#please read this I worked really hard on it

[kashverse]

gojo’s sweet tooth is a menace. you learned that early on when he asked for “a bit” of sugar in his coffee and ended up turning it into something closer to a dessert syrup. so, of course, when you bake a pear and berry pie—already sweet enough, mind you—he sneaks in extra sweetener when he thinks you aren’t looking. he’s not very subtle about it. the first time, you almost missed it, but then you saw his telltale smug grin, a bit too pleased with himself as he “innocently” leaned against the counter.

"toru," you deadpan, arms crossed.

"what? i’m just appreciating your hard work," he says, licking a stray bit of filling off his finger like he's in a commercial.

"you’re ruining my pie."

"nah, i’m improving your pie," he corrects, already reaching for another spoonful.

nanami, on the other hand, is far less chaotic. he keeps things simple—apple pie, nothing fancy. no extra fillings, no surprise ingredients, just a good ol’ classic that never lets him down. it’s his go-to for the weekends, whether he makes it himself (precisely measured, no shortcuts) or picks one up from the bakery he trusts more than some of his coworkers. sometimes, you’ll walk into the kitchen and find him in the middle of rolling out dough with the same focus he has when reading financial reports. if you joke about him being a househusband, he’ll sigh, wipe his hands on a towel, and say, "do you want pie or not?"

toji doesn’t bake. he doesn’t have time, patience, or, honestly, the self-control to wait for something to cool down before eating it. but after a long day, when you casually hand him a slice of pumpkin pie, he takes it without a word. he’s not big on admitting things, so he just eats it, nodding once in approval, like that’s the most gratitude you’re going to get. but the real giveaway is how he never turns it down. ever. even if he’s pretending like he doesn’t care.

geto loves pecan pie. no debate. no discussion. no hesitation. the man would probably start a war over it if necessary. you once offered him a slice of something else, and he gave you such a disappointed look that you almost felt guilty.

"you’re really this attached to pecan pie?" you asked, watching as he took slow, deliberate bites like he was savoring each one.

"it’s a masterpiece," he said, as if that explained everything.

choso is all about cherry pie, mostly because he likes the tint it leaves behind. after eating it, he’ll glance in the mirror and smile a little at the way his lips look stained, like a kid who got into something he shouldn’t have. sometimes, he’ll grin at you with his mouth still full just to make you roll your eyes.

"cho, you look like you just drank blood."

"cool, right?"

and then there’s sukuna. you have to physically stop him from turning a normal, innocent chicken pie into something… horrific.

"you can’t put human meat in it."

"why not?"

"it’s a chicken pie."

"so?"

you glare at him. he stares back, unbothered.

"suku, if i turn around and find out you’ve replaced the filling, i swear to god—"

he smirks. "you wouldn’t even know the difference."

"i would. you know why? because i would throw up."

he just laughs, because, really, who needs horror movies when you live with him?

[kwoniele]

from behind - csc

synopsis: your innocent picnic date with seungcheol escalated fast, but you can’t find yourself complaining about it.

genre: smut. porn w some plot lol

warnings: jealous scoups (we cheered!), clueless mingyu who ruined their date lol, hard!dom scoups, pillow princess!reader, angry cheol but not really?, overstimulation, edging, doggy, mention of mingyu during sex, dacryphilia but theres no extreme crying happening, oral (f receiving), fingering, hands are tied, unprotected sex, birth control but it’s not mentioned, that’s all i think… not proofread! i hate reading my work 😊

this was not how you expected the date to go.

in your mind, you imagined a quiet park with the breeze flowing through your hair as you and seungcheol were chilling on a plaid blanket on the grass. you prepared chocolate covered strawberries, a cake to celebrate your anniversary, iced tea to quench your thirst, and snacks to munch on as the two of you talk.

but goodness, were you wrong.

mingyu was walking his dog when he saw you and seungcheol and figured it’d be nice to greet the both of you. except, he didn’t stop talking. he kept telling stories about his recent fashion show he attended in paris—clearly oblivious to the fact you and seungcheol were on a date.

it only got worse when mingyu started to tell a tale of how you and him were absolute best friends in highschool. his hands mindlessly caressed your back and his smile (which he deemed was a friendly one) was a little too wide for seungcheol’s liking.

“it was so much fun! remember sports day? ms. kang really enjoyed the marathon.” mingyu laughed, not paying attention to how seungcheol’s jaw clenched, how the veins on his forearms were bulging, and how his neck and ears looked as if he painted them red.

“yeah! i- of course i remember!” you lightly chuckled, glancing at seungcheol who was clearly uncomfortable. he’d already eaten the entire container of strawberries, chugged down two water bottles, and even dared to open up the chips you bought.

“ah, fuck. sorry y/n. i have to go, shua hyung needs me at the shop.” mingyu abruptly stood up, putting bobpul’s leash back on her collar and waved goodbye to you and seungcheol.

the silence after mingyu left was deafening. suddenly the children playing at the playground were louder, the bushes swaying were rustling a little faster, and you can hear your pulse thumping.

“i’m sorry. about, y’know.” you scooted closer to cheol, resting your chin on your palm as you tried to meet his gaze. “ah~, what can i do to make it up to you?” two of your fingers nudged his chin to force him to look at you.

“make it up to me? you really want to make it up to me?”

“yeah! i’ll do anything. you can even be mad at me. actually, you should be mad at me! i’m sorry, hm?”

“fine. okay. i’ll be mad at you, but, you still have to do whatever i say. got that?”

and that’s how you ended up on the satin bed sheets, thighs spread apart as your hands were tied up with a random tie from his suits. you couldn’t touch him, pull his hair, scratch his back, you couldn’t do anything.

“fuck- cheol..” your back arched from the bed, bucking your hips into his mouth as his tongue rapidly inserted in and out your pussy. his thumb was circling your clit mercilessly, pushing you closer to the edge until he decided to halt all his movements.

“you think i’m going to let you cum just like that?,” seungcheol sucked on your neck roughly, putting pressure on the hickeys he already made prior. “want to cum so bad huh? what if i get that mingyu to do it for you? hm?”

“no.. not mingyu.” you breathed heavily as his chuckle tickled your neck.

“seemed like you were just as happy to have him right there earlier. am i wrong?” his middle finger slipped into your hole again, earning a hitched breath escape from your throat as he felt your walls twitch around his finger.

“i’m sorry, ch-cheol. haa~ please.. please fuck me.” your desperate tears pricked your eyes, making seungcheol smirk as he notices your glassy eyes.

“do you deserve it?”

“yes! yes yes yes! please, cheol.”

his gaze on you felt like he was staring at you for ten years. he slipped his finger out of your pussy and reached for your hands—slowly untying them from the bed frame. you immediately rubbed your wrists, easing the pain his tie caused.

“on fours, baby.” he unbuckled his belt and threw his pants across the room as you obeyed his words—putting your ass on display as you patiently wait for him to give you your next instructions.

you could feel the mattress dip as seungcheol positioned himself behind you, gripping your waist with one hand as the other teases your cunt with his tip. you knew he was grinning when you let out a whine once he got his head inside.

as soon as his entire cock was inside your hole, he rested there for a few seconds before slowly sliding into your cunt. “hngh~ faster.. please.” he didn’t say anything. instead, he gripped your waist tighter and thrusted into you aggressively without warning.

your hand reached for the pillow in front of you to grip onto as seungcheol fucked you as fast as he could from behind. your hips began to match his rhythm as you met his thrusts, causing seungcheol to groan inside you.

your walls began to twitch around him which told seungcheol your high was nearing. you thought he was going to slowly ease his thrusts, but god where you wrong. if it was even possible, he began to fuck you even harder than before. his tip kissed that spot multiple times which pushed you further to the edge.

“fuck, cheol, i’m close.” you warned.

“cheol— hngh! cheol i’m gonna cum!” you warned again.

“i’m cumming!” no answer.

he didn’t stop. why wasn’t he stopping? “i’m not going to stop fucking your pretty pussy until i cum, okay? we’re going to make sure everyone here knows my name.”

and he meant it. he didn’t stop at all. whenever a second passed, he only got rougher. faster. you already came multiple times at this point—but he wasn’t stopping.

seungcheol’s groans began to get louder, and louder. he chanted your name as if it was a mantra, and his grip on your waist tightened. he was near.

“baby. inside or no?” he urgently asked, confirming with you what you wanted before he came to his release.

“inside! please- please!”

you felt ribbons shoot inside you as his cum painted your pussy white. all his movements stopped. he pulled out of you to watch his cum ooze out of your cunt, smiling and taking his phone from the bed side table to document his artwork.

you plopped down on the bed, hair sticking to your forehead and chest heaving. “you should get jealous more often, huh?” you joked, pulling him by his neck to plant a kiss on his lips.

“piss me off one more time, i’ll do even worse than today.”

[sucker-just]

I am not an American and have no real say in what that country does, but it really does look to me like H1B visas do seem to do that because they are designed without leeway and effectively chain international workers to specific roles at specific companies, allowing those companies to effectively underpay and abuse those workers and workers waiting in the lottery line while frequently using the process to circumvent local talent even with search requirements. I know this in part because of American hiring managers whining online about how they're really not at fault for having to put up ghost job listings stop being so mean about them, it's a requirement to be able to try to justify a visa so really it's the government's fault they have to put up job listings nobody will get, it's necessary to skirt the law effectively won't you please think of the career HR professionals hard job of barely maintaining the appearance of compliance 😭. They say this publically and with the expectation of sympathy, so it seems it's not the most taboo and unheard of practice. And when asked, they want the international worker because they have a good skill set but also will work for less and be less likely to recieve and take other offers than local talent, giving the employer a lot of leeway in their treatment.

By making a class of worker have their right to stay in the country conditional upon staying in a specific employer's good graces, those workers are effectively unable to demand keeping competitive standards of treatment and pay, let alone put in for actual collective bargaining efforts, lest they literally lose their place in the country they are currently living in. This also means that other workers can be threatened with being replaced by these effectively indentured workers, which is a real thing tech workers especially have been threatened with (actual threats made by employers explicitly), to allow employers even greater leverage. The program by design is unfair to the applicant, because they're not the main person being served in this arrangement and having them be constrained and uncertain is the point. Even if a company can't keep a specific international worker, they can and will keep trying with more people (more hiring manager statements). They don't really care if they need a new person in that position, just so long as it's someone who will put up with it while doing highly technical work, taking on a number of hopeful graduates at once and owning a good portion of their careers if successful and churning through them if not (taken from an applicant's description of their workplace's policies). I have seen many heartbreaking stories from people on visas describing bad workplace conditions which they feel they cannot escape without jeopardizing their immigration status because if they get fired in retaliation for standing up to or reporting the abuse they are suffering they risk being deported and changing jobs while maintaining the visa is not easy and not many employers want to do that when they could just hire local or hire someone who's a visa hopeful and have the process be one they're used to and is more straightforward (according to the visa workers experiencing workplace abuse I read this from). I am sure not every employer is using this system to abuse, but it is set up in such a way that guarantees it will be by some.

This is patently undermining for both international workers and local talent. It clearly undermines the power of US tech labour in particular, which is why Elon is so horny for it while actively decrying every form of immigration that doesn't directly make him money. The solution to this is not an end to immigration, including of skilled tech workers, but putting forward actual immigration. Real immigration that's not purely at the behest of a specific employer. Because frankly nobody deserves to have their legal status be at their boss's mercy. By breaking the chains that bind international workers, first and foremost it would mean that they'd be safer and more secure, but also hopefully it would help the tech sector's nascent labour organising efforts. This is, however, currently a pipe dream.

listened to my very first powerpoint presentation abt how to apply for h1b visa, yeag every single leftist who had anything to say abt how h1b visas negatively impact american workers needs to die. kinda crazzy how noone else is bothered by the fact that elon musk, the guy who recently did 2 sieg heils on stage, had a less fascist opinion on this immigration issue than many americoid leftists. what can i say, i will never forgive i will never forget

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - two (j.yh); section two

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you’ve never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he’s so much more than a crush, he’s your soulmate.one | two (section 1); (*section two) | three | four 🔗read on ao3 ✨across stardust pinterest board

note: i hope everyone enjoys this chapter. it's wildly fluffy and wildly romantic, and then deliciously smutty so i hope everyone enjoys. **this part was too long for tumblr's new word count guidelines! please check out the FIRST half of this part, here!

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, suggestive language, allusions to a past ex who pressured her into things she wasn't ready for, anxiety etc., and finally the smut; heavy makeouts, grinding, oral f!receiving, convos about oral m!receiving, lots of fingering, lots of cock touching, earth shattering soulmate sex, rough sex, soft!dom/pleasure!dom yunho and wide eyed sub!reader, heavy on the dirty talk, HEAVY on the praise. we got a lot of good girls in this one, and good god tagging for gratuitous use of pet names from yunho. lots of missionary and missionary adjacent positions, spooning sex to idk he's on his back and she's on top but laying on him it's hard to describe but by god is it hot please enjoy

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 28.1k

**did you read section one of part two yet? if not, click here!!

Slowly, ever so slowly, the hazy cloud starts to lift. You’re both still shaking, Yunho hiding in your shoulder, his lips brushing against your pulsepoint as he comes back down from his high. Your fingers are locked tightly on his back still, legs pinning him to your pelvis, and it takes time for you to breathe through the last bits of dizziness and start to feel some kind of normal again. 

Finally you feel him exhale out an intentional breath and kiss your shoulder before pressing up on his forearms to look down at you, “Am I crushing you?” He lifts a bit of his body weight off, but you keep your arms locked. 

“Don’t go,” You say, holding him steady. 

He smiles dreamily, and shakes his head, “Not going anywhere,” 

Your legs fall slack on either side of him and you let your hands slide down to rest on his chest, “Good,” 

His eyes flick down over your bodies, to where you’re still connected hip to hip and with the fog of your newly cemented bond lifted, you feel a pang of his concern, “Did I hurt you?” 

You shake your head, smoothing your hand over his chest, “Mm-mm,” 

“You sure?” He takes one of your hands in his and gently kisses your knuckles. 

“You would have felt it if you did,” You remind him, “looks like we were right, we really were made for each other,” 

He rolls his eyes and smiles at your soft teasing, “Uh-huh,” 

You thread your fingers with his and tug him back down to where you rest in the pillows, kissing him as you do, “Mm,” you sigh, “do you think it will feel like that every time?” 

“If it does,” He laughs, “I’ll never make it out of this bed, I better resign now,” 

You nudge him, “Not funny,” 

“It’s a little funny,” He kisses you again, “but maybe I should, just keep you right here on my cock all day,” 

You shiver at his words, “And I’m the tease,” 

He laughs a little but squeezes your hand, “If it feels like that every time, I’m not teasing,” 

Your stomach flips pleasantly at his words, “Well,” your fingers skate down his chest, “we do have three days,” 

“That’s true,” He murmurs, his brow quirking playfully as he pecks a kiss to your lips, “do you have any objections to me keeping you right here?” 

You shake your head, “We’ll have to eat at some point, though,” 

“I’m pretty sure we can manage having sex in the kitchen,” He nips at your lip.

“My kitchen’s pretty small,” 

“I’m very creative,” He counters, his kisses traveling down your jaw now. 

You sigh, breathy as his tongue catches on your throat, “W-where else?” 

He huffs a laugh, “Shower,” 

“Of course,” 

“Couch,” His teeth tug gently at your earlobe and your muscles flutter and clench. Yunho groans lightly, and you feel his cock start to stiffen up inside you again. 

“And then?” Unconsciously, your legs start to widen just a little more. 

“The wall,” His voice is low and warm in your ear, “how see-through is that window, anyways?” 

Your eyes roll and you twitch under him, fingers tightening on his skin, “It’s reflective glass, you c-can’t see through it,” 

Yunho hums pleasantly, sucking at the pulsepoint of your neck and sending a shock of heat down your body, and you feel him start to stiffen up inside you again. A little breathy sound bubbles from your lips, and his hips grind down into yours just a little. His jaw tightens, muscles tense, and you feel him rock hard again and pressing insistently at all your sweet spots. 

“A-again?” You shiver. 

“Baby,” He sighs and chuckles, “all night,” 

Part of you thinks he’s kidding about that, but with that look in his eyes you know he’s more than serious. 

“Usually I’d need a little bit,” He admits, shifting up to his knees and dragging his hands down your body, “but you make me crazy,” 

You nod, moaning as his cock shifts inside you with the position change. Nothing has ever filled you like this, felt like this. The stretch is delicious, the way he seems to reach the tenderest places in your cunt that makes you see stars. The dizziness from the bonding a moment ago has dissipated, but the searing heat is still there, and you shiver, his fingertips skating over your tattoo before his hands find a home on your hips. 

“What do you say, baby? Can you take me again?” His hips pulse slowly, a torturous drag in and out to tease you. 

“Fuck yes,” You moan, one hand flying up to the wall behind you to brace yourself. 

“God, you sound pretty,” He pulses his hips again, punching a surprised moan from your throat, “exactly like that, I’m addicted to that sound.” 

He’s so verbal now that you’re not both swimming in the sensation of your newly forged bond, that night on the phone really was just a glimpse into who your partner is behind closed doors, his idol persona left on the concert hall floor. 

”J-just like that,” You nod, gripping the sheets. 

“Like that?” He teases, dragging you down onto his cock with his hands on your hips, “Yeah?” 

You moan again, “Harder,” 

“Fuck,” He curses, hands tight, sure to bruise, “we’re going to be so good together, aren’t we?” 

Before you can respond, he answers your plea with his hips, picking up the pace so that each pulse forward is met with the drag down of your body, connecting your bodies with firm, sharp snaps, the sound wet and wanton. 

“Y-yes, yes,” You all but sob, pleasure arcing through your belly and a fresh sheen of sweat breaking over your brow. 

Yunho groans, roughly fucking into you in just the way you needed, his body slick with sweat and glistening in the low light, his muscles flexing and relaxing with every snap of his hips. 

His mouth falls open, thumbs digging into your belly where he grips your waist, “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” 

Your cunt clenches, “You feel so good,” 

“That’s my good girl,” He breathes, his eyes hazy and lips parted as he watches you coming apart beneath him. 

You moan hard at the praise, your belly fluttering and clenching at the memory of how he talked to you that first time. You’ve thought of it dozens of times, desperate for exactly this, “Yes,” you whine, “I love when you call me that. Love when you talk to me like that,” 

Yunho shudders, his hips stuttering in pace and he groans, “Yeah?” 

“Don’t stop,” You reach for him, nails brushing over his skin as you try to get your hands on him. 

“Not stopping,” He assures you, but his hips do slow as he says, “what else do you like, hmm?” 

You can feel his curiosity, and his arousal too, the way he wants to know every button that makes you tick. Your slick channel pulses around his cock and you sigh in the sheets, “What do you think I like?” 

A half smile quirks his lips and he slows his pace to a stop, “Are you trying to tease me?” 

Your cheeks heat, caught under the exactness of his gaze and the rolling ripple of arousal through your body. 

“Cute,” He murmurs again, but he rolls his hips once hard to make you moan, “so pretty when you moan for me,” 

“God,” You have to pull your eyes away. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” He brushes your hips with gentler hands. 

“I’m not,” You drop a hand over your face.  

“You’re blushing, baby,” His fingers loop under yours and pull your hand away from your eyes. 

“Don’t pretend it doesn’t turn you on,” You counter, “I can feel you,” 

“Oh?” He quirks a brow, rolling his hips, “You can feel me?” 

“Shut up,” You groan, flutters rolling through your abdomen.

“Let’s see if I can make you really embarrassed, hmm?” 

“Yunho,” You manage, but you’re caught under him, the press of his hips and the firm pressure of his hands.

”You’re mine, right?” His fingers skate over your body as he adjusts himself onto his knees between your splayed open thighs, “You trust me?” 

Anticipation buzzes inside you, your mouth running dry. In this position you’re completely exposed, his eyes raking over your every inch, and when his tongue darts out to wet his lips with his tongue, your breath quickens

“Do you?” He prompts softly. 

“Y-yes,” 

He smirks a little, and then he settles on his heels and squeezes your thighs, “You like when I grab you,” he says, “I can feel your little jolt of excitement every time I do this.” He squeezes again for good measure, and just like he said your stomach jumps. 

“You’re my soulmate,” You sigh, “of course I like it when you touch me,” 

“Mm,” He nods, his hands skating up your skin until he’s cupping your breasts, “fair, how about this?” 

You soften, “That’s nice,” 

“And this?” He squeezes a little and you swallow to keep your composure, but when he finds both your nipples with his thumb and forefinger to give them a gentle pinch, you pant, “This?” 

He watches your eyes go glassy, and you’re sure he can feel the liquid fire pooling in your belly. 

He pinches them again, this time adding a little more pressure and tugging them upwards a bit before he releases. 

You moan sharply, fingers locking down on the bedding beneath you at the sharp zing that passed from your chest to your achingly neglected clit. 

“Is that nice, baby?” He tugs again, “Or am I being too rough with you?” 

He’s teasing you, and you shiver, “Not too rough,” 

The muscle in his jaw tightens but he lets that pass, cataloguing it and moving on, “And I think we’ve already established you like my hands,” 

“No surprise there,” You sigh. 

“My fingers?” He slides his hands up, and your heart starts to beat faster in your chest. Yunho settles one broad hand at the base of your throat, his fingers circling your neck gently. He doesn’t apply any pressure, but the way his thumb and index finger brace each side of your jaw has you trembling in his hold. 

You swallow, throat bobbing against his palm. 

“You do,” He murmurs, his voice a little rougher. With his opposite hand, he ever so gently touches your lips with the pads of his fingers, and like you’ve done it for him a thousand times before you let your mouth fall open. 

He drags his fingers over the curve of your lower lip again, and your cunt spasms around his cock where it's still buried inside you. He smiles at your reaction and then he hooks two of his fingers over your lip, resting on your teeth. 

You gasp sharply, your tongue pressing against the pads of his fingers. 

He waits, his patience a challenge, and then you melt. You dip your head forwards to accept his fingers into your mouth, letting them slide back on your tongue, your lips closing around them so that when you drag your head back you can suck them just a little. 

You can taste yourself on his skin and he groans, “Good girl,” 

Your core clenches again, but as his fingers slip free from your mouth you pulse your muscles again to tease him this time, “You’re easier to read than you think,” you tell him, “I know what you like too.” 

He smiles, full of cheek, and shifts back to roll his hips, “Yeah?” He slides his hand down, spreading it wide over your belly, “I like being inside you,” 

“You like,” You start but he shakes his head.

”I like being buried so deep I can feel it here,” He presses down with the heel of his hand and thrusts forwards, driving his cock into you, and the tight sensation of his cockhead punching into your g-spot leaves you moaning, all teasing forgotten at the sudden sensation of pleasure at his hands. 

Yunho drops over you properly now, gathering you back into his arms and pushing your legs back open wide with a tilt of your hips. He kisses you hard and then his hips start to pulse, “I like knowing this little pussy belongs to me,” 

“Oh, fuck,” You grip down hard on his shoulders. 

“That’s it,” He tips you back, rolling into you, “open up for me,” 

You moan hard, arching into him. 

“Fuck,” He curses low in your ear, “sweetheart, you feel incredible,” 

You nod into his shoulder, “S-so do you, don’t stop,”

“The best thing I’ve ever felt in my life” He manages. 

