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imfoive · 1 month

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Little Picasso

Chan x Reader (fem.) Genre: Dad! Chan, Established Relationship, Fluff, Slice-of-life Warnings: none! (mention of word “sh*t”), somewhat proofread WC: 3.8k A/N: I had so much fun writing this! Might make a series of dad!skz. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

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He had assured her.

The night before, the morning of.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

“Go have fun with your friends. You haven’t seen them in forever.”

It was true. After Mimi was born, Y/N had been so preoccupied with the new chapter of motherhood that her outings had become sporadic, sometimes happening just once a month.

Her husband would urge her, “Babe, please go have some fun with your friends.”

Sure, they had date nights. Chan and she would frequently make time for each other while leaving their daughter in the care of either his parents or hers. Even though her mind would often wander back to thoughts of their toddler, Chan managed to keep her focused on their evening together, allowing them to enjoy each other’s company.

But when it was just her, when she managed to escape to do something she’d always enjoyed, things that didn’t involve errands, lists, or a child on her hip, all Y/N could think about was Mimi.

She wouldn’t say she was a helicopter mom. She wasn’t always trailing behind Mimi. But with their almost four-year-old inheriting her father’s chaotic nature whenever she got a bit too hyper, she couldn’t help but worry. When Mimi got excited, she would spiral out of control, often taking hours to calm down from her sugarless high.

Her husband was different. Bang Chan was always an anchor, level-headed and approaching things in his own orderly but calm fashion, making sure nothing bad would happen at all times. So, while some might think he would handle fatherhood similarly, he was different in that regard. Although he’d always keep a sharp eye out for dangerous situations, he wouldn’t always rush to the rescue as soon as Mimi cried. Instead, he would observe, waiting to see if she was truly hurt or if it was just a reaction to shock. Chan was the type to let Mimi try things that might result in her crashing to the ground or things around her crashing to the ground.

“It’s all life lessons. She’ll learn from them and approach things with more caution next time.”

While it was true that Mimi would tackle her failures with a more gentle approach, the worry never left Y/N.

But still, here she was, rethinking her decision about attending a brunch her best friend from college was hosting to kick off her wedding events. She already knew she was going to be included in her friend’s bridal party and would be honored to be a bridesmaid. Yet, on the morning of the event, she stood in front of her closet, staring at the dress she had set out the night before, filled with doubt.

“Maybe I should tell her I can’t make it?” She questioned, turning to find Chan in the middle of getting dressed.

“Babe, you can’t flake on her. You promised you’d be there.” He shook his head, reminding her of her best friend’s stern phone call warning that she’d better show up.

She sighed, hands resting on her hips, knowing she wouldn’t be able to actually not show without a guilty conscience. Chan came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on her shoulder.

“We talked about this. Everything will be okay here in your absence.”

She turned in his arms, meeting his soft gaze.

“I know, but I can’t help but worry. Every time I’m out alone, all I can think about is Mimi. I know she’s safe with you or our parents, but she’s become such a handful lately. I worry sometimes.”

Chan couldn’t disagree. Mimi was becoming a walking disaster, and even he felt anxious from time to time. But he was more concerned that if she continued to overthink, she might become overbearing and overprotective, which wouldn’t be good for either Mimi or herself in the long run.

“It’s part of growing up. She’ll get hurt, she’ll break things. But, even though she’s a little reckless, she’s such a good girl.” There was a proud glint in his eyes, and both his words and gaze convinced her for now.

“I should start getting ready then.” She sighed.

“Can I watch?” Chan mused, stepping back and eyeing her figure.

“Like you don’t already.” Y/N retorted with a roll of her eyes, earning a chuckle from him as he lounged back on the bed.

It was still early, and Mimi was still asleep in her room. She had well over two hours to prepare before she needed to head out, so there was no rush.

“She had too many of those snacks last night, so please don’t sneak some onto her plate.” She ordered, applying makeup while glancing at Chan through the dresser mirror.

He chuckled and nodded. “Got it.” He remained lounged back, supporting himself with his palms against the mattress.

“And the rug. I’m still worried about it… maybe we should put it—”

“Babe, relax. The rug looks great where it is. It’s been three days, and it’s still pristine.” Chan assured.

Which was true. Y/N had been contemplating for two weeks whether it was a good idea to place it out. She had been hauling it in and out of its spot for the better part of the week before Chan got tired of her indecisiveness. The rug was one of those wedding gifts she had forgotten about until she rediscovered it rolled up in storage. Still wrapped, still new and soft.

She sighed, grabbing her blush compact.

He was right. She was probably overthinking. Mimi understood when she told her to be careful on the rug. She even started tiptoeing on it to avoid ruining it.

Truth be told, Y/N was probably more nervous about seeing her group of college friends she hadn’t seen in forever. Besides her best friend, many of the group were much like herself. Married, with children, busy with their jobs and life. It had become harder for all of them to connect frequently. Her best friend’s celebration was a great excuse to bring everyone back together and have some time for themselves, which they hadn’t had in what felt like forever.

Chan noticed the unconscious smile that spread across her face as she thought about brunch. He was glad. She had been jittery since last night, planning her absence as if she were leaving for a vacation and not just a few hours.

“Which color?” Y/N asked, turning in her seat to hold up lipsticks for him to choose between.

He pondered for a moment before pointing at the right one, only for her to use the other. It still made him laugh, a cute habit of hers that she had ever since the two of them began dating. He still made a choice every time, knowing 9 out of 10 times she was always going to choose for herself anyways.

“That one is too pink.” She muttered, smacking her lips together, satisfied with her choice.

The sound of footsteps running across the floorboards growing closer made them both turn to the door, where their daughter made her entrance for the day, bedhead and all. Mimi ran into her father’s awaiting arms, still sleepy-eyed.

“Morning miss Mimo.” Chan chuckled at the sight of her, clearly pleased that she had slept well.

“Mommy looks pretty.” Mimi complimented with a groggy hum, watching her mother through the mirror, just like her dad had.

Y/N smiled, ready and all, standing up to show off her flowy dress.

“It’a green, your favorite color. Do you like it?” She asked, twirling around to reveal the cute pattern.

Mimi nodded, her eyes lighting up.

“I wanna wear a green dress too mommy!” She’s excited now.

Both Y/N and Chan laughed, and Chan patted down Mimi’s messy hair.

“Let’s take a bath and then get into our pretty dress. We do have a pretty green dress, right?” He’s looking at Y/N.

She nodded, and Chan immediately stood with arms outstretched for their three-year-old to jump into.

It isn’t until Mimi was getting into the bath, Y/N popped into the bathroom, fully ready to leave.

“I’m gonna head out now baby.” She said, her hand gently brushing Mimi’s cheek before she turned to Chan.

“Call me if anything happens. And remember—“

Chan leaned in and pecked her lips, cutting off the barrage of instructions she had been about to give.

“We’ll be good.” He said with a reassuring smile, turning to look down at their daughter, who was already distracted by the bubbles in her bath.

“We’ll be good, right Mimo?” Chan asked, and she responded with an enthusiastic “yes!”

Her loud “bye, Mommy!” echoed several times as she splashed in the water. Y/N walked out, calling back a “bye” before finally heading out the door.

As she stepped outside and the morning sun hit her, Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her.

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“Okay Mimo what should we do today?” Chan leaned against the counter, having just cleaned his daughter’s face from the remnants of their breakfast.

“Snackies!” Mimi wriggled in her seat, pointing towards the cabinet where her mother usually kept the snacks, out of her reach.

The father chuckled, dropping his head. If he stared at her face any longer, he might cave and actually give her the snacks, which he was specifically instructed not to.

“You just ate baby. Let’s do something else, hmm?” He ignored her slight pout, picking her up under one arm and hauling her into the living room like a purse. Her fit of giggles was immediate, a distraction that worked like a charm.

The first hour of their morning was spent watching one of those random cartoons Mimi had stumbled upon one day and had become obsessed with since. Chan watched intently, trying to make sense of the random storyline and wondering why his three-year-old wasn’t confused by what was going on.

By the second hour, Mimi had moved on to clattering her toy tea set loudly in the living room. Chan glanced up every few minutes from his place at the dining table, busy with some work on his laptop but keeping an eye on his daughter. When the clattering stopped, he looked up to find Mimi staring at the TV, almost hypnotized.

“Daddy! Paint!” The child shouted, running to him and tugging at his hands to bring him to the television.

He looked at the bright screen, trying to understand what had his daughter so excited. Mimi was jumping at his side, tugging on his hand. Chan placed his phone down on the coffee table and turned his full attention to the television, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

A puppet dressed as a painter stood in front of a canvas with “Picasso’s Corner” messily painted on it.

Great.

Chan wondered how he was going to distract her this time. He knew she was even more excited about painting because she had recently been given a paint set from one of his close friends, which she hadn’t had a chance to use yet.

Stupid Hyunjin, Chan thought.

But as he glanced down at Mimi’s pleading puppy eyes, he immediately caved. He couldn’t blame himself. He was already heartbroken from the first time he had ignored her request for snacks. How could he deny her this fun activity that she was so excited about?

So, Chan cleared the dining table, spreading newspaper across it to protect the wood from any potential spills, which were bound to happen, even if the paints were labeled as washable. Mimi was beaming in her seat, wriggling with excitement and holding brushes in both hands. Chan chuckled at her enthusiasm, handing her one of the mini canvases that came with the kit.

“You excited Little Picasso?” He laughed, tearing away the plastic and packaging from the bottles of paint.

Another nickname added to Chan’s list of endless, adorable things he called his daughter. Even Mimo came from their game of hide-and-seek, which was strictly called “Finding Mimo” in their household.

“Yes! So excited!” Mimi’s eyes were wide, and her grin was the biggest Chan had seen in a long time, melting his heart with her adorable expression.

True to her new nickname, Little Picasso dove right in, her brush creating blobs and streaks of green, red, and yellow on the blank canvas. Of course, the paint quickly spread to her fingers, the newspaper, and even her face. Chan noticed the splatter on her dress and quickly checked the label on the paint bottle to confirm it was indeed washable. He sighed in relief when he saw that it was.

“Daddy, blue please!” Mimi handed him an unopened bottle still covered in its film.

As Chan began to unwrap it, twisting open the cap and removing the silver foil inside, his cell phone rang loudly across the room. He strided over to the coffee table, setting the opened paint bottle that he unconsciously brought with him, down and quickly picked up his phone.

It was a call from his friend, and Chan was already distracted, walking away from the table, and the paint bottle, and the white rug underneath it all. His eyes were fixed on the television, which continued to play in the background while he and Mimi had started their painting activity at the dining area.

Mimi’s eyes widened as she watched the blue paint bottle tip over from the wind of Chan’s swift turn, spilling its contents into a bright pool beneath it. The vivid color began to trickle down onto the rug, leaving a streak of blue that spread across the white and seeped into the fur.

The toddler gasped, sitting up in her chair.

“Daddy!” Mimi’s voice rang out, her paint-smeared fingers covering her mouth in surprise.

Her shout made Chan look at her, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of her paint-splattered face. But quickly masked in confusion, as he followed her gaze and was shocked to see the blue puddle spreading across the rug he swore wouldn’t get ruined anytime soon.

“I’ll call you back.” He muttered into the phone.

Chan rushed to the table, grabbing the blue bottle, now slippery with paint. His frantic hands tried to contain the spill that was freely flowing over the edge of the coffee table.

“Shit.” He grumbled.

“Shit—Mimo, pass me a paper towel, please!” He shouted over his shoulder, watching as the toddler scrambled to get out of her seat.

But as Mimi climbed out of her seat, the paper plate that Chan had used as a makeshift paint palette fell to the ground with a splat.

“Oops.” The child muttered, glancing up to look at her father, who bit back.

“It’s okay baby” Chan said, trying to keep his voice calm despite the growing chaos. “Just bring Daddy the paper towels, please.”

He wasn’t sure what he was trying to salvage at this point. The bottle had already emptied its contents onto the table and the carpet. All he was really doing now was playing in the mess, his hands and forearms smeared with blue paint.

Mimi handed him the paint-stained paper towels, finger-prints from her own messy hands. The toddler eyes filled with curiosity as she watched him dab at the remaining blue pool.

“Mommy’s carpet is messy.” She stated the obvious, her feet squishing against the blue liquid on the furry rug as she played in it.

“I’ll clean over there!” She announced, grabbing some paper towels and running toward the mess she had made back there.

“Mimi wait—”

But of course, she didn’t stop. Her blue footprints marked every step she took. Chan could only watch in dismay as the mess spread and his daughter, now resembling a walking paintbrush, continued her impromptu cleanup.

He inhaled deeply, trying to keep himself calm.

“I’m freaking screwed.” He muttered to himself.

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She hummed on her way back, feeling light and refreshed after a delightful morning with friends and the emotional moment of being asked to be her best friend’s bridesmaid. Y/N was glad she hadn’t canceled, as it had been a much-needed breath of fresh air. Plus, she had learned a surprising lesson about motherhood that morning.

But when she entered the house, which was eerily quiet except for the distant animated voice from the television, she narrowed her brows in confusion.

“I’m home!” She announced, trading her shoes for house slippers.

Before she could even make it past the threshold, Chan slid to a stop in front of her, arms extended to block her path. Y/N stared at her husband in surprise. Parts of his face was smeared in blue, his fingers stained with what used to be paint.

“Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry.” He pleaded, a guilty expression all over his face.

The stunned wife slowly narrowed her gaze, nudging past him. “What happened—”

And she didn’t get to finish her sentence. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight. Blue splashes covered the rug, vibrant against its white fur. There were blue footprints and red and yellow handprints on the dining table, the chairs, and even the tissue roll holder. Streaks of spillage marked the dark floorboards, cleaned haphazardly.

“It’s my fault. I put the paint on the table and got distracted, Mimo didn’t do anything.”

Mimi, who had been sent to another room and instructed to count to one hundred, decided she had counted enough. Although she struggled to recall numbers beyond thirteen, she had given up trying to continue. After hearing the mention of her name, she stepped into the living room, observing the quiet, tense atmosphere with big eyes.

“Is daddy in trouble?” She asked, her small voice full of concern, even though most of the mess was unintentionally her doing.

Y/N turned to find her daughter, now more of a mess than when she had left her. It was clear Chan had tried to clean her up, but she was still stained with paint.

Washable my ass. Chan had muttered, once he had realized the paint wasn’t coming off easily.

Chan thinned his lips, attempting a smile at the toddler, but his eyes stayed anxiously fixed on Y/N.

It wasn’t until Y/N laughed, fingers covering her mouth to stifle her loud cackle at the ridiculousness of the situation, that Chan stood there dumbfounded.

He swore she had finally snapped, that her patience had broken. That she had finally lost it.

“Oh baby, look at you!” Y/N crouched down, arms outstretched for her three-year-old to come into.

Mimi ran into her mother’s arms, mirroring her laughter.

“Are…you not upset?” Chan questioned, still not fully convinced.

Y/N glanced back at the rug, then back at her husband.

“Should I be? I mean, it already happened. There’s not much we can do about it now, can we?” She smiled at the child in her arms, lifting Mimi’s jaw to take in her paint-streaked face up close.

And she was laughing again.

Her words echoed Chan’s usual calm demeanor, but coming from her, they made him nervous. He stood silent, unsure of what to make of her reaction.

Sensing his continued worry, Y/N stood and walked over to him, examining him as she had Mimi.

“You two look like smurfs.” She said, stifling another laugh as she took his stained fingers, drawing his knuckles closer.

He sighed, gripping her hand gently.

“You’re really not upset? I know you were really worried about that rug.” He seemed disappointed in himself, upset that he couldn’t prevent the mess.

Y/N shook her head, smiling as she looked back at the ruined rug.

“Not upset, I promise.”

Chan wondered what had brought this sudden change in her demeanor. He was sure she would have berated him with “I told you so’s” or remained silent until her disappointment simmered down. That she would have regret ever leaving.

“I learned something at brunch today.” Y/N said as she returned to Mimi’s side, starting to undo the buttons of her dress for a proper cleanup.

“All my other friends were telling me about their children and the havoc they caused. I was surprised that our Mimi was an angel compared to the tales I heard.” The mother laughed.

“Then thinking back to the disasters our daughter caused, I realized our Mimi isn’t reckless, she’s just a little clumsy.” She looked up at Chan, who raised an eyebrow.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for so long.” Chan said, though he sounded slightly bemused.

Y/N shook her head. “Yeah, I wasn’t fully convinced.”

Chan sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, still smiling.

“But you better clean all of this up.” She added, her brows furrowing with the stern expression Chan had expected much earlier.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll leave this place spotless.” Chan nodded.

While the parents talked, the toddler got closer to the painted rug, crouching down to see if the blue had dried, much like the smudges and streaks on her face and her dress. But it hadn’t, and she stared at it on her finger.

“Shit!” She exclaimed loudly.

Both parents snapped their heads toward Mimi. Chan, who had momentarily forgotten in his earlier state of frenzy, of how impressionable his daughter was, gulped nervously. He could feel the hot glare his wife was shooting him, too scared to meet her angry gaze.

“I-it was the creepy Picasso puppet.” Chan attempted to lie, though it was obvious it wouldn’t work.

Her raised brow and crossed arms were clear indication of it.

“Hey, at least she used it in the right context.” Chan continued, trying to lighten the mood, his wife only stared at him in disbelief.

“Clean. Now.” Y/N ordered, walking over to pick up her Little Picasso for her second bath, with the tell-tale signs of another cheesy grin on her face.

Seeing which Chan also broke into a grin.

“Wash me next!” He couldn’t help but laugh, rushing after the mother-daughter duo, his wife playfully pushing him away with a nudge of her arm.

And even though Mimi’s painting skills were what her father liked to call “abstract,” the little canvas of her red, yellow, and green blobs was definitely a family portrait according to Chan, was hung proudly in her parents’ room.

“A colorful disaster that captured the essence of our family. Our Little Picasso is a genius!”

Again, a proud father’s words we might have to fact check. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

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iateyourparents · 9 months

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HII, i was wondering if you could do another jake fic where he is streaming or someone is filming him when he’s drunk and he’s just like “look at my beautiful gf” and all soppy and that, thanks! 😁

my girl | j.w.

pairing: jake webber x fem!reader

summary: jake is drunk and in love.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry, english isn’t my first language)

an: thank you! i loved writing this and i hope you like it <333

pictures are from pinterest :)

You had no idea how this all happened.

One minute you were peacefully watching Criminal Minds in your bed and next minute you were standing in front of gas station next to your apartment waiting for Jake’s friend to drop him off.

You still wondered how he got drunk, he was supposed to be filming a video that had nothing in common with an alcohol.

Finally, after standing there for ten minutes, in only your pajamas and sneakers, you saw familiar car pulling into the parking area next to where you were standing.

You quickly walked to the car while the driver, your and Jake’s good friend, got out of the car and opened back door where Jake, drunk and half asleep, was sitting next to Johnnie, also drunk, who was playing with his phone.

“Hi boys.” you turned their attention on you and you could see how Jake’s face lighted up when he saw you.

“My baby.” Jake babbled to himself still smiling widely at you “My future wife. I love you.”

As much as you wanted to smile and coo at that you stopped yourself and kept your stern face.

“How was recording. Were you by any chance making a ‘let’s see how drunk I can get without giving my girlfriend any signs I’m alive?’ video?” you asked raising your brow.

