugh. “I bet you usually cum two or more times watching me, don’t you, Ghost boy?”

“Guilty.” He runs his fingers through his wild hair. “But my hand is nothing compared to you.”

“Funny, my hand is nothing compared to you either.”

“Match made in heaven,” Mingyu muses, getting onto the bed to join you while you wrap your arms around his shoulders, tugging him in for another breathtaking kiss.

He slots so well between your legs, one hand pressed to the bed while the other comes up to massage your breast. You moan against his lips, arching your back, wanting more. His thumb brushes over your nipple and then he’s pinching it, making you cry out.

“You like a little pain, don’t you, princess?” he grins, looking down at you.

“A little,” you admit.

“You know…” his hand moves up from your breast, teasing over your collarbone, “sometimes, when you’re trying to make yourself cum, and you choke yourself- it’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Oh yeah?” You grab his hand, guiding it to your throat. 

In the back of your mind, you remember that this hot ghost is also a killer- but his hands are shockingly soft and gentle as he squeezes your neck. 

“Fuck, you look gorgeous,” he groans.

“Tighter,” you tell him, stroking his forearm while the muscles move beneath the skin, his hand pressing harder onto your airway.

You let out a small whimper, closing your eyes and enjoying the lightheaded feeling. 

“Ready for my fingers again?” he asks.

“Want your cock.”

“Fingers first,” he insists, letting go of your throat so he can trail his hand down your body until he’s cupping your pussy. You buck against his hand and he grins. “So eager.”

“Be a good boy and make princess cum again,” you tell him.

It’s an interesting kink for him to have - the whole good boy angle -  you would have thought a man like him would be a full dom, but you kind of enjoy this switchy side. It allows you to tell him what to do, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy holding a lot of the power in this interaction.

Two of his fingers slip into your core and you both groan at the feeling. “Still so fucking wet,” the ghost muses. “Did sucking me off turn you on that much?”

“I like the sounds you make,” you admit, rocking your hips against his hand while he palms your clit.

“Yeah?” His grin widens. 

“You’re my perfect puppy,” you sigh happily as he finger fucks you even harder. 

Mingyu reacts to the new petname with a low groan and you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his lips to your own. You love the way his tongue invades your mouth, teasing and tasting but not dominating. 

His fingers continue to stretch you out, his palm a constant pressure on your clit. You can’t fucking wait to take his cock, and it’s just one orgasm away. 

You break the kiss to move your mouth to his neck, loving the whimpery sounds of appreciation that leave him as you begin sucking on his skin. There’s no reason not to leave marks, so you go as hard as you want, teasing your teeth over his jugular while it bounces with effort.

“Fuck, fuck-” Mingyu groans loudly, clearly enjoying the attention being paid to his pretty throat.

You can feel your core beginning to throb, your pussy tightening as another orgasm approaches, doing its best to keep Mingyu’s fingers buried knuckle deep even as he drives them into you rougher and rougher.

“Are you gonna cum again?” Mingyu asks, breathless. “Please tell me you’re gonna cum again.”

You can feel his cock, hard and pressed to your leg, leaking from how turned on he is while he finger fucks you and you kiss his throat. He’s so easy to make come undone. It boosts your ego like nothing else, and your pussy pulses with desire.

“I’m close,” you tell him, licking at his throat and making your way to his ear. “Be a good boy and make me cum.”

Mingyu groans loudly, and then he’s suddenly pulling away from you, moving down the bed to get between your legs again. His fingers don’t stop inside of you, but his free hand pushes your thigh up, giving him more space as he brings his lips to your clit.

“Holy shit-” you groan, threading your fingers through his hair and letting your head loll back against the pillows. You hadn’t thought you’d get his mouth on you like this again- but you suppose you had commanded him to make you cum, and this position is a tried and true winner. 

You can’t even tell him you’re about to cum, he simply tears it out of you. Your back arches off the bed, a sinful whine escaping your lips while your thighs quiver, pussy clamping down on his fingers, your clit throbbing desperately. Mingyu lets out a growl, slurping hard at the sensitive bud, and it brings tears to your eyes at how good it feels.

You feel like you’re the ghost now, your soul practically leaving your body while Mingyu works you through another one of the most intense orgasms of your entire life.

When he finally pulls away from your core, you can’t even open your eyes. You can only lay there, trying to catch your breath while the bed dips under his weight. You feel his hands digging into the pillows on either side of your head, and then something brushes by your nose.

You open your eyes to find Mingyu staring down at you, gently rubbing the tip of his nose against your own. “You good, princess?”

“I’m perfect,” you tell him, wrapping your legs around his hips to pull him closer.

You catch his cock between your bodies and a moan leaves you at how big he feels. 

“Ready for more?” he asks.

You can only nod, grabbing at his shoulders to drag him into a kiss. It’s almost relaxing to take a minute to just kiss him, mind blank, body still tingling in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Then Mingyu begins to rut his hips, dragging his cock through your pussy lips and making you groan when he bumps your clit.

You’re the one who reaches between your bodies, grabbing his dick to line it up with your core.

Mingyu watches you carefully and you give him a small nod. “Do it,” you tell him. “Fuck me stupid.”

He only laughs, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes into you. Your pussy swallows him inch by inch, with you clawing at his shoulders when he’s finally all the way in. 

You’ve never felt anything like Mingyu- he stretches you out in a way that most men can only dream of. You feel small, fragile, needy- almost like a virgin again, and the way he’s kissing you eagerly definitely brings back memories of first times. 

He begins to thrust gently, allowing your body time to adjust to his massive size. You’re a little shocked at how easy the glide of it is, but you suppose you’re wetter than you’ve ever been after having cum so hard twice. It feels absolutely all-consuming. His cock is practically all you can think about as you tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him deeper.

Mingyu is groaning into your mouth, and the sounds fuel your entire body with even more lust. You trail one hand down his back, enjoying the way it makes him shiver. 

“Do I feel good, Gyu?” you ask.

“You feel perfect,” he tells you, burying his face against your throat. His mouth is hot as he leaves wet kisses there, his hips moving even faster. “So fucking good. Better than I ever imagined.”

“You’ve imagined me a lot, haven’t you, big guy?”

“So many times-” he admits. “Never thought… never thought I’d actually get to fuck you like this.”

“Just wait till you make me cum while buried inside of me,” you grin, tilting your head so he can press fevered kisses to your jaw while groaning loudly. 

“Fuck-” One of his hands moves to your hip, keeping you pinned. He’s fucking you so hard now that the bed is rocking, but you can’t bring yourself to care about neighbors. “Wait, flip around for me, I know you go wild for doggy.”

God, it’s so easy with him. 

He has you on your knees in seconds, large hands cupping your hips to adjust your ass higher as he slips back inside of you. This new position makes him feel even bigger, if that’s possible, and it makes your toes curl. 

With each hard snap of his hips, your ass slaps back against his front. The sound of skin on skin mixed with his moans is doing something crazy to you- you’re completely consumed by him. There’s not a thought in your head other than “Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, harder Gyu, harder!”

He’s more than willing to comply, railing you like you’ve never been railed before.

You can feel fluids beginning to drip down your legs, that’s how wet you are. Stroke game has never been this easy.

Then he reaches around your front, leaning over your back so he can access your clit. You cry out from the stimulation, core clenching deliciously around the large intrusion. “Holy shit-” you whimper.

“Can you cum for me again, princess?” Mingyu asks, breath hot against your shoulders. 

“Are you close?” you gasp, feeling another orgasm building achingly fast.

“Yeah, but I want at least one more out of you,” the ghost says. “It’s Halloween, you deserve it.”

“I deserve it?” you nearly laugh, but the giggle is quick to turn into a moan as he applies more pressure to your clit.

“Yeah, of course you deserve it. You’re being so good for me, so fucking good-”

The praise goes straight to your pussy and you tangle your hands in the sheets. “Gyu-”

“That’s it, please, princess, wanna feel you cum.” He digs his fingers into your hip, drawing consistent circles on your clit. He knows exactly what to do to make you feel good, and you wonder how many times he’s watched you make yourself cum like this.

“That’s it,” Mingyu groans. “Fuck you feel amazing. Come on, cum for me. Come on, pretty girl.”

Your body twitches and you let out a gasp, tensing before your release hits you straight on. Your eyes clench shut as your pussy clamps down on his cock, a strangled moan escaping you as pleasure surges through you. Your mind practically short circuits, your brain blank except for the pure ecstasy he’s providing. 

Mingyu lets out a loud groan, panting harder as he fucks you through your high. He pulls his hand away from your clit in favour of grabbing your hips again, pushing his entire cock into your aching hole over and over again.

“Just like that, just like that-” he tells you. “Fuck, you’re literally dripping, holy shit-”

You don’t even care that your bed sheets are going to be ruined after this- all you care about is the man behind you fucking you like it’s his last night on earth. To be fair, it just might be.

“Good princess,” Mingyu breathes. “So good for me.”

“Gyu-” you whimper trying to push yourself up onto your hands. You rut your hips back to meet his thrusts and he lets out another guttural moan of appreciation. “I wanna ride you till you cum.”

You think he deserves it. 

In fact, you know he deserves it.

This man has made you cum three times already, and you’ll be damned if you don’t try to return the favor. 

“You wanna ride me?” Mingyu stops with his cock fully inside of you, and his hand smooths down your back. “Really?”

“Uh huh,” you nod, pushing back against him in an attempt to get him even deeper. “Bet you miss being ridden, don’t you, big guy?”

He lets out a groan, and then he’s removing his cock from your core, practically pouncing onto the bed next to you. He grabs your hips, helping you straddle him. While you reach between your bodies to grab his cock and line it up with your core, he slips a hand around the back of your skull, pulling your lips down to meet yours.

The ghost is grinning into the kiss and it’s almost laughable how excited he is. 

You sink down onto his length and you both release loud moans into each other’s mouths. 

It feels so good to be filled up like this. You begin by grinding against him, adjusting to his size. You can feel him so deep, all the way in the pit of your stomach.

He grabs at your thighs then your boobs, and you can tell he’s having difficulty deciding which parts of you he wants to worship. Then he takes a fistful of your ass, squeezing rough enough to have you whimpering while his tongue invades your mouth.

You begin to ride him, bracing your hands against his chest.

Mingyu is just so big- the sexiest man you’ve ever fucked and there’s no contest in that.

He’s so good at kissing too, moaning into it while you pick up the speed of your thrusts. 

He grabs your hips, helping you bounce up and down. Each movement fills you up deliciously, your drenched core swallowing him up like you were made for this.

You pull away from his lips, straightening while you ride him. Mingyu takes the opportunity to grab your breasts, kneading them in his hands while his thumbs tease your nipples. You cover his hand with one of your own, urging him to squeeze harder. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty,” Mingyu groans, hips thrusting up to meet you.

His cock is hitting even deeper now, and you swear no one has ever been this deep inside of you before. There’s literally nothing in the world like Mingyu… or his cock. 

“Look at you taking all of me,” he continues, cheeks flushed pink, breath hot. “I always knew you’d be able to- always knew you’d be a fucking champ in bed.”

You want to tell him he’s one to talk, but it seems the ghost has got your tongue again. All you can do is moan lewdly, riding him harder and ignoring the burn of your thighs.

Mingyu sits up, leaning forward to take your breast into his mouth. His tongue flicks by your nipple and you cry out, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold him to your chest. He groans deeply as you pull on his hair, teeth grazing the sensitive bud caught between his lips.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, core clenching tight around his cock.

The ghost pants loudly, giving your breast one last kiss before he flops down onto his back again. “You close?” he asks, reaching out so his thumb can find your clit, rubbing it.

“Fuck, yeah- if you keep doing that, yeah, I’m close-” you nod, clawing at his chest.

“I need you to cum with me,” Mingyu tells you. “Want us to cum together.”

“Me too, me too-” you assure him, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling of his cock filling you up perfectly while his thumb works harder on your clit.

“Want you on top,” the ghost continues, “but I want to take over. Can you rub yourself for me?”

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly, leaning over him so you can press your lips to his own. Your hand sneaks between your legs, and you hover over him, thrusts coming to a stop while he gets a grip on your hips.

His tongue battles your own as he begins to piston up into you- God, it feels even better when he’s the one fucking you from below. All you have to do is hold yourself over him with one shaky arm while your fingers work on your clit, dragging you closer and closer to the edge again.

“Oh my god-” you mumble against his mouth, and it only makes him smile, rutting up into you even faster. 

“I can’t-” he breaks the kiss to burry his face against your throat, “I can’t hold off much longer, please tell me you’re gonna cum with me, please-”

“I will!” you whine. “I’m so close-”

His mouth is hot against your neck and he sucks on your sweet spot, making you cry out. He groans loudly at the way your core tightens around his massive cock. Then he’s pulling away from your throat, wrapping a hand around it instead.

“Look at me,” he instructs. “Want to watch you cum.”

You force your eyes open, gasping as he tightens his grip on your neck. You’re so fucking close you can almost taste it. 

His other arm adjusts, palm snaking up your back as he fucks up into you wildly.

“Can I give you a countdown?” he asks.

You nod enthusiastically. He’s choking you too hard to answer. Your blood is rushing to your head and your pussy, body practically on fire-

“Three-” he moans loudly, staring up at you with dark eyes. “Two-” a small grunt leaves his lips, fingers digging into your back. “One! Cum with me- please, fuck, cum with me!” 

You let out a gasp, all the tension in your body snapping like the cord in your stomach. Pleasure washes over you, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. It’s better than the first three orgasms if that’s even possible, and if it weren’t for the tight grip on your neck cutting off most of your sounds, you’re sure you’d be screaming.

Mingyu’s deep groans are only making you more turned on as your core throbs around his cock. He’s still fucking you, but soon the pleasure seems to be even too much for him. He drags you fully against his chest, burying himself completely in your pussy while he fills you up with his cum. 

He releases your throat in favor of smashing his lips against your own, tongue running against your teeth while he groans loudly. You whimper into the kiss, pussy still pulsing around him.

This has to be one of the longest orgasms you’ve ever had- and with his massive cock still buried inside of you, your pussy gets practically no reprieve. All you can do is gasp and whimper against his lips while your body struggles to process the insane amount of pleasure that’s still coursing through you.

Mingyu lets out a laugh, resting down against the pillows and looking up at you. “Was that good?” he asks. 

You can only shake your head at him, letting out a small chuckle as the last of your orgasm wafts through you like a warm summer breeze. 

“Yeah,” his hand smooths up and down your back, “it was good for me too.”

“You literally just ruined me for anyone else.”

“That was the goal, princess.” He grins.

“You’re so bad.”

“Obviously you have a thing for bad boys.”

“And ghosts, apparently.” You’re still coming to terms with what you’ve just done. Part of you wonders if this is just some crazy dream.

“Just me though, right?” He kisses you gently and it leaves you wanting more.

“For now, but if I meet another ghost with a huge cock, maybe that will change,” you tease.

Mingyu sighs, shaking his head at you. “We should probably get you cleaned up, then… can we cuddle? I’m still not sure how long you’ll be able to see me, and… I think ending the night holding you would be nice.”

A ghost who loves eating pussy, made you cum four times, has a massive cock, and wants to spoil you with some aftercare-

You’re for sure ruined for any other guy you meet and you know it. 

It sucks to have to get off of Mingyu’s dick, and your legs hurt, but he helps you to the bathroom with a shit-eating grin. “Never seen you walk like this after being fucked,” he muses.

“No one’s fucked me like you just did and you know it,” you laugh. 

He gives you a bit of privacy while you pee and get all the cum off of you, but he joins you when you begin to brush your teeth. Mingyu stands behind you, hands finding your hips, eyes locked on yours through the mirror. 

“Tomorrow, when you get ready for bed, imagine me right here,” he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder. 

“Yeah?” You press your ass back against him. “Is this usually where you stand while I brush my teeth?”

“Uh huh.” His hands move from your hips to grab onto your tits, squeezing them. “Gonna miss being able to touch you.”

You frown a little at his words, spitting into the sink before turning in his arms. “I’m gonna miss you too, Gyu.”

“Really?” He grins. “So no more fucking randoms?”

You laugh. “Do you expect me to wait a whole nother year just to get railed again?”

“I guess that does sound impossible,” Mingyu sighs. “Just know that any guy you do bring over… I’ll be watching.”

“And judging, I bet.” He’s so obsessed with you that it hurts. 

“Always.”

“What are you going to do?” you ask. “Waiting for a whole year before you can fuck me again?”

“You know what I’m going to do,” he grins. “Every time you touch yourself, I’ll be touching myself too.”

God, this is going to take masturbation to a whole new level.

“Do you…” you swallow. “If I got Jeonghan’s ouija board, do you think you could communicate with me through it? I mean… you’ve never thrown books around or done anything like this before so-”

“Maybe,” Mingyu cocks his head to the side. “I kind of had to use Seokmin’s hands as my own tonight, but, I could try it with just you. But you can’t expect to ask a question and have the wooden thing move to an answer on its own.” 

“Okay, noted.” You let out a sigh. “Now come to bed with me, puppy. I need a good cuddle.”

He lets you take his hand, guiding him back to your room where he joins you under your duvet. 

Mingyu is quick to adjust you as his little spoon, pulling you tight to his chest. One arm is secured under your head as a mock pillow, and the other hand cups your breast. His breath is hot against your neck.

“Would it be too soon to say I love you?” he asks suddenly.

You can only laugh. You’ve just met him tonight, but you suppose he’s been watching you for months at this point. You can only imagine how much he’s pined for you by this point. 

“You can say it, but I can’t return the sentiment, not now at least,” you admit.

“That’s okay, Ghost romances are usually one-sided anyways, or so I would imagine.” 

You can only laugh, enjoying the feeling of his body wrapped around yours.

“You won’t be here in the morning,” you muse sadly.

“I mean, I’ll be here, but you won’t be able to see me.”

“Do ghosts sleep?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Where do you usually sleep?”

“On the couch.”

“Well, from now on, I give you permission to sleep here with me.”

“Really?” He squeezes your breast.

“Of course. This is going to sound crazy, but… I can even say goodnight to you, although you won’t be able to say it back.”

“I’ll say it back,” Mingyu assures you. “You’ll just have to imagine it.”

“I can do that.”

“Gonna have to imagine a lot of things.” 

You know that a relationship with a ghost isn’t a long-term plan. You know that things can’t really go anywhere with him- but at the same time, there’s almost a peace that comes with having your very own personal spirit who’s in love with you and restricted to your apartment.

“You’re tired, aren’t you, pretty girl?” His breath is comforting against the nape of your neck.

“Exhausted.”

“Then you should get some sleep.”

“You don’t want me to stay up? Don’t want to enjoy every second we have together?” 

“I always enjoy every second we have together,” he laughs. “Something tells me this touching thing isn’t going to last much longer, and I want you to fall asleep in my arms, even if it’s only once.”

“Goodnight, Mingyu.”

“Goodnight, princess.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “I love you.”

It’s the last words you hear from him as you drift off to sleep, your body succumbing to the exhaustion of four orgasms. 

When you wake up the next morning, your bed is empty, but you know you’re not alone.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I hope I didn't scare anyone off with the serial killer tag, can we all agree this is a soft boy? "what about the people he murdered?" "what murder???"

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🔮 preview. It has to be close to midnight now- it has to be- “I need you now,” you whine, moving your hand from your clit to grab the sheets. “We’ve both been so good this year, this is so unfair-” You’re horny, but you’re sad too, frustrated, desperate, annoyed- There’s no way you can make yourself cum while up in your head like this and you know it. Letting out a groan of defeat, you tear your hand from between your legs- only for it to be caught in a vice grip. Your eyes flash open, heart thundering in your ribcage. Mingyu is kneeling at the foot of the bed, and you watch as he brings your wet fingers to his mouth, licking them clean and letting out an absolutely guttural groan.

cw/ tw. masturbation, oral (f receiving), multiple reader orgasms, unprotected sex, praise, dirty talk, cock warming, bulge kink, deep kink, serial killer/ghost Mingyu, switch Mingyu, hand job, big dick Mingyu, fingering, mentions of suicide, recording sex with a phone, boob worship, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess, good girl. (his) good boy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 staring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

Part of you wishes you’d never told Jeonghan about Mingyu because your friend has become absolutely obsessed with communicating with your apartment ghost. In the year since you last saw Mingyu, there hasn’t been one hangout at your place that didn’t include Jeonghan whipping out the Ouija board.

“We should do another shot,” Jeonghan tells you, sitting on the couch and toying with the planchette.

“It’s almost midnight, I really think you should be heading home,” you sigh. Seokmin, Soonyoung and Seungkwan have the decency to have left half an hour ago, but they’ve never been that excited about your ghost adventures.

“You won’t even let me meet the guy?” Jeonghan whines. “Come on, let's ask Mingyu if he wants to meet me!”

He places the planchette on the board, and it immediately moves to Yes. Sometimes you think Jeonghan’s moving it himself, using your ghost roommate to further his own wants and needs. 

“I’m pretty sure Mingyu will want to spend the full-time slot with me alone,” you insist. 

The planchette moves to No and you roll your eyes while Jeonghan grins at you.

“Give me that!” You take the wooden tool from his hands, setting it on the board. “Mingyu, do you want Jeonghan to leave?”

You feel the familiar cold tingle in your hands, and without adding any pressure yourself, the planchette moves to the word Yes. 

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[beloveds-embrace]

Dukedom au but instead of the men noticing reader post marriage, they already notice her pre marriage like maybe before they went to war and meet each other. She use to be so radiant especially on her debut to society. She dances John and Simon and they were entranced since then. Maybe she likes sneaking out bro mingle with the commons and met Johnny and Kyle that way. Then war happened and many other things by the time they were back they’re not exactly expecting their dream girl to be unmarried, she’s so beautiful why would she be unmarried, besides they have each other now.

Imagine their surprise when they found out not only is she unmarried but rather unpopular in society for one or two petty reasons too.

ANONNNNN I LOVE YOUR MIND

It wasn’t until after his return from the military- when he finally came home with Simon by his side, Kyle and Johnny already settled into their places in his household- that John actually heard the full extent of the rumors surrounding you.

You were barren, they said. Damaged. A woman past her prime who had rejected too many suitors out of pride and was now paying the price. Not docile enough to be a good wife, too much of a spitfire. Hysterical, the last time you had snapped at a man who had gotten a little too close to you. A stain on your family’s lineage, who were trying desperately to marry you off.

Kyle had been the first to bring it up, muttering about what he’d overheard at the bakery one morning while helping Johnny’s parents prepare for the day. Johnny, normally so cheerful, had been uncharacteristically quiet about the whole thing- quiet in that dangerous, simmering way that meant he was ready to fight anyone who so much as looked at you wrong.

And Simon?

Simon had just looked at John.

“Fix it.” he’d said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

But it wasn’t simple.

Not when the love John felt for you had been complicated from the start. Not when Kyle and Johnny and Simon already occupied so much of his heart, and the idea of forcing you to share that space- even with men who adored you already- felt like asking too much.

So he waited, and waited.

He waited until he saw you again, looking so perfectly soft and sweet and untouched by the harshness of the world around you, even despite all the hate-filled rumors aimed your way, it nearly broke him. He waited until Kyle started dropping more and more excuses to see you, until Johnny began dragging you into their outings, until even Simon- gruff, stoic Simon- began pausing to ask how you were doing when he saw you in passing.

He waited until he couldn’t not ask.

And when he finally did- when he knelt before you and offered you everything he had, everything he was, everything they were because he would keep anything a secret from you- you didn’t answer right away.

“John…” You were at a loss for words, eyes shifting to a fro. You could hear your parents practically yelling at you to just accept, no matter what, within your mind.

Your cheeks turned warmer than a furnace, and you lowered your head, gritting your teeth. “Surely you all know that- that I’m not… exactly the best candidate for you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open, and he wanted to kiss that expression off your face. Replace it with something happier, brighter.

“It doesn’t matter.” John repeated, voice soft and so painfully fond. “They can say all they want. It’s you who I care about- we care about. Nobody else matters. Nothing else matters, except for your happiness and what you want. So I ask again… will you be my Duchess?”

You bit your lips, ignoring the tiny little voice of your nanny scolding you for your terrible nervous habit. You wanted to accept. You ached to accept.

“Promise me, John,” you breathed out. And he listened, more than anyone else ever has. “Promise me. I won’t ever be a simple accessory on your arm, or a forgotten relic in your home. I won’t be brushed aside, while everyone around me is loved. Please, John. If you can promise me that, then I accept.”

And for John?

It didn’t even take him a second before agreed; already, he could imagine the relief that the others would have, as well.

He could also imagine you, blooming in their home.

[enhasntty]

Swish, I'm in Love - NRK

pairing: nishimura riki x f!reader summary: Riki Nishimura, a cocky basketball star, falls for the quiet girl who ignores his charm. Through hilarious missteps and awkward confessions, he fumbles his way into her heart. warnings: Kissing, Riki's friends make jokes that some people may be sensitive to, Riki tries flirting (a lot) but fails most of the time. genre: Fluff, Highschool romance wc: 19124 note: let me know if I missed any warnings likes and reblogs are very much appreciated

The Encounter

The hallway was its usual self-chaotic and buzzing with the chatter of students heading to their next class. You were walking at your usual pace, headphones in, deep in thought as you mentally prepared for the day ahead. The last thing you expected was to be caught in a collision of bodies in the middle of the hallway.

“Whoa!”