“Yunho, god,” 

“That’s right,” He slips a hand under our leg, sliding up the back of your thigh to pin you open, “so good,” 

Hot need arcs up your spine, belly tight with burgeoning pleasure, and you shudder a broken sob into his skin, “Please, please,” 

He thrusts hard, groaning with every jut of his hips, “Fuck,” he pants, “you want to know what I really like?” 

“Yes, yes,”

”I like you like this,” His kisses travel over your slick skin, “messy, begging for me,” 

“For you,” You babble almost mindlessly. 

“I like you coming,” He moans, “I could watch you come forever,” 

“Fuck, god,” Your head falls back to the mattress. 

“I want to make you lose yourself,” His pace steadies, and he drops his hand from your leg to the sheets for better leverage, “I want to watch you go so cockdrunk you don’t even know what sounds you’re making, how loud you’re being for me,” 

“Yunho, oh my god,” Your moan is rough, deep in your chest. 

He drops his forehead to your hair and nods, “Exactly like that,” 

Your body is starting to move on its own, your thighs trembling, and your hips canting upwards to catch more friction on your clit as he fucks you, and you whine in heady need. 

In a flash, his hips lock down hard, your body arching into his chest as you start to see the bursts of color behind your tightly shut eyes, but he doesn’t stop moving. Yunho grinds down, rocking his hips to give you extra pressure, and with needy jerks of your body you hump artlessly up into him, pleasure rolling up from your clit as he cock sits heavy and thick inside you. 

His lips connect with your ear as he drops his body weight over you, hands gathering you close, “That’s it, greedy girl,”

Sparks roll up your spine and you moan into his shoulder. 

“That’s it,” His hand slips down and cups your ass as you shudder, “take it, take it,” 

You gasp sharply, nails digging into his shoulders, “Oh, god, oh fuck,” 

“There she is,” He says hot at your cheek, his face leaving heavily against yours, “there’s my girl,” 

You moan, and he circles his hips, grinding deeper.

“You like taking every inch of me, baby?” He flicks your nipple sharply, “You like knowing you were made for me?” 

Your orgasm feels like it’s a breath away, ready to pull you open in a snap, and you sob beneath him, “M-more,” your head falls back as you scramble beneath him, heels digging into the mattress as you arch and try to bring yourself up and over the edge. 

“Come for me,” He kisses you, wet, fast, “come on babygirl,” 

“Ah, ah,” You press your eyes tight, holding him like a lifeline as you reach for it, “p-please, I want to come for you so bad,” 

“That’s it,” 

The pressure in your body builds, but you can’t reach it, and you ache to push your hands between your thighs. In a flash, his hands pulse on your skin, and he kisses you once more before pushing up and away from your body and drawing his cock halfway out of your aching center. 

“No, no,” You reach for him, eyes fluttering open in the hazy dim. 

On his knees once again he starts to rub your clit, his thumb pressing firm circles, the slick sound of it making your eyes roll back. 

“God,” You curse, a ripple of pleasure running through you like a spasm. 

He licks his lips, watching your face intently as he works your swollen bud, “Yeah? Do you need this to come?” 

The husky tone of his voice makes it sound like dirty talk, but you know he’s also asking for real, learning your body for the first time. You nod, “Usually, but, it’s not,”  

“Shh,” He pulls back, sliding his cock out of your wet warmth and kissing your knee before letting your legs fall slack to the mattress and shifting to your side, “I want to give you what you need,” 

“You are,” You tell him as he kisses you, nuzzling into you. 

“I can feel it,” He reminds you as he slides behind you, spooning you now and caging you in with his arms, “I know what you need, let me give it to you,” 

You shudder, melting as his hands slide over your body, “Mm,” you sigh, “I was j-just going to say I don’t think I need it with you,”

“But it’s better?” He asks, lifting your leg and hooking a hand under your knee. 

You angle your hips with an arch of your back, opening yourself to him, and gasp as he directs his cock back into your slick hole, “N-no,” You manage, “I don’t know,” 

He kisses your shoulder, “Let’s find out,” 

With a swift punch of his hips forwards he seats himself again and you moan, gripping down on the pillow under your cheek. 

“There we go,” He croons and you moan into his bicep. He hums, fingers teasing your slit as he pushes in and out, “is it better because I’m bigger?” 

“Yunho!” You gasp as he thrusts again, head falling back against the top of his chest. 

“Do I hit your sweet spots, jagi?” His voice is hoarse with his own need. 

“Yes, god,” You moan. 

“Tell me,” His middle finger finds your clit again, “say it,” 

You babble a response through a taut moan, “You’re so big,” 

“And?” He bites down on your shoulder, rubbing faster.

“You’re the,” You gasp as his hips punch back and forth sharply, “oh, fuck, yes, you’re the biggest cock I’ve ever had,” 

“Good girl,” He moans, “that’s my good girl,” 

Hot pleasure rolls through you at his words and you whine. 

“Feels good?” He teases. 

“So good,” You manage, “so, so good,” 

“Let go,” He kisses your cheek, gritting his teeth to focus on working you with his fingers an the steady pulse of his hips at the same time, “let it go and come,” 

Your hand flies to his forearm, gripping onto him as you cry out, and he pants behind you, kissing any part of your skin he can reach in this position.

“Good girl,” He murmurs low, “just hold onto me,” 

He slides his other hand from your knee to your hip to brace you steady and then he starts to adjust the pace of his hips, still slow, but firmer now so that every snap of his hips strikes a wet smacking drumbeat through the room as he circles his fingers on your slick clit. 

Heat rockets through you, your nails digging into his forearm, and then you feel it. Just a little more will take you right over the edge, and you choke out a breathless moan, “Please, please,” 

“Come,”

Your stomach tightens, legs trembling, and when it hits you crack open in his arms. The wave takes you just the same as before, and distantly through the ringing in your ears, you can hear the muttered pleas of Yunho as he feels the rush of your pleasure through the bond.

You’re boneless, both of you shaking, and then he wraps his arms around you properly and rolls onto his back, your body laid prone across his chest. His cock stays deep inside your pulsing core as you turn, but with a hiss he jerks his hips back and pulls out. 

“Baby, oh my god,” Your chest is heaving, and you reach back for him, finding his cheek. 

He’s quiet, shuddering beneath you.

“You didn’t come?” You manage, still breathless.

He shakes his head against yours, “Don’t want this to end too soon,” 

“We have days,” You tell him, “now please, I want you to feel good,” 

His hands tighten on your hips as he weighs your words, and then with a slow shift of his hips you feel his cock start to press at your entrance again. He slips home with ease, and you moan at the sudden stretch of him again, his cock thick and pulsing with his almost orgasm. 

“I,” He pulses his hips once and groans, “oh, I’m not going to last,” 

“Don’t stop,” You urge him again, “please, just take me,” 

He moans, his stomach tightening, and then he starts to move.

He’s pumping in and out of you now, pinning your back to his chest with his arms banded around you as he rolls his hips and you can feel the tether in him start to fray. He’s getting close, but even without the bond you’d know it. His breath is thready, a hot pant against your ear, and your bodies slide together with slick sweat. 

He feels unreal, stretching you wide with every rhythmic stroke, but you feel his heart hammer when your legs start to fall closed, your walls tightening around him. 

“You’re mine,” He breathes, “s-so beautiful for me,” 

“All yours,” You sigh, and this time with intention you draw your thighs tight together. 

The position is tangled, muscle straining and almost an accident, but suddenly his cock has never felt bigger or thicker or perfectly positioned to hit that spot again and again. He groans, and holds your hips firmly to bounce you back down into every thrust as he chases his release.

Your head falls back over his shoulder, and you reach up to brace yourself on the wall behind your heads, your other hand still cupping his cheek and holding his face to yours. 

“Shit,” He curses, “so tight, fuck, babygirl,” 

You moan, “Please, yes, yes,” 

“So tight and,” he babbles against your cheek, “fuck, still taking every inch of me,” 

“So deep,” You gasp as his pace increases, and your eyes slam shut, a bubbling snap of pleasure rolling up your spine.

”God, I’m,” He shudders, moaning in earnest now, “b-baby, I’m close,” 

You feel his need, suddenly striking you through the unmasked connection of the bond, and though he doesn’t ask you for anything, beg you at all, you know exactly what to give him. 

You moan, arching your back to take his cock inside just a little more with every stroke, “Yunho,” your fingers lace into his hair and you turn your head to find his ear, “come,” 

He huffs, fingers pressing bruises into your hips.

”I’m all yours,” You tell him, voice husky, “this pussy is all yours, all yours,” 

“Mine,” His hips snap harder, a punishing pace, and you feel the taut edge of his pleasure. 

“Made for your cock, baby,” 

“Fuck,” 

“No one’s ever fucked me like this,” You pant, knowing exactly what your words will do to him. 

He groans, burying his face in your shoulder.

”C-come inside me,” You beg, “make me yours,” 

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his hips erratic, “Mine, mine,” 

“Yes, baby, please,” You rock your hips, taking over the rolling motion where he’s started to falter. 

“I’m,” His words are cut off with a groan, and his hips slam up twice more before he holds himself in deep and you feel the hot sensation of his cum pumping inside you. 

His orgasm yanks you down into your own in an unexpected flash of sensation, your vision fuzzy, head dizzy, and your body jerks in ecstatic fits and starts as you moan, wanton and wordless in his ear. 

“One more,” He murmurs, recovering from his own heady orgasm faster than you, his hand pushing between your locked thighs, middle finger circling on your pulsing clit, “just one more,” 

Your hips jerk with overstimulation and you whine, “I can’t,”

”Yes,” He kisses your forehead, bracing your body with one and while his other blissfully tortures your aching cunt, “come on, sweetheart,” 

“Yunho, oh, oh, God,” Your orgasm stretches, his fingers cresting you straight up into another shuddering peak. 

His body curls around you, dipping to the side when you jerk, holding you into his chest as he works you through it. The sound of his tender voice carries you up, “There we go,” he croons, “oh, god I love you,” 

“C-Coming,” Is all you can manage, and your body folds in on itself, your orgasm white hot and almost painful. 

He shudders as he feels you finish, and slows his fingers, “Good girl, come. I love you so much, can you feel me inside you, baby?” 

You manage a nod, moaning into the sheets, riding it out with rocks of your hips until it turns from pleasure to sharp overstimulation and you whine, pushing his hand away. 

“I got you,” He wraps you up tight, spooning you from behind, “shh, you’re okay,” 

Trembling, you pull his arms to your chest, using him as your anchor as he shifts his hips and finally uncouples your bodies.

“You’re okay,” He repeats, “just breathe,” He kisses your hair softly, soothing you with gentle touches as your breath returns. 

“M-mhm,”

”You’re perfect,” His lips travel to your shoulder, “I love you,” 

“I love you too,” You murmur, resting your lips on his knuckles. 

“Love you, love you,” He mutters against your skin, and you sink into him, a contented smile on your lips. 

You lay wrapped up together for what feels like hours, both of you coming back into your bodies slowly. His arms slacken, and you slowly roll onto your front, cheek against the cool sheets as you recover from the whirlwind of bonding.

He murmurs sweetness against your spine, massages circles into your hips, and little by little your mind reconnects too. 

Yunho sidles down in the bed, cuddling you from behind, “Are you hungry, sweetheart?” 

You shake your head a little but you say, “Maybe a little,” 

“Let’s go downstairs, I’ll fix you something,” He says, even though it’s your apartment. 

You smile and shake your head again, “Five more minutes?” 

He kisses your shoulder and you feel him nod, “Five more minutes,” 

Cocooned in his warmth, and in the perfection of your bed, you let yourself relax. 

More than five minutes have come and gone when he finally speaks again. Yunho’s fingers skate up and down your spine, slowly tracing each vertebrae like he’s making a mental map of you, “When did you get your first one?” 

“Hmm?” You sigh, looking slightly over your shoulder at him. 

“Tattoo,” He clarifies, now ghosting his touch over the large crane on your back, “you have so many, but when did you start?” 

You stretch in the sheets, and roll towards him, shifting onto your back now and twisting your arm to show him the delicate lines of your first tattoo, English script in faded black. desire.

He passes the pad of his thumb over the lettering and the corner of his mouth quirks up. 

“Not because of the song,” You laugh softly, “I was seventeen,” 

“Hmm,” He lets his fingers travel up, studying more of your lines of ink, “young,” 

He traces the lines of the flowers, the fan, the stippled black and gray twisting across your skin. 

“I know,” You tug the sheet up a little higher, tucking it around your naked body to ward off some of the chill of your apartment, “I just wanted to do something reckless for once, but then once I started,” 

He nods, listening, waiting for more. 

“I think I wanted to get under my parent's skin,” You admit, “they were already so disappointed in me, so I thought why not give them something to be really disappointed in?” 

He frowns a little, a crease between his brows, “I hate that you felt like that,” 

“I’m okay now,” You promise him, “Hana and I rarely see them, just holidays and phone calls on birthdays, that kind of thing.” 

He nods, pressing a kiss to your hair, “Still,” 

You give him a tiny shrug, and you find yourself reaching up to your soul mark and brushing it, “For a while I was just running, from them and then from this,” 

“Your mark?” He asks softly.

 You nod, “It was a reminder of that house, of how much they didn’t believe in it. They never even wanted Hana and I to daydream about it, to wonder what it would be like to find our soulmate. They were so set on us following the path they laid out, and for a long time the mark was a reminder of what I wasn’t supposed to want.” 

He swallows tightly, and you feel his discomfort at your words, the flicker of anger in his gut. 

“I’m alright,” You continue, “but the tattoos started like that. First something to provoke them, and then something to distract myself from seeing this. I thought about covering it, but,” 

“You did?” His eyes widen. 

“I considered it,” You tuck your hand in his and give him a squeeze, “but then I realized that the farther I got from believing this could happen for me, the closer I got to what they wanted all along,” 

He studies your expression for a moment and then scoots closer, tucking your bodies together and cupping your cheek, “When did you start believing it could happen again?” 

You remember it so clearly, the pact you made with Iseul, the lines you wrote in your journal that year. You smile and look up at him, “When I got the job at KQ, Iseul and I went out for celebratory drinks when I received the offer letter,” 

His expression softens, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone.

”I decided it was time to grow up,” You explain, “so we agreed that we would date, have fun, and keep looking for the one, but we’d never settle down for less than our soulmate, no matter how long it took to find them.” 

Yunho dips towards you, kissing you tenderly, “I love you,” 

Tucking into his chest you nod, “I love you too,” 

His arms loop around you, cuddling you so that you’re nestled into his warmth, “For what it’s worth,” he murmurs, his fingers carding through your hair, “however you came to them, they’re beautiful, you’re beautiful,” 

A brief flicker of tears pricks the back of your eyes and you press a kiss to his sternum, “Thank you,” you kiss him again, “I love them now, and now I get them for myself,” 

He hums, nodding with his lips on the crown of your head, nuzzling you gently. 

For a moment it’s quiet, just your heart and his beating in time against each other, but then your stomach tightens as you realize something you’ve been neglecting.

 You sigh heavily, “I need to call Hana,” 

“You haven’t told her?” He asks, despite already knowing the answer.

 “No, have you told your brother?” 

His hand stills on your back, “I texted him,” 

Your eyebrows raise, “You texted him?” 

He nods, “Is that alright?” 

“Of course,” You say in a rush, “I just, I don’t know, I’m surprised.” 

“We don’t see each other often,” Yunho says, “but we’re close. It felt strange not telling him something this big in my life,”

You nod, “Exactly.” 

He brushes a hand up and down the length of your back again and then starts to untangle his body from yours, “How about this, can I use your shower?” 

“Sure,” You’re about to tell him where it is, all the little quirks, but he keeps going.

”After, I’ll run back to my place and pick up things for the next few days,” You strangely hate the idea of him leaving, but you know that was always part of the plan considering he didn’t bring anything with him, “while I’m busy give her a call,”

”It’s late,” You find yourself protesting. 

He smiles, “It’s not, you’re nervous,”

You rub at your chest, feeling the curl of anxiety there, “Yeah,” 

“She loves you,” Yunho reminds you as he pulls himself out of bed, “and she knows what having a soulmate feels like, she’s going to be so happy for you, for us.” 

“You’re right,” You breathe.

 “I know you miss her,” He adds softly, “and I know you want to tell her, let me give you the space to do that.” 

Warmth expands in your chest and all you can do is nod. 

He smiles wide, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then he stretches, “Alright, shower’s this way?” Yunho nods towards the obvious path towards the bathroom. 

You nod again, and he sighs, “Perfect,” 

He disappears down the hall and for a brief moment you’re alone with your thoughts. You let your gaze go unfocused towards the ceiling, and you just feel for a moment. You feel different, lighter and heavier at the same time, like all the cells in your body turned over at once, but the knotted rope between you and him feels thicker, corded, braided, unbreakably sure. 

For the first time in weeks, all of a sudden, you feel like you can call her. 

You rub your chest again, rolling out of bed and making your way across the lofted bedroom on slightly shaky legs before finding your robe on its familiar hook and wrapping it around yourself, a smooth silk in floral and dark red. With a deep breath, you pin up your hair and find your phone. The sound of running water comes through the bathroom door, so you make your way downstairs for a bit of privacy and to get a cool glass of water. Once you’re tucked into the familiar corner of your couch with a downy blanket over your lower half, you find Hana’s contact in your phone and you call. 

She picks up after a few rings, “Hello?” 

“Hey,” 

“Was your flight delayed?” She asks, her bright voice soothing you instantly, “You always call me when you get in,” 

“It wasn’t delayed,” You tell her honestly. 

“Ah,” She says, “did you crash immediately? Take a crazy nap? You know that will fuck with adjusting back to the time zone,” 

“Hana,” You sigh, and all at once you wish he was next to you. 

“I know, I know,” She makes a sound, tongue against teeth, “I’m just saying,”

  “I didn’t sleep, or I mean, I did on the plane,” 

“That’s good,” You hear glasses clinking on her side of the line.

  “What are you up to, am I interrupting?” You ask.

  “Hmm?” She says as if she didn’t hear you, and then corrects, “No, sorry, nothing really just some chores,” 

“Oh, good, I thought it might be too late to call,” You admit.

  “It’s only nine,” Hana says and you can practically picture her eye roll. 

Upstairs the sound of your shower taps turning off draws your attention and your eyes flick up to the landing. 

“So, your flight was okay?” Your sister’s voice in your ear brings you back to the present and you nod. 

“Yeah, listen,” 

“Oh,” She cuts you off, “Em wants to know how you liked Paris, you didn’t post anything on Instagram she was devastated,”

  Em, Emmanuelle, Hana’s wife and your sister-in-law, born in Korea but half French on her mother’s side, who spent every summer in Lyon. Of course she would want to know how your first trip to France was, and your head was so wrapped up in Yunho you didn’t even think to text her.

  “I loved it,” You tell your sister honestly, “so much, I’ll send you both some pictures as soon as,” 

“You better,” Hana interjects again, “Em’s right here she’s asking if you had time to see the city?” 

“A little, but, Hana,” 

The door upstairs opens, and Yunho quietly pads back to your lofted bedroom, one of your white towels slung low around his hips. His hair is wet, mussed from rubbing a towel through it, his chest pink from the hot water and steam. Just seeing him makes you feel at ease, and he meets your eyes, “You okay?” He whispers. 

You nod, and he searches for his clothes strewn all over the floor of your bedroom. 

“Hana, what?” Your sister prompts, and you realize it’s not the first time she’s said it, “y/n, are you okay? You sound weird,”

Suddenly, you’re deep in a memory. Hana’s tear streaked face in the hallway of your first apartment, a backpack on her shoulder and a defiant jut to her chin. Sixteen years old and standing her ground more firmly than you ever had in your life up to that point, the strength in her voice when she told you she found her soulmate and she wasn’t going to give her up. 

“y/n?” Hana says again, concern laced through her voice. 

You find Yunho on the landing, watching as he rubs a towel over his hair again, and the words finally tumble out, “I found him,” 

“You, what?” She asks, confused.

  “Hana,” His eyes flick to yours and you find yourself smiling, blush creeping back into your cheeks, “I found him,” 

The penny drops, “Oh my god,” 

”I know,” You reply, and Yunho grins, watching you from the landing.

  “Oh my god?” Hana all but shrieks and you laugh as she reacts, calling to Emmanuelle, voice muffled briefly as she shifts the phone. 

“I know,” You manage. 

“Is he French?” Hana babbles, “That would be insane, that would be crazy if both of us,”

  You duck your head in laughter, “What? No, no he’s not French,” 

“What countries were you in? How the hell did you bump into him - abroad of all places, that’s why it took so long, that’s what I was always saying,” She rambles a mile a minute, and it’s always so hard to slow her down once she gets going, barely taking a breath between sentences. 

“Hana,” You cover your mouth with your hand, “Hana, he’s not foreign, he’s Korean,” 

Yunho’s still smiling as he comes down the stairs, but he’s not dressed to leave, he’s dressed comfortably in just his t-shirt and his boxer briefs. Relief fills you with the knowledge that he’s not about to leave, and he watches you quietly as you try to navigate your sister as she jumps from conclusion to conclusion. 

  “That’s even crazier,” She says, “how the hell did you bump into another Korean outside of Korea while you were working constantly?” 

“Let her tell the story,” You hear Em’s voice in the background. 

“Am I on speaker?” You laugh. 

“You are now,” Em replies this time, “hi, y/n,” 

“Hey Emmie,” 

“I have your sister restrained,” She says, but you hear an irritated huff from Hana, “now, tell us what’s going on and this time Hana’s going to listen,” 

“Shut up,” Hana gripes quietly, with no real malice. 

“You love me,” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hana says, “alright, I’m sorry, I’m listening,” 

Yunho waits patiently, but the moment you reach for him, he crosses from the foot of your stairs to your place on the couch. He had felt it, how much you needed him here, that much you’re sure of when he twines your fingers together. With his touch as a tether, you finally tell them, “I didn’t bump into someone random, and you cannot say ‘I told you so’,” you start off, “but, it’s Yunho. My soulmate is Yunho,” 

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the call. Hana is rarely stunned silent, but you wait. She knows the group well, from her teasing when you first started there all the way through listening to you tell her stories about work. There’s no doubt in your mind that she remembers your quietly guarded crush. 

“Is he treating you well?” She finally asks, emotion thread in her voice. 

“Yes,” You breathe.

  “And you love him?” 

“Yes,” 

She pauses, “And he,” 

“Yes, Hana,” You roll your eyes, but feel the rush of tears, “obviously,” 

Yunho brushes his thumb over your knuckles and gives you a squeeze. 

“God,” Hana says with a little gasp, “you’re bonded already, aren’t you?” 

You slide a little to the right to get closer to him, “We are,” you confess. 

For a moment you brace yourself, nervous at her reaction to not being told sooner, especially after everything you’ve been through together. At the anxious tumble of your stomach, Yunho separates your hands and reaches around to pull you into his chest and presses a kiss to your temple. 

All your fears disappear in a matter of seconds. Hana laughs sharply and then she’s right back to herself, “Oh my god, I don’t care I have to say it, I told you so.” 