Jake was looking at you for a moment, thinking about something and then said “Sorry baby, we didn’t plan on getting drunk.” he was pouting and his voice was kind of slurred and you could see he was having problems with forming sentences.

“Yeah but we had to celebrate Jake finally getting his balls.” Johnnie added still doing something on his phone “I think I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“What? What did Jake do?” you asked worried that he did some stupid shit and he will regret it in the morning.

“Nothing yet, don’t worry love.” Jake assured you and unbuckled his safety belt. As much as you wanted to question him more, you knew it was no use while he was drunk cause he would just be saying whatever came to his mind, so you gave up deciding you would remind him of it in the morning.

Jake slowly got out of the car with Johnnie carefully following him with his phone, so you just assumed he was making photos of your boyfriend.

When Jake was fully out he quickly walked to you and hugged you tightly, kissing your cheek.

“My love.” he murmured and turned you both so he was facing Johnnie “Do you see it bro? My pretty girl is here. My girl.” he had dreamy face and you smiled slightly at that.

“Yay!” Johnnie cheered silently.

“We should go on a date.” Jake declared.

“We will think about it.” you assured him and he kissed your forehead.

“Let’s go!”

“Like right now?” you asked amused and he nodded vigorously.

“Yeah, wherever you want to go.” he said and in this moment, he reminded you of a little puppy.

“Let’s just go home now and we will go on a date on saturday hm?” you offered.

“Alright.” he again nodded and your friend who drove Jake here looked at you.

“Help you with getting him to your house?” he asked.

You looked at him with small smile “I’ll be okay, thank you. What will you do with Johnnie?”

“I will just let him sleep on my couch.” he laughed quietly.

“Good luck with him.” you smiled at him.

“To you too.” he nodded to Jake who currently was trying to pick up imaginary flowers for you.

“Thanks.”

You took Jake’s hand and started walking toward your apartment building doors.

“You have to be quiet pretty boy, people are sleeping.” you reminded him to behave.

“For you everything, I will be like Kim Possible.” he slurred and you laughed quietly.

“Sure.”

For the rest of the night Jake was extremely cuddly, like always after drinking. And you found it really adorable but at the same time you were mad at him for not giving you any signs that he’s still alive, just drunk. You were worried about him.

Next morning you woke up to your phone blowing up. You had many mentions on twitter and you were confused what happened for Jake’s fans to go crazy like that.

And then you saw Johnnie’s instagram story. It was posted at night and it was video of Jake sweet talking about you while still sitting in the car and then video of you and Jake when you were about to take him home from the gas station.

After seeing this, you opened twitter app to see what people were saying about it.

And let’s just say, your heart melted at how much they loved your and Jake’s relationship.

#jake webber x reader #jake webber #johnnie guilbert #jake #snc #sam and colby #colby brock #sam golbach #tara yummy #tarayummy

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leaawrites · 2 months

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Read to me

Percy Jackson x fem!reader

Summary: in a world full of monsters, Percy just wants to protect his girlfriend.

Warnings: mentions of rainstorms, mentions of threats, self doubt, angst, fluff

Wordcount: 0.8k

Masterlist

The night started off with soft rain falling from the sky on the top of the beach house. Montauk. It started quiet and not threatening. Being the Son of Poseidon it shouldn’t make him lay away at night in fear of the storm outside, right? He shouldn’t fear it. But since the dreams got heavier and he finally had something - someone to lose, it felt all a bit more threatening. His life was now not only weighting him down - threatening him - but also her. The girl in his arms that was unaware of everything that happened during summer.

He felt bad for not spending the holiday with her, but she also couldn’t accompany him. Being left to wonder what he was doing there. She knew Grover already and she listened to Percy talk about his friends there - like Annabeth, a girl he mentioned one time too much in her opinion (but she would never actually say that to him) or Tyson. She knew about the lake that was there and capture the flag, but everything else was a mystery to her.

“Why are you still awake?” Y/n asked, waking up in the middle of the night from her boyfriend shaking in fear of a lightning and thunder.

It wasn’t the first time they have slept in the same bed, often doing sleepovers on the weekends. And it definitely wasn’t the first time she woke up because of him. But when she asked for the reason it was always the same.

“Just a bad dream,” Percy muttered, rubbing her arm gently to assure her that it was all fine.

“Percy,” she said, pushing him further than before. Mostly she would just let it go, nod and give him a kiss before snuggling back into his side and fall asleep again. Assuring him that he was safe was her. But he feared that she wasn’t safe with him.

“What are you dreaming about?”

The questioned lingered on her mind for longer already but she finally spoke the words. She needed answers. Not just lame excuses as to why he had scratches down his skin or why he always carried a pen with him when he never even used it.

She needed answers and he knew that, but could he give them to her so easily without putting her in danger? He couldn’t, so what would he give her? What could he give her?

“You,” he answered. Y/n looked at him confused, leaning on her arms to look at him properly. Her fingers moving through his hair. “It’s always you and it never ends good. I don’t want whatever happens in my mind happen in reality too.”

“It won’t,” she assured him, laying her head in the crook of his neck, planting small kisses on his skin.

“What if it will?” He couldn’t keep the possibility of it all away from his mind. He couldn’t block out the pictures he saw when closing his eyes.

“They’re just dreams, Percy,” she said again.

“Maybe they’re not,” he argued back.

“Dreams can’t hurt you.” She took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “I’m here. I’m fine. And as long as I’m with you I will be.”

Silence filled the room. She was right, partially. As long as she was with him nothing would happen to her. He was able to protect her, fight whatever would threaten her.

“Can you read to me?”

Y/n looked at him surprised but nodded nonetheless. Climbing out from under the covers to grab the book, which she would be reading to him whenever he asked, from her bag. The Odyssey. She was confused and taken back when he asked her the first time, taking the book from her shelve and telling her about his interest for Greek Mythology. That was the first night he stayed over at hers. Listening to her read the words written on the pages for him to better understand them.

Saving herself from the cold again by laying back down next to him, Percy rested his head on her chest like he always did. Her hand found it’s way into his hair and gently playing with a few strands. Percy would ask some questions about who was who again sometimes, making her giggle in embarrassment when she didn’t know herself and then they would try and recite which characters they still knew had which part in the story.

The thunder still followed the bright streak of light closely behind but it got less and when she felt him finally relax against her fully and she turned off the light all which was left was soft rain. Kissing the top of his head, she closed her own eyes, falling back into a deep slumber surrounded with her own dreams of him.

#pjo #percy jackson imagine #percy pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy series #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #pjo imagine #pjo fanfic #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson x fem!reader

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thedensworld · 6 months

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Falling Flower | K.Mg

Pairing: CEO Mingyu! x Secretary Reader

Genre: suggestive, fluff, humour, angst

Summary: Mingyu never thought that he would find Y/n, his friend's secretary, attractive. What's started from eyes, physical, has fallen to his heart. As he tries to get to know you, he realizes he knew nothing about you.

Warning: child abuse, mental health, pregnancy, unprotected sex, ptsd, asexual description on character, heavy plot asdfghjkl.

Part 2 has uploaded here: Flower Bloomed

Mingyu's nervous anticipation lingered in the air as he rhythmically tapped his finger on the sofa, his other hand guarding his mouth to restrain words he feared might escape. Across the room, Choi Seungcheol remained absorbed in finishing his work, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil brewing within his younger friend.

"I was surprised when I heard you'll be visiting," Seungcheol remarked, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Mingyu's restlessness. Rising from his desk, he joined Mingyu on the sofa, prompting a flicker of hope in the younger man's eyes.

The door creaked open, and Mingyu's gaze snapped toward the entrance, only to be met with disappointment as one of Seungcheol's secretaries entered. A visible trace of frustration clouded Mingyu's expression, realizing he wouldn't see you upon the door's opening, a fact that had fueled his anticipation since stepping into the building.

"Here's your coffee, gentlemen," the secretary politely interjected, placing the cups on the table. Instead of retreating, he cleared his throat, vying for both Seungcheol and Mingyu's attention, though Mingyu sensed the message was primarily for Seungcheol.

"Ms. Ji has informed that she needs a day of rest and may join you tomorrow, sir. I'll be attending today," the secretary conveyed, a hint of formality in his words. Seungcheol's forehead creased with concern, and Mingyu, sensing an underlying tension, couldn't help but wonder about the undisclosed circumstances.

"Why didn't she call me? Is she alright?" Seungcheol's voice held genuine worry, and Mingyu found himself caught in the currents of concern and curiosity, eager to unravel the mystery veiled behind Seungcheol's questioning tone.

"Yes, she's alright. She didn't want to worry you, sir. Please let me know if there's anything you need," the secretary assured, earning a nod from Seungcheol before gracefully exiting the office.

Mingyu, sensing an unspoken weight in the air, couldn't hold back his concern. "What's wrong? What happened to Y/n?"

Seungcheol, his face etched with a sigh, began to unravel the untold tale. "She collapsed an hour before you came."

Mingyu gasped, the news hitting him like a sudden storm. "Is she alright?"

Seungcheol, taking a contemplative sip of his coffee, revealed, "Just like what you heard from Jun earlier. She never takes a day off and barely has any rest. I was worried because she has no one but a roommate."

The revelation gripped Mingyu's attention. "No one? You mean family?"

Seungcheol's furrowed brows hinted at a mystery yet to be unraveled. "I don't know, but she didn't write down her family members on the application form."

Seungcheol swiftly redirected the conversation, his tone revealing a calculated move. "Why are we suddenly talking about my secretary? I know you're here with a reason, right? Is it about the article released yesterday?" Mingyu, caught off guard by the shift, sensed that Seungcheol might be deliberately steering away from the topic of Y/n.

"You've got it pretty bad, my man. That's why you disappeared all of a sudden, huh?" Seungcheol remarked, referring to a photo of Mingyu with a woman at Joshua's birthday party. Mingyu sighed, wearied by the older man's probing questions. "It's almost two months already, but why did the media have to release it right before my company's anniversary?" he lamented, finding solace in finally having an outlet for the frustration that had built up since the article's publication.

"They even wrote 'Kim Group's heir playboy agenda...'" Mingyu paused, attempting to convey his exasperation by showing something on his phone.

Seungcheol stifled a laugh while reading a headline the media had crafted. "Kim Mingyu: a businessman who's ready to sweep your heart. Pfftt.."

Mingyu pocketed his phone, frustration evident in his voice. "I didn't go study business in the States just to be accused as a playboy." The weight of Mingyu's words hung in the air, a mix of pride and frustration as he grappled with the undeserved label imposed by the media.

Seungcheol nodded knowingly. "I know. It was your fault starting that playboy image when you brought actress Kim Huisoo to the Jeon charity ball years ago," he stated matter-of-factly, a fact that sent Mingyu's head spinning.

"I know. I should've clarified that Kim Huisoo is actually a cousin. She doesn't want the public to know she's part of our family," Mingyu sighed, a tinge of regret coloring his words.

Seungcheol, nonchalant, shrugged. "It was a good decision that I only brought Y/n to every event I attended." He continued, "That's why I told you to have a woman as your secretary."

"Not all women are Ji Y/n," Mingyu muttered, rolling his eyes at the older man.

Seungcheol smiled proudly. "That's true."

Mingyu, shifting his posture, finally divulged his true purpose. "Talking about Y/n... I actually came here to meet her." He paused, but before he could elaborate, Seungcheol interjected, "What is it?"

Shaking his head, Mingyu rose from his seat. "I should get going. Are you coming to Wonwoo's after-party tomorrow?" he inquired, leaving Seungcheol in a state of confusion. Despite the lingering questions, Seungcheol could only nod as Mingyu exited his office. The unspoken complexities of Mingyu's visit left Seungcheol pondering, unsure of the full extent of what transpired within those walls.

"You must be kidding me, right?" Minseo exclaimed incredulously, throwing her hands in the air as if attempting to physically reject the words that had just escaped your lips. A nervous laughter bubbled up within her, and she desperately clung to the hope that it was all some elaborate joke. "It was a joke, right? Ok, nice one," she managed to say between laughter, offering you a compliment for what inadvertently became an unexpected ab workout from holding back her amusement.

As you gazed at Minseo, a profound calmness settled over you, concealing the internal turmoil that had been brewing since yesterday. Silently, you wished for this surreal revelation to be nothing more than a prank or a bizarre dream. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on you, prompting a deep sigh as you leaned into the sofa. Fatigue gripped you, and you closed your eyes, seeking a momentary escape from the harsh reality that had unfolded.

Kim Minseo scrutinized your expression, her own heartbeat quickening as the reality of your confession sank in. The gravity of your words was unmistakable, and there was a palpable tension in the air – nothing about this was a joke. The weight of the truth hung heavily between you.

In a surge of disbelief and frustration, Minseo seized your collar, her grip tight and accusatory. "You're crazy?! How could you get pregnant all of a sudden?!" Her words erupted like a storm, echoing through the room as she confronted the unexpected revelation.

You furrowed your brow, a mixture of annoyance and resignation etching your features. "I know. It just happened," you mumbled, attempting to convey the unexpected nature of the situation. However, the mounting tension pushed you to a breaking point, and in a moment of frustration, you pushed Minseo away. The force caused her to stumble, landing on the floor – a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil that had unraveled in mere moments. The room now held an uneasy silence, broken only by the echoes of Minseo's shout and the lingering weight of an unforeseen reality.

Minseo swiftly rose from the floor, her urgency palpable as she seized your arm. "Let's go have an abortion!" she declared, the words hanging in the air with a weight you never anticipated coming from her.

Your eyes widened in shock, the gravity of Minseo's suggestion hitting you like a sudden storm. Her unexpected proposal left you speechless, grappling with the reality of the situation. This was a turn of events you hadn't prepared for, and the tension in the room escalated.

"What?" you stammered, the incredulity evident in your voice. The idea of Minseo suggesting such a course of action caught you off guard, unraveling any expectations you might have had.

Minseo locked eyes with you, her expression a mix of determination and concern. "What?" she echoed, seeking a response to her proposal.

Shaking your head, you replied hastily, "I don't have time. I have work to do!" The weight of responsibilities, both unexpected and preexisting, pressed on you, clouding your judgment.

In response, Minseo gasped before tightening her grip on your collar once again. "And you've got time to get knocked?" she retorted, her frustration evident as the confrontation escalated, leaving both of you ensnared in a complex web of emotions and decisions.

Observing your silent turmoil, Minseo released a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of understanding. Her eyes softened as she settled beside you, gently taking hold of your hand in a gesture of support. "How long is it?" she inquired, her tone filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

You turned your head to meet her gaze, the vulnerability in your eyes reflecting the reality of the situation. "5 weeks," you revealed, the weight of those weeks palpable in the heaviness of the air.

A nervous edge crept into Minseo's voice as she broached a sensitive question, "Do you know the father?" Her inquiry hung in the air, the uncertainty adding an extra layer of tension to the conversation.

Closing your eyes, you hesitated, reluctant to delve into that particular topic just yet. Instead, you nodded, your acknowledgment accompanied by a flood of memories from the night in question. Regret washed over you as you raised your hands to cover your face. Rather than succumbing to sadness, embarrassment swept over you like an overwhelming wave, adding a complex layer to the emotional tapestry that unfolded. The room, once charged with confrontation, now held a delicate atmosphere of shared vulnerability and unspoken understanding.

The weight of the revelation hung heavily in the air, and you couldn't escape the realization that it was a mere drunken mistake – a wishful thinking that somehow the alcohol had clouded the events of that night. However, clarity hit hard as you acknowledged that you were a hundred percent sober, the memories of that regrettable night etched vividly in your mind. A part of you yearned for him to forget, yet another part wished he would remember.

"Noooo!" The exclamation escaped your lips as you kicked your leg into the air, a spontaneous outburst that startled Minseo, sitting beside you and absorbing the rollercoaster of emotions.a

Minseo, with a careful tone, sought to understand the complexity of the situation. "It's not just a random person you met at a club or something, right? The father?" she asked, delicately navigating the sensitive terrain.

"It'll be better," you mumbled in response, a quiet plea for understanding. The weight of the truth and the potential consequences loomed large, creating a web of conflicting emotions that both bound and divided you in this unexpected journey.

Minseo's palm met her forehead in an exasperated gesture. "Okay!" she declared as she rose from her seat, pointing a finger at you to emphasize the undeniable fact – you were five weeks pregnant. The weight of the revelation settled in the room as she continued, "And I'm going to fly to the States for study in three days."

A cloud of guilt seemed to shadow her expression as she posed a poignant question. "Are you okay with me leaving you?" The concern in her eyes was evident, a reflection of the dilemma she found herself in.

You nodded reassuringly, "Yeah, don't worry. It's not like my entire life would change," you offered, attempting to alleviate Minseo's concerns and downplay the upheaval that lay ahead.

"Should I delay my study and help you instead?" Minseo queried, raising a brow in consideration.

In response, you playfully threw a pillow in her direction, the well-aimed hit prompting a light chuckle. "No way! You worked hard for this. You should go," you insisted, appreciating her ambitions and refusing to be the reason for any detour.

"It's not like it's my first time living alone," you added, attempting to underscore your self-sufficiency despite the unexpected circumstances. Minseo observed you, her worry evident as she mumbled, "But you're pregnant."

Standing up, you prepared to retreat to your room, asserting, "It's just pregnancy, Minseo. I'll get used to it. Don't worry," leaving a lingering reassurance in the air as you walked to your room. You definitely need time to process this.

As you strolled towards the office, Seungcheol abruptly halted and called your attention, snapping you out of the daydream that had seemingly captivated your thoughts since morning.

"Are you okay? Do you need a day off?" he inquired, observing your startled expression. You shook your head, offering your usual smile. "I'm good, sir. Just lost in thought. I apologize," you said, motioning for him to resume the journey to his office.

"What did the hospital say about your condition yesterday? I hope it's nothing that's causing you to be distracted today," he remarked, a mix of jest and genuine concern in his tone. Clearing your throat, you reassured him, "i'm fine, sir. Just exhaustion. I rested well yesterday," you explained.

Once the two of you arrived in front of his office, he paused, refraining from entering immediately. Turning towards you, he hesitated for a moment before extending an invitation, "Can you accompany me for my schedule tonight? Just until the after party."

Nodding in acknowledgment, you took note of this favor, "Do you want me to come in a suit or a dress, sir?" It was a routine question, one you always posed whenever the same agenda surfaced.

"Dress, please. Even though it's Wonwoo's birthday, you know how the Jeons are with their events," he replied, a subtle reminder of the grandeur and regality that often accompanied gatherings hosted by the Jeon family.

As you nodded and respectfully bowed, returning to your desk, Seungcheol unexpectedly swung his office door open once again, prompting you to turn your head towards him.

"Yes, sir?" you inquired, noticing the furrow on Seungcheol's brow.

"Mingyu was looking for you yesterday. Do you have business with him that I don't know about?" he questioned, his tone reflecting a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Caught off guard, you paused for a moment before nervously responding, "He might want to confront me for a mistake I made last week. I mistakenly scheduled a meeting with him earlier than intended." The unexpected visit from the heir of Kim Group, CEO Kim FnB, Kim Mingyu, still surprised you.

Raising an eyebrow, Seungcheol pressed further, "Why does he have to confront you himself?"

You shrugged, replying, "Mr. Yoon was like that as well," referencing Jeonghan, Seungcheol's friend who often interacted with you in a friendly manner.

Seungcheol sighed, expressing his concern, "Please tell me immediately if the boys bother you next time," his words carried a protective tone, a reminder of the tight-knit group of friends you had become acquainted with through your association with him.