You bumped into someone, sending a few papers flying out of your bag. You quickly bent down to pick them up, not even bothering to glance up at the person you’d collided with. You were more focused on saving your notes than on apologizing for the accidental bump.

“Hey, you good?” came a familiar voice, filled with that cocky tone you knew all too well.

It was Riki, the basketball star everyone fawned over. His voice had this self-assuredness to it, and judging by the reactions of others whenever he walked down the hall, he had a reputation. He was the guy who always had a crowd of people around him, but you couldn’t care less.

You nodded, as you continued picking up the papers. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just, uh, careful next time.”

Riki blinked, clearly thrown off. Most people would’ve been all over him-squealing, apologizing, or even blushing. But you? You just acted like nothing happened. Like he wasn’t some godsend the school adored.

As you finished gathering your papers, you glanced up at him for the first time. And when you did, you gave him a small, casual smile-just enough to acknowledge him without making it anything special.

It wasn’t a flirtatious smile. It wasn’t anything overly friendly either. It was just… a smile. But to Riki, it was as if the world had slowed down. He felt his chest tighten and his mind race.

He swallowed.

“Whoa,” he muttered under his breath, staring at you. “Did she just… smile at me?”

His friends had started walking up behind him, no doubt noticing the intensity in his gaze. They all exchanged a few confused glances as they watched Riki stand there, practically frozen.

“Bro,” Jay called out, breaking his trance. “You alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Riki shook his head, trying to snap out of it, but the image of your smile was burned into his mind. He turned to his friends and said, “No, no. You don’t get it. That smile… it was different. It was the one. It’s-” He paused, trying to get his words together. “It’s like love at first sight.”

His friends stared at him, deadpan.

“What?” Jake asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’re serious? Dude, you’re delusional.”

“No, listen,” Riki continued, now pacing, clearly ignoring their sarcasm. “She didn’t act like every other girl. She didn’t freak out or go all blushy when she saw me. She didn’t act starstruck. She’s different. She gets me.”

Heeseung rubbed his temples. “Bro, you’re definitely on something. You ran into her, and she just gave you a smile. That’s not love at first sight, that’s just you being dramatic.”

Riki wasn’t hearing any of it. “No, you don’t understand. I’m telling you, I’m in love with her. And I’m gonna make her my queen.”

Jay snorted. “My queen? Are we in some medieval romance movie now? C’mon, man, be for real.”

But Riki was unwavering. “I’m serious. I’m going to make her fall for me. I just… I know it. She’s the one.”

Sunoo, leaning against the lockers, smirked. “Dude, you’re acting like you just found the Holy Grail or something. She Doesn't even know you.”

Riki waved off their teasing. “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to win her over. You’ll see.”

Meanwhile, you, in the background, had no clue what was happening. You picked up your bag, checked your papers, and continued walking, headphones back in your ears. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice Riki-he was hard to miss-but honestly? You couldn’t have cared less. To you, he was just another student who thought he was the main character of his own movie.

Riki, however, stood there, still in his thoughts. He felt like he’d just witnessed something cosmic. Your smile had done something to him-made him believe, for the first time, that maybe he wasn’t just the guy who could score three-pointers, but that he was capable of… love.

His friends followed him down the hall, still ribbing him for his newfound “obsession.”

“So, what’s the plan now?” Sunghoon asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Are you going to serenade her in the middle of the cafeteria or what?”

Riki smirked, clearly not phased. “You’ll see. I’m going big. She won’t know what hit her. I’m going full king of hearts mode.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, good luck with that. You’re like the least subtle person I know.”

“Hey,” Riki said, “if I’m gonna go for it, I’m going all in. No half-measures.”

Jay sighed, shaking his head. “This is gonna be a disaster, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” Sunoo added, grinning. “But I’ll be here for the show.”

As Riki walked away, a small, satisfied grin spread across his face. He was sure of it. There was no way a girl like you would be able to resist him for long. After all, he had that charm. And if there was one thing Riki knew, it was how to get what he wanted.

Meanwhile, you made your way to your next class, completely unaware of Riki’s newfound mission-a mission he was about to turn into the most entertaining disaster of your high school life.

The Obsession Begins

At school, Riki spotted you by your locker again, headphones on as usual. He adjusted his backpack, ran a hand through his hair, and sauntered over like he hadn’t spent the entire morning rehearsing what to say.

“Hey.”

You didn’t look up.

Riki cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said louder, leaning against the lockers in what he hoped was a cool, casual way.

You finally glanced up, pulling one headphone out. “Do you need something?”

Riki’s brain short-circuited. He had spent hours planning a witty response, but all he managed to say was, “Nice book.”

You blinked, looking at the plain black cover of your notebook. “It’s a math textbook.”

“Oh, uh… yeah, I knew that,” Riki said quickly. “I love math. Big fan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? What’s the quadratic formula?”

Riki froze.

“Exactly,” you said, putting your headphones back in.

From across the hallway, Heeseung and Jake were watching the exchange unfold.

“He’s crashing and burning,” Jake whispered.

“I give him points for effort,” Heeseung said, shaking his head.

Later that day, Riki’s friends gathered around him during lunch to debrief his latest failure.

“You said you were gonna play it cool,” Jungwon said, popping a grape into his mouth.

“I was playing it cool,” Riki insisted.

“You called her math book ‘nice,’” Sunghoon deadpanned.

Jake nearly spit out his drink. “You really told her you’re a math fan? Bro, even I know that’s a red flag.”

“It’s not a red flag!” Riki said defensively. “I just panicked.”

Sunoo smirked. “I think she has the mental upper hand, and you don’t know how to deal with it.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re whipped, and she doesn’t even know it,” Heeseung said, patting him on the back.

Riki buried his face in his hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Oh, we’re way past embarrassing,” Sunoo said. “But don’t worry, we’re here to make sure you keep embarrassing yourself.”

“Supportive as ever,” Riki muttered.

Meanwhile, at your table, your friends were having a very different conversation.

“Riki was staring at you this morning,” Julie said, doodling on her notebook.

“I think he was trying to flirt,” Karina added, scrolling through her phone.

You frowned. “That’s not flirting.”

“Oh, sweetie, it was flirting,” Giselle said, pulling her headphones off. “Awful flirting, but flirting nonetheless.”

“I don’t get it,” you said, biting into your sandwich. “Why would he even bother?”

“Because he’s into you,” Julie said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Into me? He doesn’t even know me.”

“That’s probably why he’s into you,” Karina said with a grin. “You’re, like, the one person in this school who doesn’t worship the ground he walks on. He’s confused, and now he’s spiraling.”

Giselle snorted. “It’s giving ‘golden retriever chasing a cat.’”

“Exactly!” Julie said, clapping her hands. “And you’re the cat.”

“Great. I’m being compared to an animal,” you said dryly.

Karina leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But admit it. It’s kinda fun watching him squirm, isn’t it?”

You smirked, not bothering to answer.

Riki wasn’t done for the day.

He had a plan-a bold, risky plan that could either win you over or completely backfire.

“Are you sure about this?” Heeseung asked as they stood outside the library.

“Yes,” Riki said firmly, holding up a small folded note. “This is foolproof.”

“Your definition of foolproof worries me,” Jungwon muttered.

“It’s just a note,” Riki said. “How hard can it be?”

The note in question was a piece of lined paper on which Riki had written a short (and in his opinion, very clever) message:

Hey. You dropped this: 🖤

– Riki

The plan was simple. He would walk past you, drop the note on your desk, and walk away like a cool, mysterious guy.

“You look like you’re delivering a ransom letter,” Sunoo said as they watched him sneak into the library.

“Shut up,” Riki hissed.

You were sitting at a table in the back of the library, headphones on, completely absorbed in your book. Riki took a deep breath, walked up to your table, and slid the note across to you.

Then, instead of walking away like he planned, he froze.

You looked up, noticing him standing there. Slowly, you picked up the note and read it.

“You dropped this?” you said, holding up the paper.

“Uh… yeah,” Riki said.

“I was sitting here the whole time.”

“Oh, uh, right. I meant to say I dropped it. And you… picked it up. Metaphorically.”

You squinted at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” Riki said, his voice cracking.

You glanced at the note again. “What does this even mean?”

“It means, uh…” Riki paused, searching for an explanation. “It means… you’re cool. Like, you dropped your coolness, and I wanted to give it back to you.”

Your lips twitched as if you were trying not to laugh. “Right.”

“I’ll just… go now,” Riki said, turning on his heel and speed-walking out of the library.

“What happened?” Sunghoon asked when Riki returned to his friends.

“She didn’t laugh me out of the room, so… progress?” Riki said.

Sunoo shook his head. “You’re like a baby giraffe trying to learn how to walk.”

Back in the library, you were still holding the note, a small smile tugging at your lips. You didn’t know what Riki was trying to do, but you had to admit-it was kind of amusing.

And maybe, just maybe, a little endearing.

The Unintended Slip

Riki wasn’t one to give up easily. Sure, you’d shot him down twice now, but in his mind, that just meant he needed to step up his game. If you weren’t going to swoon over his basketball skills or mysterious notes, he’d have to get creative.

Enter: Operation Study Buddy.

Riki barged into the cafeteria, plopping down at the usual table where his friends were mid-meal. “Okay, guys, I need a new strategy.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “You’re talking like this is a business pitch.”

“It is a business pitch-except instead of closing a deal, I’m closing the distance to her heart,” Riki said, dramatically clutching his chest.

Jake nearly choked on his water. “Did you actually just say that?”

“Focus, guys,” Riki said, leaning forward. “She’s smart, right? Always reading or doing something intellectual. So, I’m gonna ask her to help me study for our next math quiz.”

“Bold move, considering you thought the quadratic formula was a type of shampoo,” Sunoo said, smirking.

“Hey, everyone struggles in their own way!” Riki shot back.

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “You think she’ll buy it?”

“She will,” Riki said confidently. Then, after a pause: “I just need to act dumb enough that she won’t suspect anything.”

Jungwon snorted. “That won’t be acting.”

By the time math class rolled around, Riki was ready. He spotted you sitting in your usual seat by the window, scribbling in your notebook. Taking a deep breath, he walked over and sat down in the desk next to yours.

You glanced up, eyebrows raised. “You’re sitting here now?”

“Yeah,” Riki said casually. “Thought I’d mix it up. Plus, I, uh… need your help.”

You tilted your head. “With?”

“Math,” he said, trying to look as clueless as possible. “You’re good at it, right?”

You stared at him for a moment, as if deciding whether he was serious. “What’s the problem?”

Riki pulled out his textbook, flipping to a random page. “This. I don’t get it.”

You leaned over to look, and Riki suddenly realized how close you were. He could smell the faint hint of your shampoo, something floral and light, and his brain momentarily short-circuited.

“This is literally multiplication,” you said, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah, uh, it’s been a while,” Riki said, scratching the back of his neck. “You know how it is-letters, numbers… it’s confusing.”

You gave him a look. “Riki, the problem is 8 x 9.”

“…Right. And the answer is…” He trailed off, waiting for you to fill in the blank.

You sighed. “72.”

“Of course! That’s what I was gonna say,” Riki said quickly.

You sat back, clearly unimpressed. “Do you actually need help, or is this some kind of elaborate excuse to sit here?”

Riki froze, caught red-handed. “I… uh… well…”

Before he could answer, the teacher walked in, saving him from further embarrassment.

Later that day, Riki regrouped with his friends.

“She saw right through me,” he groaned, slumping against his locker.

“To be fair, your acting skills are about as subtle as a neon sign,” Jake said.

“I’m starting to think she’s too smart for me,” Riki admitted.

Sunoo snickered. “Oh, we’ve all been thinking that.”

“Shut up,” Riki muttered.

“You just need to find something that’ll catch her off guard,” Jungwon suggested.

“Like what?”

Sunghoon smirked. “I don’t know, man. Maybe stop being so obvious. Or at least try to flirt without sounding like a confused toddler.”

“I’m great at flirting!” Riki protested.

“Are you, though?” Heeseung said, raising an eyebrow.

Riki rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. What do you suggest?”

“Say something bold. Catch her attention,” Jake said. “Like, I don’t know-‘Hey, do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?’”

“That’s cheesy as hell,” Sunoo said, wrinkling his nose.

“But it’s memorable,” Jake argued.

“I’m not using a pick-up line,” Riki said firmly.

“Then what?” Sunghoon asked.

“I’ll figure it out,” Riki said, though he wasn’t entirely sure he believed himself.

The next day, Riki decided to go for a different approach: casual conversation.

He spotted you in the library during lunch, headphones on as usual. Steeling himself, he walked over and sat across from you.

You looked up, surprised. “Do you not have friends to eat with?”

Riki grinned. “I do, but I figured I’d grace you with my company today.”

“How generous,” you said dryly.

“So, what are you working on?” he asked, leaning forward.

“An essay,” you said simply, turning back to your laptop.

“What’s it about?”

“Why sitting across from loud basketball players is a distraction,” you deadpanned.

Riki laughed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re funny, you know that?”

“I wasn’t joking,” you said, though there was a hint of amusement in your tone.

He rested his chin on his hand, studying you. “Do you ever smile?”

You looked up again, raising an eyebrow. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Not really,” Riki admitted, grinning.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Why are you even here?”

“I like talking to you,” he said honestly.

You blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Why?”

“Because you’re different,” Riki said with a shrug. “You don’t laugh at my jokes or pretend to be impressed by everything I do. It’s refreshing.”

You stared at him for a moment, then went back to your essay. “Well, if you’re going to sit here, at least be quiet.”

“Can’t promise that,” Riki said, smirking.

When Riki returned to his friends later, he was in a suspiciously good mood.

“Did something happen?” Heeseung asked.

“Yeah,” Riki said, grinning. “I think I made progress.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “You mean you annoyed her until she gave up?”

“No, I had a real conversation with her,” Riki said.

“What’d you talk about?” Jake asked.

“Mostly how much I talk,” Riki admitted.

“So… nothing?” Sunghoon said.

“Hey, it’s progress,” Riki said defensively. “She didn’t tell me to leave.”

“That’s the bar now?” Sunoo said, smirking.

“Baby steps,” Riki said, leaning back with a satisfied smile.

Back at your table, your friends were equally curious.

“So, what’s the deal with Riki sitting with you in the library?” Karina asked, leaning across the table.

“Yeah, did he say something dumb again?” Giselle added.

You shrugged. “He said he likes talking to me.”

Julie gasped. “That’s so cute!”

“It’s weird,” you said, though your tone lacked conviction.

“It’s cute,” Julie insisted.

Karina smirked. “I think he’s growing on you.”

“He’s like a mosquito,” you muttered. “Annoying but persistent.”

Giselle snorted. “Yeah, but at least this mosquito is kind of hot.”

“Kind of?” Julie said, giggling. “He’s basically everyone’s crush.”

“Not mine,” you said quickly.

“Sure, sure,” Karina said, smirking. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The Art Of Embarrassment

Riki Nishimura was used to being good at things-basketball, charming people, and existing in general. But somehow, you had turned him into a walking disaster. It was like his brain short-circuited every time you were in a five-foot radius.

Today, he decided he would try something new. No elaborate plans. No fake study sessions. Just pure, unfiltered Riki.

Spoiler alert: it was a terrible idea.

It started in the cafeteria during lunch. You were sitting with your friends as usual, laughing at something Julie said. Riki watched from across the room, trying to figure out how to approach you.

“Dude, stop staring,” Jake said, nudging him.

“I’m not staring,” Riki said, not breaking eye contact.

“You’ve been staring so hard I’m surprised she hasn’t felt it and filed a restraining order,” Sunghoon said, biting into his sandwich.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Riki said, ignoring them. “I’m gonna walk up to her table and just… talk. Like a normal person.”

Sunoo snorted. “You? A normal person? Bold of you to assume.”

Riki stood up, ignoring the chorus of snickers from his friends. He was determined.

But as he crossed the cafeteria, disaster struck.

He was walking past a table when someone stuck their leg out, probably as a joke. Riki didn’t see it until it was too late.

One moment, he was confidently striding toward you. The next, he was flat on the floor, his tray of food flying into the air in a perfect arc.

It all happened in slow motion. His spaghetti landed directly on his head, and his juice spilled all over his shirt. A chorus of gasps and laughter erupted around the cafeteria.

“Oh my God,” Sunoo whispered from their table, already pulling out his phone.

Riki scrambled to his feet, spaghetti dangling off his hair like some cursed garnish. He looked around, his face burning, only to see you staring at him with wide eyes.

For a moment, the entire cafeteria was silent. Then, someone from the back shouted, “Nice save, bro!” and the laughter resumed.

Riki grabbed a napkin, trying to salvage what was left of his dignity. “It’s fine! Totally fine!” he said, though his voice cracked halfway through.

You, to his utter shock, were trying not to laugh. You hid your smile behind your hand, but he caught it. And even though he was mortified, he felt a tiny spark of triumph.

“Legendary,” Heeseung said later, slapping Riki on the back as they regrouped in the locker room.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Riki muttered, throwing his juice-stained shirt into his locker.

“Bro, you’re trending on Snapchat,” Jake said, holding up his phone.

Riki groaned. “I hate all of you.”

“To be fair, it’s not our fault you fell like a cartoon character,” Sunoo said, smirking.

“Shut up,” Riki snapped. “At least she laughed.”

“She laughed at you,” Jungwon corrected.

“Still counts,” Riki said stubbornly.

Meanwhile, you and your friends were dissecting the incident at your table.

“I cannot believe that just happened,” Karina said, wiping tears from her eyes. “He looked like a human spaghetti plate.”

“Poor guy,” Julie said, though she was smiling too. “He’s never gonna live that down.”

Giselle smirked. “He’s got balls, though. I mean, he still tried to act cool after all that.”

You shook your head, still amused. “He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.”

Karina leaned closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re kind of enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You shrugged, but you couldn’t deny it. Something about Riki’s clumsy attempts to get your attention was… endearing.

Later that day, Riki decided to try again. He wasn’t going to let one humiliating moment define him. He spotted you by your locker and mustered up all the courage he had left.

“Hey,” he said, leaning casually against the locker next to yours.

You looked up, immediately noticing the faint red stain on his shirt. “You missed a spot.”

Riki glanced down, groaning. “Oh, come on. I thought I got it all.”

You chuckled softly, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

“So, uh, about earlier…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What about it?” you asked, closing your locker.

“That wasn’t, like, my best moment,” he admitted.

“No kidding,” you said, smirking.

Riki grinned, appreciating your bluntness. “But, you know, I think it’s a sign.”

“A sign of what?”

“That we’re destined to be friends,” he said, winking.

You rolled your eyes. “Destined, huh? Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Absolutely,” Riki said, leaning closer. “You can’t fight fate, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of saying you’re going to keep bothering me?”

“Pretty much,” Riki admitted, grinning.

You shook your head, but you couldn’t hide the small smile on your lips. “Fine. But if you trip and fall again, I’m not helping you up.”

“Deal,” Riki said, his grin widening.

Back with his friends, Riki was practically glowing.

“She smiled at me,” he announced, plopping down at their table.

“Are we supposed to clap?” Sunoo said.

“Laugh all you want,” Riki said smugly. “I’m making progress.”

Jake shook his head. “At this rate, you’ll win her over by graduation.”

“That’s the plan,” Riki said, grabbing a fry from Sunghoon’s plate.

Sunghoon smacked his hand away. “If you touch my food again, fate won’t save you.”

“Noted,” Riki said, still smiling.

At your table, Karina was eyeing you suspiciously.

“You’re smiling again,” she said.

“No, I’m not,” you said quickly.

“You totally are,” Julie said. “What did Riki say to you?”

“Nothing important,” you said, though the small smile lingered.

Giselle smirked. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Karina leaned closer. “Admit it. You think he’s cute.”

“Yeah, like a puppy that keeps running into walls,” you said, but your friends could tell you weren’t entirely joking.

And maybe, just maybe, neither were you.

The Failed Love Letter

Riki Nishimura had a reputation to maintain. Star basketball player, charmingly chaotic, and apparently, a complete disaster when it came to you. After the cafeteria spaghetti fiasco, he decided it was time to go old-school. No elaborate stunts or public humiliation. Just heartfelt honesty in the form of a love letter.

Unfortunately for Riki, heartfelt honesty wasn’t his strong suit.

“‘To the radiant moon of my dull, dark sky…’” Jay read aloud, squinting at the paper in his hand. He looked up, his face scrunched in disbelief. “Riki, what the hell is this?”

“It’s poetic!” Riki said defensively, snatching the paper back.

“It’s something, all right,” Jake chimed in, holding back a laugh. “Are you writing a love letter or auditioning for a Shakespearean play?”

Riki groaned, flopping onto Jay’s bed. “I don’t know, okay? I’m trying to be romantic.”

Jay snorted. “There’s a difference between romantic and… whatever this is.”

“‘The thought of you haunts my every waking moment,’” Jake read over Jay’s shoulder, cackling. “Bro, she’s gonna think you’re a serial killer.”

Riki sat up, glaring at them. “I thought you guys were supposed to be helping me!”

“We are,” Jay said, crossing his arms. “By stopping you from embarrassing yourself even more.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, no offense, but if you give her this, she’s gonna laugh. Like, a lot.”

Riki groaned again, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. What do you suggest?”

Jay grabbed a pen, sitting down next to him. “For starters, tone it down. You’re not Edward Cullen.”

Jake smirked. “Unless you’re planning to sparkle in the sunlight.”

“Can we focus?” Riki snapped, snatching the pen.

Jay and Jake leaned in, watching as Riki rewrote the letter.

“Okay, how about this: ‘Hey, I just wanted to say you’re really cool, and I like hanging out with you.’”

Jake blinked. “That’s it? That’s boring.”

“Yeah, where’s the charm?” Jay added.

Riki groaned for the third time that afternoon. “I can’t win with you guys!”

The final version of the letter ended up being a mix of dramatic flair and casual sincerity. Riki, satisfied with his work, slipped it into your locker the next morning before anyone could talk him out of it.

Later that day, you found the letter while grabbing your books. The envelope was plain, but your name was written on it in slightly messy handwriting. Curious, you opened it.

“‘To the brightest star in my universe,’” you read quietly to yourself, already stifling a laugh. “‘Every time I see you, my heart does this weird thing-like it’s trying to breakdance but forgot how.’”

You couldn’t help it; a small giggle escaped.

Your friends noticed immediately.

“What’s so funny?” Karina asked, leaning over to look.

You quickly folded the letter and slipped it into your bag. “Nothing.”

“Oh, come on,” Giselle said, smirking. “That smile says it’s definitely something.”

“Who’s it from?” Julie asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“No one important,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

But your friends weren’t buying it.

Across the hallway, Riki was watching from a safe distance. He could see you smiling, and though he couldn’t hear what you were saying, he took it as a good sign.

“Dude, she’s laughing,” Sunghoon said, nudging him.

“Yeah, but not in a mean way,” Jake added. “She looks… happy?”

“I told you it was a good idea,” Riki said, grinning.

“Sure, but let’s not forget the part where you almost called her the ‘ethereal goddess of your dreams,’” Jay said, rolling his eyes.

“Details,” Riki said, waving him off.

The next day, Riki was determined to act casual. You hadn’t mentioned the letter, but you didn’t seem mad or weirded out, so he considered that a win.

But of course, his streak of bad luck continued.

During gym class, you and your friends were sitting on the bleachers, watching as the boys played basketball. Riki, eager to impress, decided to show off a little.

Big mistake.

He went for a fancy dunk, leaping high into the air. For a moment, it looked perfect-until his foot slipped on the landing.

He crashed to the floor, arms and legs flailing like a cartoon character. The ball bounced off his head with a loud thunk, and the entire gym erupted into laughter.

From the bleachers, you couldn’t help but laugh too. It was just so… Riki.

He sat up, rubbing his head, and spotted you laughing. Despite the pain and embarrassment, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Smooth,” Sunoo said as he helped Riki up. “Really smooth.”

“Shut up,” Riki muttered, though his cheeks were burning.

Later, you ran into Riki in the hallway.

“Nice fall,” you said, smirking.

Riki groaned. “You saw that, huh?”

“Hard to miss,” you said, your smirk widening. “But it was entertaining.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Glad I could amuse you.”

You hesitated for a moment, then reached into your bag and pulled out the letter. “By the way, this was… sweet. A little dramatic, but sweet.”

Riki’s eyes widened. “You kept it?”

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging. “It made me laugh. In a good way.”

Riki grinned, his confidence returning. “So, does that mean you like me now?”

You rolled your eyes, though you were smiling. “Don’t push your luck, spaghetti boy.”

As you walked away, Riki couldn’t stop smiling.

The Secret Love Potion

After Riki’s very public fall, his confidence had taken a slight hit, but he wasn’t about to let it stop him. He had come too far-he’d written a love letter (okay, a little over the top), he’d made you laugh (even if it was at his expense), and he’d managed to get a bit of a smile out of you. Progress was being made.

But how could he keep it going? He needed a new plan.

Riki sat at the lunch table with his usual crew: Heeseung, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jake, and, of course, Jay, who was doing his best to ignore the absurdity of the situation.

“So, what’s the move today, Riki?” Heeseung asked, tapping his chopsticks against the table.

Riki sighed dramatically. “I need to do something big. Something that’ll make her see that I’m… I’m different.”

“You mean not a disaster?” Jake said, smirking.

Riki shot him a look. “Shut up. No. Something romantic. Something that’ll sweep her off her feet.”

“Like a flash mob?” Sunghoon asked, grinning.