You grin, a few tears spilling over, “Hey,” 

“When have you ever had a crush that lasted longer than a day?” She exclaims, “I knew it,” 

“Hana!” It’s Em who exclaims this time, taking the words right out of your mouth and you fall apart into laughter. 

Yunho laughs too, softly against your hair and you blush and cover your cheek with your hand at the knowledge he can hear your sister’s teasing words. 

“I’m just saying I knew,” 

“God, stop,” You curl into yourself, your face in Yunho’s neck, “you’re embarrassing me,” 

“Holy shit,” Hana exclaims, “is he there?” 

Yunho slides his hand over your thigh and smoothly shifts you into his lap so he can wrap his arms around you, and you sigh, “Yeah, he’s here,” 

“You sound so happy it’s freaking me out,” 

“I am happy, Hana,” You confess, “I’m really, really happy.”

She takes a breath and you can hear the emotion caught in her voice too, “When can I come up to Seoul? We’re overdue for a visit,”

“Soon,” You promise her. 

“The minute you’re free,” She says, “Em and I will make the time, you just say when,”

“I’ll look,” You nod, relaxing into Yunho’s hold, “but soon, I promise.” 

“I want to meet him,” She insists.

“He wants to meet you both too,” You tell them, and Yunho nods against you. 

“His schedule must be crazy, but,”

“Han,” Em interrupts, and you can practically see your sister in law calming her wife with gentle hand motions. 

“I should go,” You finally say into the phone, “but I miss you,” 

Yunho’s hand smooths up and down your back.

“I miss you too, Hani-ya,” You haven’t called her that in years, your beloved little sister who grew up too fast, but the familiar affection slips out of you with ease. 

“I love you,” She says, “I’m so happy for you, I’m so,” 

You swallow tightly and find Yunho’s hand again, “I know, it’s how I felt when you told me about Em,” 

Hana laughs, the sound wet with tears, “Oh my god,” she sniffs and you hear her voice muffled as she scrubs the tears from her cheeks, “I knew we’d both find them, mom and dad were too shitty for us not to be happy now,” 

You smile, nodding with your head on Yunho’s shoulder, “That I know for sure,” 

There’s a brief moment of silence, both of you collecting your own emotions, and then Hana sighs, “I’m sorry, I’ll let you go, but let us know about coming up.”

”I will,” 

“And, y/n,” Your sister says, a mischievous edge back in her voice, “tell him he better take care of you, okay? Tell him to pick you first, okay? Every time,” 

Your throat constricts, and Yunho’s lips brush against your forehead. Before you can get your voice back in control to answer her, he does it for you, “Tell her I already have, I will,” 

You clear the emotion from your throat, “Did you hear that?” 

“Yeah,” Hana manages.

 “He’s got me,” You tell her honestly, “I promise,” 

Hana takes a breath, “Good,” she sniffles, “now stop talking to me and go get laid or something, if we keep talking I’ll keep crying,” 

You laugh a little at your sister’s attempt at deflection, “Yeah, or something,” 

“I love you, I’ll see you so soon, okay?” Hana says. 

“Soon,” You promise again. 

“Bye, unnie,” Em cuts in, affection in her voice, “we are so, so happy for you.” 

“Thank you,” You smile, “I’ll send you some pictures of France, I’m so sorry I forgot before,” 

“Ah, that’s okay,” Em says warmly, “I think you had better things to focus on,” 

Yunho squeezes your hand. 

“Take care,” She says, “we’ll see you soon,” 

“You too,” 

Em ends the call, and you let your phone slip back into your lap, letting out a sigh of relief and exhaustion against him. 

Yunho stays quiet for a moment, giving you a second of space, and then he kisses you and leans down to find your eyes, “Baby?” 

“Yeah,” 

“You okay?” He murmurs. 

You nod, pressing your lips to his and sinking into him, “I am,” you reply softly when the kiss breaks, “thank you for staying,” 

“I realized I couldn’t go tonight,” He says, “I need to be with you a while longer,” 

You squeeze his hand still laced in yours.

Yunho’s eyes are glassy with his own unshed tears, and he swallows and blinks to get himself together before he brings your knuckles to his lips and gives you a tender kiss, “I will, by the way,” he says gently, “pick you first,” 

You know what he’s talking about, his life in the public eye and his new life with you behind the scenes. You feel his honesty, his confidence, the truth in his words, and all you can do is shake your head. You never want him in that position, especially after everything he’s worked for, “You won’t have to.” 

“But I will,” He promises it to you like a vow, sealing it with a kiss, “I always will.” 

“I will too,” You whisper, “I’m not giving this up,” 

“You won’t have to,” He echoes, a soft smile on his lips. 

His kisses are soft, tender now, and he holds you close as he reminds you of all the ways he loves you. Your quiet apartment cocoons you together, a pause in time just for tonight. Night ticks by and Seoul moves outside, but in each other’s arms you stay still, a stone jetty holding steady in the push and pull of the tide. 

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 3

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make nothing into something for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). lando is abusive, full stop but like many survivors of abuse, it takes reader a bit to claw herself out of this. as a survivor of abuse myself, I am doing my best to give this story line the most respect and care that i can. please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering.i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4.9k

(Extra special shout out to @nitaekook for beta reading and holding my hand through this fic 😂❤️)

Aftermath - MV33 - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Master List

“Where do you want these plates to go, my dear?” Jade asks from across the kitchen. 

You glance up at her from your spot on the brand new couch that was just delivered to the new apartment that morning. You’re sitting cross legged unpacking a box of the few things that you had brought over from the old apartment. In the kitchen, your best friend Jade (who is also Arthur’s girlfriend of about a year thanks to your meddling) stands holding up one of the new plates that you bought with her yesterday. 

“Wherever there’s room.” You say with a shrug, not really caring where the plates go because everything feels weird.

The apartment is pristine with its gorgeous hardwood flooring that Charles had refinished before you moved in, floor to ceiling windows that face out towards the water, and that new house smell that is totally unfamiliar and a little unnerving. You should be happy, shouldn’t you? Finally being free of the stifling apartment that you had shared with Lando should fill you with so much optimism and a sense of relief, shouldn’t it? But that’s not the case. Not even close. You’re scared and nervous and just the thought of deciding where those plates should go seems like the heaviest question you've ever been asked.

 Simply picking out the plates yesterday with Jade had been an ordeal and you had needed to take several moments to yourself while shopping. You liked your old plates that you had bought with Lando the week you moved in with him but at the same time, the thought of taking those to your new apartment was more painful than leaving them behind.

Jade must notice your anxiety because as soon as she finishes putting the plates and bowls in whatever cabinet that suits her fancy, she comes over to sit next to you on the couch. When she wraps her arm around your shoulders you melt into her in a desperate attempt to stop a fresh flood of tears from falling. It seems as if all you’ve done since leaving the old apartment was cry and if you’re not crying, you’re barely fighting off an incoming panic attack and jumping with every ding of your phone. 

“What’s going on, my love?” Her voice is gentle, like she’s talking to an injured animal that she doesn’t want to spook. It makes you feel pathetic, helpless, and angry for how much Lando has damaged you when he should have been loving you. 

You’ve known Jade for years now and she’s always been one of your closest friends. It was Jade that had been the first of your friend group to pull you aside almost a year ago to ask you if you were truly happy with Lando. She had seen the light dim in your eyes as your relationship with him progressed and watching you lose your spark had scared her. When you had told her the morning after your art show last month that you had finally decided to leave Lando, it had been so hard for her to tamp down her excitement that you had finally worked up the courage to leave him. 

“I should be happy, right?” You ask, voice cracking a bit with the heavy weight of what closing the door on the apartment for the very last time had done to you that morning. “I mean, I know I’ve been miserable for…” You scoff, “a really long time so shouldn’t I feel something other than heartbreakingly sad?” 

Jade tips her head so it rests on your shoulder, a humming sound playing at the back of her throat. “You’ve been with him for a long time, of course you’re going to be heartbroken. Youu’re doing the right thing though, I promise you. He couldn’t even stop playing that stupid video game long enough to support you last month!” 

You nod, memory flickering back to the fight in the hallway in front of Max. You hadn’t heard much from him in the weeks since that night aside from a few texts here and there and you had expected that. He probably was mortified at how you had behaved, embarrassed for you that you had allowed yourself to be treated that way in front him.

You wouldn’t have blamed him if he thought you were a weak little girl who deserved the treatment Lando doled out to you. It was the only way you could rationalize his silence. Seeing how far you’d fallen, how much you’d changed, had obviously had an effect on Max and he had decided he’d seen enough. It didn’t surprise you and you didn’t blame him. Jade was one of your only remaining friends and losing yet another person you trusted and valued in your life was just another thing Lando had taken from you. 

“I’m just so glad you finally are taking your power back, love. I know it feels all wrong right now but when you go from the chaos that you’ve been living in for so long, I’m sure the calm of this apartment feels wrong. You’ll get used to it. It might take some time but you’ll get used to it.” 

Your head swivels around to look your best friend and you search her face for any sign of her lying to you. You desperately want to believe she’s right, that you’re making the right choice. You know you are, deep down in your soul, but you’ve been with Lando for so long and have spent so many nights listening to him rant and rave about how he’s the only one who could ever deal with your dramatics that you wonder if Jade is wrong and Lando is the one who’s been right all along. You don’t voice the doubts though, knowing that those kinds of things are something that you should probably keep to yourself. So instead of voicing all of the fears that are bouncing around in your chest, making it feel heavy and tight with the pressure of doing something that absolutely terrifies you, you just nod and lean further into Jade’s shoulder.

 “I know.” You whisper, staring out over the open living room that is littered with small boxes and suitcases. 

With the help of your brothers and Jade, you had started moving your things out slowly while Lando had been otherwise distracted. Just a small box of clothes and trinkets here and there, over the last month while Charles had the apartment renovated and cleaned. When it was finally ready last week, you had begun looking for furniture and making final plans. 

The timing had worked out perfectly, with the apartment finally being finished perfectly aligning with a weeklong trip Lando had planned to go to Woking to spend time in the sim at the MTC. He rarely bothered you during these working trips, hell he barely bothered you during any of this trips, but his work trips were different, so you knew you’d have a solid week to get everything that mattered to you out of the apartment before he would be any wiser. 

“He’s going to be so mad when he comes home and my things are gone.” You murmur, staring down at your phone which hadn’t received so much as a text message from him in almost 48 hours. 

You hadn’t bothered telling Lando you were leaving, that you were done with him. You shied away form confrontation on even the best of days so telling the man that you’d spent the last three years building a life together that you were leaving him was terrifying. When you had started moving small boxes out while Lando was still in town, you had half expected him to notice but that had never been a problem. He hadn’t even noticed you leaving on several occasions with boxes of your books or suitcases of clothes. 

A larger part of you had another reason for not telling him, though. You knew that if you told him before you were fully moved out he’d try to get you to stay. He’d try to convince you that things would get better, that this time would be different. All the things that he’s said before when you spent the night crying over his neglect. And you knew you’d fall for it. You knew you’d go running back to him if you didn’t get out before he found out. Lando was persistent and an expert manipulator, you knew that and you still fell for it over and over again so this time you were trying to give yourself the chance to put yourself first and not fall back into his trap. 

“He’s going to learn his lesson when he comes home and finds that you’re finally moving on.” Jade says, tone firm but still gentle. She knows what it’s like to be in a relationship like you have with Lando and when you had called her that morning last month to tell her you were finally leaving him, she had decided she was going to make sure she’d do everything in her power to keep you from going back to him. Getting you unpacked and settled in your new apartment was a huge step forward, one Jade hadn’t been sure you would end up following through with. 

You nod, hoping she’s right but you have a feeling deep in your gut that when Lando gets back into town tomorrow morning he’s not going to see it that way. He’s going to be angry and he’s going to try to get you to come back home to him. 

Looking around your new apartment though, you feel something settle in your bones that you haven’t felt in a very long time. It’s a feeling of attachment to this place. Like if you’re careful and thoughtful, this little apartment tucked away in one of the most exclusive buildings in Monaco could be the best opportunity you have for getting your life back on track. You could heal here, you can feel that in the way the sunlight spills through the windows in the living room, in the way your anxiety allows you to breathe when you stand in the kitchen surrounded by things that you bought yourself, and in in the way you feel when you settle yourself on your brand new bed that will have never shared an intimate moment between you and Lando. Those memories have all been left behind and this new apartment seems like the perfect place for a new beginning. 

As Jade comforts you on your couch, your brother is across town arriving at the Monaco Sports Club where he has a game of padel scheduled with Max that afternoon. He had offered to cancel on him this morning when you spoke to him on the phone, saying that your first full day in the apartment was more important than any padel game, but you had insisted that he keep his game. You had wanted a bit of space to breathe from your brothers, who you knew meant very well and you were very grateful for but sometimes, the three men got to be a little suffocating. So, against his better judgement, Charles had skipped coming over that afternoon in favor of hanging out with Max. 

Max hasn’t stopped thinking about that night last month when he witnessed Lando being needlessly cruel to you. He had every intention of calling Charles that night, had every intention of telling him how the British driver was actually treating you but something had stopped him. He had needed a little more time to process everything that he saw. Max knew that Lando could be an asshole but he never could have guessed that he would have treated you the way he did that night he brought you back to the apartment. It had shaken him and it had taken him a bit to figure out exactly how to approach it with Charles because he knew if Charles really knew how Lando had been treating you, Lando might not make it to the next race alive. Because while everyone knew the relationship was toxic and Lando wasn’t a good boyfriend, no one really realized just how bad it had gotten until Max saw behind the curtain that night of the art show. 

When Max had invited Charles to play padel today, he had finally decided to tell him what had gone down that night. It had taken so long because Max kept waffling between ‘this is none of my business’ and ‘she’s everything’ but when he spotted Charles walking through the padel courts towards him, Max was surprised at how happy Charles looked. 

“You look happy.” Max observes before giving his friend a hug. 

“Oh, it is a very good day, mon ami.” Charles is practically glowing as he smiles over at his long time friend. 

Max lifts a brow, it’s been a while since he’s seen Charles look this optimistic and he wonders if it has something to do with you. 

As if Charles reads his mind, he continues, “We finally got the apartment finished and as of this morning, she’s fully left that piece of garbage.” A smug smile plays at the corner of the Ferrari driver’s mouth. 

The relief that washes over Max is surprising. He hadn’t realized how truly worried he was for your well being until that moment. The guilt that sets in though has his chest aching. How could he have gone so long without saying something to someone about what he had seen that night? Max carefully weighs his decision that he had been so set on just moments before. If you’ve already left Lando and are settling into your apartment, does Charles really need to know what happened that night? It would only cause more drama and Max knew that more drama and anxiety was the last thing you needed. 

In a split second decision that he knows could come back to haunt him, Max decides to keep quiet for now. 

“That is the best thing I’ve heard all day.” With a genuine grin, Max bounces the padel ball against the floor. 

Charles beams back at him and Max can almost see the stress that his friend has been carrying around recently melting away from his features. He had known that your brother was worried about you, had known your entire circle, or what was left of it, was worried but now that this was really happening, Max could practically feel the relief rolling off of Charles in waves. 

“You’re telling me.” Charles mutters before walking to the other side of the court to get the game started. 

Max hadn’t meant to end up in your old neighborhood, truly he hadn’t. He had been on a run the morning after playing padel for a few hours with Charles when he passed the bakery that was a few blocks from your old apartment. He hadn’t meant to come this far but the pressures of the season were starting to get to him as they usually did around this time of year and he had needed extra time to clear his head. The fact that he couldn’t seem to get you off his mind either plagued him the entire run too. The way you had felt pressed against his side as he walked you home that night last month, the way your cheeks flamed with humiliation as Lando had laid into you in front of him when he walked you to your door, everything about you seemed to be invading his thoughts and it worried him. 

It worried him because he couldn’t let you get under his skin like this. He knew it was a dangerous game he was playing, knowing what you’ve been through and allowing himself to wander down that road. He was just happy you were safe now and hopefully you would start to get that spark back that he knew you still had in you. Everything else would have to wait. 

So when he passed the bakery you had pointed out as your favorite the night he had walked you home, he couldn’t help but follow his feet inside. The smells of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries washed over his senses as the bell above the wooden door jingled, announcing his arrival. He knew exactly what he was looking for before the woman behind the counter even asked and before he was able to second guess his decision, Max was walking out of the bakery moments later with half a dozen of what he knew were your favorite almond croissants. 

A housewarming gift, he told himself. Because what other way should Max welcome his newest neighbor to the building where he had lived for the last two years? He knew these were your favorites and if he had to guess, wandering back into your old neighborhood just for some carbs was probably at the bottom of your ‘to do’ list right now, even if they were heavenly pieces of baked bread and sweet almond filling. 

While Max made his way back across town, laden down with a large pink bakery box, you were just getting out of bed and starting your day. Anxiety, a feeling that seemed to be your constant companion lately, sits heavy on your shoulders as you move around the new apartment. The quiet hush that blankets the small space is different than the stifling silence you're used to in your apartment with Lando. It was unnerving to say the least but if you allowed yourself to pause for even just a moment, you could almost feel your soul breathing a sigh of relief. 

That wash of contentment is short lived though when a knock at your front door sends your heart rate spiking through the roof. You know that Lando was going to be home today but didn't know what time. It didn’t even cross your mind that there was no way it was him outside your door because he simply didn’t know where you had moved to but just the thought of someone who you weren’t expecting waiting for you and the possibility that it could be your now ex-boyfriend had you spiraling. 

Reaching for your phone, you pull up the security system app that Charles had insisted you get installed, despite the fact that this was a very well secured building with its own doorman downstairs 24/7. The person standing outside your door has confusion knitting your brow together. 

Pancake ingredients forgotten, you pad towards the door shuffling through various emotions: relief that it isn’t Lando waiting for you on the other side, apprehension about seeing the person that was patiently waiting in the hallway for you, and a bit of relief that you hadn’t lost this person like you thought you might have. 

“Max, what a pleasant surprise.” You murmur when you swing the door open. 

In front of you, the Dutch driver is dressed for a workout in athletic shorts and a t-shirt, his blond hair covered in a backwards baseball cap. You’re surprised at the shimmer of pleasure that works its way up your spine when he smiles at you but quickly squash the feeling, remembering the pity on his face as Lando had yelled at you that night he walked you home. 

“I was on a run this morning and remembered you saying this bakery was your favorite. I thought I’d bring you some almond croissants as a sort of ‘welcome to the building’ present.” 

Warmth spreads through your belly at the gesture and you hold the door open to welcome Max into the apartment. “Welcome to the building?” You ask, confused. 

Max grins back at you, rubbing at the back of his neck as he follows you to the kitchen. “I live up in the penthouse. I moved in about two years ago.”

Surprise flickers across your face. When you started dating Lando, your friendship with Max had grown distant so it shouldn’t shock you that you didn’t even know where your friend lived. “Oh, I didn’t realize.” You whisper, guilt settling like a stone in your stomach. 

Max watches you bustle around the kitchen, decidedly avoiding eye contact with him. For a few moments he just observes you, trying to decide if he should leave or push. Charles had mentioned yesterday that you were nervous about living alone and Max wanted to make sure that you were okay. He knew he should probably leave you alone to continue to settle it, with it being only your second day in the apartment alone, but there was something keeping him rooted to the spot where he stood in the middle of the kitchen.

 “Are the almond ones still your favorite?” He asks, shattering the silence that had settled over the room. He knows you’re easily spooked now and Max desperately wants you to be comfortable about him. Maybe if he distracts you from whatever storm is brewing in your head, you’ll open up a bit. 

His patience is rewarded with the first unguarded smile he’s seen from you in a long time. “I can’t believe you remembered.” You laugh, reaching for one of the croissants in the open box. 

“You used to put these things away like nobody’s business when we were younger.” 

The blush that creeps across your cheeks has Max gripping the edge of the counter. The two of you fall into a comfortable conversation of safe topics, mostly about your new apartment and how Max’s cats are doing. You like this, the way you feel around him but you can almost feel your body bracing for the other shoe to fall. You keep waiting to have something stupid slip out of your mouth, causing Max to berate or make fun of you. 

Much to your surprise it never happens though and you spend the next hour talking through memories of when Charles and Max were fighting it out on the karting tracks when you were younger. Max remembered you well from those days, how you would beg to tag along with him and Charles and the older boys. 

The sun sits high in the sky when your phone start buzzing loudly on the counter. At first you ignore it, too lost in the conversation you and Max are having, the way he is so attentive to everything you have to say and how he asks you questions like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. You don’t want the attention he’s giving you to end but when your phone starts buzzing for the fifth time in a row, you get up off the couch to retrieve it. It was probably just Charles checking on you, you hand’t heard from him all day after all. 

Your heart sinks and your stomach churns when you see the caller ID though. “Fuck.” The whisper that tumbles off of your lips is broken and harsh, causing Max’s head to snap towards where you’re leaning over the counter, forearms braced on either side of your phone. 

“Everything okay?” Max gets up off the couch to join you in the kitchen, concerned over the way you’ve suddenly gone white as a sheet as you stare down at your phone like it’s about to reach up and strangle you right there in the middle of the room. 

In the couple of hours that you had spent catching up with Max, you had completely forgot that Lando was due to get home soon. “I guess Lando has discovered I’m gone.” The way your voice shakes has Max’s heart squeezing. 

“He doesn’t know you moved out?” 

“Well he does now.” You quip, nervous chuckle falling from your lips. The text messages came in first, it looked like. Nearly a dozen of them and as you scroll through the messages, your face heats. Of course this is going to happen with Max here. Why is he always a witness to your humiliation?

Where are you? Why is the closet half empty, where are all your clothes? Baby, why is your treadmill gone? And your Peloton?  Where the FUCK are you??? ANSWER ME NOW WHERE ARE YOU??? DID YOU LEAVE ME THERE IS NO FUCKING WAY YOU’RE DOING THIS TO ME RIGHT NOW ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE NOW COWARD

Shortly after the messages stop, the calls start. You stare down at the phone as Max watches as call after call comes through. 

“You don’t have to answer him.” Max murmurs, coming to stand right next to you. You have to resist the urge to lean into his warmth, to collapse against the quiet strength that rolls off of him in waves.

“It’s only going to get worse if I don’t.” 

“Does he know where you are?” 

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill over. Why was this all happening right now? You knew you were safe, that he had no idea where you had moved to but just the thought of being in the same city as him when he was this angry is enough to have the panic threatening to strangle the breath straight out of your lungs. 

“Then you’re safe. He wouldn’t ever do anything to put his career in danger, Dovie.” 

You have to laugh at the statement because it’s so true. Lando would never do anything to put his career on the line. He’d do whatever it took to keep you in line under his thumb, no matter how mean he had to be to control you but when it came to his career? His first love? He’d never do anything to put his seat in question and you knew that. You had always come second to racing and what Max said was the total truth. 

Max watches you shrink into yourself as the calls continue to come in, one after another, and he knows he has to do something. He glances at the time and instantly gets an idea. “I was supposed to go to dinner with Danny in an hour. What if you leave the phone here for the night and come to dinner with me?” He pauses, seeing the panic flicker across your face. “With us. Come to dinner with us.” He corrects quickly. “I’ll call Charles and see if he’s free too? It’s been a while since we’ve all had dinner together.” 