As you nodded in acknowledgment, gratitude laced your words, "Yes, sir... Thank you so much." Seungcheol reciprocated the nod before gently closing the door, leaving you alone at your desk.

A heavy breath of relief escaped you as you contemplated why Kim Mingyu sought you out. Did he remember? You shook your head, recalling that he seemed oblivious that night, likely due to intoxication. If only you hadn't approached him at the bar and engaged in conversation.

To shake off the lingering thoughts, you resorted to a series of self-slaps to regain focus. There was a pile of work, emails to send, and phone calls to make. Distractions happened, but you were determined to get back on track.

Just as you were settling into your tasks, a phone call from Minseo interrupted your concentration. Her urgent tone conveyed a sense of distress. "Ji Y/n, what am I gonna do? My course starts earlier than I expected, and I have to fly to the States by tonight," she explained, painting a picture of her predicament.

"Really? But I have a schedule tonight; I can't come to the airport," you replied, glancing at your itinerary, which indicated the after party starting at 11. A brief moment of realization hit you; that was the time you'd be free.

"It's okay. Please make sure that you call me if anything happens, okay? I'm in the middle of packing!" Minseo requested, seeking reassurance.

"Hmm... Take care," you replied, the weight of conflicting priorities settling in.

"Mr. Bae Inhyeon, President of Gubbae Electronic, at 12 o'clock," you whispered to Seungcheol, trailing a few inches behind him. Seungcheol's grin widened, and he raised his hand in a welcoming gesture towards Bae Inhyeon. You followed suit, offering a polite bow as Seungcheol introduced you as his dedicated secretary.

Not even ten minutes had passed since you and Seungcheol arrived, yet the room buzzed with excitement as everyone eagerly anticipated meeting Seungcheol, the formidable contender for the future presidency of Choi Corp. With a subtle finesse, you discreetly shared the names of those who greeted him, offering hushed insights behind his back. Your role extended beyond mere administrative duties; you navigated the intricate web of industry relationships with adept skill.

As the interactions unfolded, you observed the dynamics at play, blending seamlessly into the background while subtly influencing the course of conversations. The air was charged with ambition and anticipation, a palpable energy that hinted at the high stakes involved in the corporate world. Your commitment to understanding the industry's players proved invaluable as you seamlessly assisted Seungcheol in navigating the intricate social fabric of business engagements. In this fast-paced environment, your keen awareness and discreet gestures spoke volumes about your competency as a secretary.

After exchanging pleasantries with the gathering, Seungcheol made his way to Wonwoo, the man of the hour celebrating his birthday. With a subtle motion, he indicated for you to enjoy the impending festivities, as the ceremony for the launch of Wonwoo's entertainment label was about to commence.

Taking advantage of the brief moment, you excused yourself and navigated toward the restroom, intent on a quick check of your appearance. Inside, you found two women engaged in a lively conversation, their camaraderie evident.

As you eavesdropped on their discussion, it became apparent that they were the "plus one", well-versed in the dynamics of the industry. The woman in the black dress remarked enthusiastically, "Did you see Kim Mingyu entering the ballroom? This place lit up."

Her companion, while reapplying lipstick, nodded with a knowing smile. "He's a fine man, and he's still young. What do you expect from a conglomerate?"

The black dress woman chuckled, her tone carrying a hint of mischief. "However, he's a womanizer, do you know that?" she revealed.

The woman in the yellow dress responded with a teasing tone, "With that look, he couldn't not be one. If my daddy ever grows tired of me, I might just throw myself at him."

A sigh escaped your lips as you turned your head towards the animated conversation. "Excuse me, Daddy's babies. Could you lower your voices a bit? Thanks," you calmly requested, punctuating the statement with a corporate smile that concealed any underlying irritation.

They scrutinized you from head to toe, skepticism evident in their eyes. One of them, with a hint of disdain, asked, "Who are you? It doesn't seem like you're part of their circle. Are you also a mistress?" Laughter ensued from both, the echoes of their amusement resonating within the restroom.

Undeterred, you gracefully walked away. Just before reaching the exit, you turned your body and retorted, "Do I look like one of you guys? Stop joking!" The playful remark carried a touch of assertiveness as you left the restroom, leaving behind the lingering traces of your unyielding self-assurance.

The ceremony had yet to begin, and as you wandered around the ballroom, Seungcheol appeared to relish his newfound freedom in your absence. Determined to locate him, you scanned the crowd for his familiar figure.

Amidst your search, a man approached, introducing himself as Lee Jaewook. "You might know me from my father, Lee Daeyong, of Daeyong Finance," he stated confidentially, handing you a glass of wine.

"What's your name, lady?"

Politely accepting the glass, you replied, "Ji Y/n."

His admission continued, "I've seen you around sometimes, but I never dared to approach you."

Nodding graciously, you offered a warm smile. "I appreciate that. I'm engaged," you revealed, lifting your hand to showcase the engagement ring you always wore to events—a precautionary measure suggested by Seungcheol. The ring had been carefully chosen and purchased by him.

Jaewook appeared taken aback, inquiring, "Are you with your fiance then? May I know him?" Before you could utter a response, a hand slipped around your waist, catching you off guard. Turning, you found Kim Mingyu with a smile that seemed to hold secrets shared between them and extended to Jaewook.

"I've been looking for you," Mingyu remarked softly, his words carrying a certain ambiguity. Confusion etched across your face as you regarded him, but any questions were silenced as he whispered into your ear, "Just play with me."

"Kim Mingyu, I didn't know you had such a beautiful fiancée," Lee Jaewook remarked, a touch of admiration in his voice. Mingyu responded with a charming smile, acknowledging the compliment, "Yeah, it's not easy to have a beautiful fiancée and try to keep her away from some foxy eyes around. Right, Lee Jaewook?" He took the glass of wine from your hand, sipping it casually as if to emphasize his point.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, wondering about Mingyu's unexpected playfulness. It was a departure from the composed and mysterious demeanor he had displayed earlier. As Lee Jaewook smiled and excused himself, stating, "I should go. See you later, you two," you couldn't help but feel a lingering sense of intrigue and uncertainty.

As Lee Jaewook departed, you seized the opportunity, releasing a fake cough to capture Mingyu's attention. He promptly withdrew his hand from your waist into his pocket, meeting your gaze with a hint of amusement. "Not even a thanks?" he teased, his tone carrying a playful edge.

You sighed, offering a gracious smile, "Thank you so much, Mr. Kim." Intent on continuing your quest to find your boss, you began to move away, but Mingyu unexpectedly grasped your arm, halting your departure. "I think we have something to discuss."

Tilting your head skeptically, you mumbled, "I don't think so," though your heart betrayed you with a subtle flutter. Mingyu leaned in, his hand tracing your left arm as he whispered, "Even you wear the same bracelet as that night." The revelation caught you off guard, and you instinctively took a step back, a rapid exhale betraying your flustered state.

A stroke of luck intervened as you caught sight of Seungcheol seated at his table with friends Jeonghan and Joshua. Turning to Mingyu, still playfully smiling, you seized the moment. "Let's talk tomorrow at lunch," you asserted before walking away, leaving behind a tantalizing air of mystery and a perplexed Kim Mingyu. The ballroom continued to buzz with anticipation, but your focus had shifted, promising a lunchtime rendezvous filled with unanswered questions and hidden intrigues.

Mingyu carefully placed your order on the table, his discomfort apparent as he kept a watchful eye on the surroundings—ever mindful of maintaining a low profile in the presence of college students. Taking your sandwich, you remarked, "No one knows you here," alluding to the anonymity offered by the casual crowd.

Sitting across from you, Mingyu sighed, his gaze fixated on you as you began to eat. A playful smile crept onto his cheeks as he teased, "Slow down, Seungcheol hyung must have starved you, right?"

You shook your head, replying, "I've been wanting this," prompting a chuckle from Mingyu.

While you effortlessly devoured your sandwich, you noticed Mingyu hadn't taken a single bite of his. A trace of guilt flickered across your face, leading you to apologize, "Sorry, is it not to your liking?" His soft laughter followed, leaving you puzzled.

"Why are you laughing?" you inquired, furrowing your brows.

Mingyu shook his head, "No, it's just... I like it," he confessed, his smile genuine.

Curiosity piqued, you casually asked, sipping your orange juice, "What do you like?"

His response caught you off guard, "I like how you're so casual when it's only the two of us."

The unexpected revelation caused you to halt mid-sip, setting the stage for a moment of candid connection amid the backdrop of a quiet lunchtime rendezvous. The air hung with a mixture of surprise and intrigue as you navigated the uncharted territory of personal interaction with Kim Mingyu.

"Never in my life did I think I would have the chance to talk to you until you approached me at the bar," Mingyu began, his words carrying a tinge of vulnerability. "We talked about a lot of things, right? I remembered them all. I also remember... Hmm... What happened next," he nervously confessed.

Your nod signaled acknowledgment, but you found yourself at a loss for words. Mingyu's next statement caught you off guard, "I want to know your feelings about me," he admitted, leaving you slightly taken aback.

Raising your brow, you responded almost whisperingly, "My feelings?" Mingyu nodded earnestly, revealing, "Because I don't resent everything that happened that night. On the contrary, I found it profound."

A pregnant pause hung in the air as you processed his unexpected confession. Finally, you let out a soft chuckle, breaking the tension, "I didn't expect this, Mr. Kim. I mean, it's not very much like how you are portrayed. Your image... is not very much sentimental like this."

Mingyu nodded, "I know, but this is who I am," he explained, his sincerity evident. You released a sigh, leaning back in your chair. Your gaze fixed on him, and you adjusted your posture before expressing, "I don't do romance, Mr. Kim. Honestly, I don't know how to do that. And you know how I'm almost married to my work as Mr. Choi's secretary. I—"

Mingyu quickly nodded, understanding the complexities of your professional life. "Yeah, I understand. I won't rush you. I just want to let you know about my feelings after that night. I'll wait for your answer; take your time," he interjected, cutting through your explanation to emphasize his genuine intention.

You nodded slowly, a quiet acknowledgment of his understanding. "Thanks..." you mumbled, your gratitude mingling with a sense of contemplation.

"And please," Mingyu paused, his eyes holding a plea, "don't avoid me from this time." The request hung in the air, underscoring the vulnerability of the moment.

The encounter with Mingyu left your thoughts in disarray, making it challenging to concentrate on your work. Even Seungcheol's calls failed to pull you out of the daydream that enveloped your mind. Concerned about your well-being after your recent collapse, Seungcheol insisted you leave on time, assuring you that Jun would take care of his needs.

Reluctantly, you took the bus home. As you walked from the bus stop to your shared apartment with Minseo, another sigh escaped your lips. The absence of Minseo for the next two months strangely saddened you, a departure from your usual contentment with solitude.

You never disliked the moments of solitude, relishing the times when you could come home and find Minseo absent. Cooking a delicious meal for her, anticipating her return around 9 while you were immersed in work preparations, and going to bed by 10 had become a comforting routine. However, the sudden longing for Minseo highlighted a void that even the familiarity of solitude couldn't fill.

Your phone rang, and a smile lit up your face when you saw Minseo's name on the caller ID. Greeting her with enthusiasm, you were met with Minseo's melodramatic tone, "What's up with your voice? You're not happy I'm calling you?"

Chuckling softly, you replied, "It's not like that. Just... tired."

Minseo, always quick with her teasing, inquired about the baby. Confused, you questioned, "What's with the baby?"

With an eye roll you could almost feel through the phone, Minseo clarified, "Your baby! The baby inside you... How are they doin'?"

"As tired as their mom," you playfully responded, earning a laugh from Minseo. She then delved into the topic of keeping the baby, referencing her suggestion, to get an abortion. Swiftly dismissing the idea, you explained, "No! I heard it's hurting and takes time to recover. I don't—"

Minseo interrupted with a humorous impersonation, "I don't have time, I have works to do. Bla-bla-bla..." Her words made you laugh.

Regarding the father, you admitted to talking to him but hesitated to share the news. Minseo expressed concern, urging you not to keep the situation from him. However, you confessed, "I just think I don't need him in the frame. You know what I mean."

Concerned, Minseo probed, "But are you gonna be okay with that?" A pregnant pause followed as you contemplated the question, questioning your own feelings about having the baby.

"I don't know. Should I go with your suggestion instead?" you asked, prompting Minseo's playful screams.

"I was just joking! But... I support whatever you decide, Y/n. Just tell me first," Minseo reassured.

As you arrived at your apartment building, you concluded the call, promising to keep Minseo updated. The weight of the decisions ahead lingered, leaving you to grapple with the uncertainty of the future.

Feeling unexpectedly unwell, you woke up with a fever four days later. Quickly, you informed Jun and Seungcheol about the situation through messages, indicating the possibility of taking a day off. Seungcheol, concerned for your well-being, immediately called and offered to take you to the doctor or send one to your house. Politely declining, you assured him that a paracetamol might alleviate the fever.

Throughout the day, you remained in bed, the passage of time marked by your fitful sleep. The darkness outside hinted at the advancing evening, but your fever persisted, accompanied by bouts of nausea. Realizing you hadn't eaten since last night's simple ramen, you mustered the strength to walk to the kitchen.

Dizziness accompanied every step as you prepared another pack of ramen on the stove. Approaching the dinner table where your phone lay, you noticed a barrage of notifications that had accumulated since you turned it off in the morning. Just as you contemplated checking them, a phone call interrupted, and it was Minseo on the line.

Weakly greeting Minseo, you sensed the surprise in her voice as she questioned your well-being. Admitting, "I can't reach you all day. You okay, Y/n?" you confessed, "No... I feel about to faint."

Minseo's voice filled with concern as she pressed for details, "Hey... What's wrong?" The line remained silent as she called out your name repeatedly, growing increasingly anxious.

The lack of response heightened Minseo's panic, a situation she dreaded when leaving you alone. Despite your usual resilience, your occasional bouts of sickness always managed to evoke worry in her. She understood the contrasts in your persona – the organized, straight, and ideal image you presented to the world, counterbalanced by the underlying quirks of your clumsiness and forgetfulness. It was these very qualities that fueled your meticulous note-taking and organizational skills, making you an exceptional secretary.

Minseo, feeling the urgency of the situation, contemplated making a crucial phone call. Aware that something dangerous might transpire if she remained passive, she considered potential contacts. Mr. Park, her father's driver, was quickly dismissed as he was occupied attending to her father. Mr. Seo, her mother's assistant, was also ruled out, as informing him would inevitably reach her mother, who was unaware of Minseo's current location in the States.

Her thoughts turned to her brother. Trusting him implicitly, Minseo decided to call him. Dialing his number, she anxiously waited, relieved when he picked up after only a moment. The connection established, she began to share the concerning situation unfolding with you.

A playful voice greeted Minseo's call, "What is it, Kim Minseo?"

Panicking, Minseo quickly explained, "Oppa, help me! My friend is sick at the moment. And I think she's collapsed in the middle of a phone call!"

There was a pause for seconds before her brother responded, "And then?"

"She's in my apartment; she's my roommate. Can you come and see her? I just wanna know if she's fine," Minseo requested, making a favor to her brother.

She heard him sigh, "Why don't you check her yourself?"

"I'm not in Korea! I'm in the States," Minseo forcefully admitted. "Don't tell anyone."

Curiosity piqued, her brother pressed, "Why are you there? Tell me first!"

Minseo sighed, "I'll tell you later. Please come to my apartment first. Please! Please..."

"Alright, send me the location and details," he finally agreed, the concern evident in his voice.

As Mingyu sighed after ending the call with his younger sister, he signaled his secretary to drive to her apartment first. In the car, he muttered, "She only calls me if she needs anything."

Observing the situation, Mr. Song inquired, "Is it your sister?" Mingyu nodded in confirmation.

"She wants me to check on her friend. I'm a busy person; why doesn't she ask one of her friends?" Mingyu found the request somewhat perplexing.

Deciding to comply, he turned to Mr. Song, "Can you accompany me, Mr. Song? I don't think it'll be appropriate if I'm the only one who goes into the apartment."

Fortunately, the drive took only 15 minutes, as Mingyu was in the nearby area. Once they arrived, Mingyu scrutinized the details his sister had sent, leading them to the 8th floor and apartment number 802. Entering the elevator, Mingyu and Mr. Song ascended to the designated floor.

Arriving on the intended floor, Mingyu and Mr. Song were met with an unexpected aroma of smoke that hung in the air. Mr. Song astutely noticed wisps of smoke escaping from the door of apartment 802.

"Mr. Kim, there's smoke from inside," he urgently alerted Mingyu.

Worried, Mingyu swiftly called Minseo, urgently seeking the passcode. "Is your friend cooking something? There's smoke from inside," he conveyed the developing situation to his sister.

After Mr. Song adeptly opened the door, Mingyu concluded the phone call and entered the apartment. Smoke engulfed them, prompting both Mingyu and Mr. Song to shield their mouths and noses. The room was shrouded in a haze as they cautiously proceeded further inside.

Reacting quickly, Mr. Song rushed to the intercom, activating the smoke detection features. A cascade of water descended from the ceiling, effectively extinguishing the smoke. Simultaneously, Mingyu focused on locating Minseo's friend, while Mr. Song skillfully handled the kitchen fire with an extinguisher.

In a moment of shocking revelation, Mingyu discovered a familiar figure lying weakly on the floor. The unexpected sight heightened the urgency of the situation.

Mingyu's heartbeat seemed to halt for a moment as he realized it was you lying weakly on the floor. Shock and concern painted his features as he swiftly assessed the situation.

"Y/n!" he exclaimed, his worry evident as he helped you navigate through the smoke-filled room. The urgency to get you to safety propelled Mingyu into action.

As the commotion in the apartment drew attention, assistance was summoned to the building. Mingyu carefully supported your weakened body, guiding you towards the paramedics who had arrived on the scene. The gravity of the situation was palpable, and Mingyu's focus remained steadfast on ensuring your well-being.

With a sense of urgency, Mingyu handed you over to the waiting paramedics, who quickly took charge, assessing your condition and providing the necessary care. The atmosphere around the apartment building buzzed with a blend of concern and the organized efforts of those responding to the emergency.

Mingyu, visibly distressed, trailed alongside the paramedics as they transported you to the hospital. Concern etched across his face, he couldn't shake off the worry that had gripped him since discovering you in the smoke-filled apartment.

Meanwhile, Mr. Song took it upon himself to retrieve some essentials for Mingyu. Understanding the need for a change of clothes, he swiftly headed to gather necessary items from Mingyu's residence.

At the hospital, Mingyu anxiously waited by your side as the medical team attended to your needs. The sterile environment of the emergency room seemed to amplify the tension in the air. Mingyu's mind raced with thoughts of your well-being, the unexpected turn of events leaving him grappling with a mixture of anxiety and a fervent hope for your recovery.

As the medical staff worked to stabilize you, Mingyu clung to the hope that the prompt medical attention would bring about positive results. The waiting room became a sanctuary of anticipation, each passing moment laden with the weight of uncertainty.

Mingyu, now clad in fresh and dry clothes, had made the call to Seungcheol, your boss, updating him about your condition. Seungcheol, concerned for his secretary, immediately rushed to the hospital.

In the interim, Mingyu instructed Mr. Song to go home, assuring him that he would wait for any updates on your condition. The hospital room became a temporary haven for Mingyu, a place where the weight of worry and the desire for your recovery lingered.