“Not that romantic,” Riki said, shaking his head.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Well, you did write her a letter. You could always, you know, try talking to her next.”

“Yeah, that worked out so well last time,” Riki muttered, thinking about the spaghetti incident.

“Okay, listen.” Sunoo leaned forward, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “I heard from my sister that girls love stuff like flowers and chocolates. So, why not do that?”

Riki looked at him like he’d just suggested he go skydiving without a parachute. “Flowers and chocolates? You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all, bro,” Sunoo said, shaking his head. “It’s classic. You can’t go wrong with that.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Jake said, holding up his hands. “We’re in 2025, not the 1950s.”

“I’m not even trying to say I’m in love with her yet. I’m just trying to get her attention without looking like a complete idiot,” Riki said.

“You sure about that?” Sunghoon asked. “Because you’ve pretty much been a walking disaster in front of her so far.”

Riki gave him a look, but Sunghoon was right. He was already overthinking it. He needed something to make you notice him, something that would stand out, something unique.

And then it hit him.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait,” Riki said, his eyes lighting up. “What if I make a potion?”

Jay stared at him. “A potion? You mean, like, a love potion?”

“Exactly!” Riki said, his face lighting up. “It’s genius! I’ll make this super mysterious drink with all kinds of weird ingredients, like herbs and… I don’t know, whatever sounds romantic. I’ll hand it to her, and she’ll be so intrigued by it, she’ll have to notice me!”

Sunghoon blinked. “Riki, that’s… the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

But the more Riki thought about it, the more it made sense. This wasn’t just any random bottle of juice-it was going to be a potion. A mysterious potion that no one had ever seen before. He’d make it sound like he was a mad scientist in the kitchen.

“Dude, you’re really setting yourself up for failure,” Jake said, shaking his head.

Riki grinned. “Exactly. I’m going big or going home. It’s all part of the plan. She’ll be so fascinated by me that she’ll have no choice but to fall in love.”

“Is that how this works?” Jay asked, eyeing him skeptically.

“Of course it is!” Riki said, standing up with newfound determination. “I’m going to make the most epic, mysterious potion ever.”

And so, with that, Riki set off on his journey to create what he now believed would be the ultimate love potion.

The next day, Riki arrived at school with a bag full of strange, unidentifiable ingredients. His friends watched as he walked past them, a look of excitement on his face.

“What is that?” Heeseung asked, narrowing his eyes.

Riki grinned. “I’m going to make the perfect potion. This is gonna be legendary.”

“Okay, but you’re not trying to drug her, right?” Jake asked, his voice full of concern.

“What? No! No, it’s just gonna be a weird drink that she won’t be able to resist.”

“You’re really digging yourself into a hole here, dude,” Sunghoon muttered.

During lunch, Riki found you at your usual spot. You were sitting with Karina, Giselle, and Julie, talking about something you all found funny.

Riki tried to act casual as he walked over, though the bag in his hand gave him away.

“Hey,” he said, his voice unnervingly loud. “I’ve got something for you.”

You turned, raising an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“It’s a potion,” Riki said, grinning like a mad scientist. “A love potion. Totally mysterious. You’ll love it.”

You looked at the bag. “A potion? Really?”

“Yeah!” Riki said, pulling out a small glass bottle that looked like it belonged in a mad scientist’s lab. Inside was a bubbling purple liquid, with what appeared to be floating herbs and glitter.

You tried to hide your amusement. “Uh, okay… What’s it supposed to do?”

“It’ll make you… um… fall in love with me,” Riki said, with far too much enthusiasm.

Your eyes widened. “You want me to drink that?”

“Yeah! It’s totally safe,” he said, though it was clear he had no idea what he’d actually made.

You couldn’t help it. You burst out laughing. “Riki, this is insane.”

But you took the bottle from him anyway. “I’ll take it,” you said with a smile, “but don’t expect me to fall in love with you because of this.”

Riki beamed. “It’s worth a shot, right?”

As you walked away, you tried to hold in your giggles. The potion was definitely the most ridiculous thing Riki had ever done, but it was kind of cute. You could tell he’d put a lot of effort into it-even if it was a total failure.

That afternoon, you showed your friends the bottle, and they all had a good laugh at Riki’s expense.

“I swear, he’s got to be delusional,” Karina said, eyeing the potion. “But, like, in the best way.”

“You should definitely keep it as a souvenir,” Giselle said, raising an eyebrow. “It’ll be hilarious to bring up later.”

Julie smirked. “Maybe you can actually drink it and see what happens.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling.

Meanwhile, Riki sat with his friends, eagerly waiting for any word from you.

“So, uh, did she drink it?” Jake asked.

“No,” Riki said, deflating a little. “But she took it, so that’s something.”

“You’ve got a better chance with her if you just, you know, talk to her like a normal human being,” Heeseung said.

But Riki wasn’t listening. As far as he was concerned, this potion was his ticket to success.

As the day ended, you threw the potion in your bag, secretly touched by Riki’s effort, but fully aware of how ridiculous the whole thing was.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Maybe Riki was a bit of a disaster, but he was also kind of charming in his own, chaotic way.

The Unintentional Date

Riki’s love potion-while the perfect display of his desperation-wasn’t exactly the magical breakthrough he had hoped for. But that didn’t deter him. If anything, he was more determined to win you over, now that he’d officially made a fool of himself.

The next morning, as Riki was heading to class, he saw you at your locker. You were looking through your bag, completely unaware of the impending chaos that was about to unfold.

Riki decided to make his move.

“Hey, you!” he called out, giving his signature awkward-but-trying-to-be-cool grin.

You turned, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, hey, Riki. What’s up?”

“Uh, not much. Just-” He paused for dramatic effect, trying to look calm, but failing miserably. “Just wanted to see how the potion worked for you last night.”

You blinked at him for a moment. “The potion?”

He nodded, his expression too serious for the situation. “Yeah, you know, the love potion.”

You snorted. “Oh right, the one that looks like it came straight out of a mad scientist’s basement?”

Riki winced. “It’s… it’s a special recipe.”

“Oh, I can tell,” you said, trying not to laugh. “I haven’t drunk it yet, but I did keep it as a reminder of how creative you are.”

He smiled, clearly proud of himself. “I knew you’d keep it. You know, it’s a one-of-a-kind potion. It’s got… uh… special ingredients.”

“What kind of ingredients?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Riki looked around nervously, as if trying to remember what he’d actually put in the potion. “Uh, a secret blend of… um… lavender, honey, and… a dash of, like… magic?”

“Magic,” you repeated, deadpan. “That’s totally reassuring.”

“I mean, yeah. Magic is always part of the equation, right?” Riki shrugged, clearly grasping at straws.

Before you could respond, Heeseung appeared behind him. “Riki, you’ve got a huge glob of chocolate syrup on your shirt,” he said, pointing.

Riki glanced down at his shirt in panic. There, right in the center of his chest, was a sticky blotch of chocolate sauce.

“What?!” he exclaimed. “Where did that-”

You couldn’t hold it in any longer. You burst out laughing, and Heeseung did the same.

“Nice,” you said, still laughing. “Looks like you’re really sweeping me off my feet with that shirt.”

Riki groaned, swiping at the mess with his sleeve, only making it worse.

“Did you steal the chocolate syrup from the cafeteria again?” Heeseung asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up, it’s… I’m not stealing!” Riki said, looking utterly defeated.

As if on cue, Sunghoon walked by, shaking his head. “You’re a walking disaster, man.”

“Thanks for the support, guys,” Riki muttered, still trying to wipe the chocolate off.

“Honestly,” you said, trying to stifle your laughter, “I think I’ll just drink the potion now. Maybe it’ll fix your whole ‘hot mess’ thing.”

Riki stared at you in horror. “Wait, what?!”

You flashed him a mischievous grin. “Just kidding. But you do look like you need some kind of miracle.”

Riki looked like he might die on the spot, but somehow, he managed to give you a crooked grin. “Yeah, guess I do.”

Later that day, Riki, still trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, decided to take a different approach. He’d seen the school was having a “Karaoke Night” for the senior class, and he figured that if he could sing something ridiculous in front of everyone-especially you-it would definitely get your attention.

The problem? Riki couldn’t sing. Not even a little bit.

But did that stop him? Absolutely not.

That afternoon, he spent hours researching “romantic songs” on his phone, hoping to pick the one that would absolutely sweep you off your feet. His friend group, of course, was less than supportive.

“You’re really doing this?” Sunghoon asked, facepalming. “Riki, you’re tone-deaf.”

“I’m not tone-deaf,” Riki argued, crossing his arms. “I have an amazing voice. Trust me.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been singing in the shower for years, and we can still hear you across the hall.”

“Yeah, bro. You sound like a cat being strangled,” Sunghoon added.

“Thanks for the confidence boost, guys,” Riki muttered. “But I’m doing this. For her.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Heeseung said, tapping him on the shoulder. “You might need a backup plan… like, a good excuse for why you completely butcher the song.”

Riki grinned. “I’m gonna do this. You’ll see.”

That evening, Karaoke Night arrived, and the gymnasium was buzzing with energy. The lights were dimmed, the stage was set up, and students were taking turns picking songs from the cheesy setlist.

Riki, with a mix of nervousness and determination, stepped up to the mic, the crowd falling silent as he grabbed it with shaky hands. You were sitting with your friends near the back, watching with amused expressions.

“What’s he doing?” Karina asked, eyebrow raised.

“I think he’s about to make a fool of himself,” Giselle said, already bracing for impact.

Julie grinned. “I can’t wait for this.”

Riki adjusted the mic, then announced, “I’m gonna sing ‘I Will Always Love You’ by Whitney Houston.”

The crowd gasped, and you did your best to hold in your laughter.

You could already imagine how this was going to go.

The music started, and Riki-bless his heart-sang the first line with full, unfiltered enthusiasm.

But instead of hitting any of the notes correctly, he sounded like a dying walrus. His voice cracked at all the wrong times, and he missed the high notes entirely. The audience went silent for a moment before everyone burst out laughing.

From the back, you could hear Heeseung shout, “God, Riki, you’ve ruined this song for generations!”

Riki, completely undeterred, kept going. His confidence was through the roof-despite how much of a disaster it was turning into.

“Riki, please,” Sunghoon shouted from the back, “we’re begging you to stop!”

But Riki was in it now. He was not backing down. He finished the song with as much gusto as he could muster, ending with an off-key, completely butchered high note.

The gym erupted into applause-but not for the quality of the performance.

Riki walked off the stage, out of breath, and completely humiliated. He gave a half-hearted wave to the crowd and sat back down at his table.

“I’m going to die,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

You couldn’t help yourself. You were laughing so hard that you could barely breathe.

“Nice job, Riki,” you called out, still laughing. “You really… um, sang your heart out.”

He looked up, red-faced and defeated. “Please, just tell me you didn’t think that was horrible.”

You wiped away tears of laughter and gave him a soft smile. “Okay, I’ll be honest. It was awful. But, like, in the best way possible.”

Riki blinked. “What?”

“You know,” you said, shrugging, “it was so bad that it was actually kind of… impressive. Like a car crash you can’t look away from.”

He groaned, slumping in his seat. “I’m never doing that again.”

But you noticed the faintest smile on his face, and for some reason, it made everything feel a little less embarrassing. Maybe there was hope for Riki after all.

Riki's Poetic Disaster

The classroom buzzed with the sound of chairs scraping the floor and low murmurs as your small poetry club prepared for its weekly meeting. You sat in your usual spot, notebook open, fingers lightly tapping your pen as you waited for your turn to present. It was your favorite place, a peaceful escape from the chaos of school.

That peace, however, was shattered when the classroom door burst open.

Riki swaggered in like he was about to perform at a sold-out stadium, not join a poetry club meeting. His varsity jacket was slung over his shoulder, and he looked around the room with a grin that screamed I’m about to change your life.

Giselle leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Oh no. He’s Shakespeare-ing his way into embarrassment, I can feel it.”

You sighed, bracing yourself. “What is he doing here?”

Riki spotted you and immediately lit up like a neon sign. “Yo!” he called, waving with both hands as though you were on opposite ends of a football field. “This the poetry thing?”

The entire room turned to look at him, a mix of amusement and disbelief on their faces. After all, Riki had once loudly declared in English class that “books are just fancy napkins with words” and “poetry is for sad people with nothing better to do.”

“Yep, he’s officially lost it,” Karina muttered from the other side of the room.

Riki walked up to the front of the room, all confident. “Hey, uh, I’m Riki. Some of you might know me as the star of our basketball team-no autographs, please. But today, I’m here to…uh, you know, embrace art and stuff.”

You blinked. “Why are you here?”

He winked. “I’m here to support you, obviously. And, uh, to share my gift with the world.”

“Your…gift?”

“Yeah,” Riki said, completely serious. “Poetry. I wrote a poem. It’s deep. You’re gonna love it.”

The club stared at him, stunned. Finally, the president of the club, a quiet senior named Mina, gestured for him to go ahead. “Well…we’d love to hear it.”

Riki cleared his throat, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it with the precision of someone unveiling the Mona Lisa.

“This,” he began, “is called ‘Love is Like Basketball.’”

Giselle buried her face in her hands. Karina groaned audibly.

Riki began, his voice overly dramatic and far too loud for the small room:

“Love is like basketball.

You gotta dribble through life,

but sometimes…

the ball hits you in the face.

And that ball?

That’s you.

You’re the ball.

And I’m…the player.”

Sunoo, who had somehow slipped into the back of the room to spectate, muttered, “This is physically painful.”

Riki continued, oblivious:

“I shoot my shot,

and sometimes I miss.

But then I rebound,

because love is all about…

rebounds.

Also, you’re hot like the sun,

but cool like water.

And that’s why I like you.

End poem.”

The room was dead silent. Somewhere outside, a bird squawked, as if protesting the tragedy that had just unfolded.

Giselle whispered, “I’m in physical pain. I think I’m getting secondhand embarrassment hives.”

Riki, completely unaware, smiled proudly and folded his paper. “What’d you think?” he asked, looking directly at you.

You blinked at him, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or stage an intervention. “Uh…it’s…unique?”

“Right?” He grinned wider. “I’m basically the next Shakespeare.”

“That was worse than the time you tried to rap during gym class,” Karina said, shaking her head.

“Hey, that rap had bars,” Riki shot back.

Giselle smirked. “Bars? That poem had potholes.”

Riki ignored her, his confidence unwavering. “I put my heart into that, okay? And I wrote it for you.” He pointed at you, completely serious. “So…what do you think? Be honest.”

You couldn’t help it-you burst out laughing. You laughed so hard your stomach hurt, and tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

Riki’s grin faltered. “Wait, are you laughing at me?”

“Riki,” you said, finally catching your breath, “that was the worst poem I’ve ever heard. But…thank you.”

He perked up. “Wait, so you liked it?”

“No,” you said, still laughing. “But I appreciate the effort.”

Sunoo leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head. “Man, she just told you your love poem is trash, and you’re still smiling. That’s commitment.”

Riki shrugged, his grin returning. “Hey, at least she laughed. That’s a win in my book.”

“You don’t even like books,” Giselle reminded him.

“Shut up, Giselle.”

As the meeting wrapped up, you couldn’t stop smiling. Riki’s poem might’ve been terrible, but his effort wasn’t lost on you.

Maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than his over-the-top confidence. And judging by the way he looked at you, he wasn’t planning on giving up anytime soon.

The Unfortunate Art Class

It was one of those days where everything that could possibly go wrong would go wrong, and for Riki, it was a day where his attempts to woo you went from embarrassing to downright disastrous. It all started in art class.

Riki had been practicing his sketching-well, more like pretending to practice-while thinking about how he could impress you next. He’d tried singing (and failed), created a disastrous potion (also a failure), and now, he figured, it was time to move on to something different: art.

“Yeah, I’m a man of many talents,” Riki muttered to himself, casually flicking his pencil across his notebook. He’d signed up for art class, mostly because it was a “chill” subject and because he knew you would be in there. You were always so effortlessly cool while sketching, and Riki thought that maybe, just maybe, if he could draw something beautiful, you’d finally take him seriously.

It was a flawless plan, in theory.

Except for the fact that he was absolutely terrible at drawing.

As you walked into the room, Riki immediately straightened up, trying to act casual while pretending to concentrate on the absolute mess of a sketch he was working on. It looked like someone had thrown a bunch of spaghetti at the paper and then tried to pass it off as “modern art.”

You glanced over at him. “What’s that supposed to be, Riki?”

Riki froze, his pencil hovering over the page. He glanced at his work and then back at you, trying to cover up the chaos he’d created. “Uh, it’s… it’s a modern interpretation of… love?”

You squinted at the scribbles, unsure whether he was being serious or if this was another one of his random, ridiculous attempts to impress you. “A modern interpretation of love?” you asked, not hiding your amusement. “It looks like a blob of mashed potatoes got into a fight with a pencil.”

“Excuse you,” Riki said, puffing out his chest. “It’s abstract.”

“Oh, I see,” you said, nodding, “I didn’t realize ‘abstract’ meant ‘I-don’t-know-how-to-draw-a-stick-figure’.”

Riki groaned, his face turning bright red. “It’s art, okay? You wouldn’t get it.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to get it,” you said with a teasing smile. “I’ve got better things to do than trying to decode your spaghetti disaster.”

Riki sat back in his seat, sulking, and that’s when his art teacher, Mr. Han, walked up to inspect his work.

“Ah, Riki,” Mr. Han said, adjusting his glasses and peering at the page. “Interesting… piece.”

“Thanks, Mr. Han,” Riki said, looking proud for a second, before Mr. Han continued.

“It’s… very… unique.”

Riki’s smile faltered. “Is that a good thing?”

“Well,” Mr. Han said slowly, “the concept is ambitious, but I think you might want to, you know, work on making things… recognizable?”

Riki’s face fell. “Okay, okay, but it’s modern, Mr. Han. It’s supposed to be about the chaos of love.”

Mr. Han raised an eyebrow. “Sure, but love’s supposed to be nice, not this. I think you’re looking for a different kind of love.”

And with that, he walked off, leaving Riki to stew in his misery.

“See? Told you,” you said from across the room, still chuckling under your breath.

“Shut up,” Riki muttered, throwing his pencil down in frustration. “It’s harder than it looks, okay?”

You shrugged, grinning. “Well, if this is your idea of love, I think I’d rather be single.”

Riki slumped in his chair. “Yeah, well, I’m sure you’d love that.”

As the class went on, Riki couldn’t help but sneak glances at you while pretending to concentrate on his new abstract “art.” He kept thinking of ways to get you to notice him, to actually like him. The potion was a bust, the karaoke disaster still haunted him, and his art was more of a crime scene than anything else.

But then, like a bolt of inspiration, it hit him. He didn’t need to be good at drawing. He didn’t even need to be good at singing. What if he just pretended to be good at something else? Something you liked?

That’s when he saw it-on the shelf near the back of the room. The most perfect thing he’d ever laid eyes on: the class’s art supplies. Specifically, a pack of colored markers. He quickly grabbed one, then another, and another, all while ignoring Mr. Han’s suspicious gaze.

“I’m going to do it,” he whispered to himself, suddenly determined. “I’m going to draw her the most beautiful picture she’s ever seen.”

Thirty minutes later, Riki proudly presented his latest masterpiece to you. He walked over to your desk, a big grin on his face. “Ta-da!”

You looked at the picture, then looked back up at him, and tried to hide your reaction. Riki had drawn what could only be described as… a stick figure of you, holding a giant heart with “I <3 U” scrawled inside it. Around you, Riki had drawn himself, in what he considered a romantic pose, though it mostly looked like he was having a seizure.

You blinked, trying to process what you were looking at. “Riki…”

He watched eagerly, his eyes wide. “What do you think? I’m going to call it ‘Love in Motion’.”

Your eyes flicked from the picture to Riki’s hopeful expression. “It’s… well, it’s certainly… something.”

Riki’s smile faltered. “Something good?”

“No, definitely something,” you said, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “It’s the most abstract thing I’ve ever seen. I didn’t realize you were such an avant-garde artist.”

Riki let out a dramatic sigh. “Great. You don’t get it again.”

“But hey, at least you didn’t include mashed potatoes this time,” you said, still chuckling under your breath.

“That’s it, I’m done!” Riki snapped, storming away from your desk.

“Come back! I’ll keep it!” you called out, still smiling. “You might need to work on the anatomy, though.”

After class, as Riki was leaving with his defeated art supplies, he caught up with his friends.

“Dude, what was that? Did you just draw her a stick figure of you two?” Jake asked, holding his stomach from laughing so hard.

“It’s called art, okay?” Riki muttered. “It’s supposed to be deep.”

Sunghoon, who had been walking behind him, raised an eyebrow. “The only thing deep about that is your delusion.”

Riki groaned, his shoulders sagging. “Why does she have to be so… perfect? I keep trying everything and it’s just not working.”

“You’re trying too hard, man,” Heeseung said, slapping him on the back. “Maybe you should just chill out a bit and be yourself.”

“Yeah, because ‘myself’ is an artless, tone-deaf disaster who can’t draw a stick figure right,” Riki said bitterly.

“You’re a work in progress, that’s for sure,” Sunghoon added.

Meanwhile, you were walking with your friends, holding onto the “art” Riki had given you. You glanced at it one last time and grinned.

“You know what?” Karina said. “That might just be the worst thing I’ve ever seen, but I kinda think it’s sweet.”

“I think it’s cute that he keeps trying,” Giselle agreed. “He’s a mess, but at least he’s trying.”

“Yeah,” you said with a soft smile, “but you’ve got to admit, his failures are kinda entertaining.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “But what if you did give him a chance?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Maybe. But for now, I’m having too much fun watching him crash and burn.”

The Desperate Measures

Riki had hit rock bottom.

He was no longer just the awkward, cringe-worthy guy trying to impress you with grand gestures. Now, he had become… desperate. Desperate to the point where he was willing to go behind your back and ask your friends for advice-terrible, absolutely terrible advice, which he took way too seriously.

It all started one afternoon during lunch. You were sitting with your friends, Karina, Giselle, and Julie, chatting and laughing about some random school gossip. Riki, seated at a table nearby with his basketball crew, could not stop staring at you. Every time you laughed or smiled, it felt like a small dagger to his heart-but in a good way-because, you know, he was in love.

But this was it. He was done. He couldn’t keep pretending to be casual about it. He needed a real plan. He needed help.

After a few minutes of overthinking, Riki made up his mind. He could already imagine how amazing things could be if he just figured out how to get you to like him back. His friends had tried to help, but every time he took their advice, he ended up making things worse. This time, he was going straight to the source: your friends.

He’d seen Karina, Giselle, and Julie talking to you during lunch, so he mustered up all the courage he had and casually walked over to their table. He cleared his throat dramatically.

“Hey, ladies,” he said with a grin that looked more like a nervous twitch. “What’s up?”

Karina raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, hey Riki. Didn’t know you were interested in joining our table.”

“I wasn’t,” Riki replied, a little too quickly. “I just need… uh… some advice. About her.” He nodded towards you, trying to be discreet.

Giselle smirked, clearly knowing exactly what he meant. “Oh, you mean Y/N?”

“Yes,” Riki said, clearly desperate. “How do I… get her to like me?”

There was a moment of silence as the three girls exchanged amused glances. They were all fully aware of Riki’s crush on you, and each one of them had been watching his attempts from the sidelines, laughing and waiting for the inevitable failure. But now that Riki was asking them for help, they were more than ready to give him advice.

Julie leaned forward, her voice low but full of mischief. “Well, Riki,” she began, “the thing is, you’ve gotta show her that you’re different from the other guys. You know, stand out in a way that makes her think you’re… special.”

“Oh, totally,” Riki said, nodding eagerly. “I can do that.”

Karina chimed in next. “Also, be unpredictable. You know, surprise her. Do something she won’t see coming. Maybe like, I don’t know… show up to class with a puppy or something.”

“Wait, a puppy?” Riki asked, confused. “Like, you’re saying I should just-”

“Yeah,” Karina interrupted, leaning back in her seat. “It works every time. Who could resist a cute dog? I mean, think about it. You walk into the room with a puppy, and she’ll melt. Instant win.”

Riki’s eyes lit up. “A puppy… right. Got it.”

“Also,” Giselle added, “don’t forget to be mysterious. Like, when you talk to her, keep it vague. Don’t reveal everything about yourself all at once. Make her curious.”

Riki took notes in his mind. “Mysterious, yes. Vague. Keep her guessing.”

Julie winked. “And don’t forget to compliment her, like, all the time. But make it subtle, you know? Like, I like your vibe or you’re different from everyone else. Keep it casual. Don’t sound desperate, even if you are.”

Riki nodded so furiously he nearly gave himself whiplash. “Right. Keep it casual. Subtle compliments.”

“And most importantly,” Karina said, her voice suddenly turning more serious, “don’t let her see you sweat. Even if everything’s going horribly wrong, just act like it’s no big deal.”

Riki took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “Okay. Okay, I can do this. I’ll do everything you said. Thanks, guys.”

As he walked away, he was practically glowing with optimism, as if this was the breakthrough he’d been waiting for. What could possibly go wrong?

Later that afternoon, Riki put his plan into action. He had managed to convince his cousin to lend him a tiny puppy (who was far too energetic for Riki’s lack of experience with animals), and he had every intention of marching into your class with that puppy in tow. He had his compliments prepared, his mysterious vibes ready, and his subtle confidence locked and loaded.