Your eyes drop down to the phone, now quiet for the moment, and weigh your options. You know you’re not ready to talk to Lando but the fact that you’re ignoring him makes you feel like a coward. You’re going to have to speak to him sometime but maybe it was okay if you put if off for a few more days. Dinner out with Max, Daniel, and your brother sounds so appealing but you still hesitate. 

“Come on, Dovie. You can’t spend the whole night starting at the phone. He’s going to keep calling and it’s not good for you to be alone right now.” 

The pain that slices through your heart at the gentle coaxing Max’s tone takes on is almost unbearable. Why is he always the one to see you laid so bare, so vulnerable? 

“How did I let this happen, Max?” Your voice breaks, soft and uncertain as you turn into Max’s waiting frame. Without hesitation, Max’s arms circle around you and he pulls you deeper into his chest. Something settles in him then, almost like he’s relieved you’ve allowed him in. The way you shake while he holds you has his chest aching and he’d really like to give the McLaren driver a piece of his fucking mind right about then, but he knows that’s going to have to wait for now. You’re much more important. 

“You were in love, schatje and that’s okay. You trusted him and he broke that trust. It’s not a reflection of you, sweet girl, its a reflection of him. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

You sob quietly into his chest, soaking his t-shirt through with your tears as the dam finally breaks. Humiliation threatens to drag you under but you allow Max’s words to resonate through you. They soften the sharp edges of your heartache and regret, knowing that someone like Max, who you respect and have known for nearly your entire life, doesn’t think this entire thing is your fault. You sink into his warmth, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, allowing his steady breath to ground you. 

Max just stands there, a quiet pillar of strength that he can feel you desperately need right now. Hr murmurs quiet reassurances to you as you cry against him, slowly rocking you back and forth. “Come on,” Max coos, lips brushing against the top of your head. “Go take a shower and then lets go to dinner. I’ll call Charles and see if he’s free. You haven’t seen Danny in ages, right? It’ll be good to get out.” 

Dragging in a deep breath, you hold the air in your lungs until they pinch. “Okay.” 

With one last look at your phone, you turn away and walk down the hallway, leaving Max starting at your phone which has finally gone quiet. For several moments, Max just stands at the counter in the kitchen, unable to move. Relief floods his veins when he hears the shower start though and he knows that you’re finally making a small step towards getting out from under Lando’s control.

@shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164

[doodledrawsthings]

you. Oh my god, you. (Positive)

listen. Before I had internet access, all I had was 1 hour of allotted browser time, bing image search, and a single dantdm play through of a hat in time that never got finished. I googled fanart and got pretty much nothing, I googled fancomics and got pretty much nothing, but you know what I did end up finding?

your art.

from ages 11-14, my goal in life, in art, was your art. I can’t tell you how much I loved finding random screenshots of your posts, because I was always just so impressed by how clean and consistent your sketches are, how the characters always stay on model, the shape language, how you could somehow sketch a character in like 20 lines when it took me 50 to draw sans in my little spiral notebook— like! Holy shit! For years I have looked up to your art! There’s still a photos folder on my dads old huge-ass 12 inch work iPad labeled “holy crap” and filled with your art. Because it inspired me so much. It’s become an undeniable part of my artstyle, now — I still have fanart I drew way back in the day of Hattie and the rest, I didn’t even know anyone’s names because I couldn’t play the game, but you’re the reason I eventually did play the game. Your coffee shop au and different versions of the prince— one of those ieterations inspired the main character of my novel! Well, novel that I tried to write, I was 13 so it was eh, but I tried!!

I’m submitting this on-anon because I don’t want to out my age on the wide internet (I like my privacy) but. Your art has really meant a lot to me. It’s the reason I played hollow knight, and it’s the reason I kept trying to develop an art style I was happy with. You’re the reason I started scribbling comics in my notebooks. Being 13-14 was pretty much the worst two years of my life, but I had Bing image search and the occasional glimpse of your signature, and I’d be so happy every time I found a new (if crusty) three-times screenshotted jpg. You literally introduced me to the concept of polyamory and nonbinary-ness with the coffee shop au. I had no other access to that in my household, and. Yeah. It meant a lot to me.

Anyway. I’m so glad I’ve finally tracked you down (in the most non-ominous way possible) and I’m so glad you’re still active— Please never stop making art. Your art is incredible, and amazing, and also you never know who’s out there on Bing image search. Thank you for creating for as long as you have. You’re pretty much the reason I’m shooting for an art degree (Wish me luck!) so just…Thank you.

(Also I had no idea you were a professional storyboarder, which is insane because that’s what I want to be when I’m through college. Hey, maybe I’ll end up storyboarding a remake of something you’ve storyboarded! hehehe)

Hi anon!

So right off the bat, I gotta tell you that this message made me start bawling when I woke up and saw it. Like I had a full-on cry session while reading your message and lying in bed for almost an hour. I am crying as I am typing this response, on my phone, still in bed. It’s 11am and i woke up at 9. So I hope it turns out coherent.

The last two years have been. weird. I say that a lot because I wanna say “rough” but that still doesn’t feel quite right. I’m almost hyper-aware that there are so many people that have it worse than me rn, so it feels hard to even acknowledge when I’m going through anything, myself, sometimes- REGARDLESS, it’s been kind of an all-time low for my mental health. There was a point within in the last year where I just HATED drawing. I struggled to bring myself to work, I struggled to bring myself to even draw for fun. It felt like I was posting just to post, trying to keep people aware of my existence and it almost felt physically painful to force myself to sit down and do it, sometimes.

I’m getting better now, I think, but. Yknow.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the “oh I can make money off this,” “oh I can get attention off this,” “oh I can prove myself a functional person in society with this,” of it all. I forget why I actually do this, sometimes, or if I even enjoy it. And then I get messages like yours, about the kid with limited internet access looking for A Hat in Time fan art on Bing image search, and I get taken back to when I was a kid scrolling Google images and deviantart for the same thing.

I don’t mean to like. Foster some kind of parasocial thing with you or any one of my followers. There’s a reason I’m saying all this, I hope it ties up in the end.

We don’t know each other. I’m not some mysterious legendary artist, or whatever. I’m a person who gets burnt out, and jealous, and insecure. I need inspiration to function, just like you, and when I don’t have it, I get art block. But I also really like to draw fictional characters kissing and hanging out. I like coming up with comics and stories and playing out dramatic and funny scenarios in my head like I’m mashing Barbies together. And when other people tell me they enjoy the stuff I put out when I do this, it makes me really, really, really happy.

I think I needed to read your message, probably. With the state of… Everything… Right now, especially recently, I feel like a lot of artists are also struggling with a sense of purpose, pride, and reason as the world makes it harder and harder to even BE an artist, these days. And when I read this message it was like Anton Ego at the end of Ratatouille, I got taken back to when I was a kid looking at my favorite artists and studying their style and striving to be better and better at it over years of my life. Not just because I wanted a job for it or cuz I wanted to be a famous Disney animator or whatever, but because it was fun and I just liked doing it.

Thank you, SO much. I say this in the most genuine and earnest way I possibly can possibly express. I wish you luck on your own path in art and art school. And if you decide that animation industry is your thing, then I wish you the best in that endeavor, as well. I think I will keep making art for a long time.

Peace and love on the planet earth ✌️✌️✌️

[takamimami]

Hiii! i loved your last work with benn so much, could you please do shanks x f reader headcanons? tyyy

Hi lovely! Thank you for this request!! I was so nervous to post the Benn request since I hadn't written for him before, but the reaction was so positive around it, so tysm :3

Ironically after you sent this I got two more Shanks requests, so be ready for more Shanks content coming soon!!!

As for these headcanons, I kind of just let my fingers take over and go wherever they wanted to go - and this is what I ended up with. It's a lil short, but I hope you enjoy the read - and thank you again for submitting an ask :3

Shanks x F!Reader HCs THOTS UNDER THE CUT - MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 🔞 CW: NSFW, no outright smut but v suggestive + Shanks has a filthy mouth, Shanks is a Shameless Flirt™, two stubborn idiots falling in love, don't tell kidd but he got me feeling some type of way --- word count; ~800

I imagine Shanks to be a one of those goofy guys who can snap his fingers and turn into one of the smoothest talkers on the planet. 

HUUUUUGE flirt, I think that is universally agreed upon, but I think 80% of the time he isn’t even trying to be flirty. Yeah... one of THOSE guys. 

Shanks has a competitive streak when it comes to the ladies, and that’s actually how he ended up chasing after you. Despite your massive crush on the pirate captain, you didn’t fawn over him and throw yourself at him like the other women – which he took as a challenge.  

Little did he know, he resorted to doing exactly that to win you over. Taking every opportunity, he could to make you laugh or blush (gods, the sight of you blushing really gets him going), growing more and more clingy the longer you fended off his affections. 

Finally hits his breaking point after a night of drinking with the boys, saunters up to your room blazing drunk after declaring he was going to give you the best lay of your life to make you fall in love with him. You answer his knock on the door and he drunkenly stumbles into your room and collapses on your bed, mumbling his professions of love for you as he slowly fell unconscious from the effects of the alcohol (he then wakes up confused the next morning why you both still have clothes on, and you have to break it to him that he fell asleep within minutes of coming into your room). 

From that moment on you two grow even closer, which results on both of you tiptoeing around a very fine line for some time, with both of you being too stubborn to be the first one to cross that line. 

Shanks, ever the competitive man, makes a bet with Benn and Yasopp that he’ll get you to cave first – and decides the best way to do so is to rile you up the easiest way he knows how. Besides, he loves how sassy you get when he makes you jealous.  

One night you are sitting at the bar while out with your crew, watching Shanks be his typical flirtatious self. 

One particular woman is trying VERY hard for his attention, and it rubs you the wrong way so you decide to interject yourself in their conversation. 

Shanks notices you getting jealous, so he pushes your buttons a bit more and keeps flirting with the waitress, which eventually causes you to head back to the ship early. 

Shanks didn’t realize just how upset you were until you left, so he comes to check on you when he gets back to the ship.  

You are still very much mad at him, even though you have no claim to him or his affections, and you start to feel embarrassed while yelling at him. 

“I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about your captain,” he teases you, his smirk making you both angry and even more embarrassed.  

You feel your cheeks flush and watch Shanks’ face turn devious (seeing you all worked up is practically his kryptonite). 

You cross your arms and offer him a glare, telling him it’s because he’s blind and that he only thinks with his dick. 

Shanks drops his chin and closes the gap between you two, pressing you up against the wall as he dips his lips down so they graze your ear as he speaks. 

“If I only thought with my dick, I would have had you bent over the command table the first day you joined the crew, pretty girl.” 

“If I only thought with my dick, I’d have you chained to my bed so no one else could ever get their fucking hands on you again.” 

“If I only thought with my dick, I’d ditch this dream of becoming King of the Pirates and spend every waking moment pumping you full of my seed, pretty girl.” 

Your body shivers despite the sweat building on both your bodies, and when Shanks finally pulls back enough to look at your face again, he thinks he might just come in his pants from how flustered you look. 

“Now, are you done being mad at me so I can get on my knees and apologize?” 

Words are not the only thing this man’s mouth is good at, to say the least. 

Spends the rest of the night apologizing to you, even long after you’ve forgiven him.  

After that night, he tones it back on the flirting – though he still gets a little out of control when he drinks a little too much. 

Always knows when to knock it off, however, and never comes close to crossing the line of being unfaithful to you. 

Should I do a part 2? 🤭 ✨come say hai :3✨

[coquettejunnie]

[ ୨୧ ] ── What I Cherish The Most

"And I'll take some time- just to be thankful that I had days full of you, you. Before it winds down into the memories, it's all just memories- la-la-la-la-la. "

୨୧ Pairing: Yuta Nakamoto x Fem!Reader・Wc: 0.6 (672) / fluff (makes me giggle while twirling), skinship, kissing, petnames (baby) ! ♡ type: headcanon

In which. . . Yuta is craving for some attention. So he decides to bother his girlfriend so she can do something about it.

now playing: get you by daniel ceasar (ft. kali uchis)

Rose's Note: This was originally supposed to be for my ot8 post but decided to just send it separately since it was longer than the rest of them. This is not the story that I was saying that I was gonna write something else to fix my last post but I just wanted to send it out so it wouldn't be in my drafts. This is also dedicated to Yuta's iconic lip pursing. It's just so freakin wholesome.

As you were laying on your bed while reading an article on your laptop while being unaware of your surroundings, you sensed a figure that came close to you- which was your boyfriend, Yuta. He went on the bed and crawled towards you with the covers over him. You were trying so hard to keep a poker face because you couldn't help but adore him. Even though he acts childish, you couldn't get enough of him.

"What are you doing?" you tilted your head in confusion.

He used his hand to demonstrate for you to continue, "Continue what you were doing."

"You're distracting me with your cute self." you tapped his forehead.

"You know you love it though." he said in a teasing tone. "I love attention. Baby, I need it right now. I'm desperate." he scooted at each word that escaped his lips sarcastically.

You closed your laptop with a short sigh then crossed your arms while looking down at him, waiting for an answer. He laid his head on your lap as he started to play with your pants strings.

"Can you rub my head, please?" he questioned as he looked up at you.

"Yeah." you started to caress his head which his lips curved into a smile.

"Thank you." he said while jokingly singing. He moved his head forward to try and kiss you on the lips but you dodged it.

"Hey, what was that for?" he turned his whole body to give you his attention.

"Should I really give you a kiss?" you pretended like you were thinking hard about it.

"Yeah, you should give me a kiss. Now gimme one." he leaned forward as he pursed his lips. You couldn't help but laugh at it.

You flipped the blanket over his head. "You didn't say please though."

You started to crawl away but before you could reach the end of the bed, he pulled your legs closer and flipped you on your back so he would be over you. He started to plant many kisses on your face as it was making you giggle.

"You're killing me, Yuta!" you said in between your laughs. "Okay, you win!"

He kissed your cheek then looked into your eyes. "I can't help but gatekeep you from this world. You're so precious." he tapped your nose then continued to send you his love- as in kissing you nonstop.

You gave up and indulged him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he continued to do what he was doing. He adjusted the blankets over the both of you as he never broke away from the kiss.

"Can I kiss you forever?" he said in between the kisses.

"You can't do it forever because we have to do important things to do at some point."

"And what are more important things that we have to do where I can't kiss you like this forever, hmm?"

"Like work? There are such things as working." you answered back.

"Nope, we can skip that." Yuta continued to plant kisses on you but instead of your cheek, his lips traveled down to the crook of your neck as he let out a long relieved sigh. "I love you so, so much." you felt his breath brush against your skin.

After a few seconds- which felt like forever, Yuta removed his lips away from your skin as he turned his attention towards you. "Y/n, did you know that you're the only person besides my parents that I cherish the most?"

You smiled from his sudden response which made him smile too. He laid down on your chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

"I love you, Yuta." you caressed his forehead. He leaned in forward as you indulged him to kiss you. You guys both melted into the soft but yet tender kiss.

"I love you too, Y/n." he said in between the kiss while his lips formed into a smile against yours.

And that is what you cherish the most. Yuta Nakamoto.

[sreidx-hotchner]

50 shades of Hotchner Aaron Hotchner

The billionaire’s Anchor will be out Feb 14th-25 part two

♡ ︎ Summary , “You get the chance to interview the the billionaire who is the unit chief agent Aaron Hotchner who owns the BAU in end up falling for him but that doesn’t happen till part two/three this is your part of the story , part two will be his story . It’ll all fall in to place .

♡︎ Paring fem!reader ! Aaron Hotchner

♡︎ This is IB the trilogy of 50 shades of gray 

—♡︎—♡︎—Headlines —♡︎—♡︎—♡︎— Reader is a college student small age gape .. Studies english literature —Reader is beautiful intelligent not really upper class not lower class either She has little trauma with an Ex . Also she is an intern with Vogue magazine.

Mr Hotchner is a billionaire unit chief agent that owns the BAU headquarters in this scenario he’s has never been Married This is based off the fifty shades but it’s in a different AU . Was talking with @hoe4hotchner About this one . Your name for the best friend in this fic is Ib :) 🫶🏻💕

♡︎ Content hurt/Comfort/slow burn emotional/angst 

♡︎ Content warning trauma with an ex Drinking is mentioned but not consumed anxiety slow burn

♡︎ Word count 5.9k

♡︎ Author notes I’m hoping I’m not forgetting anything this is the first time I’ve ever written anything long like this let’s just say I had way to much fun with this one still learning to write Hotch an the team please be kind

This is inspired by 50 shades , in my own writing this took some time to write about four days maybe longer .

But I had so much fun

Your thoughts are welcome but please be kind …

The longest fic ever omg …

I did proof read this about four times I like how it sounds if I missed anything in the description please let me know but in a kind way please thank you

Omg guys I loved how this turned out I hope you do too eek .. get it Reid all I can say lol …

♡︎Background outline♡︎

You are a 25-year-old college student pursuing a degree in English Literature at a prestigious university in Quantico, Virginia. Known for your striking beauty, intelligence, and keen observational skills, you’ve earned the quiet admiration of your peers and professors alike.

you’ve grown up with a grounded perspective, valuing hard work and independence.

You are deeply driven, throwing yourself into your studies with unwavering focus. Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays are dedicated to class, where you immerse yourself in analyzing the works of literary giants and crafting essays that showcase your sharp mind.

Wednesdays, however, are different. On this one day each week, you step into an entirely new world as an intern at Vogue magazine.

The hustle and glamour of the fashion industry couldn’t be further from your quiet life on campus, yet you’ve found a way to excel there too.

Whether assisting with features or observing the fast-paced brilliance of the editors, your time at Vogue challenges you in unexpected ways, pushing you outside your comfort zone.

Though shy by nature, you possess a subtle confidence that emerges when you're with your best friend, Rebecca—a free-spirited extrovert who often brings out your more adventurous side.

Coming from a comfortable middle-class background, you have never known the extremes of wealth or poverty. Instead, you’ve grown up with a grounded perspective, valuing hard work and independence.

You are deeply driven, throwing yourself into your studies with unwavering focus.

Your world revolves around literature, where you find solace and inspiration in the pages of classic novels and the complexity of human emotion. Yet, beneath your poised exterior, shadows linger. You’ve been grappling with the suffocating presence of your ex—a toxic figure who refuses to let go.

His threats come in the form of ominous text messages, late-night phone calls, and echoes of the emotional manipulation you endured during your time together. Each interaction leaves a mark, the sting of his words reverberating in your mind long after they’ve stopped. Rebecca is the only person who knows the full extent of what you’ve been through.

She is your anchor, the one who reminds you of your worth when the memories threaten to pull you under. Still, you can’t help but feel that your life has become a balancing act between striving for a brighter future and outrunning the shadows of your past.

This is the moment that changes everything: your decision to pursue an interview with Aaron Hotchner.

Now

Balancing everything had been a challenge lately. You were in school on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, and on Wednesdays, you interned at Vogue magazine. The internship was exciting, but it only added to your growing nerves—if this interview opportunity ever happened, you wanted to make a good impression.

You had spent the last few days diving into Aaron Hotchner's past interviews—every case, every experience he’d shared online. The man was an enigma, and you couldn’t help but admire his brilliance and the way he carried himself. But now, you were stuck. What if, by some miracle, you got the chance to interview him? You needed questions—good ones.

Sighing, you turned to your best friend, Rebecca, desperate for help.

She glanced at you, rolled her eyes, and grabbed a pen. With a smirk playing on her lips, she scribbled something across the first line of your notebook and slid it back toward you.

“Here’s a question,” she said, feigning nonchalance.

Curious, you leaned forward to read it, and your eyes widened in horror. “Are you gay?”

You nearly choked. “Rebecca!” you hissed, your cheeks flushing instantly. “Seriously? Gay? That’s your idea of help?”

“What?” she replied with exaggerated innocence, twirling the pen between her fingers.

“He’s not married or anything, so it’s a valid question. Besides,” she added with a pointed look, “you need to lighten up a little.”

You glared at her, but she pressed on, her voice softening. “Look, it’s been six months since you and…you know…broke up.

I know he still haunts you with those stupid messages and calls, but you can’t keep living in that shadow.

You need someone who can make you feel again.

It doesn’t have to be Mr. Hotchner, but it should be someone.”

Her words hit a nerve, and you felt your throat tighten. You wanted to argue, to tell her she didn’t understand, but deep down, you knew she wasn’t wrong.

Rebecca’s grin returned as she watched your reaction. “Oh my God, you’re blushing!” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with teasing delight. “You totally have a crush on him, don’t you?”

“Do not!” you shot back, the heat in your cheeks betraying your denial.

“Sure,” she said, laughing. “Your face is practically glowing right now.”

Groaning, you buried your face in your hands, already regretting asking her for help. Rebecca’s laughter echoed around you as if to punctuate your misery.

Taking a deep breath, you peeked at her through your fingers. “For the record,” you mumbled, “I already did something. I sent him an email.”

Rebecca froze mid-laugh, her eyebrows shooting up. “You what?”

“I sent him an email,” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

The weight of your own words hit you, making your chest tighten with a mix of nerves and excitement.

Rebecca’s jaw dropped, but instead of teasing, her eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Well, look at you,” she said, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Guess you’re braver than I thought.” her voice light but impressed. “Miss Literary Genius stepping up her game.”

“I had to,” you said quietly, your eyes drifting to your notebook. “If I want to stand out—for Vogue, for school—it’s not like I had another option.”

Rebecca tilted her head, studying you. “You know,” she said softly, her teasing tone gone, “this could be a good thing.

You’re capable of more than you give yourself credit for.”

You gave her a weak smile, but inside, the nerves churned. It wasn’t just about the interview—it was about the possibility that Aaron Hotchner, the enigmatic, untouchable billionaire, might actually respond.

And if he did, everything could change.

—♡︎—The Email—♡︎

To: Aaron.Hotchner@fbi.gov

Subject: Request for an Interview for My College Research Paper & an opportunity for my internship at vogue magazine.

Dear Agent Hotchner,

I hope this email finds you well. My name is [Your Name], and I’m currently a college student majoring in English Literature at Liberal Arts University college in Quantico, Virginia. And I’m an inter for vogue magazine and for one of my courses, I’ve been given the opportunity to write a research paper on a topic of my choosing, and I decided to focus on the Behavioral Analysis Unit within the FBI.

Your work as an agent and leader of the BAU is fascinating to me. The way your team delves into the complexities of human behavior and criminal psychology aligns with many themes I’ve been studying in literature—how human motivation and character drive stories and actions.

If you are available, I would be deeply honored to interview you as part of my research. I believe your insights would add incredible depth to my paper and provide a unique perspective that no amount of online research could match. I understand how demanding your role is, and I would be happy to accommodate your schedule to make this as convenient as possible.

I’ve prepared a list of thoughtful questions with the help of my friend Rebecca , and I hope to use this opportunity to learn more about your work and the BAU’s impact on both the field of criminal justice and society as a whole.

Thank you so much for considering my request, Agent Hotchner. I greatly admire your dedication to your work and your contributions to making the world a safer place. I look forward to hearing from you and hope this email reaches you in good spirits.

You can reach me at any time via email at 578-865-2134 Yourname.literature@gmail.com or on my phone at Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you need any additional information.