As Seungcheol entered the room, he looked at Mingyu, his face a mirror of concern. "How did you find her?" Seungcheol inquired, seeking details about the situation.

"My sister called for help; she's her roommate," Mingyu explained, still overwhelmed with the relevance of the events that had unfolded. The anticipation in the room heightened as they waited for the doctor to arrive and shed light on your condition. The air was thick with a sense of urgency and concern, Seungcheol's presence serving as a testament to the tight-knit nature of the professional relationships that had become entwined with personal care and worry.

The doctor entered the room, and a hushed silence fell upon Mingyu and Seungcheol, their eyes locked on the medical professional who held the key to understanding your condition. The doctor, with a composed demeanor, began to detail the situation, "Her lungs were filled with smoke, and we've cleared it. However, recovery will take time, and we recommend several medical check-ups to monitor her progress."

A solemn nod from Mingyu and Seungcheol acknowledged the gravity of the situation. However, the atmosphere shifted when the doctor broached the subject of your pregnancy. "The baby is fine," the doctor reassured, but then added, "Careful body maintenance is crucial, especially in the delicate first trimester, which poses potential risks."

Mingyu and Seungcheol exchanged a bewildered glance, the revelation about your pregnancy catching them off guard. The unspoken tension in the room was palpable, and the weight of unexpected responsibilities settled upon their shoulders.

Surprised by this new information, the doctor, unaware of the dynamics between Mingyu and Seungcheol, inquired about the father. The question hung in the air, adding a layer of complexity to an already intricate situation. "I apologize for having to announce the situation this way," the doctor offered, sensing the discomfort in the room.

As the doctor conducted a few more checks, a conversation ensued between Mingyu and Seungcheol, attempting to process the unforeseen turn of events. Mingyu's voice carried a mix of astonishment and concern, "I had no idea."

Seungcheol, still processing the information, responded with a solemn nod, "Me neither."

The doctor, having fulfilled their medical duties, left the room, leaving Mingyu and Seungcheol to grapple with the newfound realities.

"I don't know Y/n has boyfriend." Seungcheol said as he turned his head toward Mingyu. Meanwhile Mingyu only could stand still in silence. Contemplating everything that has happened.

"Yeah, she's fine. I promised I'll take care of her. Just make sure you tell Mom soon that you're not in Korea," Mingyu reassured his sister over the phone, updating her on your condition.

Mingyu settled onto the sofa in your room, patiently awaiting the moment you'd regain consciousness. The clock mercilessly ticked away, indicating the wee hours of the morning – 3 am. Fatigue tugged at him; Mr. Song and Seungcheol had returned home hours ago. Still, Mingyu couldn't bring himself to leave your side after discovering the truth about your condition – the possibility of you carrying his child.

As he sat there, a mix of concern and anticipation played across Mingyu's face, his fatigue overshadowed by a sense of responsibility and newfound realization. The room held a quiet tension, disrupted only by the rhythmic ticking of the clock.

Mingyu found himself reflecting on the recent conversation with Seungcheol regarding your love life. Seungcheol had candidly admitted that, despite working closely for nearly five years, you never divulged any details about a boyfriend or romantic partner. This revelation was particularly striking, considering your previous role as his father's secretary. Mingyu's thoughts were further compounded by your recent statement that you were not one for romance, leading him to consider the possibility that he might be the only one who had shared intimate moments with you.

A heavy sigh escaped Mingyu as he contemplated his own admission. If he were to be honest, his sentiments mirrored yours. As the CEO, the weight of significant responsibilities for the company and its staff often overwhelmed him. Despite his parents attempting to arrange matches with various conglomerate daughters, none had piqued his interest. Mingyu's sister, ever the worrier, had chosen a different path, steering clear of the family business to pursue a culinary career.

In the quiet of the room, Mingyu grappled with the complexities of his life. The burden of expectations, both familial and professional, weighed heavily on him. His fatigue was not only physical but also carried the weight of emotional fatigue, a longing for something more than the orchestrated connections and societal expectations that surrounded him.

The memory of that pivotal night at Joshua's party flooded back to him. Mingyu recalled the details vividly – you in a sleek black dress, the distinct order you placed at the bar, the subtle grace with which you caught the bartender's attention. And then, there was that moment when you turned your head towards him, inquiring with a simple yet impactful, "How's life, Mr. Kim?" It was a question that had lingered in Mingyu's mind, offering a glimpse of connection and a departure from the orchestrated rhythm of his existence.

Mingyu couldn't help but let out a chuckle, finding himself at a loss for words in response to a question he rarely encountered. "How's life?" he mused internally.

"I don't know, how's yours?" he finally replied to your query, intrigued by the unexpected turn of conversation.

You nonchalantly shrugged and took a sip of your orange juice. "Great... Have to deal with a lot of work. But that's how life's supposed to be, right?" you remarked casually, and Mingyu felt a surprising sense of ease in conversing with you.

As the dialogue unfolded, Mingyu discovered a different side to you. You, who had garnered popularity among his friends, received commendation from Seungcheol for your efficiency as a secretary. Jeonghan and Seokmin, both directors in Seungcheol's company, couldn't stop praising your appearance. To them, it seemed like a waste for someone with your looks to be confined to the role of a secretary. Mingyu, too, was now realizing this as he observed the expression on your face while you responded to the questions he posed. Your answers resonated with him, and the realization sparked a connection that transcended the superficiality of social expectations.

Mingyu's alcohol tolerance had always been high, and he vividly recalled urging you to step outside for some fresh air that night. Amidst the ambient glow near the pool and beneath a palm tree, he found himself whispering compliments about your striking appearance. That innocent exchange led to a shared first kiss, and what began with a kiss soon escalated into something more dangerously intimate. Mingyu, fueled by alcohol, surrendered to the lack of control, embracing the pleasure rather than resenting it. In the haze of the night, he anticipated more with you.

However, the harsh light of morning revealed a stark reality – he was left alone. Cold and isolated, Mingyu attempted to reach out, but you remained elusive, even through Mr. Song. He sought you out at Seungcheol's company, only to discover that you were avoiding him. It wasn't until Wonwoo's birthday that he could finally confront you.

In the midst of that confrontation, Mingyu grappled with unexpected emotions. It dawned on him that what he felt for you transcended the physical, extending beyond mere desire. Through your words, your thoughts, and the passionate expression of your opinions that night, Mingyu realized he had encountered a connection that went beyond the surface – a romantic sentiment.

As the weight of the situation pressed on him, Mingyu confronted a profound question. Was it a sin to consider that the baby you were carrying might be his? The uncertainty hung in the air, a heavy burden that only intensified the emotional turbulence within Mingyu.

"You're awake," Mingyu uttered softly as you slowly opened your eyes, a series of coughs escaping you. Concern etched across his face, Mingyu promptly summoned the doctor to attend to your needs. With a watchful eye, he observed your reactions as the doctor provided an explanation of your condition. A glimmer of hope flickered in Mingyu's gaze when your eyes briefly met his during the mention of your baby's condition.

Once the doctor concluded their visit, Mingyu pulled a chair close to your bedside. "How's your feeling?" he inquired, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You released a heavy sigh before confessing, "I was cooking ramen." Mingyu nodded in acknowledgment, understanding the mundane details that led to your current state. "And it burned your apartment as you collapsed. Your fever has gone down though," he added, checking your temperature and tenderly placing his hand on your forehead.

"Mr. Kim, please stop," you urged, puzzled by the revelation that Mingyu was the one who saved you and brought you to the hospital in the nick of time. "How do you even know my address?" confusion laced your inquiry.

Mingyu, lips tightened, began to explain, "Kim Minseo called me to help his friend. She's... my sister." His nervous explanation hung in the air, leaving a palpable tension as he struggled to find the right words.

A silent gasp escaped you as you connected the dots, realizing the familial connection between Mingyu and your friend Minseo. Mingyu's gaze scrutinized your expression before delicately broaching the topic of the baby. "Do you know that you're expecting?" he cautiously inquired, and you nodded in confirmation.

"A week ago. A day before Mr. Jeon's birthday party," you revealed, answering Mingyu's unspoken question.

Mingyu took a deep breath, "is it mine?" He finally asked.

A prolonged silence hung in the air as you gazed into Mingyu's eyes. The hospital room seemed to hold its breath, the only audible sounds being the hum of medical equipment and distant footsteps. Breaking the stillness, you shook your head quickly and uttered, "It's mine," diverting your eyes elsewhere.

Mingyu released a heavy exhale, his confusion palpable. "It's mine, right?" he pressed again, seeking confirmation and clarity.

In response, you gently urged him to leave. "You should go, Mr. Kim. You must be exhausted, and you have work this morning. Thank you for your kindness," you murmured, closing your eyes as if to feign rest.

As you were discharged from the hospital, a familiar face caught your attention. Wi Seunghyun, your mother's secretary, gestured for you to join him in the waiting car. In silence, you complied, feeling the weight of the gaze that had been following you for months now. The realization of the observer's identity finally dawned on you.

Seunghyun drove you to your parent's house, the journey feeling interminable. Exhaustion clung to you, but nervous anticipation kept your eyes wide open. The looming entrance into the house held the promise of confrontations and revelations. You couldn't help but wonder about your mother's reaction upon learning about your condition.

Upon entering the family room, Seunghyun placed your hospital bag as your mother rose from her seat. Instead of the expected embrace that usually accompanied such news, a hard slap resonated through the room, nearly sending you to the floor. The sting of the unexpected physical blow mirrored the emotional shock of your mother's harsh response, creating a tense and disheartening atmosphere.

"How could you be more stupid, Ji Y/n? Getting pregnant before married? Are you some kind of whore?" Your mother, Sung Yaeun, delivered a harsh commentary on your situation, the biting words cutting through the air after months of not seeing each other.

"You've burned your apartment, gone homeless, and pregnant. You only come home every time you're in trouble," she continued, her words carrying a tone of disappointment and frustration as she moved away to sit on the sofa.

"Mr. Wi, please lock her in her room. Make sure no one could meet her unless by my instruction," she commanded, and without hesitation, Mr. Wi complied, tightening his grip on your arm. As your mother's orders were executed, you found yourself silently following Mr. Wi to your room, watching as you were locked in from the outside, isolated in the familiar yet unwelcoming confines of your old room.

The weight of your mother's harsh words and the physical confinement left you frozen, grappling with the harsh reality of your current predicament. The room, once a place of solace, now felt like a prison, amplifying the emotional turmoil within you.

Returning to this room after almost 10 years, you sighed, a mixture of exhaustion and sorrow escaping you as your body leaned against the door. The realization of the gravity of the situation hit you, and silent tears streamed down your face.

The memories of the last time you were in this house surfaced – the day your father passed away. Locked away and denied the chance to bid your father farewell, you had been blamed for his death by your mother. This confinement, the echoes of past injustices, resonated with the pain you thought you had left behind.

The recollection of being locked away and unjustly accused of your father's death brought forth a flood of emotions. Despite the passing years, the wounds remained fresh. The recognition that you didn't deserve the treatment meted out by your mother – the isolation, the starvation – washed over you. It wasn't the first time you had experienced being locked away, but now, you understood you didn't deserve it.

Escaping to your former nanny's house had been your refuge, a sanctuary where you completed your education and found a way to stand on your own. Working as Seungcheol's dad's secretary marked a turning point, allowing you to secure your own place and break free from the shackles of your past. Yet, the return to this house served as a stark reminder of the pain you had endured and the strength it took to overcome it.

From childhood, you grappled with the perplexing mystery of your mother's disdain. Her treatment was marked by physical abuse, emotional neglect, and an unsettling abandonment of your presence. Your father, blinded by allegiance, justified her actions under the guise of it being for your own good. Yet, amidst the turmoil, you slowly comprehended that love was an elusive sentiment within the confines of your home. The only solace you found was in the embrace of your nanny, Gam Mijoo, who became the beacon of warmth and care you craved.

As time unfolded, you began treating Mijoo as a surrogate parent, finding the love and nurturing that had eluded you elsewhere. However, the cruel hands of fate intervened when she passed away during your college years, succumbing to a heart attack.

Locked away in your childhood home, memories of Mijoo's comforting presence fueled your resilience. Despite the pain, you vowed to provide a different life for your unborn child, one filled with love and understanding.

A week had passed, and Mingyu found himself seated in front of his parents after a month, attempting to salvage their weekly dinners that had turned sporadic due to his demanding schedule. Amidst the shared meal, his father dropped an unexpected bombshell, leaving not only Mingyu but also his mother visibly stunned.

Mingyu's mother's voice rose to an uncharacteristic pitch, "What?!"

"Daeyoung suddenly came and congratulated me for your engagement. So, I was wondering if you finally found a girl you want to marry," his father revealed, triggering a heavy sigh from Mingyu. Lee Jaewook, the scoundrel.

The air thickened with tension as Mingyu grappled with the unforeseen revelation, and a mixture of disbelief and frustration played across his mother's face.

"So the woman from the article weeks ago. It was her? Your fiancée?" Mingyu's mother suddenly bombarded him with questions, referring to a photo taken while Mingyu was escorting you to his hotel room on the night of Joshua's birthday. Fortunately, they had blurred your face, only his was visible.

"Let's not talk about that," Mingyu said, attempting to halt his parents' interrogation.

His mother scoffed, "Why? We should talk about this! How dare you have an engagement without involving us. Is that a trend among youth nowadays?" Mingyu's father nodded in agreement, intensifying Mingyu's fatigue as he grappled with what response to give his parents.

"So, who's the girl? When can we meet her?" His father asked with curiosity, leaning in for answers.

Mingyu, caught off guard, shrugged, hesitating to provide an immediate response. "Answer your father, Kim Mingyu," urged his mother, her tone demanding clarity.

Sighing, Mingyu mumbled, "She's busy," buying himself time to consider his next words.

Mingyu's mother's eyes sparkled with curiosity, "Is she finishing her study abroad so that she can't meet us as soon as possible?" she guessed, eager for details. However, Mingyu shook his head, revealing a different truth.

"She's Seungcheol's secretary," Mingyu confessed, the weight of the revelation settling in the room.

Mingyu's father furrowed his brows, questioning, "You're in a relationship with a subordinate? Is she from a conglomerate?" The inquiry sent a wave of nervous tension through Mingyu as he grappled with the potential implications of his choices.

Mingyu shook his head, trying to maintain a facade of calmness. "She's an ordinary staff," he stated, a hint of defiance in his voice.

His mother gasped, "No! Your grandfather won't let you become the heir if you don't marry a conglomerate," she mumbled, a sense of family expectations weighing heavily on the conversation.

Rolling his eyes, Mingyu asserted, "I won't marry a spoiled conglomerate daughter," expressing his firm stance.

The discussion continued, with Mingyu's mother expressing her desire for him to marry someone he truly wanted. However, in the midst of their conversation, a sudden interruption occurred as Mingyu's father's secretary approached, presenting something on his screen. All eyes shifted to Mingyu, who was in the midst of his dinner.

"What?" Mingyu inquired, slightly irritated.

His father, removing his glasses and placing them on the dinner table, declared, "Kim Mingyu, I want you to bring her this weekend." A pregnant pause filled the air.

The weight of those words hit Mingyu like a sudden storm. Shocked and unable to comprehend what he had just heard, he rose from his seat and walked away from the dinner table. Mingyu hastily grabbed his phone, bombarded with messages from his secretary and friends. The notifications revealed a shocking headline: 'Kim Mingyu Seen in Hospital, Mysterious Girl Turns Out to be a Fiancée.' The revelation sent a wave of disbelief and confusion through Mingyu's already tumultuous evening.

Mingyu hurriedly made his way to his apartment, where he and Mr. Song had agreed to meet. Just as he entered, his phone rang, and Seungcheol's name flashed on the screen. Bracing himself, he answered, "I can explain."

A storm of rage and fury erupted from Seungcheol's voice, "How dare you touch my secretary!"

Concerned about your well-being, Mingyu quickly inquired, "Are you with her, hyung?" Hoping you were safe and in the company of Seungcheol.

Seungcheol's hum echoed through the phone, "In fact, she's been living in my house for almost a week."

Mingyu felt a stab of surprise, almost losing his composure at the unexpected revelation. "Why is she in your house?" he questioned, trying to make sense of the situation.

Seungcheol explained calmly, "You remember her apartment was burnt? It takes time to get it done. So she's living here temporarily. My girlfriend didn't mind either."

Sighing in relief, Mingyu acknowledged, "Alright, I'll be there in twenty, hyung." He ended the call, immediately contacting Mr. Song to redirect him to Seungcheol's place. As Mingyu navigated the complexities of the unfolding events, emotions ranging from relief to confusion swirled within him.

"She's in her room with Nari," Seungcheol mentioned, referring to his girlfriend. "However, I want to have a talk with you first," he continued, gesturing for Mingyu to sit on his couch.

As they settled into an uneasy silence, Seungcheol voiced the thought lingering in the air, "So, you two have an affair that I don't know," his words carried a mix of accusation and confusion, leaving Mingyu grappling for an adequate explanation.

Seungcheol's gaze bore into Mingyu, probing for answers, "Is she the girl in the recent articles?"

Mingyu, feeling the weight of truth, nodded, adding, "Also the one you've seen previously."

Curiosity etched Seungcheol's face as he asked, "How long have you two been seeing each other?"

Nervously shaking his head, Mingyu replied, "We're not seeing each other. It just happened... But I truly care for her."

Seungcheol observed Mingyu's sincerity before delivering a revelation that added another layer of complexity, "I can see... But you know, Y/n's situation is complicated. She's having a baby."

Mingyu nodded, acknowledging the weight of the situation. "I actually think... it's mine," he confessed, revealing the depth of his realization.

Seungcheol, unfazed but understanding, remarked, "Kinda expected it, seeing how shocked you were when the doctor revealed it."

"However," Seungcheol continued, his frustration evident, "I don't think it's time for romance and all. The situation has become so complicated." He wiped his face, grappling with the complexities ahead.

Exhaling heavily, Mingyu leaned on the sofa, admitting, "I told my parents that we're both engaged. And they want to meet us this weekend."

Seungcheol silently gasped, his eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and resignation. "Kim Mingyu," he sighed, closing his eyes, "you know how to make things even more complicated." The tangled web of emotions and circumstances unfolded, leaving both men entangled in a situation neither had anticipated.

After a lengthy discussion with Mingyu, you concluded that it would be better to temporarily live with him rather than in Seungcheol's house. Despite Seungcheol being not only a great boss but also a good friend, you didn't want to impose on him and his girlfriend any further. Mingyu had shared his parents' response to the recent article, urging you to attend the upcoming dinner as his fiancée to maintain a semblance of normalcy. You agreed, as long as your identity remained private and Mingyu handled the situation.

However, there was one piece of shocking news for Mingyu. In reality, you were the heir of JIS Corp, a global automotive company based in South Korea. Your father, Ji Seunggi, was a former president of JIS Corp before it transitioned to being managed by a board vote after his passing. Meanwhile, your mother currently held the position of CEO within the company. The revelation left Mingyu puzzled and intrigued.

As Mingyu processed this unexpected disclosure, the question lingered in the air: why did you decide to work with Seungcheol despite your prominent family background?

"I didn't know you were Minseo's roommate," Mingyu admitted as you both drove to his place.

Humming, you responded, "I didn't know you were Minseo's brother." The revelation about your family backgrounds hadn't been a topic of discussion between you and Minseo, both preferring to keep a low profile regarding your respective family names.