He walked to your classroom, puppy in hand, his heart pounding in his chest. The puppy squirmed in his arms, clearly not impressed with Riki’s handling skills, but he was too focused on you to notice. He entered the classroom and immediately caught your attention.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, trying to sound cool but still managing to squeak a little. “Look what I got.”

You looked up from your seat and blinked. “Uh, what’s that?”

Riki proudly held up the puppy. “A puppy. I thought it’d be a fun surprise.” He flashed a grin, trying to channel his best “mysterious” energy.

You looked at the puppy for a moment before looking back at Riki, your expression unreadable. “Why are you showing me this?”

Riki’s smile faltered for a second, but he quickly recovered. “Because, you know, puppies make people happy. And I thought… I thought you’d like it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You got a puppy for me?”

“Yeah,” Riki said, still grinning, but now it was starting to feel forced. “Just, you know, to show I care. And that I’m different.”

You stared at him for a moment, clearly confused, before glancing at the puppy again. “Well, it’s cute, I guess. But, uh, where’s the rest of it?”

Riki blinked. “What?”

“You know,” you said, deadpan, “usually when people get puppies, there’s like, a point to it. Like, you’re adopting it. Or… giving it away. Are you just borrowing this puppy for a vibe check or…?”

Riki froze. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Uh…” He turned the puppy around and tried to make it do something cute, but the puppy only managed to chew on his sleeve. “Well… yeah, I mean, I just thought I’d bring it by. You know, to impress you.”

“Impress me with a dog?” you asked, looking genuinely perplexed. “That’s… a first.”

Riki’s face turned bright red. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. This was nothing like what he’d imagined. He could hear his friends’ advice echoing in his mind: Make her think you’re special… Keep it mysterious… Compliment her subtly.

Instead, here he was, holding an unruly puppy that was completely sabotaging his “plan.”

“Uh, Riki,” you said, breaking the awkward silence, “I gotta go. Maybe next time you try impressing me, you could leave the puppy with its owner and just, I don’t know, talk to me like a normal person.”

Riki stood there, watching you walk away, the puppy tugging at his sleeve like it, too, was trying to escape.

Later that evening, Riki found himself sitting in his room, utterly defeated. He had tried everything. The puppy was a disaster. His mysterious vibe was nonexistent. And when he’d tried to compliment you earlier, it had come out as awkward rambling.

But what hurt the most? The lies his friends had told him.

“I thought a puppy would be enough to impress her,” he muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t get it.”

The Game-Changing Disaster

Riki had spent the entire week psyching himself up for this moment. It was the biggest basketball game of the season, and everyone was talking about it. The energy in the gymnasium was electric, and the entire school was buzzing with excitement. All eyes were on Riki, the star player of the team, and he was determined to use this opportunity to finally, finally impress you.

He had it all planned out. He wasn’t just going to play well-no, no, no. He was going to dedicate his performance to you, and in doing so, he would show you how much he cared. This would be the moment where everything would fall into place. All those awkward attempts, the puppy fiasco, the art class embarrassment-it would all be worth it once he made you notice him in the most epic way possible.

The game had started, and Riki was already in the zone. He was running up and down the court, weaving between his teammates and opponents, effortlessly sinking shots and making assists. The crowd roared in approval, chanting his name. He was on fire. This was his time to shine. The only thing left was to make sure you saw it all.

As the game went on, Riki began scanning the crowd, looking for you. He spotted Karina and Giselle waving their hands frantically from the bleachers, but that wasn’t what he was focused on. No, his eyes were locked on you-sitting in the third row, looking effortlessly cool with your friends, totally unaware of the storm of emotions Riki was experiencing from the court.

His heart skipped a beat. This was it. This was his big moment. He could feel the weight of the ball in his hands, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. As he dribbled past an opponent and took a quick glance at the crowd to make sure you were watching, he had an epiphany: he would dedicate this final shot to you.

“I’m gonna do it. I’m going to win this for her,” Riki whispered to himself, a smile creeping onto his face. “She’ll see. She’ll finally see how much I care.”

The clock was ticking down, and Riki could feel the heat of the game intensifying. The score was close, and the final seconds were approaching. His teammates passed him the ball, and he was wide open for a shot. This was the moment.

As he dribbled toward the basket, Riki suddenly had the thought of you in his mind. He could almost hear the crowd cheering for him, but all he could focus on was you. This is for you, he thought as he took the jump shot.

And that’s when it happened.

Right as Riki was soaring through the air, preparing to make the perfect shot, his gaze shifted back toward you in the stands-just in time to see you laughing with your friends. Why is she laughing? What’s so funny?

And that was the fatal mistake.

In his distraction, Riki misjudged his footing. He stumbled mid-air, his legs flailing wildly as he lost control of his balance. The crowd went silent for a moment as they watched Riki completely biff it mid-court. In one glorious second, he went from being the hero to the clumsiest guy on the court.

Riki’s foot caught on the floor, and with a loud thud, he crashed onto the hardwood, his body sprawled out in a full-on disaster pose. The ball, meanwhile, ricocheted off the backboard with the precision of a rock skipping across a lake, missing the hoop entirely and landing at the feet of a very confused player from the other team.

For a brief moment, there was a stunned silence in the gym. Everyone, including Riki, seemed to be in shock. His teammates stood frozen, and even the opposing team stopped mid-play.

Riki slowly pushed himself up from the floor, his face redder than a tomato. His heart was pounding, and he felt like crawling into a hole and staying there forever. The gym slowly erupted into laughter, and he couldn’t tell whether they were laughing with him or at him-he suspected the latter.

“Riki!” one of his teammates, Jake, shouted in disbelief. “What the hell was that?!”

Riki just groaned, clutching his forehead in embarrassment. “I… I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he muttered, utterly defeated.

From the bleachers, Karina, Giselle, and Julie burst into laughter. “I knew he’d mess it up,” Karina laughed, nudging Giselle.

“I didn’t think he’d do it this spectacularly, though,” Giselle added. “At least he can’t blame the puppy this time.”

Riki was too mortified to even respond, his mind still stuck on that disastrous fall. He was supposed to be impressing you, not doing an impromptu audition for a slapstick comedy show. He couldn’t even face you, especially after you’d probably seen the entire thing unfold.

But then, as he stood up, trying to salvage some shred of dignity, he heard the sound of someone clicking a camera.

“Hold up,” a voice called out from behind him. It was Sunghoon, his ever-sarcastic teammate. “I think I got a shot.”

Riki turned around, his eyes wide with horror. “Sunghoon, no.”

“Oh yeah, I got this for sure,” Sunghoon said, flipping his phone in his hands. “This is gold.” He held up his phone, showing Riki the photo-an image of Riki in mid-fall, mouth wide open, and arms flailing in a way that could only be described as pure chaos.

Riki’s face went pale. “Are you serious?” he asked, horrified.

“I’m not just serious,” Sunghoon said, grinning. “This is my new favorite thing to pull up whenever you start acting all cocky about your skills.”

“No, Sunghoon, don’t you dare-”

But it was too late. Sunghoon already had a plan in mind. “You can’t be mad at me when this is priceless. If you ever try to pretend you’re a smooth operator again, I’ll be pulling this up on my Instagram story.”

Riki’s stomach dropped. He could already imagine the comments: “Riki the basketball pro, more like Riki the human trampoline”, or “When you try to impress someone but end up impressing the floor instead”.

As the game continued, Riki couldn’t focus. He was too embarrassed to even think straight. His team managed to win the game despite his epic fail, but he couldn’t find any joy in the victory. Instead, he was consumed by one thought: How could he make it up to you after this disaster?

After the game, Riki sulked back to the locker room, avoiding his teammates’ teasing and pretending to focus on changing into his regular clothes. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you. What had you thought when you saw him crash like that? Was he still embarrassing? Was there any chance he could salvage what little dignity he had left?

And then, his phone buzzed.

It was a notification from Instagram. He opened it up, and his heart sank.

There it was-the photo that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Sunghoon had uploaded it, complete with a hilarious caption.

Riki groaned and buried his face in his hands. He knew that he would never live it down.

School Festival Chaos

The school festival was a legendary event every year-one of those days where the entire school came together to put on extravagant booths, games, and performances. The air was thick with the smell of food, the laughter of students, and the constant hum of excitement as people rushed from one event to the next. This was the day Riki had been waiting for.

The day he would finally win you a prize.

Riki had spent the past hour going from one booth to another, determined to prove to you that he was capable of doing something right for once. He had so many chances to impress you-so many games to win, so many prizes to grab. But despite his best efforts, he kept coming up short.

At the first booth, he tried to win a stuffed bear by throwing darts at balloons. Simple, right? Well, apparently not for Riki, whose aim was so off that he might as well have been throwing the darts with his eyes closed. The booth attendant was trying to hide their smirk as they handed him a consolation prize: a tiny rubber spider.

“Great,” Riki muttered, clutching the spider like it was the most embarrassing thing he’d ever touched. “Perfect for impressing Y/N.”

At the next booth, it was a ring toss, and this time, he was determined. The objective was simple-get the ring on the bottle, win a prize. It was foolproof. That is, until Riki threw the first ring, which somehow flew over the booth, narrowly missing someone’s head and landing in the bushes.

He stared at the ring as if it had betrayed him. I swear, I’m getting closer each time, he thought, trying to maintain his optimism.

After several failed attempts, he walked away from the booth defeated, feeling like a man who had lost his dignity in the process. But no! He couldn’t give up now! He had to keep trying. He had to show you he could win something, anything.

Meanwhile, you had been watching from the sidelines with your friends-Karina, Giselle, and Julie-amused by Riki’s increasingly desperate attempts.

“Is Riki… trying to win prizes for you?” Karina asked with a raised eyebrow, a teasing grin on her face.

Giselle snorted. “He’s been at it for, like, an hour. I thought this was supposed to be easy for him.”

Julie chuckled. “I don’t know, I’m just here for the chaos. This is honestly better than the game last week.”

You, however, couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. Sure, it was funny, but it was also kind of cute in its own way. It wasn’t every day that someone was this determined to impress you.

Riki finally stumbled over to a prize booth that seemed like it was perfect for him: a giant basketball hoop toss. The sign promised a grand prize-an oversized plush lion. And you had mentioned before how much you loved lions.

This is it, Riki thought. This is my moment. She’ll finally be impressed. I can do this.

He stepped up to the booth, the prize looming large in his mind. His hands were shaking with nerves as he grabbed the basketball. It wasn’t a real one, of course, just one of those cheap foam balls you could get at a carnival, but Riki didn’t care. He was already envisioning himself handing you the giant lion, your face lighting up in admiration.

With a deep breath, he tossed the ball.

It missed the hoop entirely.

Riki groaned and let his shoulders slump. He watched in horror as the ball bounced off the edge and rolled across the floor, completely out of his reach.

“Nice try!” the booth attendant called out with forced enthusiasm. “Would you like to try again?”

Riki waved them off, his spirit broken. “No, I think I’ve had enough for today.”

From across the way, you saw Riki standing at the booth, looking absolutely defeated. Despite his continuous failures, you couldn’t help but smile. It was hard not to appreciate his effort. It was like he was trying so hard that it had become almost endearing-almost.

“Riki’s been at this for ages,” Giselle commented, watching him walk away from the booth, dejected. “This is gonna be a disaster if he keeps at it.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation. “It’s like he’s determined to impress me, but in the worst way possible.”

Karina shot you a playful look. “Maybe you should help him out.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Help him? With that? He’s got this.”

But then you thought about it for a second. He was clearly trying so hard. And although he was failing miserably, you could see the genuine intent behind it.

“You know what?” you said, standing up. “Maybe I’ll show him how it’s done.”

You walked over to the same booth Riki had just left, where the attendant gave you a casual smile as you approached.

“Hey, what’s up?” they said. “You looking to win a big prize?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a smile, “I’ll give it a shot.”

Riki, who had been walking in the opposite direction, noticed you standing at the booth, ready to give it a go. His heart immediately started racing. What was this? You? Playing the basketball hoop toss? He couldn’t believe it.

This is going to be embarrassing, he thought. If she wins, it’ll be like rubbing salt in the wound.

But then something surprising happened.

You grabbed the foam basketball and made your first shot. It swooshed perfectly through the hoop.

Riki froze. “No way.”

You grabbed the ball again. Shot two. Swish.

His jaw dropped. “Wait, what?!”

You continued, effortlessly making shot after shot, as if you had been practicing for this exact moment. In just a few seconds, you had hit the required number of successful shots, and the attendant handed you the giant lion plush.

Riki stood there, stunned.

“Uh, well,” you said with a smirk as you approached him, the massive lion in your hands. “Guess you need to work on your aim a little more, huh?”

Riki could only blink, a mix of shock and admiration on his face. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You… you really just did that.”

You handed him the lion with a grin. “I figured it was the least I could do after watching you fail so many times.”

He took the lion from you, blushing deeply, feeling like the biggest fool on the planet. “I… I thought I could get it for you. You know, so you could be impressed with me.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I am impressed, just not for the reasons you think.”

Riki’s blush deepened as he hugged the oversized plush to his chest, too embarrassed to look you in the eye. “Thanks. I don’t deserve this… but thank you.”

You smiled warmly at him. “It’s nothing, really. You were trying so hard, Riki. That counts for something.”

Riki stood there, holding the giant lion in his arms, his mind completely overwhelmed by how much he cared about you-and how much he wanted to make you proud. Maybe he wasn’t perfect, but at least he was trying, and he was getting closer to impressing you, even if it wasn’t the way he expected.

Later that day, as the festival continued, Riki’s friends couldn’t help but tease him about what had happened.

“I knew you were gonna lose,” Jake said, snickering.

But Riki just laughed along with them, holding the giant lion proudly. “Yeah, yeah. I guess it wasn’t meant to be. But hey, at least she won me a prize.”

His friends gave him a knowing look, but he didn’t care. He was content just knowing that you had finally noticed him.

Confessions Gone Wrong

It had been a few days since the school festival disaster, and Riki had barely been able to think of anything else. Despite his epic failures, there was one thing that kept him going-you. He’d been replaying the whole day over and over in his head, and it hit him like a ton of bricks: he had feelings for you. Big, gigantic, overwhelming feelings.

Now, he had to tell you.

It was time to confess.

Riki sat in the cafeteria, fidgeting nervously with his hands. His mind was racing a mile a minute. What if you said no? What if it was super awkward? What if you laughed in his face? He didn’t know why he thought confessing was a good idea in the first place. It was way too risky. But no, he couldn’t chicken out. He had to do this.

His friends, however, seemed to have other ideas.

“You got this, man,” Heeseung said, clapping Riki on the back. “Just be straight with her. Say something like, ‘I like you.’”

“Yeah, man,” Jake added, leaning in from the side. “Don’t overthink it. Just… do it.”

Riki stared at them blankly. “You guys don’t understand. I’m not just telling her I like her, I’m… I’m confessing. This is big. This is… important.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Is this like, a romantic confession or more of a ‘I’d like to take you to dinner sometime but also I might die of embarrassment in the process’ type of deal?”

“It’s… both,” Riki mumbled, his mind swirling in confusion. “I don’t know, I just-”

“You know what would really work?” Jay interrupted, his voice suddenly deadly serious. “You gotta be like, ‘I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I just can’t stop thinking about you.’ You know, make it sound deep. Like you’ve been contemplating it.”

“Yeah, like you’re having an existential crisis about it,” Sunghoon chimed in. “Like, ‘I’m not sure if I’m alive or just existing without you.’ It’ll make her swoon for sure.”

Riki’s face turned crimson. “What? No, that’s way too much! I just want to say something simple!”

“Fine, fine, okay,” Heeseung said, shrugging. “Here’s the thing, bro: when in doubt, just make it funny. Humor is everything. You don’t want to come off too serious, like you’re trying too hard, right?”

“That’s true, but also, you gotta act confident,” Jake added. “Like, you’re the catch here, you know? Show her that you are the one who should be adored.”

“Got it,” Riki said, though he was starting to feel more overwhelmed than before. “Just be funny and confident. Easy.”

After what felt like an eternity of pep talks from his friends, Riki finally spotted you sitting at your usual table, chatting with Karina and Giselle. He took a deep breath, straightened his back, and made his way over to your table, trying his hardest to look cool. His heart was pounding, and his palms were sweaty. This was it-he was finally going to confess.

As he approached, your friends gave him a knowing look, but you remained completely unaware of what was coming.

“Hey, Y/N,” Riki greeted, standing awkwardly in front of your table, his fingers twitching nervously. “Can I, uh, talk to you for a sec?”

You looked up, your expression warm and friendly. “Sure, what’s up?”

Riki cleared his throat, trying to appear calm. “Okay, so, um… this is a bit hard for me to say, but… I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and…”

And then, just as he was about to continue, he felt the eyes of his friends boring into him from across the cafeteria.

“Say something smooth!” Heeseung mouthed from behind you, giving him an exaggerated thumbs-up.

“Don’t mess up!” Sunghoon whispered, and Riki swore he saw him holding up a fake phone to his ear like he was recording it for blackmail.

His heart rate picked up, and in the middle of the intense pressure, he completely forgot the smooth, confident line he’d planned. Instead, all that came out of his mouth was:

“Do you wanna, like… hang sometime?”

Your expression didn’t change, and Riki was already bracing himself for the awkward silence when-

“No, wait! I mean, bang…! I mean-!” Riki slapped his hand over his mouth immediately, realizing what he had just said. He blinked, stunned by his own words, and then the horror set in. He had just asked you-asked you to hang-and then he accidentally blurted out bang?!

You stared at him, your eyes wide in shock, and then… you burst out laughing. It was a genuine laugh, the kind that made Riki’s face burn with embarrassment.

“You… you want to-what?!” you gasped between laughs, clutching your stomach. “Did you just-”

“No! No, I meant hang out!” Riki sputtered, shaking his head frantically. “I swear, I didn’t mean to say that! I’m-Oh my God, this is so embarrassing…”

“Did you just..bang?” Karina asked, unable to hold in her laughter, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Riki, are you asking Y/N to… what, exactly?”

Riki wanted to die right there. This was it. This was his confession. He had just managed to make a fool of himself in front of you in the worst way possible.

“Bro, you gotta stop digging,” Jake said, face-palming from across the cafeteria. “This is like watching a slow-motion train wreck.”

Your laughter died down, but you still had a grin on your face as you wiped away the tears from your eyes. “I… okay. You really know how to make a confession memorable, I’ll give you that.”

Riki stared at you, trying to process what had just happened. “I swear, I didn’t mean that. I was just trying to say something simple and-”

“Yeah, you definitely kept it simple,” you teased, giving him a playful wink. “I think this is the most creative confession I’ve ever heard.”

Riki buried his face in his hands. “Oh my God, I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Honestly?” you said, leaning back in your chair, looking far too amused for Riki’s liking. “I think I’d rather hang out with you than bang...”

“You’re killing me here,” Riki groaned, his face bright red. “I swear, I’m going to die from secondhand embarrassment.”

But you just smiled, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “It’s okay, Riki. I get it. You’re nervous. You can always try again… just, you know, without the ‘bang’ part.”

“Yeah, bro,” Sunghoon piped up from behind, clearly enjoying every moment. “You gotta learn how to do this without sounding like a walking disaster.”

You turned to your friends, still chuckling. “Honestly, though, I think this is the best confession I’ve gotten all week.”

Riki raised his head and gave you a weak smile. “Well, at least it’s memorable.”

“You’re telling me,” you quipped. “In fact, this might just go down in history as the most awkward confession of all time. But hey, at least you didn’t say something worse, right?”

Riki wanted to die, but at the same time… he didn’t. Despite the awkwardness, despite his humiliation, there was something about the way you were teasing him-playfully, not mean-spirited-that made him feel like he might actually have a chance.

Later, as Riki trudged back to his friends, who were all practically rolling on the floor in laughter, he couldn’t help but smile through his embarrassment. At least you didn’t hate him. Maybe, just maybe, he had a shot at getting it right next time.

The Panic Panic

It was another regular school day-well, as regular as a school day could be when Riki was still trying to recover from his disastrous confession. He was walking to class, still embarrassed, but at least he was trying to act like nothing happened. His friends kept bringing it up every chance they got, but for the most part, Riki had learned to laugh it off… well, at least he pretended to laugh it off.

You, however, were always on his mind. It was impossible not to think about how cute you were when you laughed at his confession. It wasn’t mean, just funny in a way that made him feel a little less terrible. Plus, he loved how you didn’t seem to mind his blunders, and honestly, that made him want to impress you even more.

That afternoon, as Riki was sitting at lunch with his friends, he noticed Julie staring at him with a mischievous grin on her face. She was sitting with you, Karina, and Giselle at the table, clearly plotting something.

“Hey, Riki,” Julie said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know, I’ve been thinking… Y/N really deserves someone special, don’t you think?”

Riki froze, his heart skipping a beat. “Uh… yeah?”

“Yeah!” Julie said enthusiastically. “But you know, she might need a real man, you know? Someone who actually knows how to talk to her and doesn’t mess up their confessions in the most cringe-worthy way possible.” She smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Riki could feel his face heating up. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Julie winked. “Well, the whole bang thing was a little… memorable. But don’t worry! Maybe I should just set her up with someone else, someone who could actually sweep her off her feet.” She leaned back in her chair, giving Riki a teasing look. “What do you think? Should I hook her up with, like, Sunghoon or someone? He does know how to talk to girls.”

Riki’s eyes widened in panic. No way-he couldn’t let that happen. Not after everything he’d been trying to do. He had to prove he was the better option.

“No! No way, I-I mean, no! I’m totally… totally better than Sunghoon!” Riki blurted out, his words tumbling over each other. “I mean, I’ve got this! I know I messed up last time, but I can fix it! I can prove I’m… I’m a good choice! Way better than Sunghoon. Way better.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “Really? You? Prove it, then.”

Riki looked over at Sunghoon, who was sitting with his friends across the cafeteria, casually chatting. He had his usual confident smirk on his face, like he could talk to anyone without even trying. Riki felt a spike of jealousy. Of course, Sunghoon was perfect. He was always smooth with the ladies. 

But there was no way he was going to lose this.

“I can do it,” Riki muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. “I can… I just need to do something that’ll really impress her. Something big. Like, heroic.”

Giselle, who had been listening to the whole conversation, let out a laugh. “Heroic? Riki, do you even know what that word means? You barely survived your confession last week!”

“Oh, shut up, Giselle,” Riki snapped, puffing out his chest. “I’ve got this. I’m going to do something so impressive, she’ll forget all about the ‘bang’ thing.”

Julie grinned. “Sure, sure. Go ahead, then. I’d like to see how you plan to outdo Sunghoon.”

Riki, determined not to back down, stood up from his seat. “Watch and learn, everybody. Watch and learn.”

After some thought, Riki had what he thought was a brilliant idea: he would impress you with something athletic-something that would highlight his strength and talent. He couldn’t just be the awkward guy who messes up his words. No, he was Riki, the basketball star. Surely that would be enough, right?

Later that afternoon, Riki found you standing near the school gym, talking to Karina and Giselle. His heart skipped a beat. This was it. He had already seen Sunghoon playing basketball earlier, and he knew he could do better. He was definitely better.

“Hey, Y/N!” Riki called, jogging over to you with a grin plastered on his face. “You like basketball, right?”

You turned to him, looking mildly curious but not too interested. “Yeah, I mean, I guess. Why?”

“Well, I was thinking, maybe we could… I don’t know, shoot some hoops together?” He tried to sound casual, but his voice cracked at the end.

Karina raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously asking her to shoot hoops with you?”

Riki shot her a glare, clearly ignoring her. “I’m totally fine with it, no pressure. I can show you some of my sick tricks.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by his sudden enthusiasm. “Sick tricks? Like what?”

Riki grinned, feeling an overwhelming surge of confidence. “Like, watch this!”

Without waiting for a response, he jogged over to the basketball hoop. He grabbed a ball, dribbled it a couple of times, and then made a jump shot from a distance. The ball flew through the air, and… hit the rim.

It bounced off and fell straight to the ground.

Riki’s face immediately turned red. Okay, that wasn’t supposed to happen. He picked up the ball and tried again, only for it to miss the hoop entirely and roll across the gym.

“You got this, bro!” Sunghoon yelled from across the gym, watching with his usual smug grin. “Totally nailed it!”

You and your friends burst out laughing. Even Karina couldn’t hold back.

“You know, you really should’ve stuck with your original plan,” Giselle said, still snickering. “You know, the ‘just talk to her and don’t say anything weird’ plan.”

Riki stood there, trying to recover from his failed attempt, but now he was sweating. This was not going according to plan. This was supposed to be his big moment. Instead, it felt like a huge disaster.

“I-uh, okay, okay!” he said, finally looking back at you. “I can do better. I’ll-wait for it.”

You looked at him with an amused expression, barely holding back another laugh. “You sure you’ve got this, Riki? I’m not sure this is the ‘heroic’ moment you had in mind.”

Riki’s face was so red he could’ve passed for a tomato. “No, no, I’ve got this! Just-just wait!”

Julie, who had been watching from the sidelines, gave him a slow clap. “Oh, look, it’s the basketball star. Never mind, Sunghoon’s got this one, right?”

Riki felt a surge of panic. No, he couldn’t let this happen. He needed to redeem himself, and fast. He looked at you again, the pressure mounting. “Okay, okay, let’s-let’s just hang sometime. Maybe we can… actually do something fun. How about… a movie? Or something?”

You smiled, clearly enjoying watching him flail. “Sure, we can hang. But if you’re going to keep embarrassing yourself like this, I’m definitely going with Sunghoon next time.”