Sincerely,

[Your Name]

[578-865-2134]-fake

Days passed, and you found yourself obsessively refreshing your email and checking your phone for missed calls. Nothing. By day four, you started convincing yourself it wasn’t going to happen.

Maybe your email had been too direct? Or maybe too casual? The thought made you cringe every time it crossed your mind.

5:45pm

That Wednesday, you had just gotten back from your internship at Vogue.

The exhaustion from juggling classes, work, and this looming interview weighed heavy on you—until your phone rang.

The number was unfamiliar.

You stared at the screen, the phone vibrating in your hand. Was it spam? A wrong number?—“Your Ex?

Summoning a shred of courage, you swiped to answer. “Hello, this is [Your Name].”

“Good evening, this is Aaron Hotchner.”

Your heart stopped.

Actually, stopped.

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. The deep, confident voice on the other end sent a jolt through your system.

Your brain barely processed the words before your legs carried you out of your room and down the hall.

“Rebecca!” you hissed, practically kicking her door open. She jumped, startled, as you clutched the phone like it was a lifeline.

“It’s him! What do I say? What do I do?”

Rebecca’s eyes went wide as a grin spread across her face. She motioned wildly for you to calm down. “Breathe! Breathe! And answer him before he thinks you hung up!”

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to inhale deeply. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner,” you finally managed, your voice shaking only slightly.

“I wasn’t expecting your call—it’s such an honor to hear from you.”

“That’s quite alright,” he replied smoothly, a hint of warmth in his tone. “I read your email, and I’d like to discuss your interview proposal further. Are you available to meet in person sometime this week?”— “Let’s say Friday?

Your heart raced as you clutched your phone. "Friday works great, sir," you replied, trying to sound composed despite the excitement bubbling inside you.

"Great," he said calmly. "I’ll send you the details. Is this number okay to use?"

"Yes, sir," you confirmed quickly, barely able to contain your enthusiasm.

"Good. I’ll send you a message once everything is finalized. Thank you for reaching out."

"Thank you so much, sir, for this opportunity," you managed to say before the call ended.

As the line disconnected, you let out a squeal of joy, practically leaping onto your best friend Rebecca’s bed. “Rebecca! It’s actually happening!

I’m going to interview him—Aaron Hotchner!” you exclaimed, clutching a pillow to your chest.

Before you could process the moment, your phone buzzed in your hand. It was him.

The message read:

Hi, this is Agent Hotchner. Just a quick reminder about our interview on Friday at the BAU office at 9:30 a.m. If you have any trouble finding the office, don’t hesitate to reach out, and I’ll help with directions. See you then.

—Special Agent, Unit Chief Hotchner owner of The BAU

You stared at the screen, your hands trembling slightly. "Rebecca," you whispered, holding up the phone, "He texted me."

The excitement bubbling in your chest made it impossible to stay still. Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

Your heart raced as you exchanged details with him, somehow managing to sound semi-professional despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

The second the call ended, you collapsed onto Rebecca’s bed, clutching the phone to your chest.

“I’m meeting him,” you whispered, eyes wide.

Rebecca shrieked, grabbing your arm and shaking it.

“I told you! This is huge! You’re meeting Aaron freakin’ Hotchner. Do you know how many people would kill for this opportunity?!”

You nodded numbly, your excitement quickly giving way to nerves. “Oh God… What have I gotten myself into?”

Rebecca’s eyes lit up with mischief, and she clasped her hands together as if she had just come up with the best idea in the world. “I know what we’re going to do.

“Oh no, don’t even think about saying no—we’re celebrating tonight!”

You barely had a chance to respond before she announced her plan with a decisive grin. “We’re going to a club. Get ready. You deserve this.”

Rebecca’s energy was infectious, and before you knew it, you were standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the sleek black skirt she had practically forced you to wear.

The gold-strapped top you chose shimmered against your skin, catching the light in a way that made you feel... confident.

Pairing it with black tights and small black heels, you had to admit the outfit was perfect—just the right mix of bold and elegant.

As you reached for your earrings, you caught Rebecca’s reflection in the mirror.

Rebecca stood behind you, her arms crossed and her head tilted, studying you with a proud smile.

“This is Instagram photo-worthy. Seriously, you’re glowing. Come on, we need a little photoshoot before the Uber gets here!”

Before you could protest, Rebecca had already grabbed her phone and positioned you against the wall.

The next few minutes were filled with laughter as she directed you like a photographer at a magazine shoot. “Okay, now give me a smirk. Perfect! Tilt your head a little… yes! That’s it! Oh my God, these are so good!”

Rebecca even pulled you into a few selfies, making exaggerated pouty faces while holding the camera high. She burst into laughter, flipping through the pictures. “Look at us! We’re gonna break the internet.”

As the Uber pulled up outside, Rebecca grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You look amazing. You’re going to have the best night. Trust me, you deserve this.”

Her words melted some of your lingering nerves, and you found yourself smiling for the first time all evening. Rebecca had always had a way of pushing you out of your comfort zone, reminding you that life was meant to be lived.

“Okay,” you said, letting out a steadying breath as you grabbed your purse. “Let’s do this.”

With Rebecca by your side, you stepped into the night, ready to celebrate in a way you never had before.

As the Uber driver dropped you and Rebecca off a few blocks from your apartment, the thumping bass of the club music filled the air.

The neon lights outside flashed rhythmically, casting vibrant colors onto the sidewalk.

Rebecca practically bounced with excitement as you stepped out of the car.

“Are you ready for this?” she asked, her grin contagious.

You nodded, though your stomach was fluttering with nervous energy. Approaching the bouncer at the door, you handed over your ID. He glanced at it, then stamped both your hands with a glowing ink before motioning you inside.

The moment you stepped into the club, you were hit by a wall of sound—music thumping, people laughing, and the hum of conversation blending into a buzzing, electric atmosphere.

Multicolored lights swirled overhead, casting an ever-changing glow on the packed dance floor.

Rebecca turned to you with a gleam in her eye. “Let’s get a drink first!”

You smiled, letting her lead the way to the bar. As you weaved through the crowd, your gaze wandered around the room.

A group of people near the corner of the bar caught your attention. They were laughing and talking animatedly, the camaraderie between them evident.

You didn’t think much of it until you reached the bar with Rebecca and placed your drink order.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a familiar face in that same group.

“No freaking way,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rebecca turned to you, handing you your drink. “What? What is it?”

You nodded toward the corner, your heart skipping a beat. “Look. Over there.”

Rebecca’s eyes followed your gaze. When they landed on the man you were staring at, her jaw dropped. “No. Freaking. Way.

That’s Mr. Hotchner himself. See? I told you tonight was meant to be fun!”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “Oh my God, this cannot be happening.”

“Come on,” Rebecca said with a grin, tugging on your arm. “We’ll deal with that later. Let’s hit the dance floor!

As you were making your way to the dance floor, a tall man accidentally bumped into you.

“Whoa, sorry about that, ladies,” he said, flashing a charming smile.

You smiled politely. “Oh, it’s okay, sir.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sir? Come on, now. I’m Derek Morgan, but you can just call me Derek.”

You introduced yourself, but before you could finish, you heard someone call your name from across the room. You froze, recognizing the voice immediately.

“Oh, great,” you muttered under your breath.

Derek’s brow furrowed as he glanced toward the source of your discomfort. “Everything okay?”

You let out a sigh. “Not really. That’s my ex.

I haven’t seen him in six months, but he won’t stop harassing me with calls and messages. I’ll be fine, though.” You offered a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”

“Just Derek,” he reminded you with a smile and nod before heading back to his group.

When Derek rejoined his friends, he leaned in and spoke low enough for only them to hear. “Hey, guys, keep an eye on that guy over there.”

JJ glanced toward your ex, then back at Derek.

“Those girls he’s bothering?

“Emily chimed in , They’re beautiful.”

Derek nodded. “Right, but that guy’s trouble. Stay sharp.”

Aaron Hotchner and Spencer Reid , who had been quietly observing, straightened up. “Got it,” they said, There tone calm but firm.

As you tried to make your way to the dance floor, your ex suddenly appeared in front of you, stepping into your path with a forceful presence.

Without warning, he grabbed your arm.

“Come on, dance with me,” Nate said, his voice laced with a sense of entitlement.

You pulled away sharply, your heart racing. “No, Nate. No.”

Rebecca, sensing the tension, stepped forward. “Leave her alone, Nate.”

He sneered at Rebecca, getting right in her face. “What are you going to do about it?” he challenged.

You stepped in between them, trying to keep the peace. “Stop, Nate.”

“You think you can do better than me?” he spat, yanking your arm toward him with force.

You winced as you tried to pull away again, your voice trembling. “Nate, please…”

Rebecca didn’t hesitate. She stepped right in front of you, blocking Nate from getting any closer. “I said, leave her alone.”

At that moment, you noticed two figures coming up behind Nate—two men in suits.

You didn’t recognize them at first, but the intensity of their approach made you feel a flicker of relief.

Hotch and Reid exchanged a glance, both knowing what needed to be done.

“Let’s move,” Hotch said, his voice calm but firm.

Reid nodded. “Right.”

They reached Nate, moving with purpose, and Reid spoke up first, though his voice wavered slightly. “Sir, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Nate just laughed, clearly dismissive. “Okay, Dr. Please, leave us alone.”

But Hotch didn’t wait. He stepped forward, his gaze locked on Nate, commanding the situation.

“Take your hand off her.” His tone was unwavering, and it made your heart race in a different way—one of safety.

Nate scoffed, sizing Hotch up. “And who are you? Some guy in a suit?”

Hotch didn’t flinch.

“No, I’m with the FBI.” He flashed his badge, and Reid did the same, pulling his badge from his jacket pocket with practiced precision.

Nate’s demeanor faltered. He let go of your arm, his eyes wide with realization. “Whoa, okay. I didn’t want to start any trouble.”

Spencer added, his voice firm but measured. “Leave these ladies alone.”

Nate stepped back, defeated but unwilling to admit his wrongdoing.

As he walked away, Hotch’s eyes never left you, his gaze steady and protective.

Reid glanced over at you with concern. “Are you guys okay?”

You nodded, feeling both shaken and somehow grounded by their intervention.

Spencer, after sharing a brief look with Rebecca, turned to her with a smile. “Would you like to dance?”

Rebecca grinned and nodded eagerly. “I’d love to.”

With that, they made their way to the center of the dance floor, where the soft rhythm of the slow song started to fill the space.

As they began to move together, you found yourself standing next to Hotch, the noise of the crowd fading around you. The moment felt suspended in time.

The song continued to play, and with it, a quiet anticipation seemed to linger between you and Hotch.

The distance between you both felt palpable. As you stood there, your nerves betrayed you.

After a long, almost unspoken pause, Hotch finally broke the silence. “Would you like to dance?” His voice was calm, steady, like everything around you was perfectly still.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breath. Your response came out as a soft, almost hesitant nod. “Yes.”

Without missing a beat, Hotch stepped closer and pulled you gently into his arms. The warmth of his touch was immediate, a powerful presence that settled in the pit of your stomach. There was something so unexpectedly comforting about his strength and the quiet connection between you both.

Neither of you said a word as you moved together, the music guiding you. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear as you laid your head against his chest. The world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. The way he held you, his hand at the small of your back, was both reassuring and electrifying.

In the distance, you could see Rebecca and Spencer, the two of them enjoying their own rhythm on the dance floor. Their laughter mixed with the music, but you couldn’t help but notice the way Rebecca kept glancing over at you and Hotch, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

You stole a quick glance at her, your gaze sharp, silently telling her to stop teasing you. But she didn’t even flinch, her smile only widening as she caught your eye.

Your focus returned to Hotch as you both continued to move together, the slow dance grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

As the music filled the space, Hotch finally broke the quiet. His voice was soft but steady, as if he were reading the air around you. “I bet you weren’t expecting this tonight.”

You glanced up at him, your breath catching slightly. The warmth of his gaze sent a ripple of heat through you. “No,” you admitted with a quiet laugh, “not really. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

Hotch let out a low chuckle, the sound somehow calming yet undeniably magnetic. “I meant me saving you from disaster, of course.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you couldn’t help but smile a little, even as the conversation turned more serious. Before you could speak, your mind drifted back to Friday—your interview with him. The nerves you had then felt so distant now.

You hesitated, unsure of how to word the question that had been on your mind. "When did you realize it was me?"

Hotch’s gaze never wavered from you as he answered. “When Derek pointed you both out to me.”

The admission caught you off guard, but you masked your surprise quickly. “You did a background check on me?” you asked, your voice laced with both curiosity and a hint of disbelief.

He nodded, but there was no malice in his expression. “I mean, I had my tech, Garcia, do it. Your photo was attached to your file.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at the unexpectedness of it all. “Oh,” you said, a little breathless. “I see. It’s... very impressive.”

Hotch smirked slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Well, I like to know who I’m dealing with.” His tone softened, and his hand instinctively adjusted the way he held you, his touch warm and grounding.

You tried not to let the thought linger for too long, but the subtle tension in the air between you two was undeniable. Every shift of his hand, every look shared between you both, seemed to make the room shrink.

As the slow dance continued, you found yourself drawn further into his presence. You weren’t sure whether it was the proximity or the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear, but everything felt different now. The connection between you wasn’t just physical—it was something more, something deeper.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Rebecca still dancing with Spencer, her gaze flicking between you and Hotch, her knowing smile more evident than ever. You couldn’t suppress the small glare you sent her way. But even that felt secondary to the unspoken pull between you and Hotch.

The night was unfolding in ways you never expected, but somehow, it felt like everything was falling into place, one slow dance at a time.

As the night came to a close, you and Rebecca had the chance to meet the rest of the team. Garcia was just as vibrant and lively as you’d imagined, her bright smile infectious. JJ’s warm energy was comforting, and Emily had an air of quiet confidence. Rossi, ever the seasoned professional, gave you a kind nod. Derek was smiling, still a bit playful, as you turned to him, grateful for everything he’d done tonight.

You offered Derek a hug, your voice soft but sincere. “Thank you for looking out for me... and for Rebecca.”

He smiled warmly, pulling you into a brief but genuine embrace. “Anytime. Stay safe, alright?”

Rebecca, meanwhile, was chatting away with Reid, exchanging numbers with him as they laughed. You couldn’t help but glance at Hotch.

Every time you looked, his gaze was already on you, steady and unwavering, like he was silently taking you in from across the room.

Rebecca, clearly sensing your distraction, turned to you with a mischievous grin. “You okay over there?”

You offered her a quick smile, trying to shake off the feeling that had settled in your chest. “Yeah, just... taking it all in.”

Hotch’s voice cut through the moment. “Would you both like a ride home?” His tone was calm, yet there was something in it—something that made you feel both comforted and a little on edge.

Rebecca immediately agreed, her smile widening. “Yes, please. I’m not about to try finding a cab tonight.”

You nodded, not sure what to say. But you knew you couldn’t say no.

Reid, ever the gentleman, insisted on riding with you all, clearly wanting more time with Rebecca. You could see the small smile on his face.

As you all stepped outside into the chilly night air, the cold hit your skin, but it didn’t seem to matter.

Hotch moved toward you, opening the door of the black SUV. You felt a flicker of warmth at the gesture, even though the night was crisp.

Reid did the same for Rebecca, and for the first time all night, she was quiet.

You glanced over at her, wondering if she was feeling the same undercurrent of tension that you were.

Without a word, she reached for your hand, her touch grounding.

You didn’t have to say anything—it felt like there was an understanding between you two, unspoken but clear.

Once everyone was settled inside, you spoke up, your voice breaking the silence.

“We’re just a few blocks from here. Just take a couple left turns, and I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Hotch gave a short nod, his gaze meeting yours for a brief moment. “Got it,” he replied, his voice steady.

The engine hummed to life as the SUV pulled away from the curb, the soft sound of the tires on the road blending with the quiet stillness of the night. But the tension, the pull between you and Hotch, was still there—lingering

As you arrived at your and Rebecca’s apartment, Reid turned to you with a kind smile. “It was nice to meet you,” he said sincerely.

“You as well,” you replied softly, your voice tinged with shyness.

Reid stepped out of the SUV and circled around to open the door on Rebecca’s side. As she got out, she turned to you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Be good to her, Hotchner,” she said firmly, her voice filled with protective warmth.

Hotch met her gaze in the rearview mirror and gave a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of her words. Then, his attention shifted to you, his dark eyes calm yet piercing.

You tried to focus, but your thoughts were spinning. One question had been circling in your mind ever since Rebecca had scribbled it in your notebook. It felt too big to ignore.

You looked up at Hotch, hesitating for a moment. “Can I ask you an off-the-record question?” you finally managed, your voice tentative as you wrestled with your nerves.

“Of course,” he replied gently, his tone inviting trust.

Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out: “Are you… gay?”

Hotch’s brows knitted together in confusion as he processed your question.

Your eyes widened in panic. “I’m sorry—I don’t know what came over me,” you blurted, flustered and immediately regretting your boldness.

Before he could respond, the sound of his phone vibrating cut through the moment. He pulled it out, his expression sharpening as he read the message.

“It’s Reid,” Hotch said, his tone calm but clipped. “He says your ex is waiting for you on the steps.”

Your stomach dropped, a cold wave of fear washing over you. “What?”

Hotch hesitated, reading the message again. What he didn’t say aloud was the rest: He’s got Rebecca. He’s holding her arm.

“Hey,” Hotch said firmly, drawing your attention back to him. “It’ll be okay. We’ve got this, all right?”

You nodded shakily, though your hands trembled. Together, you stepped out of the SUV and made your way toward the apartment.

Your heart dropped when you saw Nate—his hand gripping Rebecca’s arm as Reid tried to intervene.

“Get your hands off her!” you shouted, rushing forward despite the fear gripping you.

Nate turned, his face twisted with anger. “Oh, so you’re with the suit guy now?” he spat, his voice venomous.

“Nate, let her go,” you demanded, your voice stronger this time. “Let her go now.”

Hotch stepped in beside you, his presence commanding. “You need to leave. Now,” he said, his voice low and firm, brooking no argument. “Unless you’d prefer I call my team and have you in handcuffs for harassment. Got it?”

Nate hesitated, glaring at you and then at Hotch. But something in Hotch’s tone—or maybe the promise of a full FBI team arriving—made him think better of it. With a muttered curse, he let go of Rebecca and stormed off.

Hotch stepped closer to you, his arm brushing against yours protectively as he watched Nate leave. “It’s okay,” he said softly, his steady presence grounding you.

You turned back to Rebecca, rushing to her side as tears welled in your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rebecca said, her voice breaking as she pulled you into a hug. The two of you clung to each other, the weight of the moment spilling out in shared tears.

“I thought I had him,” Reid said apologetically, looking at Hotch with guilt in his eyes.

“It’s fine,” Hotch reassured him, his tone firm but understanding. “You did everything you could.”

The four of you stood there for a moment, the tension easing as you realized it was finally over—for now. But as Hotch’s hand rested lightly on your back, you couldn’t help but feel safe, like everything might really be okay.

Hotch turned to you as the tension began to fade, his presence still steady and reassuring. “Good night,” he said gently, his dark eyes meeting yours. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth in his words that helped ease some of the lingering panic.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

Reid stepped forward, offering Rebecca a comforting hug before giving you both a small smile. “Good night,” he added warmly.

“Good night,” you and Rebecca said in unison, your voices subdued but sincere.

You and Rebecca headed toward the apartment as Hotch and Reid got back into the SUV. The low hum of the engine reached your ears as the vehicle pulled away, disappearing into the night.

Once inside, you both stopped for a moment to catch your breath, the events of the night weighing heavily on you.

“Man, what a night,” Rebecca muttered, breaking the silence.

“Not exactly the kind I was hoping for,” you replied with a soft laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Rebecca said, her voice trembling.

You turned to her, shaking your head firmly. “This isn’t your fault, Rebecca. Do you hear me? None of this is your fault. You didn’t know Nate would show up at the club, and you definitely didn’t know he’d be waiting for us here.”

Rebecca let out a shaky breath, her eyes glistening. “I guess none of us expected to meet the FBI tonight either.”

At that, you couldn’t help but giggle, the tension breaking just a little. “Yeah, not exactly a normal Wednesday night.”

Rebecca gasped, her hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “Oh my God, you’re laughing! Who are you, and what have you done with my stressed-out best friend?”

You grinned. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.” You paused, the weight of the evening still heavy but beginning to lift. “I need a hot shower,” you added, stretching your arms.

Rebecca perked up. “Pizza?”

“Absolutely,” you said with a nod.

“I’ll order it,” she offered, already pulling out her phone

“Great. Extra cheese, please,” you called over your shoulder as you made your way to the bathroom.

The sound of water cascading from the showerhead was a soothing balm, washing away the tension of the evening. You leaned your forehead against the cool tile, letting the steam wrap around you like a comforting embrace. For the first time in hours, you allowed yourself to breathe deeply.

When you stepped out of the shower, the faint aroma of freshly delivered pizza filled the apartment. You grabbed your phone from the counter, smiling at the text message that had come in while you were in the shower.

Hotch: Stay safe. We’re here if you need us. And to answer your off-the-record question… No, I’m not gay. It was nice meeting you tonight. See you Friday for your interview. Also… Reid is absolutely crazy for your friend.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you read the message. A warmth bloomed in your chest, the earlier embarrassment of your question melting into something lighter—something you couldn’t quite name yet.

“Pizza’s here!” Rebecca called from the kitchen.

“Perfect timing,” you replied, setting your phone down as you padded into the living room, the smell of pizza making your stomach rumble.

Rebecca handed you a plate, raising her eyebrows when she saw the faint blush on your cheeks. “What’s got you smiling like that?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, taking a big bite of pizza to avoid further questioning.

But as Rebecca turned back to the TV, you glanced at your phone again, the message still glowing on the screen. You couldn’t stop the small smile from returning.

Maybe tonight wasn’t all bad after all.

The next couple of days flew by in a blur of school assignments, internship tasks, and the lingering emotions from that unforgettable night.

Before you knew it, it was Friday—the day of your interview with Hotch.

You were both nervous and excited, knowing the interview wasn’t just for your school paper but also for Vogue, the magazine where you were interning.

Rebecca had insisted on driving you to the BAU office, claiming it was the least she could do after everything that had happened.

“Why are you so calm?” you asked, staring at her in disbelief as she hummed along to the radio.

“I’m not the one interviewing an FBI Unit Chief,” she replied with a grin. “That’s all you.”

You sighed, glancing down at your nearly blank notebook. Despite your best efforts over the past couple of days, your mind had been an absolute mess.

You’d written a few questions, but none of them felt right.

“I can’t think,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair. “Help me.”

Rebecca gave you a sympathetic look as she pulled up to a stoplight. “Okay, how about this: start with the basics. Ask him what made him want to join the FBI.

Then maybe something about the most rewarding part of his job.”

You nodded, jotting her suggestions down. “That’s good. What else?”

“Hmm… maybe ask him about the hardest case he’s ever worked on or what it’s like to manage a team under so much pressure.”

You scribbled furiously, feeling a small spark of inspiration.

“Also,” Rebecca added with a mischievous grin, “you should totally ask him how he manages to look so intimidating all the time.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, because that wouldn’t be awkward at all.”

Rebecca shrugged, her grin widening. “Hey, it’s a valid question.”