Mingyu recalled a recent phone call with his sister, "She called me to help you that night... She's technically begging."

You sighed, acknowledging Minseo's sometimes bothersome but well-intentioned nature, "Yeah, she can be a bit—"

Mingyu cut in with a soft chuckle, "I know what you mean, darling."

Blinking at the unexpected pet name, you couldn't help but wonder, "Darling?" His choice of endearment added a surprising layer to the conversation, leaving you slightly taken aback.

You cleared your throat and asked, "Is your place far?" Mingyu shook his head.

"Not that far. It's pretty close to my company building and Choi Group. Do you drive to work?" Mingyu inquired.

"No," you confessed, surprising him. "Surprisingly, I couldn't drive."

Mingyu's brows raised, "Really? Then who drives for you and Seungcheol hyung?"

"Mostly, Mr. Won," you mentioned Seungcheol's driver. "But sometimes Seungcheol drove himself."

Mingyu smiled, "It's the first time I heard you call hyung by his name. It was always Mr. Choi."

You sighed, "I know, it's still awkward for me to change it. I've been calling him Mr. Choi for the past 5 years. He asked me, though, so I can't really refuse." You explained your reason to Mingyu.

"How about calling me Mingyu? Is it gonna be burdensome for you?"

You tilted your head, unsure. "I don't know."

Mingyu smirked, "Or do you have anything in your mind? Babe? Honey? Yeobo?" He joked, and you sighed loudly.

"Mingyu," you said carefully, a wide grin appearing on Mingyu's face.

"That's better than Mr. Kim," Mingyu remarked, savoring the shift in familiarity between you two.

Once you two arrived at his place, Mingyu immediately offered any assistance as you settled onto the couch. He took the time to give you a brief tour of his clean and organized house, explaining the available guest room for you.

"You could put your stuff and clothes here," he suggested, pointing to a section in his closet connected to his home office.

As you settled in, Mingyu inquired about cooking, to which you nodded hesitantly, not wanting to impose on him further. Surprisingly, he suggested, "Me too. But we're out of ingredients. Do you mind going to the grocery store tomorrow?"

"Sure," you agreed, appreciating his willingness to share responsibilities.

Mingyu bit his lip, hesitating before revealing a shelf in his kitchen stocked with pregnancy products—from formula to vitamins and snacks. "I asked my secretary to have this ready for you... just in case you need them," he explained.

Looking at the products, you shifted your gaze to Mingyu and whispered, "Thanks." His hand reached for yours on the kitchen island, intertwining fingers. "Just want the best for the baby," he mumbled, his genuine concern evident.

Watching your hands together, you found a sense of security around Mingyu. The revelation escaped your lips, "Our baby." The words surprised both of you, Mingyu's eyes meeting yours at the unexpected declaration.

"O-our? Yeah, our baby," Mingyu stammered, taken aback by your words. The truth revealed in that moment opened a new chapter, catching both of you off guard but bringing a genuine connection to the forefront.

In the warm glow of Mingyu's living room, a vulnerable question hung in the air. "Are you accepting my feelings, Y/n?" Mingyu courageously asked, his heart brimming with emotions that he struggled to put into words. Happiness? Love? Tonight had certainly stirred something profound within him.

Rather than answering immediately, you took a slow and hesitant step towards him. With arms outstretched, you embraced his torso, your voice barely audible as you mumbled, "Please take care of me." Mingyu's chest tightened with the rapid beating of his heart, mirroring your vulnerability. His hands mirrored yours, enveloping your body in a reassuring embrace.

"Let's stay like this for a moment, okay?" Mingyu whispered, creating an atmosphere of quiet intimacy, where unspoken emotions lingered in the air.

In that tender moment, Mingyu's soothing words broke the silence, "You're doing great, Y/n... You're doing so well." The sincerity in his compliment was palpable, marking the first time you felt a genuine acknowledgment of your efforts and emotions. The atmosphere shifted into one of mutual understanding and acceptance, as the connection between you two deepened in the stillness of the room.

The weight of suffocating thoughts pulled you from your sleep, haunted by the lingering fear of a repeat incident since the last apartment fire. Midnight's dimness cast a soft glow as you rose from your bed, craving solace in a sip of water. A leak of light drew your attention to Mingyu's home office – was he still working?

The desire for something more than water surfaced, remembering the provisions Mingyu had prepared. As you opened the shelf, searching for a glass, a realization struck – there were none in sight. An unexpected arm reaching for a higher shelf startled you.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu said, aware of his sudden movement. He handed you a glass, taking a step back as you proceeded to make yourself a comforting glass of milk.

"You're still working at this hour?" you asked Mingyu, breaking the silence that lingered in the dimly lit room.

Mingyu shrugged, "Just finishing some paperwork," he explained.

Turning towards him, you offered, "Need help?" anticipating the weight of late-night tasks.

Mingyu chuckled, "I appreciate it, but no thanks. I couldn't pay you overtime." He joked, acknowledging the unconventional hour – 2 in the morning.

Laughing softly, you reassured him, "Seungcheol pays me enough. Just take it as a rent payment."

Mingyu shook his head, refusing the suggestion, "I should ask for those rent payments for something else."

Curious, you asked, "What do you mean?" with a chuckle.

Mingyu playfully suggested, "Maybe a kiss? Or..." leaving the sentence open-ended.

Rolling your eyes, you responded, "Shut up," as you finished making your milk and settled onto the counter.

Mingyu followed you to the counter, his arms unconsciously creating a barricade as he stood beside you. "How's your everyday life look like?" he asked, breaking the quietude of the night.

Sipping on your milk, you shared, "It's pretty basic. Waking up, having breakfast that I prepared the night before. I walk to the bus station, grab breakfast and coffee for Seungcheol on the way to the office. After work, if I'm too tired, I'll take a cab. Sometimes, Mr. Won drives me home too."

"Sometimes I think about learning to drive, but I'm just too afraid," you admitted.

Mingyu nodded, his mind drifting to a shocking news from 15 years ago. "My father died in a car accident," you revealed, watching his face as you shared such a deeply personal and traumatic piece of information. "I was with him, in the car." The weight of the revelation lingered, creating an unspoken connection between you and Mingyu in the quiet of the night.

Mingyu let out a heavy breath slowly. His arms raised to embrace you, "I'm glad you're safe," he said, tightening the hug. In that quiet moment, the weight of past fears and unspoken pain became a bridge, connecting you and Mingyu in the comfort of the present.

Dear diary,

Today marks the beginning of my second year of Senior High School. I'm grateful that Minseo and I are in the same class again this year. I don't know how I would survive high school without Minseo. Although I've befriended everyone, Minseo has been a pillar of support for me since the last time 'she' taunted me.

Minseo confided in me that she likes Taehyung, a boy who sits in front of her and enjoys listening to music with headphones. She mentioned they will have a group project after school, and if Taehyung doesn't ask her out, she plans to make the first move. Minseo asked me if there's anyone I'm interested in within our class or even in the entire school. She seemed surprised when I said no. How could someone not liking anyone yet be considered weird? Perhaps it's because my standards are as high as my father's. Speaking of my father, he's the greatest man I've ever known. However, I couldn't just reveal to Minseo that my father was the President of JIS Corp, could I?

I miss my father.

Dear diary,

Today, after visiting my therapist, she prescribed me sleeping pills in case nightmares return. Meanwhile, Minseo informed me that she dropped out of her business major in college, and she seems genuinely happy about it. I'm relieved she's finally able to choose her own path. I wonder if her parents reacted as negatively as mine did.

When was the last time I saw 'her'? Perhaps a year ago, at my father's memorial. She questioned my presence there, as if I weren't part of the family. I chose not to engage with her, following my therapist's advice: block those who hurt you and prevent you from loving yourself.

What is love anyway? I've forgotten its meaning since 'she' did what she did. I wonder if I'll ever experience love again. It's difficult to develop an interest in anyone.

Continue to part 2

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months

Text

Injured (Alexia's Version) III

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Summary: You have a nightmare

Alexia peaks her eyes open and frowns.

At first, she isn't quite sure what's woken her up.

It's still dark out so there's no sun to wake up. There's no fire alarm going off and there are no weird smells.

But there is the pitter-patter of little feet and a soft touch on her arm.

"Bambi?" Alexia squints in the darkness and can just make out your shadowed form.

"Mami," You whisper, your voice barely audible even over the silence of the house.

"Bambi," Alexia says," Why are we whispering?"

"Don't want to wake Jaume and Olga."

"They won't wake up," Alexia assures you," What's going on, huh? It's bedtime. Why are you up?"

"Had a bad dream." You shuffle closer.

"A bad dream?" Alexia reaches for you, softly stroking your cheek as you lean into the affection.

"Uh-huh about the hospital. It was scary."

"I'm sorry, Bambi." Alexia's hands move up to softly run her fingers through your hair. "Do you want to sleep with me tonight?"

You nod. "Yes, please."

Alexia pulls back the covers, shivering a little in the morning air. It's not too cold but just cold enough for goosebumps to rise on her arms.

You shuffle a bit closer and as Alexia squints, she can just make out the blanket you've dragged in with you. Her heart sinks.

Blankie lives in your wardrobe. You've made the bottom of your wardrobe a little bed for you. Truly, it's only a pillow and blankie but Alexia's found you sleeping in there when you're scared.

To have blankie with you now means you've gone into your wardrobe, probably having tried to sleep there before coming into Alexia's room.

Alexia lifts you up into the bed, sitting you up on her stomach. She's unsure where to fully put you. If it would be better to set you on the edge where you're only next to her or if it would be better to put you in the middle of the bed between her and Olga.

Alexia isn't quite sure where you would be most comfortable so she just sets you on her stomach.

You're gripping blankie tightly in your fist and, now that Alexia's eyes have adjusted to the light, she can make out your features properly.

"Have you been crying, Bambi?" She asks.

You sniffle. "Tried to sleep in the closet," You tell her," But it was scary."

"I'm sorry, Bambi," Alexia says," But it's okay. I've got you now. Nothing scary's going to happen. Nothing bad is happening to you while I'm here."

You flop forward suddenly, tears spilling down your cheeks as you rest your head on Alexia's shoulder, tucking your nose into the crook of her neck.

"Shh, shh," She coos at you," I've got you, Bambi. It's okay. Let it out. Let it out."

You sob, unrestrained, against Alexia as she holds you close, curling her arms around your tiny body.

"Ale?" Olga awakens at the noise, rolling over and blindly reaching out for Alexia. "Are you crying?"

"No," Alexia says," But we've got Bambi joining us tonight. She's had a nightmare so she's going to sleep with us."

"Oh, Bambi," Olga says, reaching out to brush the tears from your cheek," I'm sorry, sweetheart. You did a good thing coming into us."

"Didn't wake Jaume," You promise Olga," Still sleeping."

"I'm not worried about Jaume," Olga tells you," I'm worried about you. Your Mami says you're sleeping with us."

You nod. "Please."

She pats the space between her and Alexia. "Come right here. We'll keep you safe."

You wiggle you way between them and Alexia quickly tucks blankie around your body.

Olga slips out of bed while Alexia gets you comfortable, propping you up against the pillows so she can properly wipe the remaining wetness off your cheeks.

"If you have another nightmare," She tells you," You wake me straight up, okay?"

You nod. "Yes, Mami."

She presses a kiss to the side of your head. "Good girl."

Olga comes back into the room with a sippy cup. "Have some of this, Bambi. My Mama swore it was the best way to get good girls back to sleep."

It's milk. Warm milk with the tiniest hint of honey and, as you guzzle it down, you find Olga is right.

You are going back to sleep.

You're out like a light before you've even finished your drink and Olga gently takes your sippy cup from your limp hands as Alexia drags you closer, curling her body around you.

You'll wake up in the same position in the morning.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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swarvey · 4 months

Text

how they react to you getting hurt | sdv x g/n reader (part two)

part one

paper rings - harvey x reader

a/n: part two with the rest of the bachelors ! let me know if you guys want to see the bachelorettes <3

—

alex

this big softie starts to blame himself when he sees you with scratches and bruises

insists on following you on your adventures from that day forward

pretty much acts as a personal bodyguard for a week

you wince as you rub a disinfectant pad on the large scratch on the side of your arm, thankful your husband isn't due to be home for another couple of hours. he worries enough about you as is — the last thing he needs is something to feed his paranoia, as cute as it is. just as you're about to apply some ointment on your arm, you hear the front door open, alex's familiar voice ringing through the house.

"baby, i'm home!" he calls out, voice as bright as ever. you hear your pet pattering over to greet him. "aw, hey buddy! where's y/n, huh? have you seen 'em?" you swear under your breath as your pet betrays you, leading alex straight towards the bedroom. "are you in there, honey? grams didn't need as much help as i thought—"

you hear him suck in a sharp breath at the sight of you and the first aid kit spread out across the bed.

"i'm fine," you assure. he ignores you, eyes glued to your injured arm as he makes his way to the bed. "seriously, it's not even that bad."

"here, let me do it," he says, and you swear you've never heard him speak so softly. blinking in shock, you hand the bottle of ointment over to him, watching as he gently begins to apply it.

"alex, you're scaring me a bit," you half-joke. he's never been one to be so silent. "it's okay—"

"it's not, though!" your eyes widen as alex looks at you with gleamy eyes. "see, i knew you'd get hurt one day, and i still let you go off and do all these things alone. i should've been there to help you." his head bows in shame, and your heart breaks. "i'm sorry. i'll be by your side next time, i promise."

shaking your head, you wrap your unhurt arm around his neck and pull him into a hug. he gladly hides his face in your shoulder, his arms holding onto your midsection tightly.

"alex, there's nothing to be sorry for," you reassure, rubbing his back to provide some comfort. "this is part of my job, it's what i signed up for." he pulls away suddenly to look at you with serious eyes.

"then quit!" he exclaims. "i'll do it all, you can teach me."

you laugh. "as much as i love you, you are not taking over my grandfather's farm."

"well, i'll just do everything with you, then." alex nods to himself, grabbing the roll of bandages from the kit and beginning to wrap your arm. his eyes widen when he notices the bruises on your legs. "how did this even happen?"

"oh, i was gathering hardwood and some slimes snuck up on me. i fell, but i was able to fight them off." no response. "alex?" a dark look comes over your husband's face.

"get me a sword."

"what?!"

sebastian

seb is one of the bachelors i see respecting your strength the most, always subtly bragging about your fighting skills and the work you do on the farm (sam and abigail are thoroughly impressed)

that being said, he is all the more startled when he sees you limping home from the clinic after nearly passing out from exhaustion

tries to keep his cool, as he always does, but it's hard for him to see the person he cares about the most in pain

"wear the brace for a week, then stop by for another appointment with me so we can see how you're doing," harvey instructs, clasping the brace around your ankle. "drink plenty of water and eat something when you get back. and be mindful while you're working on the farm, i don't want this to be a regular occurrence," he chides.

the doctor had practically dragged you into his office after running into you in front of pierre's, half-conscious as you claimed you just needed some coffee.

"i will," you sigh, using his arm for support as you stand. "thanks, harvey. i owe you."

"no need to worry about that, just get some rest at home. i'm sure sebastian is wondering where you are."

shit. you chew your lip as you slowly make your way back to the farm, trying to find the right words to say to your husband. it's not like you to overwork yourself like this on the farm, but after waking up a bit too late in the morning, you'd found yourself rushing to get everything done. seb had been sound asleep as you worked, but with the sun beginning to set in the sky, you knew he had to be up and waiting for you at home.

sure enough, as you walk towards your front door, you see him already sitting on the front steps, a book in hand. his head quickly turns at the sound of your footsteps.

"you're back! did you have errands to run?" seb asks, setting his book down. "i thought you had a lot to do this morning?"

you hesitate, nodding slowly as you avoid his gaze. "i did," you answer, swallowing. "i was, ah, at the clinic."

"what? why—?" only then does he notice the bags under your eyes and the brace wrapped around your ankle. "hey, what happened?" he walks over to your side, slowly guiding you to the steps and helping you sit down.

"i'm alright," you say, though you unsuccessfully hide your discomfort as you stretch your hurt ankle out. "i twisted my ankle, is all."

"right." you know sebastian well enough to tell when he's worrying; his brow is furrowed, his eyes glued to the ground.

"come on, seb, don't be so dramatic," you joke, shoving him lightly with your shoulder. "it's not like i'm dying." he looks at you suddenly with squinted eyes, as if he's trying to decode your words. "what?"

"people tend to say that when things are worse than they are," he says, looking you up and down. "what really happened?"

"what are you talking about?"

"maybe i'll go talk to harvey." he begins to stand, but you grab his wrist and drag him back down.

"okay, okay!" the last thing you want is for him to take the doctor's words too seriously and put you on a house lockdown. "i just overworked myself in the heat, alright? seriously! harvey said i should be fine with some rest."

"really? that's all?"

"yes."

"all you hurt was your ankle?"

"yes."

"did you set up another appointment with him?"

"yes, seb, i'm fine!" you grab his arm and pull him closer, looking straight into his worried eyes. "look, see? i'm in one piece."

sebastian sighs, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly. "i know, you've always been strong," he says, smiling lightly. "just . . . don't overdo it, okay? i'm here to help you, too."

you smile back at him. "i know." you pause. "you know, harvey said i need to lay off the rest of my work today."

"yeah?" seb grins, helping you stand. "what are you thinking?"

you pretend to ponder for a moment. "maybe some dinner and TV? we still have that show we need to catch up on."

he laughs, wrapping an arm around you as the two of you head inside.

"whatever you want, dear."

sam

he thinks you're invincible.

completely freaks out when he sees you actually hurt for the first time

makes you spend the rest of the day in bed and brings you some of his mom's food

(claims it has healing powers)

the sun is still high in the sky when you leave the mines. your plan had been to spend the whole day gathering resources, but after a rough tousle with some monsters, you don't have the energy to keep going. your head is throbbing, and you're mildly aware of the cut on your forehead that finally stopped bleeding.

you make your way across the farm and toward your house, and you can hear sam practicing on his skateboard. you hope you can avoid him, at least until you're able to clean up your injury.

as you open the front door, though, a loud creak fills the air, and you freeze. the sound of the skateboard stops.

"baby, is that you?" sam calls out, walking around to the front porch. you keep your back turned. "did you forget something?"

"uh, no! no, the mines were just a bit empty today, so . . ." you trail off. you turn your head away from him as sam tries to look at your face, but sigh in defeat when he cups your cheek and makes you face him.

immediately, his eyes widen. "you're hurt!"

"i'm fine—"

without another word, sam grabs your hand and drags you inside, bringing you into the bathroom. he spends the next few minutes tenderly cleaning the cut on your forehead, apologizing every time you flinch in pain. then, he brings you to your shared bedroom, covering you in the sheets and bringing you a mug of your favorite drink.

"stay here," he instructs, "i'll be right back." he turns to your pet, tail wagging as it sits at your bedside. "you're in charge while i'm gone, alright? make sure they stay put!" you laugh lightly as sam hurriedly leaves the house, hearing the sound of his skateboard rolling away. you let out a sigh, closing your eyes as you begin to fall asleep.

"baby, wake up."

your eyes open to the sound of your husband beside you once again, holding a bowl of steaming soup.

"i stopped by mom's to get some of her soup. you know i'm not the best cook," he admits, "but you need to eat something with lots of nutrients to get better."

you laugh lightly, gladly letting him feed you the first bite. the warmth of the soup makes you feel already a bit better.