The panic that flooded Riki’s chest was almost unbearable. He was getting crushed by his own nerves and the weight of your expectations. No way was he going to lose to Sunghoon. He had to step up his game… but how?

Karina's Makeover Plan

The school dance was just around the corner. The buzz of excitement and nerves filled the hallways as everyone began preparing for what was sure to be a night full of glitter, lights, and, of course, a lot of questionable dance moves. For some students, the thought of attending the dance was an exciting prospect. For others, like Riki, it was the perfect opportunity to do something incredibly dumb for the sake of impressing you.

“Okay, listen up,” Karina said one afternoon as she pulled you aside after school, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “The dance is coming up, and you need a makeover. No more hiding in the background like some cute but invisible wallflower. It’s time for you to shine, and I-” She gave a dramatic pause, “-am the one who’s going to make that happen.”

You blinked, unsure if Karina was serious or just playing one of her usual pranks. “A makeover? Karina, I’m fine. I don’t need-”

“Nope, not happening,” she interrupted, her arms crossed and a determined look on her face. “You deserve to feel amazing. Plus, I need you to show Riki just how incredible you really are, especially now that he’s been-how do we say it?-failing miserably at everything.” She gave a dramatic roll of her eyes.

You groaned. “You seriously think Riki is the reason for all of this?”

“Well, yes! He’s a mess, and it’s obvious,” Karina said, her tone as blunt as ever. “But a makeover will give you that extra oomph to make him realize that you’re not just some girl who trips over her words. You are a force to be reckoned with.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. It wasn’t like you had a choice in the matter when Karina set her mind to something. You had a feeling she had already gathered a whole team of “makeover” supplies without even asking you for input.

The next day, you found yourself sitting in front of Karina’s full beauty arsenal-a bunch of hair tools, makeup, and the most fashionable clothes she could dig out of her closet. It felt like something straight out of a high school makeover montage, but you couldn’t deny that Karina had a way of making things work.

“You ready for this?” Karina asked, flashing you a grin. “We’re going to take Riki’s mind off every embarrassing thing he’s done. After this, he’ll be so smitten, he won’t know what hit him.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical but willing to go along with it. “Do you think this will actually work?”

Karina winked. “Trust me, it’s foolproof.”

Hours later, the transformation was complete. Karina had somehow managed to do her magic, and you looked… well, different. Your hair was perfectly styled, your makeup was subtle yet striking, and your outfit? Stunning. You barely recognized yourself in the mirror. You looked like you belonged in one of those high school romantic comedies where the quiet, shy girl takes off her glasses and suddenly turns into the hottest girl in school.

You turned to Karina, unsure of how to feel. “This… I look like I’m about to star in a drama.”

“Exactly!” Karina replied, her voice filled with pride. “You’re going to slay, trust me. Now, get out there and make Riki wish he had never messed up that confession.”

As you walked down the hall toward the dance, you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. It was like the world had suddenly stopped, and all attention was on you. You spotted Riki in the crowd almost immediately. He was with his friends, standing near the snack table, looking as if he were discussing the most important thing on the planet-most likely how he could redeem himself from his last attempt to impress you.

The moment he saw you, his entire demeanor shifted. His eyes widened, and his jaw went slack. His friends immediately noticed his reaction.

“Dude,” Sunghoon said with a knowing grin, “you’re drooling.”

Riki didn’t even seem to hear him, still staring at you in absolute awe.

“I think he just short-circuited,” Sunoo said, his voice dripping with sass. “Like, seriously, bro. He’s just standing there like a puppy who’s been hit by a bus.”

“Wait for it,” Jay said, eyes glinting with mischief. “He’s gonna try to walk over and make a move. Let’s see how he screws this up.”

Sure enough, Riki started to move toward you, his feet awkwardly shuffling in the most un-Riki-like way possible. His friends exchanged knowing glances.

“Here we go,” Jake muttered, sipping his drink. “This is gonna be good.”

As Riki approached, his face was flushed with excitement-or maybe panic, it was hard to tell. He took a deep breath, trying to act cool. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice coming out slightly higher than usual. “You, uh, look… wow.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “What, no bang this time?”

Riki winced, the memory of his previous mistake still fresh in his mind. “I-uh, no. I meant to say you look amazing, like, wow, incredible. Seriously. I mean, you always look good, but tonight-whoa.”

“Thanks,” you said, trying not to laugh at how flustered he was. “It’s Karina’s work, so you know it’s dangerous when she’s involved.”

Riki chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Karina really knows how to… transform people. You look so-” He paused mid-sentence, clearly struggling to put his thoughts into words.

“Like a goddess?” Sunghoon called out from behind Riki, earning an eye roll from Riki in return.

“Shut up, Sunghoon,” Riki muttered, his face now entirely red.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t worry, Riki. I’m used to people staring at me like I’m a foreign species after a makeover.”

“That’s not the point,” Riki blurted out, finally gaining some semblance of confidence. “I-uh, I think you look amazing. I mean, seriously. Like, wow.” He nodded emphatically, and you could tell he was trying way too hard to not look like a complete disaster.

“You’re killing me here, Riki,” Sunoo said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a girl before.”

“Yeah, bro, relax,” Sunghoon added. “She’s just a person, not a whole new species.”

“Shut up, both of you!” Riki snapped, clearly annoyed but still unable to pull his eyes away from you.

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a little bit of satisfaction. You had managed to break him in the best way possible, and honestly? It was kind of hilarious. But there was something else, too. Something more than just amusement. You liked that Riki was so flustered by your appearance. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to realize how much he actually liked you.

“Well, thanks for the compliments, Riki,” you said, a teasing smile on your face. “I’ll take it as a win, considering how awkward you’re being right now.”

“I’m not awkward!” Riki insisted, but even he could tell that his voice had a higher pitch than usual. He was a mess, and he knew it. “I-uh, I just wasn’t expecting you to, you know, look like that. You’re… wow. Really wow.”

“And I think he’s short-circuited again,” Sunoo added with a sly grin, earning laughter from the rest of the group.

Riki buried his face in his hands, embarrassed beyond belief. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

As the night wore on, Riki’s attempts to act cool around you only became more ridiculous. But secretly, deep down, you kind of liked it. There was something about his awkward charm that was endearing, even if it made him seem like a nervous wreck every time you were near.

The dance was just beginning, and Riki was clearly trying to muster up the courage to ask you to dance. Would he succeed? Or would he trip over his own feet like usual? The tension was real, but you couldn’t help but feel a little excited to see where this would go.

Mutual Feelings

The days after the school dance were quieter than usual. The whirlwind of awkward moments, and teasing had settled down a bit. But there was something in the air now, something that wasn’t there before-the heavy, palpable feeling of anticipation. You could tell that Riki had changed. He still teased you, still tried to impress you in the silliest ways possible, but now there was a certain realness behind it. It wasn’t just a game anymore. It wasn’t just about winning your attention. No, he was genuinely trying to show you how much he liked you.

And while you pretended not to notice, you couldn’t help but feel the same way. You’d always been the quiet girl, the one who stayed in the background and let things unfold. But the more you saw Riki’s awkward, goofy charm, the more you realized that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t quite as indifferent as you thought.

It was after school one day, and you were walking down the hallway with Karina, Giselle, and Julie. The air felt heavy with the usual chatter of students, but something about today felt different. As you reached the end of the hallway, you saw Riki leaning against the lockers, his friends gathered around him as usual. His eyes locked onto yours immediately, and a slight blush crept onto his cheeks.

Karina nudged you with a teasing smile. “So, are you just gonna keep pretending like you don’t see him, or are you finally gonna admit that he’s been getting to you?” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart skipped a beat when you saw Riki standing there. He wasn’t even trying to hide the way he looked at you anymore-his gaze was open, hopeful, maybe even a little vulnerable.

“Let’s just go,” you muttered, trying to play it cool. But before you could take another step, Riki called out to you.

“Y/N!” His voice was a little too loud, a little too eager. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

You stopped in your tracks, your heart doing an odd little flip. You glanced at your friends, who were suddenly far too interested in their shoes, and then back at Riki.

“Sure,” you said, trying to sound casual, though you were anything but. You walked over to him, arms crossed, trying not to look too affected by his presence.

Riki shuffled awkwardly, clearly nervous. His usual cocky demeanor had melted away, leaving a more vulnerable version of him. It was almost adorable. He glanced down at the floor before looking back at you, his eyes softer than usual.

“Look,” he started, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while, but I guess… I just need to say it now.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking ridiculously nervous.

You tilted your head, trying to act like you didn’t already know exactly what was coming. “Riki,” you said, your voice light, “you’re starting to sound like you’re about to give a big speech. Just get to it.”

Riki’s cheeks flushed even deeper, and he shifted from foot to foot like he was trying to find the courage to continue. “I-uh-I’ve liked you for a while. Like, a long while,” he admitted, his words coming out in a rush. “I know I’ve been acting like an idiot. I’ve probably messed up more times than I can count. But I really, really like you, Y/N.”

The air between you two felt thick, like time had slowed to a crawl. You blinked, trying to process what he had just said. You had known, of course, but hearing it out loud? It sent a strange warmth spreading through your chest.

Riki laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… I really am terrible at this, huh?”

You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “Not terrible. Just… maybe a little too dramatic. But it’s kind of cute.”

Riki’s eyes widened, and for the briefest moment, it looked like he was holding his breath, waiting for you to say something else. “Cute?” he repeated, as if the word had just been a huge revelation.

You gave him a look, suddenly feeling a little more serious than you’d intended. “Yeah. You’re cute, Riki. But you’re also incredibly frustrating. I’ve had to watch you stumble through all of this… and I’ve liked you for a while, too.”

Riki’s mouth dropped open. “You liked me? But-wait, you knew?”

You smirked. “Riki, I’m not blind. I’ve noticed. But I didn’t want to just say it out loud, especially when you were trying so hard to not tell me.”

He grinned, the embarrassment melting away into something much more comfortable. “Well, I guess it’s nice to know I wasn’t just making a fool of myself for nothing.”

“You weren’t,” you replied softly. “But… just so you know, I think you’re the one who’s been making a fool of himself, not me.”

Riki’s face lit up with that stupid, goofy smile of his. “Hey, I’m fine with that. As long as it means we’re, you know, on the same page now.”

You nodded, feeling your heart do a little happy flip. “Yeah. Same page.”

Just then, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and the rest of the gang came walking down the hallway, practically hovering near Riki like they’d been waiting for the moment.

“Finally!” Sunghoon grinned, crossing his arms. “We’ve all been waiting for this.”

“Yeah, seriously, you two are so obvious,” Sunoo added with a smirk. “Took you long enough.”

Riki groaned, but you could see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You guys were just as bad as I was, you know?”

Sunghoon laughed. “It was cute seeing you struggle, honestly.”

Riki sighed in defeat. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’m obviously a mess.” He looked at you, his expression softening again. “But at least I’m a mess with you now.”

You grinned back, the tension finally lifting. “Yeah, you are.”

As the group started walking toward the exit, Riki fell in step beside you. And for the first time in a while, it felt like the two of you weren’t just stumbling through this whole “relationship” thing. Maybe, just maybe, you were actually getting it right.

The Big Gesture

It had been a few weeks since the two of you had finally confessed your feelings, and everything felt like it was falling into place. The awkwardness was mostly gone, though Riki still couldn’t help but occasionally embarrass himself in the most hilarious ways. But now, it wasn’t just about the silly moments. It was about the real stuff-the moments where you could finally be yourselves without all the drama. Well, except for the good drama.

But Riki? Riki had been planning something. He wasn’t going to let things just coast along. No, he had to do something big, something memorable. He had been listening to all the advice his friends had been giving him-well, most of it anyway-and he had decided to take action. This time, he was going all out.

It was a Friday afternoon, and you were in your usual spot with Karina, Giselle, and Julie at lunch. You were chatting about the upcoming weekend plans when suddenly, you felt someone’s eyes on you.

You looked up to find Riki standing at the edge of the cafeteria, surrounded by his usual group of friends. But he wasn’t looking at you like usual. No, he was smiling-grinning, even-like he had some kind of secret. And that secret? You were about to find out.

He waved at you, his arms flailing in a way that made you almost roll your eyes. “Y/N! Come over here, I need to talk to you!”

You glanced at your friends. “What’s he doing now?”

Karina snickered. “I have no idea, but I’m ready for the drama. Let’s see what stupid thing he’s pulled this time.”

“Probably something that involves a microphone and a dance-off,” Giselle joked. “You know, classic Riki.”

But you stood up, curiosity getting the better of you. “Alright, alright. I’ll go see what this is about.”

When you reached Riki and his friends, they all looked at you with wide grins, clearly trying to hide something. Sunghoon was the first to speak up, his usual sarcasm oozing out. “Hey, Y/N. How’s it going? You know, Riki’s been planning something for you… and it’s definitely not a disaster. Not at all.”

Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, no pressure. Totally foolproof plan here.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “What are you guys up to?”

Before anyone could answer, Riki suddenly stepped forward, his face almost serious-except for the small, nervous twitch in his eye. “So… I’ve been thinking about this for a while. And I figured it was time I did something big. You know, for you. Something that, uh… shows you just how much I like you.”

You blinked. “Wait, what? Are you serious? What are you planning?”

Riki grinned, a little too confidently. “Well, I can’t give everything away. But trust me, you’re gonna love it. Just meet me after school on the rooftop.”

You were about to say something more, but before you could, Sunghoon quickly added, “It’s going to be great. Just-no more questions. Just go.”

“I don’t trust any of you right now,” you muttered, but you agreed to meet him anyway. You were curious, after all.

Later that afternoon, as the school bell rang, you found yourself walking up the steps to the rooftop, your heart pounding a little faster than you’d like to admit. The rooftop was quiet, the sun beginning to set in the distance, casting a golden glow across the school.

As you reached the top, you saw Riki standing near the edge, his back turned to you. The breeze ruffled his hair as he turned to face you, his eyes twinkling with excitement and nervousness all at once.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice more serious than usual. “Thank you for giving me the chance to, well, be me around you. I know I’ve been a total mess… and yeah, I’m still not the best at this whole ‘romance’ thing. But I want you to know that you mean a lot to me.”

You were silent for a moment, your heart swelling at his words. He was so Riki-awkward, goofy, but somehow perfect in his own way.

Riki stepped forward, pulling out a small envelope from his pocket. He handed it to you with a nervous smile. “I wanted to write something for you. I thought maybe if I just, you know… talked about it, it wouldn’t have the same effect. So, um… here.”

You opened the envelope, reading the letter that he had written. It was sweet, surprisingly heartfelt, and completely Riki-filled with awkward metaphors about basketball and weird references. But underneath it all, it was clear that he meant every word.

“Riki,” you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips. “This is… this is sweet. And kind of embarrassing, but mostly really sweet.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I mean, I didn’t think you’d want some perfect love letter. I wanted it to be real.”

You set the letter down on the ledge beside you, taking a deep breath. “I’ve always liked you, you know. I just… wasn’t sure if you were serious. But now? I think I get it. You’ve really put yourself out there.”

Riki’s eyes widened, and he took a step closer, a goofy smile spreading across his face. “So, does that mean…?”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, Riki. It means yes.”

There was a brief moment of silence, a beat of nervous energy in the air. Then, almost without thinking, Riki leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, sweet kiss. It was like the entire world paused around you. There was no one else around, no interruptions, just the two of you.

It wasn’t some grand, dramatic kiss like you’d seen in movies. No, it was better. It was the kind of kiss that felt real, warm, and full of promise. The kind of kiss that told you that maybe all the embarrassing moments, the awkwardness, and the goofy gestures were worth it because they led to this moment.

When you pulled back, Riki was grinning like a fool. “So, uh, I guess that means I did the right thing, huh?”

You laughed, your heart still fluttering. “Yeah. You did.”

And just like that, the rooftop, the sunset, and the world seemed to align perfectly for both of you.

As you both made your way down the stairs, the rest of the gang appeared, jumping out from behind corners, from every direction-like they had been waiting for this exact moment.

“FINALLY!” Sunghoon yelled, throwing his hands up. “Took you two long enough!”

Sunoo smirked, crossing his arms. “I told you he’d pull this off. He’s actually not an idiot.”

Jake nodded seriously. “Riki? Actually doing something romantic? Who would’ve thought?”

Riki groaned, clearly embarrassed, but you just smiled, your hand slipping into his as you walked back down the hallway.

“You guys seriously had to follow us, huh?” you said with a playful eye roll.

Karina, Giselle, and Julie were standing nearby, all grinning like fools. “We knew this was coming,” Karina teased. “Just didn’t know it’d be so sweet.”

Julie grinned. “Honestly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say Riki’s finally got his act together.”

And that was the moment-no big gestures needed, no speeches, just the quiet understanding that, in the end, everything had worked out. You’d both found something real, something worth celebrating.

And even though the teasing and jokes from your friends never stopped, you didn’t mind anymore. This was just the beginning of something amazing.

please comment, like, or reblog! those are highly appreciated

[puckinghischier]

Dogtooth

jack hughes x fem!reader

WARNING - SMUT!!! minors, DNI. 18+. oral!female receiving, face riding

summary: just a lil jack thot inspired by the song dogtooth by tyler, the creator

notes: this is just a repost of the little jack blurb i posted last night, i just wanted to reformat it so it’d fit in my masterlist better. but!! this is probably my favorite jack thing i’ve ever written and i’m obsessed with this song so, hope you enjoy!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[2.3k]

dogtooth by tyler, the creator?? that song is soooooo jack coded.

it’s the right kind of cocky but also the perfect amount of loving his woman, which is exactly how i picture jack to be in a relationship.

he’s a pretty private guy, not enjoying being in the media too much and revealing a ton about his personal life. he hates media because he doesn’t like the feeling of people assuming they know everything about him. but his girl? she knows everything about this man and he basks in the fact she knows him better than anyone else.

and when he’s down for someone? oh he’s down baddddd. i mean, pining level shit. he always wants to be around her. always calling her. always texting her. he just wants her attention 24/7, no matter what he has to do to get it.

he loves to pleasure his girl. and that’s it, really. he loves any second he can spend making her feel good, any way she wants. he doesn’t even care about the reciprocation (though he does love when she returns the favor) because knowing he’s the one to satisfy her needs is enough to put him on cloud nine all by itself.

and the second jack hears this song for the first time? oh he’s got big plans for it. (and you)

you’d be sitting on the couch, waiting on jack to get home from a mid-day skate. he sent you a text telling you he was leaving the rink around thirty minutes ago, expecting him to walk through the door any second.

no sooner than the thought entered your mind, you heard the lock click, signaling his arrival. calling out a greeting, you’re met with silence. you turn your body to see why he’s ignoring you, noticing the small white ear buds stuck in each ear.

he sets his bag down at the door, no doubt filled with his sweat soiled clothes he wants you to wash. waiting on him to look up and acknowledge you, you lay your head on the plush cushions resting against the back of the couch. you watch him, never missing an opportunity to admire how pretty he is.

finally, he looks up and meets your gaze, smiling at your love-filled eyes. he pops one headphone out while walking towards you, rolling it around in his hand.

“hey, sweets,” he leans down to place a small kiss on your waiting lips.

you savor the taste of his lips, always loving their soft feel.

“tried to say hi when you walked in, but guess you couldn’t hear me,” you gesture to the one earbud still lodged in one of his ears.

he gives you a small, apologetic look. “sorry, found a new song i really like. think you will too, actually. made me think about you.”

grabbing his phone from his pocket with his free hand, the one that’s holding the small bluetooth device brushes your hair away from your own ear, comfortably resting the earbud there.

“here’s the thing though….i want you to ride my face while we listen,” he just casually tells you, not even looking up at your face, still fiddling with his phone.

you perk up, surprised at his casualness. “i- what?”

“you heard me, before i press play i want you to ride my face.”

said face in question is dead serious, not an ounce of mischief to be found.

“you…literally just walked through the front door. what happened to asking each other about our days? or discussing what we’re gonna eat for dinner?” you ask him, not knowing how to react to the sudden proposal.

he rolls his eyes playfully. “is this your way of telling me you don’t want to? because you don’t have to. just think it’d really add to the experience, s’all” he shrugs.

you still don’t know how to react to the pure casualness of it all. by the way he’s acting you’d think he’s suggesting watching a movie, not having you ride his face in the middle of the living room.

“i didn’t say i didn’t want to. it’s just a little wild for that to be one of the first things out of your mouth when you get home.”

jack snickers at your words, walking around the large sectional to occupy the spot next to you.

“not really. not for me, at least. been thinking about it all day,” he plops down beside of you, making himself comfortable.

his words shoot excitement down to your core. he’s been thinking about it all day?

before you can think of a response, you feel shuffling next to you on the plush couch. you look over to see jack laying flat on his back, head only slightly raised to look over at you expectantly.

“so, you gonna get rid of those shorts or what?” he asks, referencing your thin, cotton pajama bottoms.

“i swear to god, if i wasn’t turned on right now i’d slap you,” you grumble, standing and removing all clothing below your waist.

jack laughs a real, out loud, laugh this time, prideful in the fact that you’ve never really been able to (or wanted to) resist any of his offers.

he burrows his body further into the couch, making sure he’s in the middle of the large surface, ensuring there’s room for your knees to rest on either side of his head.

you climb to hover over his body, looking down at his hungry eyes that are glued to your bare pussy, following every movement of your body from that landmark.

“shirt off or on?” you ask him, sitting on his toned abdomen.

“off. wanna be able to play with your boobs, please,” he flicks his eyes up to your face, an innocent smile on his own as he bats his eyelashes.

“of course you do,” you remove your (his) t-shirt from your body, now completely bare as you sit on top of him.

“swear they get bigger every time i see them,” he says in awe, bringing a hand up to massage one of your full breasts. you moan as he kneads the flesh, stomach turning flips in anticipation of what’s about to take place.

“gonna press play so we can get started or you just gonna play with my tits all night?” you huff out, loving the feeling but growing needier by the second.

it takes jack a second to register what you’re saying, too lost in the feeling of the heavy skin in his hand.

“oh! yeah, almost forgot,” he reaches up to the back of the couch where he left his phone, picking it up long enough to press play.

you scoot yourself farther up his body, resting your eager core right above his chin. all you’d have to do is relax your thighs the slightest amount to make contact with his mouth. 

suddenly you hear a smooth beat ring out in one ear, assuming jack’s hearing the same.

the second you hear the lyrics “she could ride my face i don’t want nothing in return” pour out of the earbud, jack inched his face up, licking a long, deep stripe through your folds.

you allow yourself to relax, sliding your slick pussy back and forth gently, not wanting to rush.

jack’s nose brushes your clit with every movement. you sigh at the feeling, not realizing how much you needed the friction until now.

the melody in your ear continues, but none of the lyrics are registering anymore. the feeling of jack’s tongue working through you takes every ounce of your attention.

“god, fuck! jack, best idea ever,” you moan out, picking up your pace slightly.

jack groans, letting his tongue still for a moment, allowing you to work yourself over it as you please.

fighting through the bliss radiating throughout your body, you try to focus on the lyrics at least a little bit. the chorus starts repeating, but the lyrics that follow make your head fuzzy in the best way.

“she could ride my face i don’t want nothin’ in return, except for some her time and all her love, that’s my concern” is what you focus on, the words squeezing your heart and your cunt.

jack smirks into your pussy when he hears you moan, knowing exactly which lyrics elicited the reaction from your body. you’ve always been the type to get off on the sweet nothings he whispers in your ear while he fucks into you, so he knew that line in particular would be especially helpful while his mouth is otherwise occupied.

your pace increases again as the song continues on, already halfway to your release.

jack brings his hands up to hold you still, your hole mere centimeters from his waiting tongue. he guides you to lower yourself onto the muscle, encouraging a slight bobbing motion of your body.

with every depression of your cunt onto his tongue, your clit bumps onto the tip of his nose. the pressure is a delicious form of teasing, the sensation gone nearly as soon as it’s felt each time.

“please, touch me. need you to touch me, jack. so so close,” you pant out, feeling the familiar swirl of your climax forming already.

jack grunts in response, the vibrations sending waves all throughout your body and you’re convinced you can feel it in your toes.

his hands leave your hips, traveling up your body until they find your sensitive buds, pinching and playing with each pink, taut nipple.

you jolt a bit, the motion causing your clit to slam against his nose this time. you cry out at all of the various sensations all at once. full with his tongue, rough hands on your tits, and round nose scraping against your clit.

the pure stimulation of it all forces your orgasm out of you, slamming into your body with the force of a train.

“fuck!” you scream, quickly shooting a hand out to grip the back of the couch, trying to stop yourself from collapsing on jack’s face completely.

you can barely hear the words “she can ride my face i don’t want nothin’ in return, and will i ever fall in love again? i can’t confirm,” ring through your ear, the soundtrack to your release, literally.

jack continues to work his tongue in and out of your hole while you shake and convulse above him, having to chase your entrance as you move. he continues to knead your sensitive breasts, each squeeze sending small volts through your already spent nerves.

he can feel your release dripping onto his cheeks, chin, and nose. he tries to lap up as much as he can, not wanting to miss a drop of your liquid pleasure.

your taste alone was enough to form the wet spot on his grey sweats, not embarrassed in the slightest he’s literally leaking from how turned on he is. but when he looks up at you above him, skin damp and eyes half rolled into the back of your head, mixed with the feeling of your body tightening around his tongue so harshly he can’t even pull it out, he blows his load right then and there.

he can feel the last flutters of your walls around his tongue, not stopping his movements until you pull back, having half a mind to keep going and work another orgasm out of your sensitive state. he moans through his own unprompted release, the only thing keeping him from following his sudden impulse to overstimulate you.

once the tired muscles in your thighs stop shaking, and your breath evens out, you can hear the fading of the music in your ear, signaling the end of the song. you push up slightly on your knees, detaching yourself from jack’s mouth as he chases your now swollen cunt, a small whine escaping him at the action.