By the time you arrived at the BAU, you had a decent list of questions, though your nerves were still in overdrive. Rebecca parked and turned to you, her expression softening.

“You’re going to be great,” she said firmly.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks, Beck.”

When you walked into the BAU office, you couldn’t help but be awed by the energy of the space. Agents moved with purpose, phones rang in the background, and the atmosphere hummed with quiet intensity.

A receptionist greeted you and directed you to a conference room where Hotch was waiting.

As you entered, you spotted him standing by the table, reviewing some papers. He looked up as you approached, his calm and collected demeanor instantly grounding you.

“Good afternoon,” he said with a small, welcoming smile. “You must be here for the interview.”

“Yes,” you replied, extending your hand. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Agent Hotchner.”

“Call me Hotch,” he said, shaking your hand firmly.

You settled into a chair, opening your notebook as you tried to steady your nerves.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his tone professional yet kind.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before diving into your first question.

“What made you want to join the FBI?” you began, your voice steadier than you’d expected.

Hotch leaned back slightly, considering your question. “Originally, I worked as a prosecutor.

But I realized I wanted to be more involved in preventing crime rather than addressing it after the fact. The FBI offered me the chance to make a difference in a more hands-on way.”

You scribbled down his response, already feeling more at ease. “What’s the most rewarding part of your job?”

He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Knowing that we’re able to bring closure to victims and their families. It’s not always easy, but when we solve a case, it reminds us why we do what we do.”

“What’s the hardest case you’ve ever worked on?” you asked next, your voice quieter as you sensed the weight of the question.

Hotch’s jaw tightened slightly, and you could see a flicker of something—pain, maybe—flash in his eyes. “Every case involving children is difficult,” he admitted. “Those are the ones that stick with you the most.”

You nodded solemnly, feeling a pang of empathy. “How do you manage the pressure of leading a team in such high-stakes situations?”

Hotch folded his hands on the table, his tone steady. “I trust my team. They’re some of the most capable people I’ve ever worked with. We rely on each other, and that makes all the difference.”

As the interview continued, you couldn’t help but notice how thoughtful and measured Hotch was with each response. Despite his stoic exterior, there was a quiet strength and kindness to him that made you feel completely at ease.

By the time you wrapped up, you had pages of notes and a new level of admiration for him.

“Thank you again for taking the time to do this,” you said as you gathered your things.

“It was my pleasure,” Hotch replied, standing as you prepared to leave. “And remember, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

As you walked out of the BAU, you couldn’t help but smile. When you glanced at your phone, a new message popped up from Hotch:

Hotch: Stay safe. We’re here if needed. Also, it was nice meeting you again. And Reid wasn’t kidding—he’s definitely interested in your friend.

You laughed softly, tucking your phone back into your bag. As the BAU disappeared behind you, you felt a sense of pride—and maybe something more—that you couldn’t quite put into words yet.

Thank you for taking time to read this I appreciate it

Much love Kris 🫶🏻💌 part two coming soon ..

Tag list

@hoe4hotchner besties name is in it so had to tag her 🫶🏻💕 thank you for , just for being you . You are an inspiration to me so wanted to add you in this fic .. thank you for being so kind to me .

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@angellsell

@catssluvr

@hotchs-big-hands

@hoe4hotchnerlibrary 🫶🏻💕

@kiwriteswords 💕🫶🏻💗

[call-sign-shark]

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader

Summary: After weeks of treating you coldly, you learn that Aleksander decided to bring you to the King's Court without your consent. Frustrated, you decide to face him and poke at his insecurities... Little you know it only makes him fall harder for you.

Words: 5k.

TW: unhealthy relationship, controlling behavior, strong pinning, argument, vague sexual innuendo, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff that will give you cavities.

Notes: A quieter chapter 'cause you're not ready for the epicness of the next one! Enjoy! Please comment or reblog if you want more.

Part VII - Dangerous

Previous || Masterlist || Next

The worn-out parchment trembled in your hand, the wax seal already broken. For a moment you stood still with your big crystal eyes riveted on the paper, hoping you misread what had been carefully hand-written on the letter. You read its content for the third time, feeling your heart pounding harder with every word: By order of His Majesty, King Pyotr, you are summoned to appear at the Grand Court.

The weeks that separated your nightly encounter with General Kirigan in the dimly lit map room from this cold afternoon had blurred into a strange rhythm. While still charged, they seemed to flow slower than ever. Though both you and Aleksander had returned to your respective roles without any trouble besides fleeting glances, the air between you buzzed with the weight of what was almost done in that room. An aborted kiss. Kirigan could have kissed you, your plump lips on the verge of meeting his in a scorching embrace, hadn’t he suddenly changed his mind and dismissed your presence with the coldest demeanor possible. 

Even though you were haunted by this experience, your mind momentarily obliterated it at the sight of the parchment’s words, stark and unforgiving. Their implications sent a chill down your spine: why did the King himself want to see you? 

Rushing through the door of your bedroom, you hurried to find Genya. If there was one person who had answers regarding everything, it was certainly her. Not only answers but also a soothing, angelic calm that might ground you a little. You had thought to seek Fedyor for a brief instant, a close friend of yours, but considering how extra he would be about it you knew he would panic even more than you and end up stressing you further.

Fortunately enough, you didn’t have to search too long. You found Genya in her usual spot, seated by the tall window in a stream of golden sunlight. Her sumptuous and wavy red hair, arranged in an elegant hairstyle, gleamed like a wild fire as she worked deftly with needle and thread on an elegant white kefta adorned with gold cuff. The garment was for a servant of the Grand Palace, just like hers when she worked as the Queen’s personal Tailor. The sight of her, serene and focused on her task, tamed your fury a little.

“Genya,” You blurted, clutching the letter as if it might burn you,” This – what does this mean? Why am I being summoned to the King’s Court?” In the sake of having a proper answer to your questions, you were trying hard to control your natural bluntness and the ice of your tone but it wasn’t really conclusive.

Genya glanced up, not bringing up the fact you didn’t greet her nor your lack of proper etiquette when addressing someone with a higher rank. Her golden eyes narrowed slightly as she noticed your disheveled state, and how dilated your dark pupils were, stretching like black holes surrounded by a thin ring of shiny frost. Setting her embroidery down, she reached out to take the letter without a word and proceeded to read it. 

“This is…” She began carefully, handing it back. You grabbed the letter and tossed it on the wooden furniture next to you, “It’s an invitation. Or rather, a summons.”

“Oh, thank you for this interesting output. I wouldn’t have figured it out myself.” You replied in a rasping tone, dripping with sarcasm. Genya raised an eyebrow, catching sight of how the corner of your enticing lips twitched in frustration, “What for? I didn’t ask to go to the Court. What could they possibly want with me?”

Her gaze softened a little, for she could relate how stressful she was herself when General Kirigan had brought her to the Grand Palace the very first time, though she didn’t know what she had to fear was not the Court, but being alone at night with the King. She shook her head slightly at the unpleasant memory, a flicker of unease in her eyes, “I don’t know the exact details,” she said gently.

“But you know the broad picture.” You retorted with a controlled but sharp smile that betrayed the anger that was building up within.

“The General requested an audience with the King on your behalf”, she corrected.

You froze, “Aleksander did this?”

“Aleksander?”

You stopped an instant, realizing what you have called him. Aleksander… The name melted on your tongue like cotton candy, the sweetness of it filling your mouth with saccharine. During this fleeting time frame, Genya had noticed the subtle change in your expression but said nothing. She hesitated, then came back to the initial topic of your conversation.

“He’s been… advocating for your freedom,” she explained but her sentence still sounded bitter despite her best efforts. How ironic it was that the General was fighting for your freedom while all he did was enslave her by turning her into a stupid gift for the Queen. 

The words hit you like a blow before you could grasp the irony of her statement. 

Aleksander had said little to you since your conversation in the map room, two weeks prior, even though his presence in your life had remained constant – watching, guiding, intoxicating… Always close but so distant at once. You could still feel his hot breath mingling with yours and this thumb caressing the apple of your cheek with utter tenderness each time you’d close your eyes.

“Why?” You asked, your voice turning into a mere whisper – the revelation had really caught you off guard. Only after a few long seconds did you connect the dots: your indenture. The last words exchanged with him had been about your indenture, to which he had replied that he would handle it.  That was why he had asked the King on your behalf.

Now that the reason for his acts was crystal clear, a second question popped into your mind, “Why would he risk involving the King for me?”

Genya hesitated again, her tongue quickly moistening her lips before she pressed them into a thin line, debating how much to say and how much to keep for herself. The silence that stretched between you felt like a dull eternity, “Heaven, you must understand… The General sees something in you. He values you more than you can think, and he doesn’t let go of what he values.” She said with a quiet but warm empathy though she fidgeted nervously with one of her red locks of hair.

“That’s not comforting,” You suddenly lamented, your natural coldness moving on to an irresistible childish pout, “That’s not comforting at all!” Unable to stay still any longer, you paced in the room as your mind raced, trying to come up with a plan to avoid meeting the King. 

Jumping out the window had never been so tempting.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” Genya stated as softly as before, though she was clearly amused by the sight of you acting more… human. More made in flesh and bones rather than carved out of the chillest ice. Was it Aleksander’s mention that had softened you a bit, she wondered.

“Maybe if I bash my head against the wall and knock myself out…” 

Genya reached for your hand, stopping you mid-step and cutting off your mumbling, “Hey, listen to me. Whatever happens at Court, you’ll have the General by your side. He won’t let harm come to you.” Because he doesn’t see you as a disposable thing for some obscure reason, she almost added but kept herself from doing so, “I guess he wants to show the King how valuable you are”.

You pulled your freezing little hand back, your chest tightening, “But he’s the one putting me in this unpleasant situation. He’s the one pressuring me!” 

The one intoxicating me, haunting my every thought, lightening up my every fiber.

“What if I do something wrong? What if I fail to do what they ask me to do? What if–” 

“You won’t fail,” Genya interrupted firmly, “I’ve seen what you can do, Hev. We all have. You’re far stronger than you think. In fact, you’re terrifyingly strong.” 

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to breathe properly. Yet, her encouragement had some effects upon you, “And if the King decides I’m not worth the trouble? What then?”  Would he kick you back to the Menagerie, where Tante Heleen’s punishment would outperform everything she has done to you already?

A long exhale escaped Genya’s nostrils before the red-haired Grisha offered a faint, reassuring smile, “Whatever it is, the General will be with you. He won’t let anything, any-bloody-thing happen to you. Trust him.”  As she said this, Genya’s eyes glowed with utter sincerity. While she didn’t know the full extent of Kirigan’s determination or schemes, she had seen enough to understand his fierce protectiveness over you. Behind closed doors, Aleksander had left no room for doubt: anyone who dared to harm or endanger his little Heartrender would face his merciless wrath. Zoya’s case had been merely a sample of what he was capable of doing for you. This was an unspoken truth that even Ivan didn’t question. And so, when she spoke to you, it wasn’t words just said in reassurance – it was the undeniable certainty of a promise Aleksander had silently vowed. And not so silently conveyed to the rest of the second Army.

Trust him. It echoed in your mind, accompanied by a recollection of all the moments the Black General had, indeed, been worthy of your thrust by saving you and protecting your honor. But how mad you were about that summon! 

“Maybe I can create a special outfit for you? It won’t change your situation but at least you’ll make an impression.” She suggested. As everyone else here, Genya had noticed that you refused to wear the Heartrenders’ red kefta, and she doubted you’d agree to do so in preparation for your meeting with the King. Her surprising yet kind suggestion put a faint but genuine smile on your rosy lips.

“You would do that?”

“Of course, but can I ask you a favor in exchange?” 

“Yes?” You raised an eyebrow.

Genya’s gaze turned surprisingly sharp. The amber of her eyes gleamed with a spark of mischief, “Please, do make an impression .” The way she spoke, slow and low, made you frown. All your senses tingled as they sensed the venom of hatred seeping from every syllable, “When you stand before them, let them see what they should fear — what they cannot control.”

The morning came too quickly for once, the faint and pale light of dawn creeping into the wide horizon as you stood outside the Little Palace, your packed bag slung over one shoulder. Before exiting the building, you had made a detour to collect the outfit Genya created for you. Carefully folded and hidden in silk, you didn’t get to look at it and rather shoved it quickly in your bag. 

A frozen gust of wind blew to your face, biting at your cheeks as the crisp smell of winter filled your senses. Your seraphic face, ivory as the shy morning sun, was taunted with displeasure, echoing the wild spirit that simmered beneath your icy exterior. Even though you had remained quite passive since your arrival here — well, relatively passive considering you almost killed two people and brought a bit of chaos in the Little Palace’s organized routine as well as in the General’s heart — your fierceness had remained. It had always been there, seething, clawing at your ribcage, and, today, it showed. 

You watched, head slightly tilted, as other Grisha began to gather, their joyful chattering carried with the wind while the carriages were prepared. Clutching the leather strap of your bag, you bit your lower lip and weighed whether or not you should join them. Maybe it would do some good to mingle with them? Maybe you could try to befriend them, just to show that you weren’t some kind of empty killing machine – a reputation you really wanted to avoid –? 

You had barely made the first step toward the bunch of young Grisha, resolved to join them when General Kirigan erupted from the shadows nearby. His long black kefta floated behind him at the breeze’s discretion with each of his steps. He contrasted with the bright morning, but even the light couldn’t diminish his massive aura. As he walked to you, it felt like night followed him, ready to devour the sun with a single snap of his fingers. 

He stopped a few paces away from you, his expression unfathomable as always. He, who hadn’t spoken a single word to you in two weeks, finally deigned to do so.

“Heaven,” he said softly, a tilt of his head beckoning you to follow him. 

You didn’t move, but your frown deepened, “I assume I’m not traveling with them.” You stated coldly, nodding toward the group of Grisha for emphasis. To be honest, you didn’t mean to welcome him with such freezing greetings but the unexpected — and unsought — trip to the King’s palace had soured your mood.  This, and the silent treatment of these past two weeks. So when he came to seclude you from the rest of the herd, you felt a wave of injustice washing over you.

“You’re not,” The tall darkness replied simply with a firm tone. All the tenderness and affection he had displayed in the map room seemed to be gone for good, “You’ll ride with me.”

A muscle in your jaw tightened as his command collided against your free spirit: if there was something you had learned to despise following your escape from the Menagerie it was decisions made for you without so much as a word of consultation. Without the slightest interest nor care for your opinion. The need to retort something hovered on the top of your tongue, ready to slice, but you swallowed it down. Instead, you managed a curt nod, your defiance still forming a lump in your throat. Then, you followed him to the black carriage waiting nearby.

The interior of it was lavish, lined with dark velvet and polished wood. A little “oh” fell from your lips when you discovered how luxurious it was but you didn’t dawdle and climbed inside without wasting time. As you did, you shifted to take the seat opposite to Aleksander but his large hand gently pressed on the small of your back to guide you next to him. The way he did it was light, almost imperceptible, but it carried his silent command and steered you with a subtlety that betrayed his need to control. Having no other choice — and being weak whenever he touched you—, you obliged. 

Once sat, you crossed your arms over your small breasts.

For the first hour of the journey, you stayed silent, your head resting against the window while Aleksander read a pile of boring-looking papers. Because of how stubborn you were, you didn’t pay attention to him for that whole hour,  each passing mile deepening the chasm. The chill that emanated from you was almost tangible.

“You’re angry.” Kirigan remarked at last, his sultry voice breaking the quiet like a stone thrown at a window. His void-like irises were still focused on the pages he was holding in his gloved hands when he talked to you.

Your eyes snapped to his attractive face, “No.” 

“Well, if not, why does it feel like you are sulking?” His mouth twisted in a half smile before it vanished, vaguely amused by the sudden display of emotions that contrasted with your usual iciness. His soft lilt carried a subtle condescension though, which had become a second nature by dint of always having centuries of difference with the other people around him.

Your heart drummed as his words echoed in the confined space of the carriage. The term “sulking” struck a nerve for it was trivializing your feelings and reducing your genuine hurt to a child’s petty tantrum. But a tantrum it wasn’t — it was asking for basic consideration. All your life your voice was dismissed, your choice stripped away, leaving you feeling like an object devoid of agency. Devoid of soul. That summons to the King’s Court, decided without your consent nor your awareness, only mirrored those past indignities.

”You arranged all of this without even asking me,” Your voice sounded like the whistling of an axe slicing through the air, “What if I didn’t want to go?”

Aleksander finally dropped his paperwork next to him and looked at you, one eyebrow lifted. His amusement faltered when he realized that you were genuinely hurt — something he hadn’t even considered. “Would you have refused?”

“That’s not the point,” You dared shoot back, “You know, I’m not a weapon or piece on your board.” You let out. Genya might have explained that the reason behind it was in your best interest but the way it had been done clearly left a bitter taste in your mouth, leading you to wonder if Aleksander’s attention wasn’t purely selfish and calculated. Moreover, his sudden distant demeanor didn’t help.

His gaze suddenly darkened at your accusations, shadows shaped like a cloud of black smoke rising frighteningly in the tight, suffocating space of the carriage. It was what you were supposed to be, wasn’t it? A carefully placed pawn in his long, strategic game. But, admittedly, your words stung in a way he didn’t anticipate. A painful pang in his long-thought-dead heart he couldn’t explain.

“You misunderstand my intentions,” He explained softly, with a steady tone though it held something sharp, “This is about your freedom, Heaven. Your future. The King is the only one who can officially cancel your indenture and make you a free citizen of Ravka, protected by its law and men. Would you rather stay shackled to a past that doesn’t deserve you?”

You replied with a short, humorless snort, “You’re fighting for my freedom but don't give me the freedom to know about it. Nor to voice my opinion…” Sighing, your shoulders slumped down, “With all due respect General, from where I’m sitting, it looks like a puppet show. You pulling my strings and me dancing for the King’s Court.” 

Aleksander’s jaw kept tightening but he didn’t interrupt.  Then, he shifted in his seat to turn to you, his crushing aura causing your heart to miss a beat, but you didn’t waver, “And what would you have me do? Leave you vulnerable and bound to a slave's contract?” Kirigan’s pitch-black eyes narrowed as they dived into yours with such intensity that you briefly thought about lowering your gaze — but it was out of question, “You’re implying that I wish to control you, but perhaps you mistake protection for control.” He breathed, always deathly calm.

“So you’re trying to protect me?” You raised a brow, doubting.

“Exactly.” Aleksander’s hands flexed against his thighs. He took a measured, controlled breath, “And you don’t know what I’ve sacrificed for what I wished to protect. What I’m willing to sacrifice for you.”

You purse your lips because you weren’t convinced. Something still felt… wrong. Protection might have justified the King’s summon, but not his behavior toward you since that near-kiss in the map room.

“So why have you been so distant lately?” You asked abruptly.

His expression flickered to an unguarded, fleeting surprise, “Distant?” He repeated though it wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” Your voice was steadier now despite the thunder in your heart, “You make these decisions, talk about sacrifices and protection, but you’ve been pulling away. Ever since…” The words caught in your throat for the steamy memory of his lips almost brushing yours seared through your mind, exhilarating. The unspoken end of your sentence lingered.

He didn’t answer immediately, rather looking away – his charming profile sharp in the light that passed through the window, “You wouldn’t understand”.

“Try me,” You challenged, leaning forward slightly, “ I don’t think you behave like this to protect me– you pull away to protect yourself, aren’t you?”

His head snapped back to you, and for a brief instant you thought you’d gone too far when his onyx irises darkened, the expression veiling his seductive face becoming almost threatening. But there was no malice in his gaze – only something raw. Something that made you understand that you were spot on.

“You think I’m… afraid?” He said with a raspy voice.

“I do,” You straight off replied, refusing to back down even though Fedyor would have probably slapped your face and screamed with a high-pitched ‘Have you gone crazy?!’ for talking to the General with such insolence, “I think you’re afraid of letting someone get close. Someone sees past the shadows. Maybe afraid of what they might see.” 

Another silence. Aleksander’s eyes burned into yours, unflinching, but the vulnerability beneath it was impossible to ignore. How could you, a little Heartrender from nowhere, understand him so well? How could you read his soul like an open book while no one, not even his own mother, was able to do so? 

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He growled, though his voice lacked its usual edge. To be fair, he was too astounded by your clairvoyance – and seduced by your brattiness. 

“Do I?” You pressed, “I’m pretty sure I do when I say that you’ve been distant lately because you’re afraid to let me in and afraid that I’ll see you.” 

His throat worked as he swallowed, the movement of his apple bobbing up and down drawing your attention. While his hands had been previously clenching in frustration, the General seemed to relax a bit. 

When he finally spoke again after a long silence, his voice was rich and smooth like silk, “Does that mean you wish me to let you in?” You sensed a hint of teasing that hadn’t been there before. His ink eyes, gleaming with both amusement and intrigue, fell to your lips. 

 “You’re bold, I must admit…” 

Aleksander leaned forward ever so slightly to reduce the space between you. It was only when he saw your body reacted with surprise, knowing his sudden proximity had caught you off guard, that his lips curled into a faint, almost predatory smile, “I can’t decide whether to be impressed or…” He tilted his head to the side, “whether to remind you who you’re speaking to.” 

“Well, my mother used to call me dangerous but I guess bold also seemed fitting, General.”  Your voice had turned into a brave but trembling whisper, your eyes never breaking contact with his.

The Black General chuckled, low and deep, the sound of it sending pleasant chills down your spine, “Oh Heaven…” He shook his head a bit, the melody of his voice so smooth your own name felt like a caress, “What if I don’t like how freely you’ve decided to challenge me?” The playful threat in his words made your cheeks flush, heat creeping up to your neck and spreading through your entire body. 

And just like that, with his face close and his large hand unexpectedly resting on your thigh, your defiance faltered. In the narrow space of the carriage, his presence seemed to consume all the air around you, making it hard to breathe. His fingers gently bore into your flesh, his thumb caressing you in a circular motion. The feeling sent electric surges through your veins. For a moment, you couldn’t find your voice – his intense stare and threatening grin rendering you speechless. 

Finally, Aleksander leaned back, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips as he noted your silence – and the irresistible pink hue on your cheek, “That’s what I thought.”  He concluded, his voice laced with a quiet triumph.

You turned your gaze away, your heart hammering in your chest, cursing yourself for letting him unnerve you so easily. But the way his low chuckle had echoed in the confined space left you with the unmistakable feeling that he knew exactly the effect he had on you—and that he wasn’t done playing this game. 

Sulking for real this time, you turned back to the window with an adorable pout etched on your face.

Silence settled for another hour.

The rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels eventually dulled your anger. Each movement, each echo of the horses’ hooves hitting the ground, worked as a peaceful lullaby. Fatigue was slowly but surely creeping in. After all, you had merely slept last night, too stressed by the encounter with the King. You finally let out a reluctant sigh.  Beaten down by fatigue, your body, stiff for hours, sunk slightly into the comfortable seat. As minutes flew by, your eyelids grew heavy and your head tipped forward. Fuck! You jolted awake and met the General’s gaze.

He had been watching you falling asleep closely, his expression softening at your sleepy doll face.

“Don’t fight it,” He murmured, his tenderness coming back, “You’re sleepy.”