"thank you, sam," you say, looking at him gratefully. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

"hey, shouldn't i be saying that?" he jokes, planting a kiss on your cheek. "here, eat up. you need all the strength you can get!"

after you finish eating, you begin to sit up, stretching your arms.

"hey, what are you doing?" sam questions, setting the bowl on your nightstand.

"i need to check on the animals one more time," you sigh, ignoring the ache in your arms. he scoffs, grabbing your arms and sitting you back down in bed.

"right, and just what kind of husband would i be if i let you do that?" he straightens his back and crosses his arms, smiling confidently. "leave it to me!"

"sam."

"yes, dear?"

"do you even know what you'd be checking for?"

he pauses, arms dropping. "right," he says, sighing. "i guess i don't." you laugh, standing back up but grabbing his hand.

"come on, you can be my assistant for tonight."

"yes!"

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firewasabeast · 13 days

Note

can you do a fic based on the idea that athena and tommy will team up to fly the plane to safety? idk if it doesn't really happen in the show, I'd love a fic version!

disclaimer: I know nothing about planes, nor do I pretend to. we're all just going to smile and nod as we read through this, just like we do when we watch 911. the idea for this fic comes from @mannafromtevan's theory, which is incredible and I hope is true! Also, while looking for the link to this theory, I saw where @bibuckkinard already wrote a fic based on this theory as well. I haven't read it yet, but everything they write is incredible and will definitely be better than this. Anyway, enjoy!

A small aircraft hit the plane. Co-pilot was ejected. The pilot enabled autopilot, but she's unconscious. There's no one to fly the plane!

That was the call that Athena had with air traffic control just after the incident. It had sent more than half of LA's emergency personnel to the nearest airport, the 217 taking lead on the operation.

Everyone was hovered around, listening as Tommy spoke to Athena and tried to get as much information as he could in what little amount of time they had.

“And you said a window was blown out?” Tommy asked.

“Yes. A window and then some.”

“Wide enough for a person to fit through?”

“The co-pilot did.”

Tommy was quiet for a moment. Long enough for Athena to come back over the radio. “Tommy? Are you still there?”

“I'm here, Athena. I'm thinking. Just hang on a sec.”

“Oh, sure,” she answered, the sarcasm in her tone was clear. “I've got nowhere else to be.”

Jameson, a pilot who'd been working with Tommy for nearly five years now, stared at him. He knew that face. “You have an idea.” It wasn't a question.

“Yeah, I do.”

“How stupid is it?”

“It has potential.”

“To work?”

Tommy shook his head. “To be the dumbest thing I've ever done.”

*****

“You cannot be serious right now!” Buck exclaimed as Tommy strapped on his gear. The rest of the crew was working on the helicopter behind him, getting it ready to go as quickly as possible. Hen, Chim, and Eddie were there too, standing back while Tommy and Buck spoke.

“It's the best plan we're gonna get. It's the only plan we're gonna get.”

“It's not even a plan! It's a death sentence.”

“Not if I succeed it's not.”

“Tommy-”

“We've done crazier things, Evan. Like flying through a hurricane.”

“Intermittent showers,” Buck corrected. “And I'd say repelling from a helicopter and into a torn apart jet to try and land the thing when half the controls aren't working is a little crazier than flying through bad weather!”

Tommy placed his hands on Buck's shoulders. “Breathe, Evan. The rescue mission was fully approved by all proper authorities.”

“You sure you didn't fake mouth static your way into approval?”

Tommy gave him a look. “There might've been a few omissions. I cannot confirm or deny that though.”

“Tommy.”

“Hey, what's our motto?” he said, looking past Buck and pointing to the rest of the 118.

“Who cares?!” They chanted.

“Me!” Buck exclaimed. “I care!” He followed behind Tommy as he headed for the chopper. “Tommy, please don't-”

Tommy turned on his heels, nearly running straight into Buck as he did so. “Evan,” he started, his voice calm and assured, “If you knew how to fly, you'd already be up there.”

“But-”

“Am I wrong?”

Buck pursed his lips, eying Tommy closely before replying. “No.”

“I've gotta go. I will do my best to make it back to you, Evan. I promise that.”

That was it for Buck. He didn't care who was around. He tugged Tommy by his gear, and pulled him in for a kiss. “Be safe.”

Tommy nodded, giving Buck's hand a squeeze before running to the helicopter. Buck took a deep breath, holding back his tears as he watched them take off.

*****

It took time, and a lot of precision, for Tommy to finally reach the opening of the plane. There were a few close calls along the way, but once Athena had ahold of his legs, he allowed himself to relax a little.

“Good to see you, Athena,” Tommy said with a smile once he had successfully made it inside the plane.

“I'm not sure if good is the correct word to be using right now,” Athena replied. “But I am glad you're here.”

“Happy to be here.” Tommy disconnected himself from all the wiring he was attached to, guiding it back out of the hole so the helicopter could return to base.

Athena moved some debris out of the way, making room for Tommy to sit in pilot's seat. There were lights flashing everywhere, some repetitive beeping from alarms, not to mention the giant hole that was allowing wind to whip through the cockpit.

“What do you think?” Athena asked as he pressed some buttons, his face scrunched up tight.

He flipped a switch on one of the control panels, which caused the entire thing to fall off the dash.

“Well, that's not helpful,” he said, tossing it aside. “So, got any plans this weekend?”

She glared over at him. “Wasn't really thinking that far ahead.”

“I was thinking about taking Evan for a helicopter tour around the city... May be in bad taste now though.”

Athena sat beside him, a light sheen of sweat across her forehead. “Tommy, give it to me straight here. How screwed are we?”

He shrugged, keeping his focus on the controls that were still connected to the plane. “You believe in God?”

“I do.”

“Mind praying for us both then?”

“That bad?”

Before Tommy could respond, his captain's voice was coming over the radio in his helmet. “Give me a rundown, Kinard. What's going on?”

Athena listened as Tommy went through a (very long) list of everything wrong with the plane. He went over controls that were damaged, and the very few that weren't. She heard something about autopilot still working well, and something else about a manual landing, but most of it made no sense to her.

“I'm gonna need you to repeat all of that,” Athena said once he was finished, “but in a way I'll actually understand.”

He glanced over at her briefly, the plane jumping with sudden turbulence. Athena grabbed onto the the broken panel in front of her and Tommy focused his eyes back on the controls. “We're running low on fuel. We're gonna have to try to land after the next turn, and we'll end up dropping pretty fast. Basically, I can land us manually, but I can't promise the breaks will work.”

“That seems like a pretty important part of landing,” she deadpanned.

“I'd definitely say it's a favorite of mine.”

Athena took a deep breath before asking her next question. “And if the breaks don't work? What happens then?”

“There's a very high chance this thing will blow up if we can't stop by the end of the runway.”

“Oh dear God.”

“There is good news though.”

“Hm.” She eyed him skeptically. “What's that?”

“We won't feel a thing.”

“Oh, well, that's a relief. Don't know what I was ever worried about in the first place,” she replied sarcastically. “How much time do we have before you land her?”

“About ten minutes. Intercom system is out, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can you go make sure everyone has their seatbelts fastened?”

Athena headed back to the passengers. Tommy took the moment alone to breathe deeply and steal himself for whatever was about to happen. Part of being a pilot required confidence and, even if he didn't have much of it at the moment, he knew how to play the part.

Fake it til you make it.

He'd done that a lot over the years. It worked in a professional sense, not so much in a personal one.

A couple minutes later, Athena returned. “All buckled in,” she informed him as she went to sit in the co-pilot's seat again.

“It's actually probably better if you sit in the jump seat behind me,” Tommy said.

“Why? So when we explode my arm doesn't knock you upside the head for getting me killed? Nah, I'm good here.”

Tommy smirked. Even after working with Athena on and off for over twenty years, he'd never spent much time with her. The few dinners he and Evan had with her and Bobby didn't give them much time to banter back and forth. He'd have to make sure and change that once they were on solid ground. “Suit yourself.”

“Can I borrow your helmet for a second?” she asked.

“Sure.” He handed it over and she put it on, clearing her throat.

“Can I speak to Hen Wilson from the 118, please?” she asked over the radio.

A few seconds later, Hen was on the line. “I'm here, Athena. You're on an open channel.”

“Hen, Bobby isn't at the airport, is he?”

“No. He's on his way, but he hasn't made it yet. You want me to put him on with you?”

“No, no!” Athena answered quickly. “No. What I need to say, I can say to you.”

Tommy focused on keeping the plane steady while Athena spoke. It felt wrong to listen in to something as personal as a possible goodbye.

He took the time to think about Evan. The short but wonderful time he'd had with him over the past few months. They'd been the best of his life.

He briefly wondered if he should tell Evan that before he attempted to land, but he decided against it. Evan wouldn't need those thoughts running through his head for the rest of his life if they didn't make it out of this.

“Hey,” Athena's voice brought him out of his thoughts. She nudged his shoulder with the helmet. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

Tommy paused before taking the helmet back. “Go for Kinard.”

“Kinard, this is Buckley of the 118.” Tommy smiled at the sound of Evan's voice, even though he could hear it breaking ever so slightly.

“I hear you, Buckley.”

“I just, um, I wanted you to, um. Tommy.” He cleared his throat. “You've got this, okay? We're all down here waiting. N- Not a single doubt.”

“Good to know. No doubts up here either.”

He ignored the raised eyebrow look from Athena.

“Good. Um, Tommy?”

“Yeah, Evan?”

“I love you.” The words escaped him quickly, but with a confidence that wasn't there before.

Tommy smiled, his heart fluttering. He didn't realize he hadn't spoken until Evan's voice came over the radio again.

“T- Tommy?”

Tommy shook his head, blinking to rid himself of the tears in his eyes. “Chschschsch,” he said, bringing back his renowned fake mouth static, thank you very much. Athena stared over at him in confusion. “Sorry, Buckley, you're cutting out on me. You'll have to repeat that last sentence when I'm on the ground, okay?”

“Yeah,” Evan answered, and Tommy was sure there was a faint smile in his voice. “Yeah, o- okay.”

*****

About a minute later, Tommy was in position and ready to land. He got in contact with everyone on the ground, letting them know where and when he'd be landing. They were all getting into position near the runway, ready to help no matter the outcome.

“You ready?” Tommy asked as Athena tightened her seatbelt.

“Let's land this bastard.”

“Coming in for a landing.”

The closer they got to the ground, the shakier things got. Tommy held tightly onto the controls, trying to ignore the burning in his eyes from all the wind coming in through the hole.

They dropped rapidly, just as he expected they would. Athena kept quiet, and Tommy wondered if she was praying.

A part of him hoped she was.

As the runway got closer and closer into view, Tommy could feel every muscle in his body tightening. “Brace yourself,” he said a few seconds before they hit the ground with a thud.

Screams could be heard coming from the passengers, many of them crying or calling out to whatever god they believed in.

“We're going too fast.” Athena watched as they flew past all the emergency vehicles waiting for them.

“We're okay,” Tommy replied. Fake it til you make it.

They started to slow down, but the end of the runway was drawing near and it was becoming clear they would not be able to stop in time.

“Tommy.”

“We're okay,” he repeated, although it sounded more like a demand.

Athena could see the details of the signs at the end of the runway. “Tommy!”

Suddenly, Tommy turned the plane to loop around to the next runway. As he did, the wing hit a sign that flung backwards, eliciting more yells from the passengers.

The plan, or lack thereof, seemed to work. The plane slowed until it came to a stop.

They were alive.

They were actually alive.

Before he even had time to let it fully sink in, Athena was next to him, wrapping him in an unexpected, but very needed, hug.

“You might be clinically insane,” she said, both of them laughing from all the adrenaline coursing through their bodies. “But I'm so damn glad you are.”

“Why don't we get everyone off this plane?” he asked. “Then go see our guys.”

“I like the sound of that.”

*****

Athena and Tommy made sure they were the last ones off the plane. Athena spotted Bobby first. He had apparently arrived just before the landing and saw the whole thing. Tommy watched them reunite as his eyes darted around looking for his own person.

“It's been decided that I have the coolest, most badass boyfriend in the entire world,” a voice said from behind him.

Tommy whipped around to Evan standing there, arms already open wide, a bright smile on his face. Tommy practically fell into him. They held onto one another so tight that Tommy could have sworn they were melding into one.

“I was so worried,” Buck breathed out, his face pressed into Tommy's neck.

“I thought you had no doubts?” Tommy's voice was muffled against Buck's turnouts. He made no effort to move.

“Like you believed that for a second.”

After holding onto each other a little longer, Tommy pulled back just enough to look Buck in the eyes. “If I remember correctly, you were in the middle of telling me something when my radio started to go out,” he said with a smirk on his face.

Buck brought his hands to Tommy's face, his thumbs stroking Tommy's cheeks. “I love you, Tommy,” he said, and that confidence was back in his voice. “I really, really love you.”

“I love you too, Evan.” He pulled Buck in for a kiss, deep and passionate and filled with all the love they'd been keeping to themselves for the last few months.

The sound of a throat clearing had them, reluctantly, separating from one another. Bobby and Athena were walking up behind them, smiles on both of their faces.

“Athena!” Buck exclaimed, immediately going to her for a hug. “Are you okay?”

“All good,” she answered, “thanks to your man.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” Bobby said, bypassing a handshake and going in for a hug. “You saved a lot of lives tonight.”

He took a deep breath. “All part of the job, right?”

“I think you went far above and beyond the job tonight,” Bobby replied. "Probably have another medal in your future."

Buck's proudly returned to Tommy's side, their arms wrapping around each other's waist.

“You've got a good one here, Buck,” Athena said, patting Tommy on the shoulder. “You should keep him.”

Buck smiled, leaning in for another kiss. “That's the plan.”

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #athena grant #im not sure i love this one #i know i sound like a broken record when i say that but i think i spent too much time with it #that's always a problem for me.

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 1 year

Text

Rooster At 5, Bradley At Night

Bradley Bradshaw x Penny’s niece!reader 10k words (.....yes. 10k. i know)

summary: You've been hooking up with Bradley for three weeks now. You're also hooking up with him tonight.

a/n: this is pure smut. honestly pure smut. 18+ i will now list all the things that you have to look out for. first and foremost i have NEVER written smut before dont kill me pls im trying my best. ok so

name kink, rank kink, choking, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyve had the conversation nothing bad will happen), oral sex!fem receiving, dom bradley, some "good girl" because i am a sucker for that, in general a lot of talking because bradley is A TALKER!!!!!!, a little strength kink? is that a thing? and a shit ton of begging

this can be read as a stand-alone most definitely, but is set in the same universe as "Tuesday Night" and “Not A Coincidence” and "Take Me On A Joyride" so maybe give those a read too?

top gun masterlist

You were behind the bar this evening, a rag in your hands as you wiped down the sticky wooden top for the bazillionth time and hummed along to the music coming from the jukebox. You were behind the bar most evenings, pouring beer and rum and whiskey and mixing cocktails (occasionally taking some sips of your own), smiling and laughing and flirting with customers left and right.

For the past few months now, the most regular of those costumers had been the Dagger squad.

They'd shown up here one random evening and hadn't left since. And it didn't seem like any of them would any time soon.

Not that you wanted them to, oh no. You had grown so close in so little time that it was scary at this point.

"Settle a bet for us, Junior."

Jake slid up to the bar as if it was second nature, putting an empty bottle of beer in front of him and resting one elbow next to it. You looked up at him and smiled, threw your rag over your shoulder and grabbed the bottle, condensation dripping down onto your fingertips. Rooster came up right behind him and your smile deepened even further.

"Hit me, Bagman", you challenged, set two full bottles on the bar top and then rested your forearms against the edge.

Jake grinned at you as he raised his beer in a toast.

"If you had to get with one of us tonight, who'd you get with?"

You didn't even flinch.

"Bradshaw", you said, quick like a shot, and watched Jake's face fall like he'd expected a different answer with just a tiny bit of amusement. You glanced at Rooster, who had already been looking at you, and whose only reaction to the fact that you were literally talking about sleeping with him was a small quirk of his lips.

"Bradshaw? Are you kidding? You- I'll give you a second to think about it, Junior. Don't you wanna think about it for a second?", Jake asked, regaining his facade, letting a tinge of his accent slip as he leaned in and winked at you. "You know, actually think about it. Imagine it. Picture it. Visualise it."

You decided to give him the satisfaction. So you pushed back from the bar top, crossed your arms, raised your eyebrows and eyed the two of them up and down - just because you could, just for the fun of it. Jake was in his usual jeans and shirt, leaning in with a self-assured grin and his hand wrapped around his beer bottle. Bradley was wearing one of those Hawaiian shirts that fit snugly on his bicep, his sunglasses tucked into the collar of the white top underneath, hair on the practically perfect side of unruly and his eyes fixed on yours so intensely that you had to bite down on your tongue for a moment there.

You counted to five.

"Bradshaw", you said again, dropped your arms and grabbed the rag from your shoulder. Jake's lips parted and a betrayed sort of gasp left his mouth before he started complaining - you shook your head and stepped over to the next customer and only allowed yourself to grin when you'd turned away, out of his sight.

You wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

You still didn't know whether to be surprised at this "bet" the both of them had made. You were pretty sure anyway that Jake had been the driving force in that. You knew the two of them well enough by now to not only be aware of their.... you could only call it a rivalry, really, but also of Jake's weird, warped sense of mischief. Maybe he had some narcissism problem or maybe some old trauma response. Who cared? Not you. It made for entertainment every night you were behind the bar. And also every night you were in front of the bar, drinking and dancing with the squad. You loved him, you really did. But definitely not enough to not put a stop to his ego whenever you could.

And if that way was by flaunting how very platonically you felt about him (because he was a self-named womanizer and couldn't understand how anyone could possibly not be attracted to him), you would.

...

It was 2am when Penny told you to pack your things and go. Most of the bar was empty already, except for three or four small groups of people, but those she could manage alone. Usually, maybe, you'd have declined, but tonight....

Well.

Jake had found someone to hook up with after his earlier disappointment and the rest of the squad had left at some point during the last hour too - the rest of the squad except for a particular pornstache guy.

Rooster had said goodbye to Fanboy and Payback ten minutes ago, had assured them he didn't need a ride home, he'd order another drink and then take an uber, had sat down on a bar stool, nursed his beer and watched you clean up and then pack your things. You'd sneaked glances at him now and then, so you knew that he'd watched you.

When you stepped out from behind the bar, he sat up and followed you out of the Hard Deck wordlessly. Armed with a purse, fumbling for your car keys, fighting down the smile on your lips and the bubbling anticipation in your stomach, you took a second outside to close your eyes and breathe in the mild evening air.

Then two arms sneaked around your waist. You let out a sigh as warm breath hit your neck.

"So you'd rather get with me than Bagman, hm, Junior?"

You chuckled, pushing back a little, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to relax for the first time tonight.

"I think you know very well that I'd rather get with you than Bagman, Rooster", you muttered, running your hands up his, up his arms, up naked skin until you could slide your fingertips underneath his shirt, up his shoulders... "I'd rather get with you than anyone."

He pressed a kiss right below your earlobe, bit down softly on the same patch of skin, soothed it again with a kiss.

"Oh, I know", he laughed quietly into your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. You settled even further into his arms. "I'd rather get with you than Bagman, too."