“jack…the song’s over,” you manage the words somehow, in awe that he made you come in only a single song’s length.

“i can hit replay,” he rushes out, already reaching to grab his phone again.

you squeak out a slightly panicked “no,” while shaking your head, worried if he started again you might actually explode. you let yourself relax fully, scooting back so you can rest yourself on his lower abdomen once again, but the feeling of something wet stops you.

jerking back up, you turn and look down, spotting the large, wet stain on his sweatpants. you can’t stop staring at it, wondering if you’re really looking at what you think you’re looking at.

“jack…did you…” you trail off, turning back around to look at him.

he smirks as he leans himself up on his elbows. “sure did, sweets. you have no clue how much i enjoyed that.”

you laugh at his pride filled face. “pretty sure i do, seeing as i just sat on the evidence.”

he simply shrugs, patting your bare ass lightly to signal you to stand. you swing your legs over his body, standing and bending over to pick up your discarded underwear and slide it back up your legs.

“so….about that dinner conversation,” you ask him as he stands, suddenly way hungrier than you were when he first got home.

it’s his turn to laugh at you, walking over and removing the now silent earbud from your ear.

“whatever you want is fine with me. i already ate,” he gives you a kiss on the forehead then turns to walk towards the bedroom.

“oh…not even right, you dick,” you huff, following it with telling him you’re ordering his least favorite take out, a punishment for his sass.

making your way to the kitchen to dig through the different take out menus, you hear jack shout your name once again.

“i was thinking, how do you feel about that being our wedding song?” he asks, poking his now shirtless, but clean sweats clad, figure out of the bedroom door.

“jack!” you shout, scolding him as his loud cackle rings out around you, causing your own amused smile to break out on your face.

[gloomwitchwrites]

They overhear you telling the team how much you like them and want to have their babies.

ANON! The way I screamed when I first read this prompt. I love shit like this because o-m-g. I had so much fun writing our boys in this scenario. Thank you so much for sending it in!

While there are some sweeter moments, these all lean toward the steamy side but don't cross over fully into spice. But, each is left open enough that you can make up your own mind about what happens! (hehe).

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): mild language, suggestive themes, pregnancy, fluff, feelings

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish (wc: 651)

John is grinning like a bloody idiot. Has been for the last few days.

He’s caught your attention, and he’s downright smug about it. Every lingering glance and gentle upturn of your mouth has his skin singing with an intensity that can only be described as a tree burning from the inside out. He’s been after you for months, doing his best to gauge your interest in him.

He thinks he has an in because just yesterday, you touched him. Not a passing touch either but a firm grasp of his upper arm. A squeeze that shot heat straight to his toes and sent blood rushing quickly to an already throbbing need.

You looked him in the eye, brow all soft, mouth puckered slightly in the most gorgeous pout. John wanted to kiss you right then.

He turns the corner, heading into the training room, only to stop dead when he hears your voice. Pausing, he backtracks, pressing himself against the wall but leaning around the corner to listen in.

“Johnny’s been sweet on you,” comes Ghost’s voice. It’s slightly teasing, and John frowns slightly. Ghost would never overstep and steal you out from under him, but he would give him or even you a hard time.

“Has he?” you reply, and it’s breathy.

At this rate, his cheeks are gonna hurt for a week from how stupidly big his grin is.

“Don’t tell us you haven’t noticed,” laughs Gaz. “Soap’s been drooling all over the floor and himself.”

You remain silent, and John would give anything to know what you look like right now or what you’re thinking.

“Do you like him?” asks Ghost.

“What?” you exclaim.

“We won’t tell. Unless you want us to,” continues Gaz. “We can tell him to back off if—”

“No. I—” There is a stretch of silence. “I like him.”

When neither Gaz nor Ghost say anything, you keep talking. “I like him. I’m interested.”

“How interested?” asks Ghost, slowly.

“I’d have his babies if he asked,” you blurt so suddenly that it even takes John by surprise.

His grin momentarily slips away, and then it comes back, raging larger than before. He is going to bottle up those words and savor them. John runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the tips slightly as he comes to a decision.

Pushing off from the wall, he barrels around the corner, making enough noise to not startle anyone. You and Gaz both jump but Ghost remains utterly still, a passive brick of a man. But his dark eyes swivel from you to John, and he sees Ghost’s amusement behind the balaclava.

John approaches you, and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep his grin from seeming too eager. “Price is looking for you.”

“Oh,” is all you say, moving in the direction John just emerged from. He waits until you pass him to start following, but before he can, he catches Gaz’s grin and Ghost’s gentle shake of his head.

When the two of you disappear around the corner, John reaches out, grabbing your arm. He tugs you against him, then shoves open a nearby door, hauling you inside.

“Johnny,” you protest as he shuts the two of you inside.

Leaning against the door, John crosses his arms over his chest. “Heard what you said.”

“Did you?” you counter, placing your hands on your hips.

“Aye.”

“And what did I say?”

“That you wanted to have my babies.” Your face heats and John has to bite back a groan. He surges forward, trapping you against the wall. “Is that the truth? Do you want me?”

You soften in his arms, and he cannot help himself. His arms snake around your middle only to lift you onto a nearby table.

“I want you,” you whisper.

John dips his head and you greet him with your mouth. “Then let’s get to it, love.”

John Price (wc: 420)

Price reclines in his office chair.

His mind is a mess. All thoughts of work are utterly gone. Finished. The only thing in his head is you and what you said this morning. The thing is, you don’t know that Price heard every word, that he listened as you confessed your feelings for him to the rest of the team.

Price is your superior, which means anything between the two of you cannot happen. At least, not while you’re under his command. The rest of the team said as much, and you reluctantly agreed, knowing that nothing could be done unless you or he moved out of the unit.

And Price won’t leave. Not because he wouldn’t do it for you, but because Laswell would have his head if he tried.

But the two of you can still talk. The two of you can still figure something out.

Yet it wasn’t just your interest in him that has Price’s head in knots. It’s what you said, almost absently, like you were speaking to the air and not the rest of the team.

I’d have his babies.

Fuck, he was gone when he heard that. Price walked away immediately and went to his office. Which is where he’s been the entire fucking day. When his phone rings, he refuses to answer. Everyone who has come knocking leaves when Price ignores them. He just needs to get his head on straight but he can only do that once he talks to you first.

Sighing, Price leans forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the table. A knock comes, and everything in him tenses.

He swallows. Turns his nerves to steel. "Come in."

When you enter, Price loses all thought. It isn't until the silence becomes awkward that Price clears his throat and stands. "Shut the door."

You do and then take a few more steps inside. Price isn't one for stepping around a conversation. He just needs to get this shit off his chest.

"Heard what you said this morning."

"You did?"

"I did."

You take a shaky breath. "And?"

"Did you mean it?"

'Every word," you say automatically.

Fuck. He's done for.

Price slowly sinks into his chair. He leans back casually, legs spread. Resting both hands on his thighs, Price runs them up and then back down. He taps the inside of one thigh in open invitation.

Your legs obediently move, and Price's chest tightens. As you straddle him, Price's hands come to rest on your waist.

"Show me."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (wc: 309)

Kyle heard you wrong. He must have.

The words that just came out of your mouth simply aren’t true.

I want to have his babies.

He shakes his head, the middle of his brow furrowing slightly as he continues to listen. He hears Soap guffaw at your reply and then swear up a storm when you smack the back of his head.

“It’s not funny,” you snap.

“Oh, aye. But it is.”

“Cut her some slack, Johnny,” says Ghost teasingly. “Sergeant Garrick is a handsome man.”

You sigh in frustration. “You’re both terrible. I can’t tell you anything.”

“You just did.”

“Oh shove it, Soap,” you reply.

Kyle covers his mouth with his hand, smothering a laugh. You’ve always been feisty, and you don’t take shit from anyone, especially not from them. But this admission completely catches him off-guard.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t interested. What first began as mutual respect grew into genuine friendship. Now it’s…this. Whatever this is.

But Kyle is a private person, and he’s not going to shove himself into this conversation. He’ll wait until you’re alone and the two of you can talk this out without an audience. From there, he will have the truth directly from your mouth.

And if he's being honest with himself, Kyle is fucking ace to the idea of you giving him a kid or two. Or three.

His mind swirls outward with images of what he’d do to put a baby inside you. Everything in him ramps up, burns hot until he’s aching.

“Sergeant.”

Kyle’s eyes snap open, and he momentarily sways as he rights himself.

“Captain,” he replies, clearing his throat.

Captain Price smirks and then squeezes his shoulder. “Must have been a hell of a daydream.” Price releases Kyle’s shoulder and continues on.

Privacy. Privacy with you.

That’s what Kyle needs.

Simon "Ghost" Riley (wc: 375)

Ghost is a patient man.

But right now, there is a fire beneath his skin.

It itches, radiating outward, even making his bones ache. This is not a wound. Not an injury. He didn’t take a hit. There is nothing physically wrong with him. Ghost is healthy. A solid brick wall of muscle and scars.

This impatient insistence comes from a carnal place. All the blood is rushing to a singular point, and Ghost is going fucking insane with how badly he needs to relieve it. The worst part about it is that you don’t even know. You have no idea what you’ve done, or what he heard.

I’d have his babies.

Ghost is entirely aware that the conversation you had with Soap and Gaz was private. He wasn’t meant to hear it. But he did. He did, and now he can’t stop thinking about all the things you said to them.

Which is why he’s lurking in the shadows, watching your every step, assessing when he should slide on up to you. Ghost needs you alone. He needs to talk but he also needs you in his lap.

So, when you turn the corner, Ghost slips into his namesake, grabbing you by the waist to haul you through the nearest door. Instinct kicks in, and you lash out, but Ghost is so much bigger than you, easily restraining all resistance.

"Stop moving."

"Simon."

His real name on your tongue is perfect. Pressing his face into your neck, he inhales, and you melt into him.

"What are you doing?" you ask softly.

"I heard the conversation you had with Johnny and Gaz today."

"Did you?"

"Is it true?"

Your face shifts slightly in his direction and Ghost draws back a bit. "Yes."

"Mean it?"

"Yes."

Slowly, Ghost removes his arms from around your waist. He gently guides you forward and then spins you around so that you're fully facing him. There is silence and then Ghost reaches for the front of his belt buckle. Your gaze immediately drops and then pops back up as undoes and then removes the belt with one hand.

"Willing to show me?" he asks.

Your lips part, and then you're touching him.

The fire beneath his skin becomes an inferno.

taglist:

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@tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior @glassgulls

[darnell-la]

i love the darkpervy!logan x reader content, pls make more!

summary: logan hated picking y/n up from bars and clubs, especially if her male best friend was there. she never listens to him, and tonight, he could only show her what happens when she gets as drunk as she does in public.

note: I think we’ve made a similar story like this, so we’ll try to make it a bit different.

“She’s drunk, peanut. Go and pick her up for me,” Wade told Logan as his eyes stayed on Vanessa who danced in front of him. “Why would I? She’s old enough to get around herself,” Logan said as he took a sip of his drink.

“It’s not like you’re enjoying this amazing, godsend of a woman dancing in front of us, anyway. Plus, Max is there, and you don’t want him taking her home, right?”

Logan’s fist tightened at the thought of Max being anywhere near y/n. He knew what kind of man that boy was. Logan wouldn’t be able to live in his shared apartment, knowing Max fucked her somewhere in there.

Logan got up without saying a word. “By the way, I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. I’m spending time with my future wife,” Wade shouted as Logan walked out of the bar door.

Logan had been sitting in his car for a while now. Usually, y/n comes right out, but by the videos, her friends are posting online, he knew she was having too much fun there.

Logan groaned as he stepped out of his truck, knowing he’d hate the sight of seeing y/n all over Max like she always is. He hated that thought. There was nothing special about Maximilian in any way.

“I’ll be right back, bub,” Logan told the security guard, so he wouldn’t have his truck removed from in front of the building. “Five minutes,” was all the guard gave him.

Logan quickly made his way to the section y/n and her friends always buy, and with no surprise, Max was all in y/n’s ear. The way she giggled, made Logan’s fists tightened.

“Alright, bub — Time to go home,” Logan spoke as he walked up to the section. “Logan! Have a drink with us,” Y/n offered as she raised her hand to give him her glass, but he didn’t take it.

“I don’t think he wants to drink from you, princess. Let him get his own glass,” Max spoke for Logan, and that was something he wouldn’t allow. Who does this man actually think he is?

Logan took y/n’s glass and chugged the whole thing, knowing he wouldn’t feel anything. All she drank were sweet drinks.

“Happy, princess?” Logan said, claiming her nickname back from Max. “That’s not fair, Lo. You’ve gotta drink more,” y/n said as she grabbed bottles to mix them in a glass.

“We can do that another time, bub, let’s get you home,” Logan said as he pushed past Max and softly grabbed y/n’s hand. Y/n whined as she got up to move past Max with him.

“Next week, same time?” Max asked, and right as y/n opened her mouth, Logan spoke for her. “I’m taking her out with Wade, so, no thank you,” Logan winked at the younger man before dragging y/n towards the exit with him.

“What are we gonna do next weekend?” Y/n asked, very excited, but anyone could tell she was drunk out of her mind. Logan knew once she got in his trust, she’d be passed out in his back seat, and that’s what she was.

“You can’t be drinkin’ like this, y/n. No Uber would actually take you home, seeing you like this,” Logan only told the truth as she whined in the back seat. She could barely understand the man.

“I’ve thought about what I should say to you, on my way here, but no matter what I’ll say, you won’t listen. You probably won’t even remember from how drunk you are,”

Logan pulled into a dark park that was only around the corner from their shared apartment. Wade wasn’t home, and y/n was vulnerable. Only one thing could cross Logan’s mind that he’s been wanting to do, but couldn’t. He never knew how, and when to, but tonight was the night.

“I’m hungry,” y/n struggled to say. Lovna could barely hear her. “I’ll make something at home, but right now, you’re in trouble,” Logan got out of the car as y/n repeatedly asked why.

“You see,” Logan opened the back doors to his truck and hopped in. “You would’ve taken the Uber tonight, right?” Logan asked as he moved y/n so her back was on the seat. “Mhmh,” y/n replied as her head spun.

“Yeah, so let’s see how you’d get through the night in an Uber,” Logan said as he began tugging at her dress, lighting it up until her skin touched his seat. “Huh? What?” Y/n asked, her voice seeming so far away.

“What would you do in this situation? If the Uber didn’t take you right home?” Logan asked as he hooked his fingers around her panties before ripping them clean off of her.

“Hey- Logan?” Y/n didn’t know what to do or say. What was even happening? Y/n couldn’t think straight, and the sight of that angered Logan, yet, turned him on. It’s not like he couldn’t get what he wanted if she was sober. He was stronger than her either way.

“And, this is why you can’t go out drunk. Look at you. You can’t even lift your head to look at me,” Logan said as he unbuckled his pants, feeling how hard his cock rubbed against his fabric. She looked sweeter than ever.

“Lo? What- happening?” Y/n wanted to know what was going on as Logan moved between her legs, always feeling close to the sight of her folds. She looked wet, smooth, and sweet. Just like he’d imagine.

“I’m not Logan, remember? I’m your Uber driver,” Logan said as he pushed at y/n’s entrance. At first, she didn’t feel too much to alarm her, until his tip slipped past her folds.

“Logan- Logan!” Y/n whined loudly as she lifted her arms to push at his chest. “Nah uh, you let me in,” Logan continued painting through her folds as her feet curled and mouth parted.

“N-No,” y/n felt her heart pound, getting scared of what was happening. She knew this was Logan, but she was too drunk tonight. There was too much pressure running through her body.

“Why? Tell me why, baby, and I might stop,” Logan lied. He just wanted to hear her speak. “T-Too big — I-I came breath,” y/n stuttered, and being the asshole Logan was, he lifted y/n’s legs over his shoulder to make her feel more trapped.

“Lo- please! I-I can’t,” y/n begged as her stomach twitched. “Oh, yeah? But, you can fuck Max, huh? You can fuck him at his place, but can’t give me a little attention at home?”

Y/n shook her head as she tried to comprehend what Logan was saying. Why was he bringing up Max? Why did he sound so angry? Why did he speed up his thrust the more she pushed at his lower stomach?

“G-Get up — Please,” y/n begged, feeling the need to pee, which meant she was close to an orgasm. That was too embarrassing for her. She couldn’t cum on Logan’s cock. This was inappropriate.

“Stop trying to push me away, y/n. It’s not gonna fucking work,” growled as he slapped y/n’a hands away. “No! N-No, I won’t,” y/n got fussy with the man as she fought his hands from pushing her away.

“W-We can’t do this!” Y/n tried shouting at Logan, but nothing about her in this situation made him think she’d get out of this. “I don’t care how embarrassed you are, y/n. You’re gonna fucking cum on me like you do to Max,”

Logan’s hands wrapped around y/n’s neck, making her gasp. “Logan, please — I-I’m gonna cum, and- I- Please,” y/n begged the man, but her eyes soon rolled to the back of her head.

“Ah huh,” Logan snapped his hips as his grip pulled her into his thrust. “G-Gonna cum,” y/n cried low as she gushed around the man. Her legs shook and nails dug right into Logan’s wrists.

“That’s it — It feels good, doesn’t it? Better than Max, right? C’mon, baby, tell me,” Logan slowed his strokes down, but made sure to dig deep in her cunt, causing her lower belly to ache.

“P-Please, please,” y/n tried holding it back, but she gushed again, spilling all over his seats with a loud cry. “Oh, yeah — That’s my, girl. Only for me,”

[awakenedevildays]

「bathtubs and requests」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

you can read the other parts here!

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

"you should move in with me" Art's voice echoes off the bathroom walls of his apartment, it's all so relaxing: the heat of the water around your bodies, his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around you are so comfortable that it takes a while for you to realize what he just said.

"what?"

"you heard me" he murmurs against your neck "come live with me" an incredulous laugh leaves your mouth and you try to turn completely towards him, but his arms clench tighter around you and prevent you from moving enough to do so.

"may I ask why you are asking this now?" you move slightly to the side to see his face emerging from the hollow of your neck.

"I feel like we're ready to do it" his eyes avoid yours and focus instead on his fingers as they start caressing your shoulder "and it's also the next logical step in our relationship."

"You think so?" this time, despite Art's protests, you turn towards him: your breasts press against the boy's chest and his eyes fall down quickly before being brought back to yours by the hand under his chin. The tease is evident on your face and Art feels his ears warm up quickly to the realization of being caught in the act.

"I know so" and kisses the smile off your lips to distract you.

"My answer is not a no, but how do we know that our relationship is ready for this?" you ask him and, without realizing it, the agitation inside you rises: how did you know if you were ready for this step? and if you break up because you went too fast?

The tennis player frowns "what do you mean?" and the sight in front of you distracts you for a second: Art sits back against the back of the tub to stand more upright and listen to you better, his arms, after moving his curly damp hair out of his face, leans on the edges of the tub, his wet and smooth chest shines and his legs are open and bent to the sides to give you more space between them. If you weren't so determined to finish the topic you are having you'd kiss him to death, but you're a woman on a mission and you can't get distracted.

"I mean, some of my behaviors might irritate you or we might fight about serious things and then we wouldn't be able to run away from our problems by going back to our apartment, we'd have to deal with these situations and be mature about what bothers us and-"

"love, you're getting worked up over nothing" he says and his expression relaxes into a smile: now that he understood that your reasons are motivated only by insecurity and not by the fact that you don't want to take the next step with him, he feels it will be easier to convince you otherwise.

"You see? this is exactly what I'm talking about! if we move in together we can't belittle each other's feelings and concerns like this. It wouldn't be healthy and-"

"love," he interrupts you again, and your hands that were gesturing in the air fall on his chest, your eyes avoid his.

Out of your mouth comes a small "…yes?" that makes the man in front of you chuckle.

"we're ready" his calm tone makes its way into your chest "we're 24 years old and we've been together since we were 19, we both have a steady job and we already know everything about each other, there's nothing you can tell me that will change my mind".

"what if we fight?"

"I can't promise you we won't fight, we fight even now that we don't live together, but it seems to me that we are pretty good at making up, if we fight we will solve it as always" it's true, you never went beyond a day without talking to each other, even if you were angry.

"what if we break up?"

"It won't happen," he answers immediately, his fingers move the locks of hair behind your ears and then rest his hands on your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks.

His head lowers to chain your eyes together and you look up to facilitate his task "I won't let it happen", the security in his eyes makes you exhale a breath you didn't know you were holding.

Your eyes move around to look at the bathroom, "but I wouldn't be able to pay half the rent of this apartment"

"I don't care about that".

"but-"

"If you really want to pay something, we can split the bills," he answers hastily, at the moment Art doesn't care about how to split the expenses, he would pay everything if it meant he could spend the rest of his life next to you… he just needs your 'yes'.

Your face gets close to his, your lips a few inches away.

"okay" his eyes still fixed in yours

"'ok' what?" his smile gets brighter, he wants to hear you say it.

"I'll move in with you" you smile too.

"that's what I like to ear" he kisses you again.

Now he only has to ask you to marry him… but that will have to wait a little longer.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Hope you guys will like it as much as I liked writing it! 🩷

(in this fic he still has long hair cause I said so)

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

HI ILY!!! i was wondering if u could do a argument fic likeeeee katsuki and reader got into a argument and they are both DISTRAUGHT bc they’re so corny and in love and hate fighting but the argument was bad and they’re oh so sad whatever whatever !! and katsuki has to make it up to them EEE !! PLEASE I LIVE EAT SLEEP AND BREATHE UR FANFICS !! LOVE U CASHHH🤍

operation : trouble in paradise !

katsuki tries to get his boyfriend privileges back..

EEEE TYSM AND I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS ASK !! Its my guilty pleasure like both parties hating to argue bc they love each other so much im so sorry that’s adorable. and again ty SOOO much !!! hope you enjoy, ive actually gotten a similar ask, so that one ill try to have that come out soon !

FEM READER, katsuki is melodramatic, argument, fluff fluff despite argument, 3rd year bk squad boys !, kissing, making up yipeee, reader likes flowers,lemme know if i missed sum else !

“she fuckin’ hates me.”

for the past ten minutes he’d barged into kirishima’s room, bakugou has been moping. wallowing, even.

“no she doesn’t, man..” kirishima reassured. for the umpteenth time, he’s honestly lost count. he’d tried putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder earlier but said boy had shrugged him off angrily, grumbling out a dramatic “don’t touch me.” despite being flopped face down on his bed.

“i know her better, kirishima. yes she does.” the blonde insists, voice muffled by the redhead’s pillows. kirishima sighs, patting his friends leg before making his way to his office chair across from the bed, ignoring the muffled grumbles bakugou lets out.

“how bout you just..go apologize ?”

“i already told you i can’t. she—”

“yeah, she hates you. got it.” kirishima finishes his friends sentence, causing the blond to groan. “look dude, you’ll never know unless you try. you’ve been together for ages now.”

“a year.” katsuki corrects, he purposely forgets to mention he knows exactly how many months it has been too. kirishima nods excitedly, trying to get him out of his frankly sad state. “yeah ! so, this shouldn’t be anything man. arguments happen all the time, no matter how much you love each other.”

katsuki feels his ears burn at the word love on his friends lips, he’s told you he loved you of course. but it still felt weird to acknowledge it.

he turns just enough for his scowl to be visible to his friend, who sends him an encouraging smile.

“so what the fuck do i do then ?” kirishima grins wider, sharp teeth on display. “there we go, that’s more like ya, dude !” he exclaims. he quickly shuffles to grab a notepad strewn onto his messy desk (kirishima’s desk was so messy it made katsuki itch sometimes, a shiver almost passes through him whenever he sees the state it’s in)

kirishima drops onto the floor, placing the notepad onto his mattress and scribbling, with a pen katsuki has no idea where he fished out, a messy “operation: get your bf privileges back !!!!!!” bakugou fixes kirishima with a dead look, the other only tilts his head, still cheerful.

“what ?”

“what the fuck is this, kirishima.”

kirishima scoffs at the blonde’s dead tone, “listen man, you wanna win your girlfriend back or not ?!” bakugou squints at him, hard. but only let’s out a loud sigh. kirishima takes that as his answer and with a nod continues writing down notes.

katsuki groans to himself, looking down at his friend scribbling down his grand plan, and he better hope it works.

maybe you should call him..

no, you won’t. it was his fault you were like this anyway.

..but maybe you went a bit too far..?

ugh. you groan, rolling around in your bed. you’d tried to distract yourself by going through your tiktok feed but it seemed the world was against you or your fbi agent hated your guts. your feed was either overly cutesy couples content that made you miss your angry blond, or break up videos that made you miss him even more.

ugh. you shove your head even harder in your pillows.

you’re really trying to hold your ground, because you want katsuki to know he’d hurt your feelings, but now that you think about it you don’t even remember what you’d argued about. it was petty for sure, you’re about 80% sure it was a petty argument.

maybe you should—

you shake your head, steeling your nerves. so what if it was a dumb argument ?! that didn’t mean he could get away with everything!