“I’m not.” You mumbled like a child, still very much flustered by the way he had teased you and how he had managed to have the last word of your conversation. You glanced at him, a sulking pout still etched on your angelic face, but you couldn’t deny how right he was. The fatigue of months of training and restless nights weighed heavily and resisting it wasn’t an easy task now that the carriage was gently rocking you. 

“You know that I summon shadows and not sleep, don’t you?” His remark was playful, “Would you let it go if I apologize for not taking your opinion into account?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, then. For this, and also for messing with you earlier. Please come here.” 

You had wanted to protest, stubborn as you were, but Kirigan shifted, opened his arm, and invited you to lean against him before you could do so. 

“Alright…”

Tentatively, you moved under his arm before resting your head on his shoulder, just like you did the night he brought you to the Little Palace, wrapped in his black coat and kept safe by his protecting hands. You slowly exhaled through your nostrils, comforted by his warmth and sweet perfume. The tension finally eased.

“Better?” He asked quietly, closing his grip around you to keep you all snuggled against him in an intimate, sheltering embrace.

“Hm.”  You hummed, eyes already closed and sleep winning the silent battle it had fought against you. The last thing you felt was the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

The tranquil rhythm of the carriage wheels over the cobblestone roads had pulled you deep into Morpheus’ arms. It didn’t take long for you to surrender to sleep, your head still resting lightly against Aleksander’s shoulders. As the carriage exited a thick forest, sunlight came to hit your heavenly appearance and formed a golden ring around you. There, bathed in the sun and blessed with a peaceful sleep, you seemed completely innocent. Fragile. Pure as freshly fallen snow. The sharp edges of your face were softened, your frown smoothed, and your seraphic traits freed from the usual tension.

Kirigan’s eyes, as black as soot like the remnant of a raging fire and dying amber, indulged in your drop-dead pulchritude. The fascination he had for you was so overwhelming that he lost the notion of time though he couldn’t care more. How could he focus on something else when every synapse of his brain, every fiber of his being, every nerve of his flesh, was occupied by you?  

Soon, studying your face wasn’t enough anymore. He needed to feel you. The General shifted slightly, careful not to disturb you in your sleep, only to pull you closer in a real hug. Now that you were closely tangled with him, the faint scent of your hair — crisp like winter yet surprisingly floral, reminding him of lily-of-the-valley flowers — reached him and tightened the knot of longing in his stomach. 

Aleksander buried his face in your ivory mane for a brief moment and wondered how you had managed to carve your way into his thoughts. How you had destroyed his carefully constructed walls he had spent centuries building high enough to discourage anyone. But you were unlike anyone he had ever known, weren’t you? Unpredictable and fierce like a firestorm even he couldn’t control.  

His hand hovered near your shoulder, hesitating. The conflict he experienced within was still tearing him apart. 

You will break her, Aleksander. Baghra’s sermon played on repeat in the back of his mind.

Rather than stroking your shoulder, Kirigan slowly, cautiously brushed a strand of hair from your face. His fingertips grazed your cold skin with utter gentleness, which made you stirred slightly. Your lips parted as if on the verge of waking, but you settled again, too embedded in sleep to bother. Yes, you were definitely unique, he thought. Destruction wrapped in a pretty bow. Apocalypse concealed in a tiny body made of frost and light. And yet, here the murderous creature was, leaning on him, soothed by his presence. Docile.

Or she will break you.

You wriggled again, unconsciously bringing your face closer to his in your sleep.

Aleksander’s jaw clenched for your plump, glossy lips were far too close to his — calling him. And while he tried to keep his willpower adamant, his body betrayed itself by starting to tremble lightly. He could feel his control fraying, the part of him that craves you warring with the part that knew better. 

You don’t see it, do you? She’s already in your heart, boy. 

A shaky breath escaped his famished mouth.

He shouldn’t allow himself this — this proximity, this vulnerability — but the sight of you, peaceful and unguarded, made him ache in a way he hadn’t thought possible. An ache that was spreading like fire through his veins, every detail of you feeding a yearning he had buried for multiple lives. Fuck, he swore in his mind, he craved you as a drowning man craved air: desperately. 

“You were right. You’re dangerous.” He whispered to the stillness as his fingers explored the fragile skin of your throat and relished the sensation of your pulse. The defiance you carried, your fury, your everything, it all drew him like a moth to a flame and the burn of it was equally ecstatic and painful, “Far more dangerous for me than you think, zyoma maya olya*...” (*moon of my life)

His lips brushed your forehead and laid a light kiss on it, light as a whisper, lingering just long enough to feel the coolness of your skin against his. It was a fleeting but spoke volume of that longing he struggled to contain. It was in these moments, when your walls were down, that resisting you became unbearable, his resolve slipping and his thought spiraling around the idea of how good it would be to touch you without hesitation. To grab you possessively and claim every inch of your skin with his hands and mouth. 

Aleksander gently pressed his forehead against yours then, his eyes shut tight for an instant as he chased away the following thought: What would it be to kiss you? The question scorched his mind, stoking the flames of a desire he couldn’t tame. Suddenly, the tall darkness clenched his fist until his nails bit into his palm, doing so in the desperate hope that physical pain could ground him. Could hold him back from the abyss he teetered on. 

For centuries, loneliness had been his shield — but now, with you so near, it felt like a prison.

“Slow, boys! Slow!” 

The distant sound of the cab man as well as the echo of hooves on stone snatched him from his trance: the King’s Court was nearby. Aleksander let out a long exhale and reopened his eyes, casting one last glance at your enthralling face before straightening his posture while still ensuring that you remained comfortably nestled against him. 

“Time to wake,” He finally said, his voice gentler than he intended.

“Are we there yet?” You asked, your drowsy eyes meeting his and, for a fleeting instant, he thought he saw a flicker of genuine trust in the vast desert of your irises. 

“We are.” His arms left your shoulders to let you brace yourself.

Straightening, you smoothed your hair anxiously and quickly rubbed the Sandman’s dust out of your eyes. 

“One last thing…” Aleksander started.

“Yes, my General?” You asked, your voice raspy with sleepiness.

“I beg you to keep in mind that whatever might happen, whatever the King would say, I’ll be by your side. Through the best and the worst.”

Forever and always.

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[winchesterwild78]

The Art of Not Saying "I Love You" pt 4

Master List

Characters: Soldier Boy, Ben x Reader, other characters from The Boys

Warnings: some angst, lots of fluff, Ben the ol softy 

A/N: I’ve loved writing this story. Ben always gets a bad rap because of his personality, but I see right through it. He was hurt and betrayed by his father and then the woman he loved. He was tortured for over 40 years, I don’t know about you but I’d be a little pissed too. I love writing soft Ben, because I have a feeling if the right woman came along she could break down those walls, brick by brick. I can see him falling in love and it scaring the hell out of him. 

I hope you’ve enjoyed this story. Thanks for reading it. 

I do not own the rights to the characters in this story. This does not follow The Boys timeline, and is a work of fiction.

All work is my own, please don’t take it or use it without permission. Reblogs and Likes are always welcome.

Written and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

Annie looked at me stunned. “You’re what?!” Tears pricked my eyes, “I’m pregnant. Oh Annie, what am I going to do?” 

She pulled me close and wrapped her arms around me. “We will figure it out.” 

I swallowed hard as a lump formed. I knew the baby was Ben’s. Tom always wore a condom and never finished inside me. He always pulled out and finished in the condom. Ben however, was proud of the fact he came inside me. 

I placed a hand on my stomach. I couldn’t believe this was my life. So utterly alone, heartbroken and pregnant. 

I felt the bile rise up in my throat and I ran to the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach. 

When I finished I cleaned myself up, brushed my teeth and went back into the living room. 

Annie was texting and my heart sank. “Annie, please don’t say anything to anyone. Even Huey. I don’t want Ben to know.” 

“Oh sweetie, it’s not my place to tell anyone. I was just letting Huey know I was staying the night with you. Y/N, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I think you should tell Ben. If this is his baby don’t you think he should know. Even if you two aren’t together, don’t you want your baby to have both their parents in their life?” 

“I don’t know what to do, Annie. Can I really raise a baby on my own, do I want to? I was in love with Ben. Hell, I still am. If things were different I’d be over the moon to have a baby with the man I love, but he has made it clear he can’t or won’t have a relationship with me. I can’t risk him hurting this child. If I keep the baby, they will only know they are loved and wanted. I don’t want them growing up thinking they weren’t good enough to be loved by their father.” 

She touched my arm, “Well, whatever you decide I’ll be there with you. This baby will always be loved and taken care of. Right now let’s focus on getting you something to eat and relaxing.” 

I nodded and she pulled me in tightly for a hug. 

“I don’t have much here for food.” “It’s okay. I’ll run to the store since you’re not feeling well and grab some stuff. You stay here and rest.”

I nodded, she hugged me and left. I thought about what she said about Butcher. 

I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat and hovered over his contact information in my phone. 

I pushed it and bit my lip. One ring and he picked up. 

“Oi, love! Are you okay? Where are you?” 

My voice was soft, “Hey B. I’m okay. I’m so sorry I cut you out. I’ve been dealing with everything. I just needed to get away and clear my head.” 

“I understand, love. Are you coming home?” 

“No, I have a place now. I’m so sorry B.” Then I heard Ben in the background. “Butcher get the fuck off the phone. We have work to do.” 

I gasped at the sound of his voice. It sent a shiver down my spine. My breath hitched. 

“Shut it you fucking cunt. I’m talking to Y/N.” 

“What?! How is she, where is she? Let me talk to her.” 

“No, Butcher. I don’t want to talk to him. Please.” 

“No. She doesn’t want to talk to you.” 

I felt sick. My heart pounded in my chest. Part of me screamed out for him and another part wanted to keep him away. I was so torn. 

“Hey, Butcher. You sound busy. I promise to keep in touch. I love you, B.” 

“Okay, I love you too, Y/N.” 

We hung up and the tears fell. I sat my phone down and it rang almost immediately. 

I looked at the screen and it was Ben. I sat staring at his name. The call ended and he called right back. He was relentless. 

Finally I answered, “Hello, Ben.” 

“Oh my god, Y/N! Thank god you answered. Are you okay? Where are you?” 

“I’m okay Ben. I’m not going to tell you where I am. I need to protect myself from you.” 

He gasped softly, “Please don’t say that, baby. I would never hurt you.” 

I scoffed, “But you did, Ben. You made me fall in love with you and then you pushed me away. How could you do that?” A sob left my lips.

Ben ran his fingers through his hair, “Baby, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You’re everything to me.” “No, Ben. I’m not. If I was you wouldn’t have slept with another woman the day after we made love all weekend.”

He sighed heavily. “Ben, I need to tell you something. Before I do I need you to understand I don’t need anything or want anything from you.” 

“Okay, sweetheart. I understand.” Ben’s heart quickened and his mind began to race. 

“Ben, I went to the doctor for a physical and they ran some routine tests. The doctor called me today with the results.” I swallowed hard and took a deep shaky breath.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Is everything okay?” My voice quivered, “No Ben, but I will be. Ben, I’m pregnant.” 

Ben almost dropped his phone, “What? Is it mine or Tom’s?” “It’s yours. I’m positive. But I don’t want or need anything from you. I just wanted you to know. You have a right to know.” 

“Y/N, please tell me where you are. I want to be there with you.” “Ben, it’s too late. You made your choice and I’ve made mine. I’ll keep you updated on the baby, but I’m not expecting anything. I don’t want them to feel like they are unloved or unworthy.” 

“Don’t do that.” His voice dripped with venom. “Don’t do what? Tell the truth? Ben I know you used me. I was stupid enough to fall in love with you, stupid enough to believe I mattered and that you loved me too. But you’re not capable of loving anyone, are you?!”

“Stop! You do matter to me, dammit. I’m a fucking coward! Is that what you want to hear? I’m a fucking coward who finally let his walls down, made love to a beautiful woman, apparently made a baby with her and then I pushed her away. All because I’m too much of a fucking coward to admit…” His voice trailed off. 

I heard the pain in his voice and it sent a pang of guilt and sadness through my heart. “To admit what Ben?”

“Just forget it. You’ve made up your mind already, Y/N. I want to be in our baby’s life. They will know I’m their father and I’ll do whatever I can to protect them.”

“Ben.” My voice is soft and unsure. “Y/N.” “Please tell me what you were going to say. I need to hear it. Please.” My voice quivered and I felt the tears start to fall. 

Ben was quiet on the other end. He took a deep breath. “I um.. Shit, this is harder than being tortured for 40 years.” I chuckled softly, “Ben, please. You can trust me. I love you, Ben.” 

Just like that a switch flipped, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I’ve been a fucking pussy. I let everything Crimson and those Reds do to me cloud my judgement and build up walls. You broke through those walls without even trying. Now you’re having my baby. Y/N, I’m so sorry it took me this long to grow a pair. I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” 

My breath hitched and I smiled. There it was. Ben finally said it. Finally admitting what he had been pushing down deep. 

“I love you too, Ben. Now get your ass over here.” I gave him the address and he laughed, “Yes ma’am. I’m on my way.”

When Annie came back from the store I told her what happened and how Ben was coming over. She hugged me and told me she was glad he finally admitted he loved me. “I knew it this whole time. It was the only thing that made sense. He’s been terrified of giving his heart away again and having it crushed. I’m happy for your sweetie. I’m going to leave so you two can have some privacy. Let me know how it goes.” I nodded and gave her a hug. 

I sat on the couch and waited for Ben. My heart pounded in my chest. Every minute felt like an eternity. An hour had passed since the phone call. My heart began to ache. It doesn’t take an hour to get here from the apartment. Oh god, he did it again. I let myself believe him.

As the familiar ache started to fill my heart the sound of the doorbell pulled me from my thoughts. 

I took a deep breath and opened the door. Standing there was Ben. Looking as amazing as ever. In his hands was a bouquet of my favorite flowers, a bag filled with my favorite snacks and another bag. 

I chuckled when I saw it. His green eyes met mine, “Sorry I’m late sweetheart. I had to make a stop.” 

He walked in, sat the stuff down and I leaped in his arms. He pulled me flush to his chest and kissed me. The kiss was gentle at first but then it deepened. The pain and sorrow from the past two months melted away with every swipe of our tongues, every brush of his fingertips. 

When we pulled away from each other our chests were heaving for air. Ben’s hands cupped my face, “God you’re so beautiful, and you’re having my baby.” I smiled and leaned into his touch, “Yeah, we’re having a baby, Ben.” 

He placed his hands gently on my stomach, “Hey baby. It’s your dad. You’re going to come out and kick ass.” I playfully slapped his arm, “Ben, language.” He smirked, “Sorry, but he will.” “Oh so it’s a he?” 

Ben just looked at me, “I like to think so. He’s going to grow up loved, strong and I’ll always be so fucking proud of him.” 

I saw tears prick Ben’s eyes. I placed my hands on his chest, “Ben, you’re going to be an amazing father. You just have to let us in. Don’t push us away and always remember there is nothing you could ever do that will make us not love you. Hell, even after you slept with that woman I was still in love with you.” 

I stepped closer to Ben, “I still love you, Ben. So much. This baby, our baby is going to be loved and grow up strong like you are. You’re worthy of love and so much more.”

Ben pulled me close to his chest and held me tight. “How did I get so lucky to have your love? I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry I made you ever feel unloved and unwanted.” The tears that had pricked his eyes were starting to fall. 

I’d never seen him cry and my heart ached. I reached up and wiped his tears away with my thumbs. “Ben, you’re here now and that’s what matters. Don’t ever do that again or we (I placed my hand on my stomach) will kick your ass.” 

He chuckled, “I wouldn’t think of it. This, us, our baby, is all I’ll ever need. I made not saying I love you an art, but with you I never want to miss the chance to say it again. “I love you, Y/N. Now and forever.” “I love you too, Ben. Now and forever.”

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Cariño [Part 7]

Jake Lockley x f!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Series Masterlist

Summary: The story comes to an end.

A/N: I know, it's been centuries, chapter 6 was posted in June 2023 (the shame), but here is the ending. Finally. Honestly, I'm not very happy with this story as a whole, but now it's done.

Warnings: kissing, p in v sex, cream pie, oral (both receiving), reader can't speak Spanish, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 3239

You had gone to Jake’s room early the next morning and knocked. No answer. 

You’d tried calling his phone, the one that worked yesterday. His number was out of service.

After speaking to the front desk, you found out he had checked out the night before, barely two hours after you had last seen him. 

A little after 8am you received the rest of the money into your bank account, payment for the job. 

It was fine. Really. 

He is an adult. He could do what he wanted. He didn’t owe you anything. 

But it hurt. A lot. 

You pushed the feelings down deep until you could almost walk on them. There was no need to dwell on this, dwell on him. But your thoughts kept migrating back, like a compass needle swinging north no matter how hard you shook it. 

You got ready and boarded your flight, not home, but to another job. Procuring and authenticating a Ruben, the honest, legal work you had pushed back a little so that you could get Jake his ankh. 

It was simple enough, practically a done deal and you were home and paid within two days. 

You heard through one of your contacts that the day after his party Edward Malay’s mansion had caught fire. He had seemingly died in the blaze. 

All you could think of was the look he had given you when Jack’s hand was on your waist. 

You let the rest of the following week slide by without any work, your heart just wasn’t in it. But by the Wednesday Detective Eric Peterson, the officer who worked for the police art and antiques unit, had called you asking for your help and promising you weren’t going to get hit in the face again this time. 

You took the job and got on with your life. There wasn’t much else to do. 

.

It was evening on a Friday night, and after trying to stop yourself from nodding off in front of the television you finally admitted defeat. Switched it off and got up to go to bed. 

There was a knock at the door. Ordinary and repetitive. 

You frowned. Waited a moment before moving closer to the door, keeping your footsteps light. 

Ever so carefully you checked the peephole and saw…

Jake. 

It was like a pin had been pushed through your chest, a sharp and small and perfect pain. 

Jake.

He hadn’t knocked like he usually did, forgone that familiar, distinctive sound.

You swallowed and opened the door. There was a split second when his gaze fell on you, the tiniest moment where he seemed to disappear and be replaced by someone else.

“Jak-”

 He surged forward before you had even fully opened the door, his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips meeting yours. 

The force of his actions made you step back as he stepped forward, moving with you so that the kiss remained unbroken. 

You froze, surprised and questioning whether you had actually fallen asleep on the settee and this was all about to become some half remembered dream. 

He pulled back, crestfallen, mistaking your shock for rejection. 

“I’m-”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence. 

You moved forward, grabbing hold of his jacket and pulling his mouth back to yours.

He let out the sweetest little moan as he kissed you back, wrapping his arms around you as his tongue slid into your mouth. He nudged the front door shut with his foot before he walked you backwards and further into the room. 

For a moment he pulled back, breathing hard, his hands still on your face. “Cariño,” he stroked his thumbs over your cheeks, seemingly searching your eyes for something and kissing you again deeply when he found it. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and the back of his neck, running your fingers through the hair that wasn’t covered by his cap at the nape. 

Slowly he continued to urge you back until your legs nudged against the armrest of the settee. You let out a small moan as his tongue danced over yours and pushed you back into the sofa, his right hand coming around to press flat on your back and keep your descent slow and controlled. 

You pulled off his hat and pushed his coat from his shoulders, urging it down his arms as he shimmied it the rest of the way down and climbed on top of you. 

He slid his right hand down your side, your outer thigh, before hooking his fingers under the back of your knee and pulling your leg over his hip. He pressed in close, lightly grinding against you for a second until you pressed at his lower back with your calf and pushed him fully down. 

The fiction sparked pleasure along your veins, burning into your skin as you clawed at his shirt trying to pull him impossibly closer. 

“I’m sorry,” he managed to mutter between kisses. “I shouldn’t have just taken off.”

You kiss him back fiercely, “You don’t owe me anything-”

“I do cariño, I do.” He kisses down your jaw, nipping lightly at your skin until you yelp. You can feel his smile as he presses his lips to your skin to ease the burn. 

“Jake,” You pull him back slightly, tugging lightly at his hair so that you can see his face. You’re not sure why you’re doing this, why you need to have this conversation now of all times. But emotion twists in your gut and won’t let you let this slide. 

His eyebrows pinch together slightly as he moves back, his eyes soft and hesitant. Expecting more rejection. 

You can’t help but stroke his cheek, the beginnings of stubble brush along your fingertips. “Jake,” you repeat and he closes his eyes briefly at the softness in your voice. “You don’t owe me anything, you can do-”

“I owe you an explanation.” He stares at you so sincerely it’s like his gaze is piercing into your soul. “I owe you-”

“Ja-”

“I wanted to kiss you again… back at the hotel. I wanted to…” He moves a fraction closer, his right hand sliding down to your waist as he presses his hips more fully against yours and rocking ever so slightly. 

You bite back the little gasp that wants to escape your lips. 

“I wanted to…” he swallows, his line of sight fixated on your lips as his tongue runs along his own, “make love to you.”

Your heart beats so rapidly that it echoes in your neck. 

“But instead I,” he shakes his head, crunching up his face as he internally chastises himself. “I fucked up, I-”

You silence him with your mouth on his, unable to hold yourself back any longer. 

He moans wantonly against your lips, eagerly accepting your tongue when you lick into his mouth. His hands are cool from the outside air, but it’s a balm to your feverish skin as he slides the tip of his fingers under your top and skims along your hips. 

Jake rocks against you feverishly, groaning happily when you wrap your legs around his waist fully. His erection pressed against you, the zipper of his jeans brushing perfectly along your core. The sensation spikes along your nerves and makes you squeeze his arms in a desperate attempt to pull him closer. 

He mouths at your neck, sucking and licking, paying particular attention to every sigh and hitch of your breath. 

“I have… so much,” he swallows, his voice muffled by your skin. Not able to pull himself away for even a second to speak clearly. “I need to tell you,” he pauses, biting his lip. “There are things that you should kno-”

You take his face in your hands and kiss him again, soft and sweet even though his lips are hot and wet. “Later.”

“Cari-”

“I mean this in the nicest way Lockley, but if you don’t sit back,” you move as you speak, unhooking your legs from his waist and urging him into a sitting position on the sofa, “and let me do what I want, then I’m never going to forgive you.” 

He keeps his hands on you as you gently manhandle him. A soft expression all over his face, as if his heart had cracked under the strain of carrying his emotions for far too long. And now the joy in his chest had no choice but to seep into his skin. 

“What do you want to do?” His voice is quiet, reverent almost. And, in that moment you’re sure he would fall on a sword if you uttered the words. 

You shift back, off the sofa and onto your knees between his legs, your hands on either side of his thighs to push them a little wider. 

The heavy bulge of his erection strains against the denim, practically seconds away from popping the neatly stitched seams. His cock twitches under your gaze and Jake lets out a soft groan as you squeeze his thighs, scrapping your nails along his inseam. 

“I want you to…” You slide your palms higher until your eager fingers can reach his belt. You flick open the buckle, pulling the leather free before you undo his trouser button and start to pull down his fly.

“You don't have to.” He whispers. His eyes glued to your face, his hands balled up by his sides and pressing into the sofa, barely resisting the urge to grab the back of your neck and pull you close so he could rut against the heat of your mouth.

“I want to.” You hold his gaze, slowly tugging the zipper down. 