You had to laugh as well - the image of Hangman and Rooster was truly funny. But it was difficult to keep laughing when Bradley pressed more and more kisses to your neck, trailing a line of them down to the hemline of your shirt, nuzzling his nose in there when he couldn't go further. You tilted your head back a little to rest it against his shoulder, a pleasant flush rising up within - a comfortable warmth, the knowledge that you were safe, secure, protected. The way he always made you feel.

"Just to be clear - I do get to get with you tonight, right?", you asked, a grin on your lips because you knew the answer very, very well. Rooster chuckled into your ear and let out a hum.

"What do you think?", he muttered, one last, open-mouthed kiss pressed against your skin before he pulled away, pulled at your hand to twirl you around, pulled a squeal from your lips, one that conjured a smile on his face every time. "Take me home?"

...

The ride home was silent except for the radio in the background, but you were pretty much tuning that out. The steering wheel was sturdy in your hands, the night lights bright and blinding and your concentration on the streets and the car was waning ever so slowly, ever so steadily because Rooster's hand was slowly, steadily inching up your thigh. He'd put it innocently just above your knee when you'd strapped yourself in, his thumb sweeping in circles over the fabric of your jeans, but by now he'd brushed so far up that you were finding it hard to direct your thoughts back to driving.

Luckily, the drive back home only took ten minutes.

You weren't sure you'd have survived even a second more. He squeezed your thigh one last time as you turned the ignition off, then unbuckled his seat belt, opened his door and got out and you were left alone in pure silence for exactly two seconds. You took a deep breath in and out. One day, and you knew that, Bradley would be the death of you. He could get you all riled up with so very little that you felt like you were going mad sometimes. In a very good way, of course.

And just as you were lamenting on the bubbling anticipation in your stomach, on the images your brain conjured whenever you were close to him, whenever you were touching him, whenever-

"Madam", Rooster smiled, leaning one arm on the opened car door and reaching the other hand out for you to take. "Would you do me the honours?"

You could only shake your head and grin at him, giddiness making you squirm in your seat as you pulled your hands away from the steering wheel and put one of them in his.

"I could never deny you any of your wishes, kind sir", you said, allowing him to pull you out of the car and into his arms instead. He hugged you close, tilted his head down to nuzzle your nose with his - you had to put your head back to be able to look into his eyes when you stood this close in front of him, nevermind kissing him.

"Really?", he smiled, his fingertips dancing along your side, hooking into your belt loops, pulling your hips flush to his. You grabbed at his biceps to steady yourself. Or maybe just because you could. "Any of my wishes?"

You let out a sort of agreeable hum and grinned up at him.

"Whatever you want", you nodded.

It was the truth, simple and just. You'd do anything. You'd let him do anything. You trusted him like you'd never trusted anyone before and up until now, you'd only ever been rewarded for putting that kind of trust in him. Something about this felt right. Something about him felt right.

"What if I wanted to spend the rest of the night between your legs?", he muttered, eyes flicking down to your lips as your breath hitched.

"Well", you whispered, because whispering was the only thing you still knew how to do. "As I said, I won't deny you anything."

His eyes met yours and his lip quirked up and then, before you could do anything more, he'd dropped down, wrapped an arm around your legs and hauled you up. You let out a gasp and crossed your arms behind his neck in reflex, a soft, shocked "Rooster!" falling from your lips. Bradley only chuckled, closed the car door with his hip and started carrying you to your front door with seemingly no problem whatsoever.

Gods. Sometimes you forgot just how strong he really was.

But then, in moments like these, he picked you up and threw you onto your bed or pushed you up against a wall and you remembered. And you felt that sting in your stomach that had you press your legs together every time.

Now you didn't even have to remember. Now you were dangling safely from his arms, your hands linked behind his neck, your fingertips buried in his hair, your eyes wide as you watched him, as you tried to steady your irregular breathing because shit, this was happening. This was happening like it had been happening for over three weeks now.

He sat you down carefully in front of the door, but you were in such a trance that you needed to take a moment (or two or three) to stare at him, at this man, this fairytale prince, this god. Your man, your fairytale prince, your god.

"You need to unlock the door, honey", he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and turning you so you were facing the door, his chest pressed to your back, his breath fanning the exposed skin of your neck and right, right, right, the door! The door. The lock. The key. The key in your purse! That key. The key for your door. Right. Key, key, key.... Where the hell was that goddamn key? You were sure it was somewhere there in your purse. You'd put it in there like you always put it in there. Key, Key, Rooster, Rooster's arms around you, Rooster's hands brushing over your skin, Rooster's breath on your ear, Rooster between your legs, Rooster- Key! Key, key, key---

There.

At the very bottom of your purse, finally! There it was. You pulled it out with an almost triumphant sound, unlocked your door to Rooster's soft laughter behind you and stumbled into the dark hallway in a half-intoxicated way that shouldn't have been possible because you hadn't drunk anything tonight.

You threw your purse to the side and switched on the light and turned to Rooster just in time for him to have closed the door behind him and reached for you, his hands on your hips - so big, splayed so wide, his fingers so long - crowding you against the wall, his breath fanning over your mouth and then, finally, his lips on yours.

For the first time today, you were kissing him. He was so wide, so tall, so huge, everywhere all around you, his arms, his hands, his chest, his shoulders, his neck, his chin and his cheeks and his lips and his hair. Your hands sunk into that hair, tugging at the roots and grabbing his head as though your life depended on it, depended on keeping him safely, steadily right on front of you, right here, pushing you against the wall and leaving you practically no room to breathe, to touch, to feel anything other than him.

You wanted him.

With every fibre of your body, your soul, every particle, every cell, you wanted him. You wanted him everywhere all at once and you wanted him now.

So you bit down on his lip and allowed his tongue in and brushed your hands down his shoulders, down his chest to pull off that god-awful Hawaiian shirt that you admittedly found very attractive, but that was so incredibly, annoyingly in the way right now. You tugged it off his chest and down his arms and didn't care when it fell to the floor - that was where it should be, that was where it belonged.

You reached for the top then, for his waist to brush your fingertips below its hem, pushed it up, up, up until you could feel bare skin, washboard abs against your palms. That satisfied you for a moment - for a moment of running your fingers along the sharp edges of his stomach, for a moment of feeling his body heat, for a moment of being closer.

Luckily, Rooster had always been quite in-tune with you. He noticed the very second that your satisfaction turned to impatience, that your roaming, wandering hands weren't exploring, weren't enjoying anymore but were searching, longing for more - for more skin to touch, more, more, more.

He pulled away from your lips to get rid of his top, leaving you a panting, wide-eyed mess and by god, he'd only just gotten started. He hadn't even touched you. How were you already so wound up?

You blamed the fact that you'd had to stare at him from a distance for the past five days (you'd had late night shifts, he'd had early training days) and decided not to think about it further.

Especially not as his top joined his shirt on the floor, as he looked up at you with red smudged on his chin, kiss-swollen lips and unruly hair. His chest was heaving, his breath coming shorter than usual and his pupils had grown so dark you had to swallow hard.

Without thinking, you reached out and tried to wipe your lipstick off his skin.

That made him grin a little.

"Rooster?", you muttered, looking him right in the eyes. He let out a hum as he stared, a bit lost in thought it seemed and still quite shamelessly, only further at your lips. "Either take me to the bedroom or take a step back so I can get on my knees."

He let out a chuckle then and met your eyes, digging his fingers through your belt loops and pulling you a few inches away from the wall.

"I think you may have forgot something, honey", he said. "What about that wish I made?"

You let out a shuddering breath as you tried not to let your imagination run wild.

Rooster only grinned, and it seemed that your expression showed him just how much you didn't mind his wish at all, because he reached around you, grabbed the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, so effortlessly that it made you blush a little. You didn't even have to hold onto him, only had to wrap your legs loosely around his hips as he carried you through the hallway and into the bedroom.

That allowed you to focus all of your attention on pressing your lips to his skin.

He was warm. So warm. You trailed your lips all over his jaw, his throat, his shoulders, his bicep, and then, when you couldn't go any further down, Rooster had already found the light switch in your room and was dropping you onto your bed, pulling a surprised gasp from you.

The mattress was soft and bouncy as you landed on it, heat in your cheeks and your throat tightening at the sight in front of you - Bradley Rooster Bradshaw standing at the foot of of your bed, half-naked, sweaty, breathing heavy and looking down at you like he was a predator and you were his prey, like he wanted to devour you whole.

Which he did.

You raised yourself up onto your elbows at the same time that he advanced - pounding on you, almost, with a grin on his lips that set ablaze the slumbering flame in your abdomen. You didn't know which one of you got rid of your shirt, only that a few seconds later his lips were on yours, his hands reaching for your bra clasp and your shirt discarded somewhere on your floor.

You breathed hard against his mouth as his fingertips brushed along your back, along your bra, then slowly slid it off your shoulders, down your arms...

Cold air hit your breasts just as Rooster pulled away from you to fling your bra away to join your shirt on the floor, leaving you cold and panting, your eyes closing and opening again and staring at him as he stared at you, as he admired you, all bare, soft skin right there, right in front of him, just for him and nobody else.

You felt his palms against your ribcage then, pushing you down onto your back, onto the mattress, your breath hitching and your eyes closing in anticipation. He dropped a kiss onto your collarbone. Another just above your cleavage. Another onto the top of your breasts. His thumbs brushed right below them.

You wanted more. You always wanted more. You needed more.

But he was just trailing kisses along your breasts, never lingering for long enough, never biting or sucking or licking and as much as you were enjoying this... You needed more.

"Rooster", you sighed, dragging your hands through his hair because you needed more. He hummed against your skin. You could feel the vibration all over. "Roos, please."

He grinned - against your skin at first, before he looked up and right at you. "What was that?"

You bit down on your lip. God damn him. He always did this. Every single time, he did this. And the worst part was: You didn't even mind. You didn't mind begging, you didn't mind pleading, you didn't mind doing so much of it that you couldn't do, couldn't say anything else anymore. So you did just that.

"Please", you repeated, a little breathlessly. Rooster's grin widened.

And then he pulled away completely.

You could have screamed. You honestly thought, just for a second, that he would leave you lying there - panting and begging for him, with a bare chest and arousal heating up every part of you. But of course not. Of course not. This was Bradley fucking Bradshaw. He didn't leave you unsatisfied.

No.

Rooster got up from the bed only to grab you by the waist, to pull you down to the edge and kneel down on the floor. You swallowed hard. He fiddled with your shoes first, loosening the laces and taking them off, tugging down your socks and your pants and oh dear lord, you couldn't concentrate on anything he was doing.

He was kneeling in front of your bed. You bit back a moan from that alone.

Any and all forms of Bradley Bradshaw were jaw-droppingly gorgeous, but to you, nothing would ever top the sight of him on his knees for you.

You tuned back in when your jeans thumped to the floor, when his fingertips danced softly, teasingly up your calves, up your knees, up your thighs. You clenched your jaw when he reached your underwear, when his eyes met yours again in one final reassurance that this was what the both of you wanted, and then he pulled it down your legs too and hooked his hands behind your thighs.

Your eyes fluttered shut. You took a deep breath - one, two, one, two.

One, two.

You frowned and blinked open your eyes again.

Rooster was staring at you, blatantly staring at you with a knowing smirk plastered on his lips and his fingers digging into your hips, sure to hold you in place, not allowing you to push even an inch closer to him.

"Roos", you whined, for what already felt like the dozenth time tonight, your hand sinking into his hair, splaying out, tugging at the strands, trying your hardest to pull him in. He didn't move.

"Yes?", he asked, with that grin just deepening, telling you he knew exactly what he was doing.

Of course he did. Of course he'd make you- God, of course, of course, of course! It had been his idea. It had been his plan, his wish, his goddamn idea and now he was making you-

"Fuck", you grumbled, teeth digging into your bottom lip. You didn't want to do this. You didn't want to do this because he hadn't even had you lying here for five minutes and he already wanted you to do this. "Roos, just-"

He bit down softly on the skin of your thigh then, pulling a surprised gasp from you, leaving your sentence hanging half-finished in mid air. You had to tilt your head back, had to throw a hand over your face because gods, you couldn't look at him now! Not with his breath meeting your thigh, with the feeling of his moustache against your skin, not with that grin on his lips. If you did, you'd melt in less than a heartbeat. You weren't about to give in that easily.

At least that was what you told yourself. You repeated it in your head like a mantra - he had barely touched you, he was the one who'd wished for this, you wouldn't... you weren't... you hadn't...

Fuck!

"C'mon honey", he encouraged, pressing a kiss high up on your thigh. You let out a shaky breath. He was close, so close now and he had you wound so tightly, so incredibly tightly that you felt like you were burning up from inside and-

"Bradley", you gave in, the word falling, tumbling from your lips in almost a moan. "Please, Bradley, please."

He was on you in a heartbeat. Licking a stripe up your slit, tongue flattened and you cried out, digging your fingers deeper into his hair, pulling, pushing, back arching off the bed as he finally, finally gave you what you wanted, what you needed. He dove in like a starved man, licking, pushing, tasting you, devoured and ravaged you, took everything and gave everything at the same time.

Bradley was a god. You'd never had a man eat you out like this until you met him.

His hands pressing against your hips to hold you down, to keep you right there for him, not letting you move an inch from him, only letting you push impossibly closer, your mind, your body screaming more. More, more, more. More of him. More from him. More him.

His tongue found your clit. You cried his name into the vast nothingness of your bedroom, eyes squeezing close and hand cramping into the sheets next to your head, thighs clamping around his head, caging him in, his palms forcing your back still on the mattress.

You could faintly make out your own moans, your own voice as his tongue circled, traced and dipped -

More.

He drew your clit into his mouth. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten, send a shiver through your body, make your legs twitch.

Please.

He sunk his tongue into you, brushed your clit, up and down and everywhere.

Bradley.

You were coming close. Close, so close. Every inch of your skin was tensing in anticipation, clenching, clutching. You babbled something of the sort, not listening to yourself, not able to, not starting or stopping, controlling none of your words, none of the sounds falling from your lips. Bradley loosened one of his palms from your hips and immediately you were pushing, arching up, held down a heartbeat later as he pinned his arm down again, his tongue working you, not faltering once and-

pressure.

His thumb on your clit.

You screamed out his name.

Your nails dug into his scalp. Your heels clasped around his back. Every single nerve in your body was on fire. And Bradley didn't stop.

He worked you right through your high, circling his thumb on your clit and sinking his tongue into you, holding you down, holding you close until you were panting, gasping, your legs unclasping from his head, your fingers loosening in his hair, loosening from the bedsheets, your eyes fluttering open, meeting his and only then did he relent. He pulled back softly, stilling his thumb and pressing a kiss to your thigh, watching you as you slowly came back to reality, back to him.

You blinked once. Twice.

He pulled his thumb from you as he rose up from the floor, running his hands along your sides instead, along your ribs, your breasts, your throat, studying the irregular rise and fall of your chest, mapping out your body beneath his. You watched with parted lips as he brought both his hands steadily down next to your head, as he leaned down to meet you in a kiss - heavy and heady and intense and full of all the right emotions. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

But before you could do any more, press yourself up or pull him down, he was gone again, hot breath meeting your lips and that familiar smile crawling back up onto his face.

"Enjoying yourself?", he asked, tilting his head to the side a little, catching the light of the overhead lamp. Wetness glistened on his moustache. You bit down on your bottom lip, doing your hardest to conceal the smile that was fighting to get to the surface.

Instead, you let out an agreeable hum and brought your hand up to his stache to wipe at it, to wipe some of you off him and admittedly, you already knew that wouldn't do much - but the simple act of innocently cleaning him off like that, fingers brushing above his mouth, just caressing his skin, it made something in your stomach churn.

"How about you? Now that we've checked one wish off your list... Any more?", you muttered, trailing your fingers along his cheek, down his scars, following those lines of skin you knew so well, burning them into your mind, burning him into your mind. You'd never seen anyone as beautiful. You didn't think there was anyone as beautiful out there. Your breath hitched, fingertips catching on a birthmark, before you snapped your eyes back up to his. "Any more wishes at all, Bradley?"

A sort of grunt left him as you did your best not to grin - you knew just what buttons to push, didn't you?

"You know", he muttered, dropping his head, brushing his nose down the sensitive skin of your throat. "I could think of a few more things."

"Yeah?", you asked, just on the right side of breathless again, skin tingling wherever he decided to place a few deliberate, almost chaste kisses. "Like what?"

He'd worked his way down to your breasts again, still holding himself up with both his hands.

"I could fuck you nice and slow, just like you deserve it", he said softly, the words flowing from him as easily as if he were talking about breakfast the next day. Rational, sober, collected. You, on the other hand, could feel the wetness pooling in between your legs again. You couldn't believe how reasonable, how practical, how composed he could stay while he said things like that - how he'd fuck you, how he'd eat you out, how he'd pull every single thought from your mind with his fingers and his mouth and his cock.

"Or", he went on, completely unbothered still, stopping in between words to drop kisses onto your breasts. "I could fuck you hard and fast, because that's what you want, right?"

A moan tumbled from your lips all of its own accord, your eyes fluttering shut again. He was conjuring visuals in your mind that had you clenching your legs together, hands clawing their way back up into his hair - you needed something to keep you here and now, to keep you grounded.

"I'm right, honey, aren't I?", he muttered, obviously satisfied with himself. "You want me to fuck you rough, don't you?"

You were sure you'd crossed some border into heaven and just hadn't realised it. This man would truly be the death of you one day.

"Yes", you breathed, scratching at his scalp, tugging at the roots of his hair. "Yes, please, Bradley."

You could feel his grin against your bare skin.

"You look so pretty begging for me, honey", he smiled, raising himself up and before you could complain much about it, before you could as much as open your eyes again, he was dropping a kiss to your lips, long and longing, parted lips pressed against each other, breathing each other in.

Then he pulled away from you completely and you did let a whine fall from your lips after all, raising yourself up onto your elbows to blindly follow after him as he straightened up and then bent down to pull off his shoes, his socks, to fumble with his belt - all in fucking slow motion apparently, that's how long it took, two hours just to take off his goddamn socks and you were just sitting there, staring, blinking, hazy mind clearing up the way it always had to after you'd been so close to him, watching, staring, watching, staring...

An eternity, it seemed, until you grew too impatient and decided to take matters into your own hands. Quite literally.

You pushed yourself up, reached for his belt yourself, pulled it from its buckle, unhooked it, opened it finally, finally, finally! and blinked up at him again, all wide eyes and smudged lipstick and swollen lips and Bradley felt pretty sure he died a little just then - this had to be heaven, you had to be heaven. You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and your tongue ran along your lips and he had to swallow hard.

His jeans fell to the floor, chased quickly by his boxer briefs and you took a deep breath as you looked at him, leaning forward, leaning in to reach for him-

He took both your hands in his and pushed you down on the mattress again, another of those pathetic whines dropping from your lips at being denied the feeling of him.

"Fuck, Roos, please", you begged, sounding pitiful to your own ears by now, pleading for something you knew he'd give to you anyway, just so goddamn impatient that you couldn't even help the words rolling off your tongue.

He let go of your hands, reached for your waist instead to pull you up, to tug you firmly farther up the mattress until he could follow after safely, until he could nudge your knees apart and trail a line of kisses up your shoulder, his hands finding their usual spot next to your head.

"What was that, honey?", he grinned against your skin, holding himself up above you to look you right in the eyes.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled a moan from yourself and a similar groan from him, squeezed your eyes shut and had immediately forgotten what it'd been you'd said before. What it'd been he was asking about.