“uuuugh,” you groan out loud, you miss your katsuki.

a knock at your door startles you. it must be mina, you’d texted her earlier that you were mad at your boyfriend and she’d told you that she “excepted all the deets of what his dumbass did this time as SOON as i get back !!!!” and you were waiting, maybe venting about it could make you feel better and less dramatic.

you open your door expecting to see your overly excited best friend. but instead—

flowers, almost whacking you in the face you might add, are shoved in your face before you can get a word out. you squeak in shock, they’re pretty though, your favorites. and you know only one person who knows what your favorite flowers are.

“wh-katsuki ?!”

and there he is, red faced and angry. scowl on his face and bouquet of pretty flowers in hand.

you can’t tear your eyes away from him, he can’t keep his eyes in one spot—flying from you occasionally to your door to the flowers and repeat. he blinks, you blink.

“here.” he grunts, waving the flowers towards you. “f’r you.” he glances at you.

“o-oh !” you exclaim suddenly, whisking the flowers towards yourself. the bouquet is big, it’s definitely a bit bigger than your head. katsuki searches your face to gauge your reaction“i—uhm! thank you..” you utter shyly, katsuki grunts. he shoves his hands in his pockets the moment you’ve gripped the bouquet, kicking at something you can’t see on the floor.

your heart skips a beat. tentatively, you lean against the door “didn’t take you for a flower guy..”

he scoffs, kicking the toe of his sneakers against the floor “‘m not.. but you like these, right ?”

trick question. he knows you do, you mentioned in passing these were your favorites, unless you suddenly decided you didn’t like these anymore. then he’s fucked. but he decides to continue despite the worry growing in his lower belly, the plan was already a go now.

“i—uhm, listen..” your boyfriend fumbles, he throws his head back and groans when his words won’t come out right. you give him a tiny smile, his eyes soften just a bit.

“i fucked up, okay ?” he admits, scratching at his nape “shouldn’t have said all that shit to you, or whatever..” you can tell he’s beyond embarrassed. he’d melt if he could get any redder, he keeps scratching and won’t look at you for more than a few seconds at a time and katsuki who’s always the loudest in the room can barely manage a mumble. you know he means it though, he never did anything he didn’t feel like doing. you wait for him to continue and he looks at you then.

“i don’t ever like arguing with you. ever.” he insists “so jus..forgive me, kay ?” he finishes quietly. your heart jumps and leaps and you can’t stand acting cold anymore. you walk a bit closer to him, the flowers block you from fully being close to him.

katsuki’s eyes are wide as you lean in to kiss right next to his lips, you laugh at his bewildered expression and his eyes soften when he snaps out of it. he rolls his eyes, you smile wider.

“i forgive you, i’m sorry too. i don’t like arguing with you either..” you admit, katsuki reaches for your hand, you feel the tips of his fingers brush against your skin, you give it to him and he grips it tight. then he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips, it’s a sweet little apology kiss that turns a bit too passionate after a while, and you pull him towards you and into your room away from prying eyes. katsuki kicks the door shut behind him and pulls you closer by your waist.

“guess i gotta—thank shitty hair..” he mumbles in between kisses, “an’ i owe him twenty bucks.”

you make a noise against his lips and pull away, raising a brow and holding his shoulders when he tries to lean in to kiss you again. “what’s that mean ?”

your boyfriend huffs “told shitty hair i’d give him twenty bucks if his shitty plan worked.”

“plan, what plan ?” you ask, katsuki squints at you, a grumbling noise comes from his throat, almost a whine.

“yer really gonna make me spell it out aren’t you..” he mutter bitterly, shoving his head in your neck. he continues, “shitty hair helped me come up with a plan to make you not mad at me anymore. i told him it wouldn’t work, he said it would, and we bet on it.”

you laugh in disbelief, katsuki chomps at your neck to silence you, squeezes his arms tighter around your stomach to make you wheeze, but you can’t stop laughing. “that’s so cute !”

“shaddup.” he growls in response. you muffle your giggles in his shoulder. katsuki grumbles some more and you run your hands up and down his back.

“well then,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his nape, his arms around you tighten. “i guess we’ll both have to thank kiri then.”

[rinhaler]

can I make a request pretty please?? step-brother Satoru no penetration 🤤

omg thank you for this req I had so much fun with it! I haven't written anything in so long and I'd like to say this is the start of the comeback but I don't wanna lie LOL

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, step brother!satoru, stepcest, virgin!reader, fingering mention, love bites, tit sucking, pussy job, photo taking ++ filming!, use of nii-chan, pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart etc.), manipulative!gojo.

words: 3.3k

“You’re lying.” Suguru says with ease, nose scrunching at the sight of his best friend grinning from ear to ear. A smirk that he knows, without a doubt, wouldn’t be on his face if he were a liar.

“I did.” he continues to smile. “She came in my room last night, said she was scared ‘cause she had a nightmare.”

“… And?”

“And, I dunno, man. She said she wanted to sleep but we were talking. Kept getting closer and closer ‘n we started making out.”

Suguru smiles, dumbfounded by the statement. He still can’t believe he’s being honest. But he looks at him, still smiling, only to say: “You made out with your little sister?”

“Don’t be weird. She’s my step sister, it ain’t the same.” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he thinks about it. “She’s cute though, right? Think she’s a virgin, too.”

“She seems like one.” Suguru says plainly. “Come on, then. What else happened? I know you wouldn’t bring it up if you didn’t have something real to brag about.”

“… You know me well.” Satoru smirks. “… I just fingered her a little. Barely touched her ‘n she came like—”

“A virgin?” he chuckles, cutting him off as he speaks.

“Exactly.” Satoru smirks.

Suguru folds his arms and relaxes into his seat. He looks around, making sure no one is listening before he speaks again.

“Prove it.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t believe you, Satoru.” he laughs lightly, leaning forward again. “I don’t believe you fingered your little sister because it didn’t happen. She let you do that because she had a nightmare? Please. Girls like you, but not that much.”

“You know what?” he stands up, irritation evident in his tone before he laughs, too. He regains his composure, effortlessly, leaning over the table between them. “I’m not gonna chase her, I’ll let her come to me. And I’ll film it for you.”

“No, you’re not. It didn’t happen and it won’t happen.” Suguru snickers.

“We’ll see.” he says, finality in his voice before he turns to walk away. He waves without looking behind him, unaware of his best friend grinning wickedly behind his back.

“You’re too easy, Satoru.” he says to himself quietly.

He feels your eyes on him, and it’s almost constant. Your face flushes with heat each time he grants you the honour of looking back at you, a lazy, cocky grin etched on his face. You instantly look down at your feet or your hands when he does, unable to shake the events of last night out of your mind.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? You’ve been quiet all night. Are you getting sick?” your mother asks, obvious concern in her words as you sit between her legs. You’ve been letting her braid your hair over and over again for no real reason other than she finds it soothing. She stops, though, pressing the backs of her fingers to your cheek. “You’re burning up!”

“I-I’m fine.” you say, voice almost warning her to stop as Satoru can’t help but look at you again. It’s embarrassing enough to have her fuss over you in front of your older brother who is so obviously cooler than you’ll ever be. But seeing that obnoxious smirk on his face, both of you knowing the real reason you’re so flustered, makes it a million times worse.

“Did something happen, little sis? You almost look embarrassed.” Satoru grins, eyes glittering as he stares at you. You abruptly jump to your feet, body stiffening at the implication of his words.

“I said I’m fine!” you yell. “I’m gonna go to bed, g’night.” you say, hastily rushing off before anyone can stop you.

Satoru and your mother look at each other, and he acts oblivious. He pretends he can’t possibly imagine what’s gotten into you. But eventually, he smiles, standing up not long after you and heading towards the kitchen.

“I’ll get her a glass of water,” he tells your mother, placing a hand on her shoulder and offering the warmest, insincere smile he can. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Thank you, Satoru.” she smiles up at him. “You’re such a good boy.”

There’s a knock at your door not long after you get comfortable in your bed. You hope if you ignore it long enough, they’ll think you’re already asleep. But of course, you’re mindlessly scrolling through your phone trying to distract your intense thoughts.

“It’s barely been five minutes, princess.” your brother tells you from behind the door. He waits a few beats for a response, but you don’t give him one. You jolt when your door creaks open, quickly hiding your phone underneath your pillow and feigning sleep.

You hear the gentle thud of a glass hitting a coaster as he sets it down on your bedside table. He doesn’t leave after that, but he doesn’t say anything, either. He simply watches over you and you can’t help but panic. It’s like you’re being assessed, whether you’re really sleeping or not.

Your brother isn’t stupid, though. You both know that. He knows as well as you do that you’re wide awake. And yet, whatever snide comment you’re expecting him to make doesn’t come. Nothing but silence settles between the two of you. And soon enough, you wonder if he’s going to watch over you like this all night.

But instead, you hear movement. And then you are moving. Your body sinks as he places a knee on your mattress and you dip a little closer to his body as he crouches over you. His nose breathes softly against your cheek as once again, he doesn’t move or speak for a few uncomfortable beats.

“Goodnight, sis.” he whispers in your ear, and your body reflexively trembles from the vibration of his words. He always speaks so softly to you, whether he’s teasing you or being genuine. It’s a dead give away that you’re awake, so you decide to scrunch your eyes closed tighter. He chuckles softly, at that. Giving your temple a chaste kiss before pulling away.

“S-Satoru…” you say meekly, He stops when he hears you, changing his position to sit comfortably.

“Are you done playing pretend, now?” he smiles. “What is it? Look at your nii-chan if you've got something to say.”

You shuffle awkwardly as you angle your body to look at him, glistening blue eyes stare down at you while you feel your words begin to choke in your throat. It’s as if you have lumps of sand lodged in there. He tucks a stray hair out of your face and behind your ear, your eyes instinctively flutter closed. And even without being able to see, you can feel his smirk on you.

“Last night…” you start, looking at him to gauge his reaction. But his face is stoic, giving nothing away as you scramble to piece together the rest of your sentence. “It was… bad.”

“I know.” he replies. And it shocks you a little. You hadn’t expected him to say that, you thought he’d be proud. He’s been teasing you about it, after all. Making little comments and trying to make you crumble at any given moment.

“You—” you say, losing track of what you even want to say to him. “O-Okay… well, goodnight Sato—”

“Been thinking about it all day, though, haven’t you?” he grins. And there he is. This is more like what you’d expected. And soon enough, you’re burning up again. The dim light bleeding through the cracks of your door isn’t enough for him to see what he’s done to you again. But he’s sure he knows. You’re so easy to tease, after all. “Was that your first time?”

You don’t react, you roll back onto your side and fold your arms. He chuckles a little, at that. Your petulant reaction is just so cute. He smooths a heavy hand over your hair, feeling a few of the small braids still in your hair from your mother. He stands up, and you feel the mattress return to where it belongs.

“If you have another nightmare, you know where my room is. Goodnight.” he says calmly before departing.

Yeah, right. Like you’re ever gonna do that again.

Fuck.

It’s been hours since you came to bed. You slept for around an hour but now you’re wide awake. That’s always been your curse when you go to bed earlier than usual. You wake up at an ungodly hour and can’t get back to sleep until daybreaks.

You’ve spent a while reading since that usually helps you drift off. But no such luck tonight, not when Satoru is still raging through your mind.

He was right, after all. It was the first time you’ve done anything like that with a boy. And it was your step brother of all people. You’re ashamed, but you can’t get it out of your head. He’s such a good kisser. His lips are soft and his tongue played with your own so divinely.

Your pussy begins to throb as you think about the way he touched you. The way he made you cum. He had to cover your mouth so you didn’t disturb your parents. It becomes to much, and before you know it your hand slithers between your thighs. You’re eager to chase the high he gave you the previous night.

But, of course, he’s ruined you now. Your own fingers aren’t going to cut it anymore. It doesn’t feel nearly as nice as what he did. The way he alternated toying with your tits to rubbing your clit. The way he had you whimpering like a kicked puppy as his fingers plunged into your untouched walls. Your toes curled as he delved deeper to find your pressure point and abused it until your eyes crossed and you drooled all over his palm.

And you slept so soundly afterwards.

Without giving it a second thought, you throw off your duvet and get out of bed. The line has already been crossed now. What does it matter if you do it again? It’s not that bad. It’s not like you’re actually related. And it’s a nice feeling, knowing that someone as popular and cool as Satoru has taken an interest in you.

You always see girls flirting with him in the hallways while you’re with your friends at college. Even they fawn over how hot your step brother is. He’s got more than enough attention. And yet, for now, he seems the most interested in you.

As you reach his room, you knock gently on the door. It’s quiet, though you can hear the TV playing. Eventually, you hear him hum, a subtle signal for you to come in.

“Hello again.” he smiles. “Did you have another nightmare, sweetheart?”

“… Mhmm…” you nod, lying effortlessly. He pats the space on the bed beside himself and you hurry over to him. “C-Can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I know.” he says, not even looking at you as he talks. You have no idea what he’s watching, but he seems to be more fixated on it than he is on you. “But you were right. It is wrong, what we did. You can sleep here since you’re scared. Just sleeping, though.”

You freeze at his words, not expecting this response at all. Had you blown it by saying that earlier? Did you leave it too long to come to his room, giving him too much time to think and have the same realisation that you had after last night?

“… Don’t wanna sleep.” you tell him. And that, gives him cause to look at you. “That was my first time… with a boy c-can’t stop thinking about it, Satoru.”

“You’re gonna have to. It was a mistake.” he warns you. “I shouldn’t have done that with you, ‘m meant to be taking care of you and looking out for you. Took advantage—”

“No! No. I wanted you to do it.” you assure him. “All my friends like you… ‘n I pretend I don’t see it but I’ve had a crush on you since we met… so I’m glad I got to do that with you. And I wanna do it again.”

“… you’re cute. You’ve got a crush on me, hah?” he laughs lightly, pulling you closer to him. He grabs your jaw, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone as he looks between your eyes and lips. “You think I didn’t already know that, sweetheart?”

“S-Shut up.” you stutter, barely able to look at him. He forces you to, though. Piercing blue eyes stare into yours as he silently waits for an acknowledgement of what he’s about to do. And you offer it, leaning closer to him before he meets you halfway. His lips press against yours, and you feel him smile when he hears a moan accidentally leave you.

He moves you so that you’re flat against his mattress with your head in the pillows, caging you below him. You wrap your arms around him as he lowers himself to kiss you again, you moan as he pushes your legs apart so that he can hump his growing bulge against your sleep shorts.

“Satoru… touch me, please.” you beg, mewling as he bites your lower lip as he pulls away. You allow him better access to your body as he kisses your neck, sucking deeply against it to sign his name in pretty blue blooms.

“Wanna do somethin’ else, tonight.” he tells you. Your eyes open a little further as you look down at him. He grabs your vest, helping you remove it to expose your tits to him. “I wanna feel good, too.” he explains, cupping your breasts and suctioning his lips around one of your nipples.

You freeze as he speaks, but you can’t wriggle away from him.

“’m not ready to go all the way, nii-chan…” you whisper. He shushes you, quickly swirling his tongue around your other nipple before relinquishing it with an obscene pop.

“I know you aren’t, don’t worry.” he stands on his knees, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. You help move your body as he slowly peels them off you, a sodden patch in the seat of your shorts makes him smile. And it becomes more devilish as he sees the culprit at the apex of your thighs. “You’re drenched, such a good girl for nii-chan.”

“Fuck… stop it. S’embarrassing.” you tell him.

“No.” he responds, pushing your legs further apart to admire the way your tiny virgin hole clenches around nothing. You could barely take his fingers, he can’t imagine what you’d be like if he slipped you his length. “Can I take a picture? Look so pretty, baby. Don’t wanna forget it.” he asks you.

“U-Um…” you struggle. He looks at you with an intensity you’ve never felt before. And despite your better judgement arguing not to do this. You nod. For him, you can’t help it. You nod dumbly and proudly. He thinks you’re pretty. Of course you’ll let him take a photo.

It doesn’t really matter, anyway, when he’s taking snaps of your body rather than your face. You hear a vocal sound leave him that’s not quite a moan, almost a desperate grunt and he frees his cock from his sweats and begins to touch himself. His phone still in his hand as he jerks himself off over your body.

You’re none the wiser when he scrolls along his camera app and selects the video function, pressing the big red button as he focuses the camera on your pussy as he slaps his cock head on your swollen clit.

“Promise I won’t put it in, baby…” he assures you. “Gonna let me feel good with you, though, yeah?” he asks, the tacky sound of your pussy coating his tip is the loudest sound in the room, even with the TV playing in the background.

“Yeah… please. Wanna cum f’you…” you plead, jolting as he slaps his cock down on your pussy, sandwiching his cock between your folds. He slowly begins to rocks his hips, his pretty cockhead cautiously catching on your clit with each roll. You silence yourself, covering your mouth with your hand as lazy strokes become overwhelming.

“Baby… will you let me take a video of you?” he says, it’s low and guttural, somewhat out of character for your elder brother. It’s almost as if he’s losing his senses as he kisses your clit with his cock. “Won’t show anyone… promise.”

“S-Satoru… I— I dunno…” you whisper, whimpering a little as he grabs his cock and smacks it against your folds. He raises the camera, and you can’t help but look directly in the lens. “Is that on?” you ask meekly. He nods, smirking.

“Don’t make me turn it off, pretty girl. You look so good f’me, y’know? Wanna remember it forever.” he tells you. He watches as you swallow thickly, knowing what’s happening between you is becoming actual evidence. You nod, though. You want to keep being his pretty girl.

“O-Okay, Satoru…”

“No, want the camera to know who’s dick is gonna make you cum. Go ahead, look at the camera ‘n say it, baby.”

“Satoru…” you say again, but he shakes his head. Your eyes roll back as he delivers a particularly harsh thrust between your lips, rubbing so perfectly on your sensitive pearl that you squeak pathetically. “Nii-chan! Nii-chan is gonna make me— cum…”

“Goooood girl, that’s right…” he grins, lowering the camera to capture what is happening to make you sound so pitiful for him. “Nii-chan’s gonna make your pretty pussy feel good.”

Soon enough, you’re stifling yourself once again as he picks up the pace. The sticky sounds emiting from between your legs has your body heat rising. Your shimmering skin isn’t lost to the camera as you break out in a sweat. Whether it’s shame, embarrassment, arousal, or a deadly concoction of each, it doesn’t matter. The cool flickering light from the TV behind Satoru captures it all perfectly.

“You’re so shy baby, makes you even cuter.” he tells you. “You’re shakin’… gonna cum f’me?”

You nod, again, still too terrified to risk removing your hand from your mouth for fear of alerting your parents to the twisted tryst taking place in your big brother’s room.

“Love this little pussy, gonna let me fuck you one day, yeah?” he asks, but doesn’t expect an answer. He will. He’s determined. The thought of being the first to corrupt your tiny virgin slot is driving him wild. It’s evident in the way he’s bucking his hips, barely even aware to the way you’re pussy begins to clench and your toes curl.

You moan, boisterously, into your hand. And it’s the only thing that coaxes him out of his train of thought. But it’s too late to think clearly. He’s already sputtering pretty globs of cum as white as his hair on your clit and tummy. Your pussy lips decorated so sweetly in your big brother’s love as he moans and drops down from his high.

It was short, but sweet.

He’d be embarrassed if he thought you had something to compare it to.

It’s your own fault he didn’t last longer, you came first. And your pussy is made for him. He’s sure of that, now. He’s especially sure when he lowers the camera to perfectly capture your twitching hole and messy folds. Before raising it again to record your face. Hard evidence for Suguru, he needs to make sure he knows he wasn’t lying.

“Nii-chan… please.” you pout. “Promise you won’t show anyone else? S’embarrassing…”

“Awe, you think I’d do that to you?” he smirks, leaning down to kiss you. “C’mon. Who’d I even show?”

“I dunno…”

“I promise, baby. It’s our little secret.”

© 2024 rinhaler

[nxuvillette]

“I PROMISE, IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN.”

GENSHIN MEN COMFORTING YOU AFTER A FIGHT

synopsis: you and your boyfriend hardly ever fight, so what happens when you finally have one?

❥- including : tartaglia (childe), cyno, kaeya, wriothesley

❥- note : hi guys !! sorry if this post is kind of shit, i kind of rushed it. i hope you guys enjoy regardless <3 reblogs are appreciated !!

content warnings : sfw, fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, angst, arguing, hurt with comfort, use of pet names (baby), fluff, dumb fights, lots and lots of fluff at the end.

♡ TARTAGLIA (CHILDE)

you and childe hadn’t spoken for much of the day, and this was due to an argument that happened between you two just before you sat down for some breakfast.

it was stupid, genuinely. 

childe had completely misinterpreted something you had said that morning. you were talking about one of your friends and their relationship. for some reason, childe thought you were comparing your relationship to the one your friend had, and it made him question if he was doing enough to make you happy. one thing led to another, and the two of you bickered over the encounter. you tried to explain yourself, but your boyfriend, being the stubborn man he was, didn’t bother to listen and went off on his own accord.

you and childe hardly had any fights. they would usually resolve after an hour or two, but you hadn’t seen him all day. part of you began to grow worried from his sudden absence. did he go out and do something to hurt himself? was he with somebody else? no, there was no way childe would ever cheat on you. he didn’t even look in another woman’s direction when he saw you that day. 

it wasn’t until sunset when childe had finally returned home to you. he had a few scrapes on his arms which seemed like they came from him battling another enemy, but regardless, he seemed to be in one piece. you were very relieved to see that he was fine. it made you run into his arms the moment he came into the door, which took your boyfriend by surprise. he was under the impression that you were still pissed off at him for the shit that he had pulled early on in the day. he knew he was wrong and he should have apologized, but he didn’t know how to put it into words. sometimes he wished he wasn’t so air headed. 

his arm went around your waist, bringing your body closer to his. the smell of his skin made you calm down. “i thought something bad happened to you..” your eyes didn’t move from the floor. 

childe could sense the worry that was in your voice. he shouldn’t have done that to you. he would never want to make you feel scared or put you under the idea that he would leave you. he wasn’t going to ever leave like that again, ever. “i’m sorry, baby..” he whispered, running his fingers along your backside. “i’m such an idiot.. i shouldn’t have said that shit. i love you way too much to hurt you..” 

you lifted your head to meet his ocean blue eyes. he had this frown on his features. you could see how guilty he felt for putting you in such a position. no matter what, you would always be in love with childe. no small argument would make your feelings for him shift, ever. you knew he could be stubborn at times, and honestly, so could you. all that mattered to you in the end was that you two made up and forget the whole thing. “it’s okay.. i still love you, okay?” you smiled at him, which made his heart skip a beat.

childe couldn’t help but smile, too. he leaned towards you and planted a kiss on your lips. he didn’t ever want to see you frown again. he would do anything to see a smile on your pretty face. “let me make up for it.. how about we take a bath together, hm?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows. 

you nodded your head. “sure..” you grinned.

♡ CYNO

you didn’t expect cyno to get upset earlier. 

cyno was in a bit of a rush that afternoon. he had a lot of things to tend to as the mahamatra, so he typically had a busy schedule. at the time, you had no idea that he had to be somewhere at a certain hour, so when you saw your lover wandering around aaru village by himself, you decided to go and talk with him to ask how his day was.

he kept his responses to you a bit shorter than usual, but that’s how he usually was. cyno was more the type of man to listen more than he did talk, but the more you kept speaking, the more he grew somewhat irritated. he had to meet with candace and discuss something that had occurred on his way there. he had to return as quickly as possible, though, because there were several people who needed his help out there. 

cyno had accidentally snapped at you, which in turn made you fire back at him.

it was very out of the ordinary for him to ever get angry with you. cyno was very patient, and he was especially with you. he was never the kind of man to be rude to you or yell at you, ever, so this threw you off completely. before he could even apologize, you left and went back to the place you two shared together. 

he didn’t return home until later that night. he had been thinking about what he had done all day, and it made him feel guilty for being that way towards you. you were his girlfriend. he loved you more than anybody else, and he managed to hurt your feelings because he was unable to control his very own. cyno hoped you wouldn’t want to leave him. anxiety plagued him the entire day. he wondered if he would return back to you and find that you deserted the home you two stayed in. 

much to his relief, you were lying in bed. you were turned on your side that was facing the window which exposed the vast desert outside. he sat down beside you and watched as your eyes fluttered open at the sudden weight taking over the bed. 

“i’m sorry..” cyno whispered, looking down at you with amber eyes. 

you sat up, crossing your legs on the mattress. you didn’t think he would come back being so apologetic, but you couldn’t help but forgive him. it did hurt your feelings a lot, but he was dealing with so much. it didn’t excuse what he did, but you two never fight. he wasn’t argumentative everyday. “it’s okay.. i just felt like shit for bothering you. i should have considered your schedule..” you didn’t want to look at him, but he tilted your chin to look into your eyes. 

cyno leaned in and hugged you, which took you by surprise. “no need.. i was an asshole for not controlling myself. you didn’t deserve any of that..” he squeezed your body. “i love you.. i hope you can forgive me.”

your hand rested on his shoulder blade. his skin felt warm from the blazing heat of the sun that he was under constantly. “i love you too..” you spoke. “i can forgive you, no worries.”