Jake breathes hard, the air catching in his throat as his cock throbs. It's painful how much he aches, straining against the tough, unyielding fabric. 

He gasps when your fingers touch the skin just about his waistband and eagerly raises his hips to help you pull his clothing down to his ankles. His cock bobs free with a dull slap against his stomach and when you finally take him gently in your hand and kiss the very tip, he nearly comes on the spot. 

You press the palm of your free hand firmly against his inner thigh, a gentle reminder to keep him vaguely still and his legs parted. His muscles tense and twitch, flexing under your fingers.

His voice is weak when he mutters your name, soft and strained. You flick your tongue over his head, swirling twice before pulling back a fraction and look up at him. 

The warm artificial light makes his skin glow, the shadows on the sofa perfectly outlining his form, like a work of art you’d been tasked to assess. 

“Please,” his breathing is controlled even as his chest rises and falls. 

You wait until he starts to continue, to finish his thought, it’s only fair really due to the amount of times he’s teased you in the past with trivial things, before you take the tip into your mouth. 

Jake swears under his breath, his eyes screwing up as he fights the urge to buck and you bob your head slowly before you sink deeper. 

“Fuck,” He hisses, his eyes glazed. 

You hum softly as you suck and lick, relaxing your jaw as best you can to take as much of him as possible. His little pants and gasps for air make you lightheaded, your blood singing as he twitches on your tongue. 

You slide your hand from his thigh, up his leg to lightly roll his heavy balls in your palm. 

“Shit, cariño, I…” He moans, his stomach muscles clenching as he flinches forward. Pleasure sparking up his spine and twisting along his nerves. His orgasm so close it’s almost blinding. 

He wants to press close, to let you play him to your own heart's desire and come down your pretty throat with a scream. 

But he won’t. Yet. 

Jake finds the strength to take hold of your shoulders, “Stop, please.”

You do instantly and he sighs, eagerly leaning forward and kissing you fiercely. Licking into your mouth and groaning when you sink your fingers into his hair. 

He gently guides you into his lap as he hurriedly helps you pull off your clothes and the rest of his. 

“So pretty,” he groans as he mouths at your breasts, suckling lightly as he slides his left hand down your side and presses at your core. 

You shiver involuntarily under his touch, swallowing down a moan as he softly circles your clit with his calloused fingers. You squeeze his shoulders, your hips bucking automatically at the slow drag. 

He hums low in his throat, watching you with dark eyes. Languidly he runs his middle and forefinger over your folds, barely there pressure. “Can I?” He mutters as he rubs at your clit again, hardly even taking the edge of the ache. 

You nod rapidly, “Jake, please, I want you to-” You moan loudly as he presses inside. 

He swears at the wetness that greets him, quickly curling his fingers and stroking as he presses against your bundle of nerves with his thumb. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he moves, keeping time with the rocking of your hips. 

“That’s in cariño,” he whispers, his voice thick, “take everything you want.” 

You almost don’t recognise the whine that leaves your lips as your own. Pleasure twists and pulses in your stomach, claws at your skin as your thighs burn and shake. 

He litters your chest with wet, desperate kisses, his stubble scraping deliciously over your skin. Somehow he manages to swallow a groan as you tense, his cock twitches, smearing salvia and precome against his stomach. 

“Jake,” you gasp, the weight in your stomach dropping as he strokes and pulls the pleasure from your bones. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” he whines, his voice nearly as desperate as your own. “Please, please,” his throat is dry as he mindlessly begs, transfixed on the look and feel of you. 

You come all at once, your orgasm piercing through your muscles and running like a current through your nerves. Jake guides you through it, holding you close and muttering sweet words and you shake and shatter in his arms. 

He slowly pulls out of you as you weaken, kissing your temple and stroking your back. You press your face into his neck, breathing hard. Your skin is hot but his touch is soothing. 

“I’m sorry I wouldn’t tell you what cariño means,” he whispers, there’s a weight in his chest, a tightness he needs to shift that’s fracturing. “It-”

“I know what it means,” you smile and pull back so that you can look at his face. “I just kept asking to see when you would tell me.” 

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “You’re cruel to me cariño.” He teases, his eyes bright. “Too cruel.” 

You grin before you kiss him deeply, wet and warm as your tongue slides over his. He shivers delightfully as you just scrape your nails over his scalp, lost in your touch. 

His cock presses hot and heavy between your bodies, desperate for any kind of friction and when you angle your hips away from his slightly Jake just thinks you mean to tease him all the more. 

He certainly doesn’t expect you to raise up on your knees while you kiss him feverishly, nor did he predict how you guide him to your centre and just sink down. 

He moans, his forehead pinched together in ecstasy as you envelop him, so soft and warm and he nearly chokes, stammering out swears and please as you squeeze.

“Cariño,” his hands fly to your hips, tensing and desperate as you finally take all of him. 

You rock slowly, moving in a long figure of eight as your body adjusts to his size. The thickness stretching you wonderfully. 

Jake gasps, his fingers digging in as he holds on for dear life. Bliss buzzes along his skin, settles at the base of his spine with a dizzying speed. “I’m,” he swallows, his breath hitches as you move a fraction faster. His cock pulses as it rubs within you, pleasure building and building and building. “I’m so sorry, I can’t, I’m gonna…”

You don’t let up your movements as you lean forward, ghosting your lips over his. “Please,” you dart out your tongue, running lightly over his bottom lip. “I want you to.”  

Jake groans loudly, gasping for air as he pulls you as close as physically possible. His hips thrust up as he comes hard, the sensation whiting out his vision as he calls out your name in prayer. 

‘Thank yous’ fall his hushed whispers from his mouth as he shakes and recovers, his heart racing in his chest. You can’t help but watch him, transfixed in how his face pinches and glows in pleasure.

You’re smiling at him when he opens his eyes, and you brush some of his loose curls from in front of his face as he gazes at you. 

“You okay?” You giggle, joy rising up in your chest at the love sick look he gives you. 

“More than,” he kisses you softly, his strong arms hugging you close. “More than more than.” 

Without warning he twists, moving you onto your back flat against the sofa while staying deep inside of you. You let out a little yelp of surprise that turns into more laughter. 

“I love that sound,” Jake kisses your nose, grinning. “I think it is my second favourite.”

“Second favourite?” 

He nods, “This is the first.” He moves quickly, pulling his softening cock from your pussy only to quickly dip down, kissing your stomach once before he presses the flat of his tongue in one long, slow lick through your folds. He groans as your combined fluids fill his mouth, and your cry of pleasure sounds in his ears. 

He swirls his tongue over your click one way and then the other before he gently presses two fingers on either side of your entrance and stretches slightly, opening you wider. “Fuck, such a mess here.” He groans, biting his lip at how your muscles flutter under his hold before he gets back to the task at hand. 

“Jake,” you gasp as his warm tongue runs over you again, the tip just dipping inside as he flicks up, trying to gather as much of your combined release as possible before he swallows. 

You wriggle under the onslaught, your back arching off the cushions as he works on you, quickly hurtling you towards another orgasm. 

He groans as you writhe, using his hands to pull your legs over his shoulders without breaking his rhythm. He flicks his tongue, alternating between sucking and licking until you’re sobbing and soaking a wet patch into the sofa. 

His fingers knead your thighs and ass cheeks, coaxing you to buck and grind exactly how your desperate body is begging you to. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise. One second you’re moaning and thrusting up into the wet heat of his mouth, the next you're practically paralysed as pleasure washes over your mind, body and soul. 

Jake groans as you come, not letting up on his onslaught until you're panting heavily and limp. As he sits up you can feel his cock against the back of your thigh, hard and ready once more. 

He grins devilishly, “Can I fuck you again cariño?” 

Thank you for reading!

 want to be tagged? •  if you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[danpuff-ao3]

Hiatus Notice

Yeah, it's not been long since my last break, but this one is less intentional and more natural. 2025 hit me really hard, really fast, and I'm not really in any place to engage with fandom as I once did.

The current state of the world, piled on top of numerous personal problems? It's way too much for such a fragile lady as myself. I'm exhausted--mentally, emotionally, even physically. My mental health has taken a really huge blow.

Fandom was once my escape, but that's been really complicated in the past few years. It hasn't really served as a place of joy in quite a while. I've felt so disconnected for a long time.

For now, I'm spending my time catching up on reading (real books!) and largely keeping to myself. My queue here will go on. Asks will be answered when I have it in me to address them. I don't know when I'll really be back. There is a goal in place that will make my life easier in the next few months, but I'm not going to hold my breath on that. I'll be back when I can.

My works are currently still available, and I have no plans as of now to hide them, but if I do, please know they won't be gone forever, and that I'll only do that if necessary for my wellbeing.

I hope this year is much kinder to everyone else.

Love,

Danni

[igbylicious]

Igby I have to ask about the "by the balls" fic cuz I mean... who's got Wooyoung by the balls?👀

god i love wooyoung and his ridiculous sweater so much :') no one else this wip could've been abt :')

it's the reader from whiway! isak canonized it lol <3

i'll give you a snippet under the cut, warnings for; extremely suggestive pre-smut content, degradation, a lil pain play, toys 👀 ty shine!!! <3

WIP TAG GAME

San strides over to Wooyoung with slow steps, a dark look on his face as he presses in close. Wooyoung swallows a whimper when a harsh hand grabs at his crotch. “‘She’, huh?” San says lowly, his eyes piercing.

“That felt right, yeah,” Wooyoung manages to grin through the rough pressure of San’s grip, forced to draw tight breaths. He gasps when San squeezes his hand, crossing that tender threshold into pain. “B-besides, let’s be honest… this sweater would fit you just fine too.”

San’s jaw ticks. Wooyoung knows he’s treading on dangerous waters; he challenges San’s authority all the time — but he rarely challenges San’s very dominance itself. Submission is still new to San, with much to explore between you and him. But right now? He is not in an submissive mood.

His lips curl sharply with a crooked glimpse of teeth. “You’re really hankering for it today, aren’t you, Woo? Strutting in here with that shirt like a fucking brat, begging for attention. And here I thought I fucked you hard enough last night, the way you could barely get out of bed this morning.”

Wooyoung’s grin widens. “Guess you didn’t, then.”

(In truth, he’s still sore from it. He’d been forced to cover up a wince or two when he sat down for his lunch break at work.)

Before San has a chance to retaliate, you return from your hunt for some suitable toys. You hold a pair of leather handcuffs in one hand, and a glimpse of something steel and shiny in the other — but Wooyoung’s pretty sure he knows what it is. He hopes he knows.

There’s a pleased glint in your eyes as you read the lettering on Wooyoung’s sweater again, then you take his wrists and yank them behind his back. You give him a beat to protest, but he doesn’t. A prickling warmth spreads through his limbs at the restraint, his face relaxing into a dopey smile.

Happily he lets himself be dragged off by San to their room — but you stop them at once. “My balls,” you say, prying San’s hand away with a teasing grin. “My bedroom.”

[two-entire-bits]

Deaf Outsiders Headcanons

I'd like to preface this by saying I'm hearing, and I've only been studying sign language, deaf history, and Deaf culture from a Deaf professor for the past couple months, and I do not know everything. I've researched the medical backgrounds for the genetic conditions and injuries mentioned, but some information might be incorrect and/or I might've misunderstood some things. If it is or I have, please tell me! I don't mean any misinformation or disrespect and I apologize if I cause any offense.

These also include some other disabilities!

Some world-related stuff:

There's no deaf schools in Tulsa, but the Oklahoma School for the Deaf was founded in 1908 so the time periods would hypothetically work out

In this alternative story there would be a deaf school in Tulsa and the Curtis brothers would all attend/have attended said school

I know it's Gallaudet University, but before 1986 it was a college

For the Curtis family: all of them are deaf. I think they'd have Autosomal Dominant Non-Syndromic (DFNA) deafness, maybe a variant in the MYH14 gene, which causes those with the variant to progressively lose their hearing within the first 3 decades of their lives. The Curtis parents taught their boys how to sign ASL, which they'd use at home, speak English, which they'd only use for hearing people, and lip read, also for hearing people, to an extent when they were young. The Curtis parents encouraged their boys to talk in sign as much as possible, but also were very upfront about ableism and how the world is built for hearing people.

Ponyboy:

Completely loses his hearing around 7-10

He's good at talking but doesn't like to, and very good at lip reading so he can watch movies

He still likes to write and caught onto English spelling and grammar quick

He often carries a notebook around to write in but mostly writes quick in ASL's grammar

He also uses it to write things to hearing people when he doesn't want to speak

He signs REALLY fast, he has a lot of things to say and good motor skills and sometimes even his parents have to ask him to repeat himself

Lexicalizes words all the time on accident

Signs to himself all the time, especially when he's alone

Likes to try and figure out what the actors are saying in movies and figure out the plot without the dialogue and sign along with the lines he can follow

VERY visual storyteller

Darrel:

Completely loses his hearing around 12-15

He can talk and lip-read very well, which he doesn't prefer but it's useful at work

Always kind of dreamed of playing football at Gallaudet, but always knew it wasn't really possible

Also signs to himself, but only when he's alone

Soda:

Completely loses his hearing closer to 3-5 and struggles with speaking compared to Darry and Ponyboy.

He always had hard time understanding English, and that plus being deaf and dyslexia contributed to him feeling stupid and dropping out of school (especially compared to Ponyboy)

He and Ponyboy talk in tactile sign at night before bed when everything's dark

His parents told him "Darry" rhymes with "Dairy" in English when he was really young and half the time he just signs "milk" instead of Darry's sign name to tease him. He got Pony in on it too

Johnny:

Hearing, but has apraxia of speech and selective mutism

His parents hate him for it and sent him to public mainstream school anyways

The Curtis parents taught him ASL after they met him

His apraxia and mutism contribute to why his teachers "give up on him" and to him having to repeat a grade in addition to other learning problems he was having and struggling to get the material quick enough for the curriculum

One reason why he was so scared in the hospital was because his hands were so burned he couldn't sign

Steve:

born with x-linked recessive deafness to hearing parents. His mother carried the gene and passed it to him

An especially good driver because of this

He goes to the same deaf school as the Curtis brothers and met Soda when they were in grade school, same as the book

Doesn't know how to speak English and doesn't want/care to learn it

When he was younger, he almost got caught stealing a car's hubcaps because he didn't realize how loud it was until he was telling the gang later about how the owners came outside and spotted him and Two-Bit told him that they probably heard the clattering of the metal hubcaps on the tarmac

Two-Bit:

Hearing, but his mom and sister (Tammy) are both deaf, he just didn't get the gene

Speaks English and ASL fluently but still stutters while signing because of motor skill issues

Purposefully messes up his grammar or signs sometimes just to annoy Tammy

Dallas:

Born hearing, but has Ménière's disease because he was jumped or in a car accident (something that wasn't his fault) when he was around 13-15 and the head trauma caused bleeding in the inner ear and his hearing is fluctuating at the time of the book

He's scared and angry because it'll get better and then worse and he never knows how or when it's going to change

He gets annoyed by the tinnitus and dizzy spells, and will often hole up somewhere when he feels a vertigo episode coming on and won't leave until it's over

The Curtis parents start teaching him basic sign and things to expect and things to know if he ends up permanently loosing his hearing, but he stopped trying to learn anything after they died

On one particularly shitty day when he didn't realize how loud he was being and Two told him he was yelling and he got so pissed at everything and that he didn't even realize he was being loud that he punched Two in the face

He's angry that it was something he could've stopped, that it happened when he wasn't actively looking for a fight or driving recklessly, or that it wasn't genetic because then he'd have someone/something to actively hate and blame. He never found out who jumped/crashed into him

Bonus: Socs!

Marcia:

Acquired hearing loss due to a recent head injury while barrel racing

It's not too bad at the time of the book, but they don't know if it'll get worse or not yet

She's not too worried about it, but every once in a while when she thinks about it a lot she gets really scared about what will happen if she loses her hearing permanently

She's scared she'll have to quit dance

Her mom kept her in high school and got her hearing aids eventually when it got worse

When she starts dating Two-Bit, it's another reason why she gets along with his mom and Tammy so well

They help teach her some basic sign and about Deaf culture, and kind of quench any fears she had about not being able to be happy/live if you're deaf because she didn't know anything about being deaf

Once she's learned enough sign to have conversations, she starts taking her hearing aids off at their house

Cherry:

Hearing

She was there when Marcia crashed and comforts her when she gets really worried about her future, but she doesn't really get it or know much about it

She wasn't rude about the way Pony pronounced things or later that night, when she was waiting for Ponyboy to write out what he wanted to say at the Drive-In and he got tired enough he didn't want to have to speak, which really surprised him

Bob:

Hearing

Knows nothing and could not care less about d/Deaf and generally disabled people

Thinks he can make Johnny talk if he beats him hard enough (partial motivation behind him and the Socs jumping Johnny before the book)

He knows Marcia's losing her hearing and is kind about it

Rolls his eyes sometimes when Marcia asks Cherry to repeat herself

Randy:

Hearing

Has no clue how to deal with Marcia's crash or her losing her hearing

Just tries (key word) to comfort her but doesn't do much else, just kind of goes on as normal

Similar to Bob, he'll get annoyed if she asks him to repeat himself too many times but feels a little bad about it

Paul:

Hearing

Learned some signs when he was friends with Darry

He didn't care to remember them when they stopped seeing each other

Felt "betrayed" when Darry said he dreamed of going to Gallaudet to play football because Paul just always assumed they'd go play together at some hearing mainstream college and he doesn't want to "learn all that shit" or "be around those kinds of people that much" just to play football at the same college as Darry

Bev:

Hearing

Knows about Marcia and says she doesn't care, but every once in a while she'll say something or make a joke that's just rude and shitty

Like Bob and Randy, she also doesn't cut Marcia a lot of slack if she doesn't hear something one of them says (Cherry is pretty much the only one that does)

She purposefully tries not to think about Marcia's future because she knows she'll get really upset about it, cos she thinks (and pretty much all the Soc's and hearing population, including Marcia) being deaf means you can't live or be happy

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 7: Your Story (R)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my own imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, so please do not copy it and claim it as your own. As always, I hope it gives you happy thoughts :)

You, Jake, and Natasha gather around the kitchen island in Natasha's apartment. You sit in one of the chairs at the island, Jake standing to your right, while Natasha stands on the other side, her gaze flicking between the two of you.

"Jake, before you really think you want to get involved with me, there's something you need to know," you say, your voice steady but carrying the weight of what you’re about to share.

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace stood across from you, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. "I'm not thrilled about this," she said, her tone sharp as she glanced between you and Jake. "I think you could do way better."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with concern and judgment, her protective instincts kicking in as she assessed the situation.

Jake smirked, his confidence unwavering. "Nothing’s better than this," he stated, his tone light but assured.

Phoenix rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed with his response, and you couldn’t help but playfully smack his arm, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I’m starting to think you two are more alike than I thought," you teased. "You also said the same thing about Christian," you added with a knowing look.

Phoenix's expression shifted slightly, but she remained silent, her arms still crossed as she waited for Jake's response. Phoenix points her finger at him. “And if you hurt her, you’ll have me to deal with.”

"I'm not going to hurt her, Phoenix, but who's Christian?" Jake asked, his curiosity piqued.

Phoenix turned her gaze to you, her eyes narrowing. "I take it you haven’t told him?"

You shook your head, a hint of unease creeping in. "I was just getting to that."

“Well, now I’m beyond curious.” Jake’s voice was filled with intrigue.

“Does the name Christian Astor ring a bell?” Phoenix asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jake thought for a moment, then it hit him. “Wealthy guy who joined the Army and became a kick-ass Apache helicopter pilot. Got killed in Iraq a few years ago. Left everything to his wife, and his rich parents didn’t like that, so the parents have been trying to take everything from her because he was an only child. I believe she’s a Doctor of Wildlife Veterinary Medicine. I’ve read a few articles about her and her work. She’s pretty bad ass.”

“Oh, she’s pretty bad ass,” Phoenix confidently states as she slowly walks away, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

You extend your hand to Jake, your voice steady but tinged with the weight of the moment. “Doctor Y/F/N Astor. And it’s my mother-in-law who’s trying to take everything from me. Nice to meet you.”

Jake stood frozen, his mouth agape, clearly speechless as he tried to process what you had just shared.

Jake blinked a few times, trying to grasp the full weight of your words. His expression softened, a flicker of understanding crossing his face as he slowly took your hand in his.

“Damn, that’s... a lot,” he finally said, his voice quieter than before. “I had no idea.”

You let out a sigh, the weight of your situation pressing down on you again. “It’s been a battle I didn’t expect. Losing Christian was hard enough, but dealing with all of this... it’s like a never-ending storm. Hence why I said you probably don't want to be with me."

Jake nodded, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to find the right words. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, Y/N. But I’ll tell you this—you don’t have to go through it alone. Whatever this is, I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you feel a warmth spread through you, something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in a long time—trust.

"Thanks," you whisper, your voice soft. The weight of everything you’ve been through presses down on you, but his presence grounds you. "That means more than you know."

You pause, your heart racing as you continue, "But you also must know, I haven't been with anyone since Christian. I haven't even thought about anyone since Christian."

You look at him then, your gaze locking with his, the unspoken truth hanging between you. "You're the first one that has made me feel that way again."

Jake’s expression shifts, his eyes softening with a mixture of understanding and something deeper. He doesn’t rush to speak, letting your words hang in the air for a moment.

“I wasn’t trying to push you into anything, Y/N,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “But I’m not gonna lie—I’m glad I’m the one who made you feel that way again. You deserve to feel that way.”

A quiet, almost fragile silence fills the room, and for the first time, you’re not sure where to go next. Part of you wants to reach out, to bridge the distance that still lingers, but another part of you pulls back, afraid of what it could mean. After everything with Christian, the idea of opening yourself up again feels daunting, almost like you’re tempting fate.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” Jake continues, his gaze never leaving yours. "We’re in no rush. I just want you to know that I’m here, for whatever you need."

You swallow, the vulnerability in his words disarming you. There’s no game here, no pretenses, just raw honesty. It’s the kind of connection you didn’t expect to find, especially not now, when your heart still carries so much weight.

“I don’t know what the future holds, Jake,” you say, your voice quieter now, unsure but resolute. “But I know that... right now, this feels like the first step in something that could be real.”

Jake’s grin returns, though it’s softer this time, the playfulness replaced by something more genuine. “Well, darlin', that’s all I’m asking for—one step at a time.”

"But there's more," you say, your voice trembling slightly as you pause, trying to steady yourself.

"Well, whatever it is, we’ll get through it," Jake acknowledged confidently, his expression softening with understanding. "I’ve never backed down from a challenge."

Phoenix walked back into the kitchen, raised an eyebrow, and nodded in agreement. “I can’t disagree there.”

You take a deep breath, your nerves growing as you prepare to share the last part. "Jake. I can’t ask you to go through this with me," you confess, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "It’s not fair to you."

"Darlin'," Jake said, his voice firm and reassuring. "I’ll let you know what’s fair to me or not." He winks at you, a playful yet sincere glint in his eyes.

"Then you need to know one more thing before you make your final decision," you say, the weight of your secret pressing down on you.

"Give it to me," he replies without hesitation, his tone steady and confident.

"I have a son," you say quietly, meeting his gaze.

For the second time in one day, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin is speechless.

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