♡ KAEYA

you and kaeya had been dating for quite a while. since you were his girlfriend, there were some things that you needed to get accustomed to in the relationship.

especially kaeya’s drinking habit.

you didn’t mind that he would go off to the bars some nights to have a few drinks with his friends. hell, you did it a few times yourself with your own friends, but it became an issue when he would come late to your dates due to him being hungover the next day. you knew he couldn’t help but sleep an extra hour or two through the morning, but it had happened a few times and it led up to an argument occurring between you. you claimed it was a bother to you and he wasn’t being considerate of your time and energy.

what made it worse was kaeya usually was the one to make these plans, so for him to just not show up, it felt unfair to you. if he knew he was going to drink a lot, why would he continue to make plans with you the next day? it didn’t make any sense to you whatsoever, and you were tired of him either not showing up or having to go to his house to wake him up.

when you stormed out of his house and the door slammed behind you, kaeya felt immediate regret plaguing his chest. he did everything for you in the relationship and you did the same for him. he felt like he was an idiot for letting his drinking habits get a hold of your relationship. he didn’t have a drinking problem by any means, but he knew when he had too much he wouldn’t want to do anything the next day. you were right. it was unfair of him to miss out on spending quality time with you. he didn’t want to make you feel unimportant or a second priority. kaeya loved you more than life itself. how could he hurt the one person he poured his heart and soul into?

he gave you a bit of time to blow off steam. he knew chasing after you could escalate things further, so he decided to leave you alone for the rest of the day. however, he wasn’t about to let you both go to bed angry with each other.

so, when he showed up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, you were quite surprised. you didn’t think kaeya would even bother making an effort to talk things through with you, but he was standing there with an apologetic expression. “can we talk? i understand if not.. but i just don’t want you going to bed pissed at me.” he clutched the flower stems in his hand, hoping you would hear him out.

you nodded your head, inviting him into your home and watching him step inside. kaeya then turned to face you, handing the flowers in your direction. they were your favorite, lamp grass. you loved the way they glowed in the dark. “kaeya.. i’m-“ you started, taking the flowers from him.

“i’m sorry.. i didn’t mean to keep missing out on our dates. i was a shitty boyfriend for keeping up with my behavior, and i shouldn’t have been doing that in the first place.” he cut you off, shocking you. “i love you, (y/n), and i don’t want you to think otherwise.”

you stood there for a few moments in silence. you weren’t sure what to say to him, but you could sense his genuine energy in his voice. “i forgive you..” you said, lifting your eyes to meet his. “i don’t want it to happen again, okay? i love to spend time with you and i don’t wanna feel like you dislike my presence.”

he took your free hand into his, placing a soft kiss on the top of it. he had been a gentleman since day one and it seemed like that attribute of him never left his personality. “i love seeing you more than anybody else, please don’t think you’re a burden. i’d do anything to spend any waking moment with you by my side, okay? i won’t ever do it again.” kaeya replied, stepping closer to where you were standing.

you smiled, pressing a kiss on the side of his cheek. he loved how soft your lips felt against his skin. “i appreciate that..” you sounded much happier, which relieved him.

kaeya wasn’t going to do that ever again. he could never lose you, ever.

♡ WRIOTHESLEY

wriothesley was quite a busy man. it was something you knew you were signing up for when you started to date him a few months back. his job was tiring, exhausting even. he had a huge responsibility on his shoulders to carry, and sometimes it stressed him out more than he would like to admit.

it seemed like that stress began to reach its breaking point, because wriothesley hadn’t been acting right over the last few days. you assumed he was just dealing with his job, so you decided to try and see if venting would have any relief to your boyfriend. you two had done it many times before when things got a little hectic in your personal lives. plus, you both trusted each other greatly. you didn’t think he would have an issue with it.

well, you were wrong, unfortunately.

when you made the attempt to speak to your boyfriend about what was wrong, he had a serious attitude, and things escalated to you two both having a fight. you didn’t like the way he was speaking to you and he was becoming upset with you for no reason at all. all you had asked him was if he wanted to talk, but it seemed like that question alone must have ruffled his feathers. 

you two never fought, so this had completely blindsided you.

wriothesley then left for work, leaving you by yourself in the apartment you lived in. it wasn’t your intention to make him angry with you. all you wanted to know was what was troubling him to make him feel so overwhelmed. that fact crept up on wriothesley immediately after he entered his office at the fortress. he shouldn’t have snapped at you that way. it wasn’t right, nor was it excusable. he was the one person who was supposed to make you happy, not hurt.

a few hours later, he returned home a lot earlier than usual. things were slow at the fortress, so he decided to leave early and try to patch things up with you. he found you sitting on the couch with a book in your hands, seemingly trying to read away what had happened earlier between you. you were a bit taken back to see him standing in front of you, but you didn’t know what to say to him. 

“i’m sorry.. i was out of line earlier.” he broke the silence between you. it was like popping a balloon. “i get it if you’re pissed at me.. i can give you space if you’d like.”

you sat there for a few moments. you closed the book in your hands and placed it on the wooden table in front of you. wriothesley was right. he shouldn’t have been that much of an ass to you. you didn’t deserve such treatment, but you loved him. he was never like that towards you and your friends had told you before that random fights are normal. “it’s okay.. i forgive you.” you replied, standing up to go in front of him. ���please.. just promise me you won’t do that again.” 

his hands went to cup your cheeks. his thumbs brushed against your smooth skin. you could see how guilty he felt for doing what he had done. “i promise.. i swear, (y/n), i’ll never do that again. i could never hurt you like that, ever again.” he looked down at you with sincerity on his features. 

you leaned in to hug him. wriothesley inhaled the fresh scent of your shampoo and felt immediately calmed from your touch. he loved you, dearly. he could never do that to you again and he vowed to never pull a stunt like that with you ever again.

© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

[blue-jisungs]

360

[ song inspo ! ] 360 by park jihoon

[ author's note ! ] 3 6 oh zero take a shot for meeeee

[ summary ! ] when you and your husband get called as a backup, youd never guess how that 'date' would end ...

[ warnings ! ] suggestive + allusions to sex sigh SOURY!!! since its agent au theres violence, guns and shooting, blood, mention of drugs n gangsters, kidnapping n stuff, reader is nauseous, joke or two about dying (? i promise it makes sense), swearing, sliiightly angsty i guess :3

[ word count ! ] +- 4k

seungcheol watched you carefully as you wandered around the kitchen. you grabbed two cups and turned around to join him on the couch. 

just by his smug look in his eye you could tell he was thinking about something. 

you put down the steaming cups on the coffee table and crossed your arms, standing in front of it. 

“what?” you asked, a playful smile forming on your husband’s face. 

“nothing. just admiring my wife” he hummed and as if his legs weren’t spread enough, he pushed them a little wider. he patted his thigh with a boyish grin. 

“c’mere. i missed you” he whined, brows furrowing in a pleasing expression. 

“seungcheol, you remember what happened last time. i will not explain to the doctor once again how you strained your leg” you grunted, recalling the last time when you… well, safe to say, in a rush of emotions forgot about cheol’s injury. then you had to rush to the hospital, both of you almost half naked and your state leaving very little to the imagination. the doctor nagged seungcheol to slow down with physical activities and you had to shush your husband before he blurted out something that would embarrass you even more. 

“ah, i’m better now. just come here” he giggled and pulled you onto his lap. you shifted and rested your knees on both sides, not putting all of your weight on him. “it’s just us. we should enjoy the free time we got” 

“mhm. i feel like you’re getting bored rotting inside the house” you hummed, arms wrapping around his neck. seungcheol looked at you with hearts in his eyes, shaking his head. 

“no, not at all. i love having you all to myself” he replied and before you realized, he pulled you down to rest on his lap. you just rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head in disbelief. 

due to his injury, he was put aside from his duties. and you, being his wife, had to take care of him. 

both you and seungcheol were agents. your job required a lot of running and just being physical. so naturally he wasn’t able to execute it. 

time passed and he started getting better but his doctor advised to rest for another month. 

that way he also developed many new hobbies. crotcheting, making candles, pottery, baking… you could swear he tried everything. 

“i could get used to it, you know” he sighed, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck. his soft locks tickled your skin as you played with the hair at the back of his neck “i love our job, i really do. but spending time together–“ 

your right one interrupted the peaceful moment, you and cheol pulling away at the same time. he looked at you shocked and you leaned back to grab the phone. his hands remained on your hips the whole time. 

“yeah?” you answered, putting the phone on speaker. 

“hi, doves. hopefully im not interrupting?” jeonghan asked in a slightly teasing voice. 

“yeah, actually. we were making passionate love” seungcheol grunted and you just smacked his arm, giggling. 

“don’t listen to this man child. what’s up?” you scoffed and just flicked his nose. 

“i know you can’t do shit but we’re running low on people. jun and hao got sent to china and we’re just helpless. we need you, y/n. it’s a serious matter” jeonghan’s voice was stern, a little pleading. 

“got it. i’ll be at the base in thirty” you said and were about to get off your husband’s lap when he took your phone 

“im going too” 

“what?!” you and jeonghan yelped at the same time. you smacked his shoulder yet again. 

“you heard me. i’m the captain, after all. we’ll be there in fifteen” seungcheol ordered and hang up. 

you saw his eyes darken a bit – you knew that. adrenaline rushed through his veins, he was itching to be back. 

“you’re insufferable” you grunted and went to change into your work clothes. 

“for fuck’s sake… and what are you even doing here?” jihoon crossed his arms, eyeing seungcheol up and down. 

“told him not to go” you grunted and didn’t even bother to look at your husband. you had to weapon up real quick “his doctor too” 

“i can run, chill out. it’s not like start breakdancing. my injury is 99% healed” cheol grunted, the atmosphere in the room already tense. 

“i’d rather have kyungmin take your spot” chan snickered, trying to ease the tension. kyungmin was his nephew who just started his training to be a special agent one day, just like him… and you. 

“hey, leave kyungmin alone. he’s my baby” you grinned. you really loved that kid, he was just like a happy virus. the sole sight of his cute face made you want to squish his cheeks and bite– 

“okay, let’s just go. y/n, you’ll lead the group. seungcheol, you’ll take her side, i’ll explain the details on the way” jeonghan massaged his temples and left the room. 

“someone’s pissed” cheol teased. jeonghan took over for the time being of seungcheol’s absence and it seemed like he already wanted to have his leader back. 

as a group of special agents, your tasks and duties varied. sometimes it would be protecting someone, sometimes taking down criminals… a new day, a new surprise. 

“okay, we got called as backup. there are hostages and they are the main priority, alright? one of them is the health minister’s daughter. the location is an abandoned factory, the kidnappers just wanted money. however, we got informed that they are the local drug gang we’ve been trying to locate ever since you and cheol got time off” jeonghan explained once in the car, eyeing you in the mirror “they are really reckless and unpredictable. there was no connection between the daughter and them and despite their illegal actions, they still decided to show themselves and kidnap her. because of that the minister sent a government group too, they’ll help us too” 

“don’t worry, i’ll protect you” seungcheol said, the buzz of adrenaline in his veins making it hard to stay still. as if himself alone could replace the whole additional group. but… 

he missed this. he missed the thrill of danger, the action, the tension. he just loved this job way too much and no amount of crocheted socks or baked cinnamon rolls could replace this. 

“take a shot for me, hm?” you hummed, cupping his jaw. seungcheol’s face scrunched in a soft smile. 

this saying was what got you closer. when you were new in the crew, you and cheol didn’t really… enjoy each other. so you two would often bicker and joke about letting the other down (which was cruel if you thought about it but on the other hand… you had no feelings towards him whatsoever. how the turn tables). after your first successful mission, you said it too when you were celebrating. so seungcheol drank a shot, holding eye contact with you. something deep about his gaze turned the phrase more intimate, turning into a promise of protecting the other with your own life. 

“you’re gonna manifest it one day and i’m gonna kill myself if one of you dies” dokyeom suddenly spoke up and you just snorted, turning your head towards him. 

“you’re being dramatic” you snickered, resting your head on seungcheol’s arm. 

“no, no. he’s right. we missed you like crazy, you’re kinda like a parental figure to me” chan stuck his head out from his seat behind you, sending you a toothy grin. 

“don’t get too used to this. this drama queen still needs to rest” you pointed at seungcheol “but, jeonghan, tell us more about the drug gang. leaders, weak points maybe…?” 

seungcheol and you left the car, not going too far. jeonghan handed you both a walkie talkie and then moved a bit away to test it. 

“coups, do you copy?” jeonghan checked. you haven’t hear your husband’s code name in a while. 

suddenly, it all hit you. you’re back in the field, gun and knives attached to your hip. your bulletproof jacket on your chest, heavy boots hugging your feet. there’s life on the scale, and you’re responsible for saving those hostages. 

a wave of nausea washed over you, bending in half. 

“fuck, y/n, are you okay?” seungcheol asked; his voice shook a bit, taken aback by your sudden reaction.

“i got nervous all of a sudden, i might throw up” you groaned, clutching your stomach. 

“hey, it’s okay” he kneeled down next to you, eyeing your pale face. rubbing your back in a reassuring motion, he didn’t notice others sending you worried looks.

“i’m fine” you muttered and took a few deep breaths, the sick feeling fading away. 

your husband didn’t take his eyes off you, nodding reassuringly. 

“do you want some water?” he asked, big bambi eyes staring at you. 

“no, thanks. i just… the realisation hit me, i wasn’t prepared mentally to come back so suddenly. but i’m fine, don’t worry” you smiled softly and patted his arm “i promise”

“you better because you come in like, in ten. you have everything? remember: hostages are the priority” jeonghan’s smooth voice suddenly boomed from behind you and you just nodded. a loud churn turned in your stomach, your breakfast suddenly wanting to escape. 

but you swallowed hardly and rushed to your spot. seungcheol followed you and before you had to head in, he pressed a quick kiss on your lips.

the old magazine was quite a messy location but luckily you were able to pass through it unnoticed if you tried enough. 

on jeonghan’s signal you went in, leading the group. dividing into small groups to locate the aim, you placed your feet surely on the ground. 

wonwoo and jun who were with you were as quiet as mice. 

“got anything?” vernon’s voice rang in your in-ear. you replied quickly, deciding to check the rest of the corridor you got and to return to one of the squares. 

it was overgrown by various plants, clearly a sign of abandonment of this place. it had a couple of benches, most of them ready to fall apart upon a small movement. it was probably an area where the workers could take a break, back in the day when the factory was working. 

it had four exits, by two of which your group came in. 

“what now?” chan asked jeonghan through the walkie-talkie and just when there was a buzz of an incoming answer, you heard seungcheol’s voice. 

“a movement at twelve, i saw through one of the windows. we’ll be there in a moment” 

in a flash you aimed your gun at the door in front of you, waiting for them to open. 

seungcheol could see the square thanks to most of the walls not surviving the test of time and simply falling apart. and also most of the windows were broken due to some hooligan’s actions.

“get ready, don’t shoot yet” you ordered, shifting the weight of your body on your right leg in a defensive position. 

and surely, the metal doors soon clinged open. 

your jaw tensed when you saw one of the gangsters, holding a hostage. and a gun to their head. it was a boy, he looked as if he could be kyungmin’s age. it made your brows furrow. 

“took you long enough. we were starting to get bored” the man grunted. they knew you were coming, they definitely had a plan. you swallowed, unsure what to say. however, the man was faster. 

“who’s the leader of this pathetic little group?” he asked. 

you proudly stepped out, not wasting a second. the aggressive man just pushed his gun closer to the hostage’s head. 

then, seuncheol entered the room, aiming at the man as well.

“drop the weapon and follow me” he snarled “unless you want my colleague to shoot the minister’s daughter” 

“y/n…” jeonghan warned you, not even sure why – he knew you wouldn’t listen. 

you slowly kneeled down and tossed your gun on the grass, raising back up with your hands in a defensive posture.

“i’m going with her” cheol’s voice boomed behind you, shortly followed by the sound of a dropping gun. 

no one noticed but the gang member realized the bligning golden rings on your fingers. a teasing smile bloomed on his face as he nodded.

“welcome” he just mumbled.

“let me see her” you ordered and the man just turned around, silently telling you to follow him. 

“don’t do anything stupid, you’re unharmed! both of you!” jeonghan hissed through the in-ear. 

seungcheol’s heart sped up and he looked at your group through his shoulder for the last time. 

“the other group has to follow them, now! use the right wing, don’t get caught. use the second exit, the one i showed you on the map. go!” jeonghan ordered.

“what’s your plan? you’re surrounded” you blurted out. the man just snickered. 

“you’re a dumb bitch if you think i’ll tell you that” 

“motherfucker” you heard cheol’s hiss and just sent him a nagging look. the man either didn’t care nor didn’t hear.

soon enough after entering and passing through some rooms and corridors, the guy lead you to a room on the second floor. 

the hostages were tied there, sunlight shining through a half broken window on their frightened faces. 

“now that was dumb to follow us all alone. we’ve got two more to our collection. well, you definitely won’t be as worth as her” the man spat on the floor next to a blonde girl, nudging her with his foot. 

“tell me how much you want. we can solve this without hurting anyone” you pleaded, eyeing the guards in the room. then, you casted an eye over the hostages. huh yunjin, the daughter of the minister. jeonghan showed you her pictures. you also saw two young boys, a man who you saw before and a woman… with her baby. 

a baby. 

your jaw clenched. your husband noticed that and only sent you a calming look.

“a woman of business. now we’re talking” the gangster huffed and followed your line of sight. he smirked upon noticing you’re looking at the small baby. 

“i see them! second floor, west side. the hostages are on the middle, there’s more or less five people. i can’t see the whole room” you heard jihoon’s voice in your in-ear - he took the sniping spot alongside dokyeom and seungkwan.

“how much do you want?” you asked, finally looking up. the man suddenly started laughing, grabbing his walkie-talkie. 

“i’ll show you something, listen closely” he smiled disgustingly and started talking to the walkie-talkie “rooftops, how we’re feeling? did you take down those ants already?” 

“on it, sir” the buzz sent shivers down your spine. they had snipers too? 

wait, rooftops?

“oh shit–!” jihoon’s yelp rang in your ear. 

“jihoon-ah!” jeonghan’s voice was full of fear and you felt your heart speeding up when your friend didn’t reply. 

you stared at the aggressors, your chest rising up and down. 

the silence was so loud, your racing heart tearing apart. should you save the hostages and remain calm or should you– 

“fucking asshole missed” 

a shaky sigh left your lips and you glared at the leader of the gang. 

“what do you want?” you hissed, jaw clenched. your hand was itching to reach for your hidden weapon. 

“see, misses… life is not all about love, money, fame. although it is fun that way” the man tsked, circling around the hostages. they were looking at you pleadingly. 

you shifted your fingers, calculating how much time you have. if the snipers could take the rest of the guards down before you reach out for your hidden knife. 

you caught seungcheol’s stern gaze, he could read you like an open book.

“don’t” he mouthed. you just cursed mentally and raised your eyes to the sky. 

“you know, we’re doing it because, well… money. but also, i got a little bored” the man spoke up, standing still and observing you two. 

jeonghan was right, this guy is a psycho. bored? he was bored and decided to give those poor kids trauma. 

“but thanks to you my game just got a whole lotta entertaining!” he opened his arms widely with a grin. you wanted to rip it off his face.

“hang on in there, we’re almost there!” jeonghan said. he could hear everything that was going on, including your rapid breaths. 

“because if i’m not mistaken… you’re married, hm? lovebirds… quite a romantic date idea” he chuckled slyly, fox-alike. 

the sound of a gun reloading made you take a step closer to seungcheol. 

fuck. 

you usually take off your wedding rings. exactly for the risk of such a situation. and also because it was more comfortable to hold a weapon with a free hand.

“so, mr. husband. choose. her…” the gang leader pointed his gun at yunjin, her eyes glossy. then, he painfully slowly aimed his weapon at you. right between your eyes “... or her” 

“fuck. where are you?” jeonghan asked the group. 

you stopped breathing, ringing in your ears getting hard to bare. 

“her, pick her” the daughter of the minister whined, almost begged. tears pooled in your eyes - this poor girl wanted to save you.

“yunjin, listen to me. you’ll live. don’t panic” you reassured her, shaking your head. 

seungcheol stayed silent, swallowing hard. in theory, the choice was easy: you; he’d always choose you. 

but he didn’t want anyone to die. especially this young girl that still had her whole life in front of her. he knew the trouble everyone could get in if anything happened to her. both you, him and his whole team. 

“come on” the gang member teased. 

“shoot me” 

you whipped your head at seungcheol, mouth falling agape. he was serious.

“cheol, what the fuck are you even talking about!” you yelled, trying to grab his hand but the loud tsk made you halt. 

“a man of honor…” the guy started.

“boss, i see a group of people approaching the room” his walkie-talkie speaking made you freeze. you’re doomed. 

“see, normally i’d make you suffer a bit more. maybe even give you time to say your last goodbye. but since your team is coming, i have no options left” the guy grinned and moved his gun at seungcheol, lowering his hand a bit.

then it all happened in a blink of an eye, your heart fuelling your limbs. 

when seungcheol didn’t feel any pain but he heard the gunshot, he thought it was the adrenaline blocking his sensors. only when your body surged forwards to cover him, it was too late for him to react. 

along with your painful yelp, the door swung open and your team came to rescue you and the hostages. 

with the rest of your strength you reached for your hidden knife and threw it at one of the guards who was getting ready to shoot. 

“hey, hey. y/n… fuck, are you stupid?” cheol kneeled down, panic in his ebony irises. he held your body, sticky blood covering his palms. he was freaking out, only being able to observe how your eyes are starting to lose their light.

“take a shot for me, remember?” you smiled softly, bringing your hand to his cheek. 

“no, no, no. that’s why he was supposed to shoot me! we… you, i… you can’t–” he breathed out, tears filling his eyes. 

he didn’t realize the fight that was going on, luckily jihoon and the rest of the snipers were taking care of your backs. the voices around him blurred out; fell silent on his ears as he was only focused on you. 

your eyelids drooping, your limbs getting lighter. he held your wrist that was cupping his cheek, the other hand looking for the wound to stop the bleeding at least for a moment.

“i love you, cheol”

the light in the room was unbearable. but so was the silence. the horrible, bone shattering silence. 

“how is she?” jeonghan asked quietly, stepping into the room with a doctor, mingyu. 

seungcheol just swallowed, shrugging his shoulders. your face was pale, your arm bandaged. he already wiped the dried blood off your cheek. most importantly, you were breathing. 

“good question” seungcheol murmured, squeezing your hand. 

mingyu looked at his papers and clicked his pen, humming. 

“i’m fine, actually” 

jeonghan’s soft gasp was followed by your husband’s yelp. he lurched forward to hug you, careful not to cause any pain to your arm. 

you giggled into his shoulder, wrapping your free hand around his back. 

“you gave us a heart attack” jeonghan snickered and the doctor just smiled. seungcheol leaned away a bit and you brushed off the hair from his forehead. visible relief was painted all over his face. 

“sorry. couldn’t let my hubby die before me” you snickered and jeonghan just tsked in disapproval “also, how…”

“everyone is alive, sound and safe. well, except some of the gang members. we captured the leader, who did manage to escape but… um, your husband put the pedal to the metal, let’s just say that” he snickered.

“good. very good. i’m glad they are all safe” you smiled and interlocked your fingers with cheol’s.

“if i may interrupt…” the doctor cleared his throat and you all nodded, allowing him to read his notes “everything is fine. you got shot in the arm, luckily above the bone. you did lose a lot of blood but everything, as i said, is fine. the baby too”

“that’s good” you grinned and halted, your smile fading. you blinked twice, furrowing your brows. seungcheol didn’t seem to understand “wait, what baby?”

now it was mingyu’s turn to frown. jeonghan’s eyes were as wide as plates.

“you’re pregnant, mrs choi. i thought you knew?” he frowned, observing the pure shock on your faces.

“i... we… baby?” seungcheol choked out, pointing at himself and then you. 

“well that’s how babies are made, right?” the doctor snickered.

“oh my god, you weren’t joking with the passionate love making” jeonghan groaned dramatically and you just fellt your face go red. 

“no! i mean… wait, how… how… which week…?” you asked, looking at your husband. he was still clearly processing it.

“ninth week. it’s normal that you couldn't see the belly” the doctor explained and just smiled softly “well, i’ll leave you alone now. if you have more questions or want to do extra check up, or usg for the baby, just let us know. and congratulations, i suppose” 

he sent you a toothy smile and left. 

you could see cogs turning in jeonghan’s head.

“so that would mean… three months, more or less… oh, ew, someone was celebrating their birthday!” he fake gagged and your eyes widened.

“you’re gross,  get out!” you laughed and he just snickered.

“i will. let me spread the news tho” he smiled and left. 

seungcheol kept staring at you, lips parted.

“cheol?” you asked softly, sitting up. his fingers traced the cold metal of your wedding ring in an absentminded motion.

“y/n… we’re going to be parents” he whispered, tears pricking his eyes. 

he let them flow, smile breaking on his lips. 

“we are” you agreed happily. sure, life was messy with your job - and maybe it was a sign to change your profession to something less life risking. but during cheol’s injury you got a taste of the time alone. 

it was nice. peaceful, embodiment of love. 

and now, there’s gonna be an additional member of your small family. maybe it won’t be as peaceful as it was with just the two of you. but it’ll definitely be worth it. 

seungcheol leaned in and cupped your face, surprising you with a passionate lips. wet tears stained your cheeks and you weren’t sure anymore if they were yours or his. one thing was certain, though: they were tears of joy. 

your life will turn 360 degrees now but with your husband by your side, you know it’ll be perfect. 

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