He brought one hand down to your thigh, squeezing tight, holding you even tighter to him, and pressed his hips down into the mattress, pulling another moan from you and, again, a similar groan from himself, making sure that you couldn't move against him on your own, that you were completely at his mercy.

As always.

"Please", you whined, desperate now, trying to rock your hips against his and not succeeding, not succeeding because he was holding you still, holding you down, holding you helpless and defenseless, withholding the one goddamn thing you wanted from him right now. And after all that talk too! "Roos, please, Bradley, do something."

You were far from whining now, breathless and moaning and sobbing basically, hands clawing at his shoulders and nails digging into his skin, begging and pleading and he was just holding still, doing nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing and you wanted more, you wanted something, anything.

"Look at me", he panted then - the only sign at all that he was somehow affected by this as well. "Look at me, honey, open your eyes."

And what else were you supposed to do but follow that command, grant him that wish?

So you forced your eyes open, forced yourself to look at him.

A thin layer of sweat gleaned on his skin. His stare was fixed on you and you alone. And his pupils had dilated so far that his usually hazel eyes were practically black now. You sucked in an unsteady breath.

"Good girl", he praised and you were done for.

You could have come from that alone.

Those two words, breathed into the nothingness of the room, onto your lips, onto your naked skin, sent a shiver down your spine, down your back and your hips and your legs, a shiver so violent that it pulled a moan right with it, a string of them. You barely heard Bradley's groan above you before he pulled away just the slightest bit, pulled away to brush his hand down your side, down your chest, down your hips, between your bodies, to reach for himself and stroke his tip through the wetness between your legs, your back arching off the mattress, into him, into more of him and-

"Wait", you panted.

Bradley froze immediately. His expression shifted to worry in the span of half a second, furrowing his brows and pulling away from you.

"What's wrong?", he asked, still breathless. You closed your eyes and took a breath, tensing, forcing yourself to keep down on the mattress, even as cold settled on your skin now that he wasn't warming you up anymore - inches away from you again. Considerate idiot.

"Just-", you stopped, opened your eyes, looked right at him. "Do you think Jake suspects anything?"

Bradley kept still for a few seconds. A shallow breath and another, your chest rising and falling and you had a hard time thinking, even now that he was barely touching you anymore. You were wound tightly, and you'd been so close, and now...

"You're not seriously thinking about Jake right now", Bradley said, almost accusingly.

You had to admit, it was a bit strange - you were naked, panting, your legs wrapped around his hips, and still you were thinking about Jake, about the bet, about what you'd said hours ago at the bar. You hadn't even been thinking about it, really. It had just come to you, overwhelming you, and you... you had needed to get it out. Still, you did have to admit, it was absurd.

So you bit down on your lip to conceal a smile, a grin, trailed your hands to his hair to brush it behind his ears, almost innocently (but just almost).

"I'm sorry, I just...", you whispered, stroking your hands down his scalp. "We've kept this between us for three weeks now. I don't want to have ruined that."

Bradley shook his head at you, dropped it to his chin, his curls brushing your nose, your cheeks, and sighed onto the skin of your throat.

"You're unbelievable", he muttered, dropping a kiss between your breasts now that he knew you weren't uncomfortable or afraid or anything of the sort in the slightest. Your breath hitched again. You didn't want to talk about this. You wanted him inside you, wanted him to make good on his promise from before. But you knew you had to, because otherwise the thought wouldn't leave you alone, even though the coil in your stomach, the heat in your body screamed bloody murder at you for it.

He looked back up, raised his chin again to meet your eyes.

"Don't worry about Jake", he reassured, one hand starting to softly, just so very softly, brush up and down your side. You had to swallow. "He won't even remember tomorrow."

He dropped another kiss onto your skin, a little further down, that grin, that moustache against your ribs.

"And I'll make sure you won't remember either, pretty girl. Alright?"

You nodded so quickly you almost got a head rush, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, head tilting back just the slightest, your fingers digging into his hair as his lips trailed down your skin, the covers rustling as he settled further back, as his breath ghosted over your center again.

"Need to hear you say it, honey. Say it for me."

"Please", you babbled instantly, not even thinking, not even close, not when Bradley was giving you such easy instructions to follow. "Please, Roos, please."

You could feel him shake his head, obviously unsatisfied, breathing hard, hands travelling up and down your thighs and nothing more, leaving you in some state of being touched but not really being touched and you felt like going insane again.

"Try again, honey", he tutted, and you were already about to plead, to beg even more when he went on - "Look at me, baby, look at me and try again."

You blinked open your eyes, tilted your head down to look at him, all pretty and wide-eyed, just like he'd asked, your fingers cramping in his hair.

"Please, Roos-"

He raised his eyebrows and you knew then, you knew where your mistake had been - you should've known before, you should've-

"Bradley", you moaned. "Please, Bradley, I want you. I need you."

He grinned at that, dropped a kiss to your thigh before flattening his tongue against your folds again, drawing another moan from you. Your eyes stayed fixed on his, but only because you knew he wanted you to, only because you knew he needed you to. His palms splayed out against the backs of your thighs, keeping them still, as always.

His tongue drew a circle on your clit and you arched off the bed, into him, a whine tumbling from your lips, followed by his name. He pulled back much too quickly, much too easily, with a much too satisfied grin on his lips, looking up at you for just a second before he leaned down to drop a kiss to your hip.

"Bradley", you complained, cut off by your own moan when you felt his fingers trail through your wetness instead of his tongue, all soft and slow and you rocked your hips against his hand - more friction, more touch, more, more, more.

You hadn't been kidding when you'd said that you wanted him. That you needed him.

Bradley chuckled, kissing his way up your body again, one hand next to your head to hold himself up just the way he'd done before, but his fingers brushing, stroking, his thumb on your clit, moan after moan spilling from you. You needed more. More.

You tried to shift closer, tried to cant your hips into his palm for more, blinking up at him and whimpering and fuck, Bradley was just human after all, how could he deny you anything if you looked at him like that? So he started drawing little circles with his thumb, little circles on your clit, and pushed a finger into you.

You rewarded him with the soft sound of his name rolling off your tongue, your hands reaching for his arms, clawing at his biceps. You had needed this, had needed him and now... Now you needed more. More, even as he pulled his finger from you and pushed in again, starting in a slow, easy rhythm, drawing little moans, quiet whimpers from you. You rocked your hips back onto him, pushed for more. More.

"More", you voiced your thoughts, begging, pleading again - you weren't getting what you wanted, you weren't getting what you wanted, you weren't getting what you wanted! And you'd been so close, you'd been so goddamn close, but now he was just lazily pushing his finger into you, with one of those grins on his lips that told you he knew what he was doing incredibly well too. He was a tease, a goddamn tease, and you-

"More what, honey?", Bradley asked, interrupting your thoughts, your spiraling thoughts as his finger moved ever so slowly, teasing, playing.

You let out a whine as he stilled completely, his finger nestled inside you, touching you but not touching you enough, not nearly enough and he'd make you go crazy one day, he would! You tried to push your hips into his hand. Not that it did anything.

"More what?", Bradley asked again, looked at you as you refocused on his face, his eyes because you knew he'd want you to. He always wanted you to look at him.

"Please", you whispered. "Bradley."

His smile deepened, but he didn't move.

"Nice try, baby", he chuckled. "But that wasn't the question."

You grumbled and tilted your head back, squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. You wanted more. And he was making you say exactly what.

Putting the power in your hands, it seemed - but you knew it wasn't that. He'd already promised you to do just what you wanted, had said it so easily, so soberly that he'd left you dazed. And now he was asking you to do the same.

You couldn't. He knew you couldn't.

So you let out a small whimper, let your head fall to the side to look at him again, eyes wide and teeth digging into your bottom lip and kept still as best as you could, even as the desire, the need to fuck yourself on his finger grew with every passing breath - trying to make sure that he wouldn't tease you further. He'd done that before already, you knew that he could and he would.

He seemed to have realised it too, your legs, your hips calm now, your eyes fixed on his.

"Please fuck me, Bradley", you said softly, only a little breathlessly, a little nervous around the edges, doing your best not to let your restraint show. You weren't used to just saying stuff like that out loud. It was different, somehow, to say it, and to say it right to his face too.

But as much as you tried to hide it, your body still had the same reaction - breath coming shorter, heat shooting straight to your cheeks, the coil in your stomach tightening again.

Bradley's eyes on yours didn't make it any better.

Neither did his grin as he pulled his finger from you, pulled a moan from your lips right with it, as he brushed it through your folds, up and down before his fingertip stopped on your clit.

"Fuck you how, honey?", he asked. He wanted you to lose your mind, you were sure of that. You bit down on your lip, furrowed your brows, forced yourself to think, to keep thinking even though he was drawing circles on your clit now, bringing you back to the endless loop of more, more, more in your mind.

"Fuck me-", you panted, starting and stopping, closing your eyes. "Rough, please, Bradley. Please."

He pulled his fingers from you entirely, chuckling as you mewled and blinked up at him again, as you watched him raise his hand to your lips. You parted them in reflex, let him push his fingers into your mouth, rest them on your tongue. This, finally, was something you felt much less nervous about. So you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked his fingers clean.

Bradley had you well acquainted with the taste of yourself by now. Not that you minded.

You made sure to keep your eyes fixed on his as you brushed your tongue along his fingertips. He let out some sort of sound caught between a moan and a groan and a curse and, maybe, your name, and you had a hard time keeping your grin concealed as you sucked, spurred on not only the fire in your own abdomen, but in Bradley's as well, red heating up your cheeks and your legs growing restless.

You were getting impatient again. You needed more.

Luckily, it seemed that Bradley had about enough of this as well.

He pulled his fingers from you with a pop, shook his head with a grin, trailed a line of your spit around your breasts, around your nipples.

"You look sinful", he muttered, dropping a kiss to your lips before you could even begin to think about a response, all open mouth and breathing each other in, the taste of you on both your tongues. "Tell me again how you want me to fuck you rough, honey. Just once more. Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, nodded without thinking, panting a bit now, pressing your legs together at his voice, at the look in his eyes, at... at him, at everything about him. You needed him. You'd do anything he asked.

"Fuck me rough, Bradley. Please."

His eyes darkened further. He brought his lips down on yours again, firmer now, heavier now, claiming your mouth, your tongue, your lips, claiming you, back to the familiar, thrilling predator and prey game that the two of you had abandoned at some point along the way.

"Good girl", he rasped.

You let out a pitiful moan. God, this man would absolutely be the death of you.

Good girl.

You couldn't press your legs together any further, couldn't possibly get any more friction, could only whine and whimper and moan and wait, wait as Bradley reached between your bodies and finally, finally, finally pushed into you.

You'd been waiting for this for the past five days.

You let out some pathetic sounding sob of his name as he pressed his hips snugly to yours, stretching you out in the best of possible ways, dropping his lips to your throat, to your neck. You clawed at his arms, at his shoulders, pulled him close to you, even closer. Eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, breath hitching.

Bradley gave you the entirety of half a second to adjust to him, half a second in which you could barely get past the moan of his name before he was moving, thrusting, his cock sliding in and out of you, drawing sounds you'd have been embarrassed about in any other situation.

But you could barely hear them.

You could barely do anything other than moan, anything other than scratch, hold, claw at him, anything other than let him wrap your legs around his waist and push in, pull out, push in again, his hold on your thigh so firm you'd see the marks tomorrow.

He fucked you with a relentlessness that reduced you to a mess of numb limbs, that pulled every last thought from you, one by one - with a rhythm, unfaltering, unwavering, with soft grunts and moans rolling off his tongue, with his mouth moving against your skin, working his way up to yours.

You met his lips in a frenzy, your hands tangled somewhere in his hair, your nails scratching somewhere down his back, your legs wrapped around his hips, your lips parted, your moans swallowed, his cock sliding in and out of you, the delicious drag of him building, setting alight the coil in your stomach.

You'd been waiting for this for too long. You wouldn't last much longer, not after he'd already pulled the first orgasm from you. Not after he'd been building you up for so long.

"Bradley", you moaned against his lips. "More."

He pulled back an inch and you blinked your eyes open, focused on him, on the blush on his cheeks and the rise and the fall of his chest as he slowed down a bit, drawing another whine from you, feeling different now, slower yes, but more deliberate maybe, more teasing maybe, hitting other spots, dragging it out, feeling more and less intense all the same and - most importantly - letting your close, so close grow weaker and weaker and weaker.

"You know-", Bradley panted, letting his thumb brush over the skin of your thigh, loosening his grip just the slightest. "You know how to ask, pretty girl."

A sob made its way past your lips. You wanted more, you needed more - you'd be good for him, you wanted to be good for him, but you forgot, you brushed right past it when he had you like this. So wasn't it his fault, really?

"Fuck me harder, Bradley", you whimpered - you'd lost the ability to feel embarrassed somewhere along the way. You didn't care anymore, not with his cock so slowly sliding in and out of you, not with his eyes on yours, not with... no, not anymore, you needed more now and you were desperate to get it, already rocking your hips back onto him in search of more - more friction, more touch, more him.

He pressed his lips to yours again, back to claiming you, back to firm, back to teeth and tongue before pulling away, pulling out, pulling another wail from you as he sat back on his ankles, hard and panting.

Then his hands clasped around your waist and you had no time to react before he had turned you over, your face smushed into the pillow, fingers reaching up to dig into the sheets.

He thrust back into you in one swift motion.

And you screamed.

You didn't know how he did it - you didn't want to know, really - but he hit that sensitive spot inside of you instantly, the new position allowing new depth, allowing new touches, new feelings, new and more and you couldn't think, could only touch, only feel.

Only touch, only feel him.

The drag of him, the push of him, the way he hit all those spots he needed to hit to have you up there, to have you close within seconds again.

He trailed his fingertips along your spine, sent a shiver through your body as he fucked you rough, just like you'd asked of him so very, very nicely. He reached your neck, reached around to your throat and when his fingers brushed along your jaw, he clasped his hand around it and pulled. Pulled you up, right to his chest, sweat sticking to your skin as you moaned his name.

You let your head drop back onto his shoulder, gave him more skin to touch, more of your body to claim, more of you to make his as he thrust relentlessly into you, as his other hand brushed between your legs, up your thighs until his fingers met your clit, pushed down and pulled an even louder moan of his name from you.

His hand closed around your throat at the same time.

You choked back a gasp, breath hitching, back arching off him and into him both, more and less clashing in your mind because this was what you wanted, this was what you'd begged him for, but all of it so suddenly, following each other so closely - too much, not enough.

You clenched around him.

Bradley let out a moan - his lips against your ear, the sound of it in every fibre of your body, of your mind, of your soul. And that was it for you.

You came with another cry of his name - a scream, a sob, maybe, or none of it, you weren't sure - maybe you let out no sound at all, rendered silent for once. The world was white for a second, your mouth dry, your throat hoarse, pleasure coarsing through every vein, every limb, every muscle, every bone.

You went slack against him. Your legs gave out, your eyes fell shut, your arms, your hands loose at your sides, and the only reason you didn't fall back onto your mattress were Bradley's arms around you - on your throat, around your hips. His fingertips circling your clit still, his hips snug to yours as he bit down on your shoulder, as he reached his own high, his moustache scratching deliciously against your skin, grounding you as your breath slowly came back to normal, as you won back the feeling in your legs.

You stayed still for a minute - just catching your breath, allowing yourself to take whatever time you needed to come back to yourself, to really notice the way Bradley held you up all on his own, the way his chest felt against your back, the way he had his lips pressed to the skin of your shoulder, the way his thumbs brushed ever so softly up and down, one along your throat, one along your stomach.

You never wanted this to end.

You were warm and safe and satisfied in his arms.

A slow smile spread on your face. Bradley's breath fanned softly over the shell of your ear. You could feel your own heart beat in your chest.

"Satisfied now, honey?", Bradley rasped, voice rough in all the right ways, his lips ghosting over your neck. You let out a soft hum in agreement. He chuckled against your skin.

"I'm gonna let go of you now, princess", he cautioned (you could just so push back the whine that wanted to escape) before ever so slowly, ever so carefully pulling his hand from your throat, pulling his arm from around you - softly pushing down on your back instead, hands wrapped around your hips again, laying you back down on the mattress and then turning you over. The bed was cold in comparison to him. Cold and lonely.

He had to pull out as he lay you down and that whine left your lips after all - you were empty and cold and lonely now and you wanted him, more of him, all of him again. Your legs were mushy and your mind still reeling, but you didn't have to think much anyway, not when you knew just what you wanted. You reached out, arms, hands in mid air as you tried to grab him, any of him.

He was sitting back on his ankles, running his hands through his hair, meeting your eyes as he saw you reach out for him. He looked positively exhausted.

You got hold of his hands and pulled him down, onto you. He brought them - and yours right with them - down next to your head in reflex, effectively pinning you down, and though neither of you had planned that, you still had to fight back a smile.

You were breathless, chest still heaving with the sticky intoxication of the moment, sweaty and hot and satisfied, truly, and you wanted him to wrap you up in his arms now and let you fall asleep on his chest.

Instead, he leaned in with a grin and kissed you. Kissed you with all the fiery passion fading into heady contentment, slow and deliberate, because he had all the time in the world now - it was the middle of the night and both of you were growing tired, your bones heavy, your muscles aching deliciously, your thoughts quiet, lazy almost. The middle of the night where romance could now dominate what had before been lust's reign.

That was what this felt like, Bradley's body on yours, his skin sticky with sweat, his fingers intertwined with yours, pushing down into the mattress. This felt like golden honey dripping down onto the reality of the moment, like gods' ichor flowing in your veins, like unnecessarily long and flowery metaphors for a feeling you felt too afraid to name this early on.

Bradley pulled away, let go of your hands and sat back once more - you followed him on some invisible kind of string, pushing up onto your palms, blinking at him in confusion.

He dropped another quick kiss onto your lips with a chuckle.

"Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?", he asked, a grin playing on his lips, his hands brushing over your ribcage, your stomach as though he, too, had some carnal need to keep touching you, to keep his fingertips moving over your skin at all times.

You closed your eyes, allowed the smile on your face to grow as wide as it wanted, and nodded at him.

"Yes, please, Roos", you mumbled, bathing in the yellow light of your bedroom lamp, in the soft buzzing of the ac, in the rhythmic tic-toc of your kitchen clock. In all these daily-life things, because they weren't daily-life right now. Right now, Bradley had just fucked you, right now, Bradley was sitting in front of you, right now, Bradley had his hands on your body, right now... Right now, you were happy, happy and satisfied, content with the world.

"Back to Rooster, are we?", he asked, drew his hands back from you and got up. Your smile deepened.

"I thought you liked your callsign", you quipped back innocently, eyes opening again as he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off of your mattress, into the air, just because he could, just because you wanted him to. You didn't think you'd ever possibly get tired of his strength. He was a bit like your own, personally crafted superhero.

"I do", he muttered. You crossed your arms behind his neck, pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. "But the entire squad uses it."

"Oh", you said, exactly like that, because oh, indeed. "So when I say Rooster..."

"I think of work."

You pulled back a bit to look at him, even as his eyes were focused on the wall, trying to find the light switch for the bathroom.

"And you don't like that", you concluded, teeth digging into your bottom lip as a thought struck you. "You don't like thinking of work, Lieutenant?"

Bradley froze.

Bullseye.

"What did you say?"

His eyes focused on you, fixated on you, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed. You did your best try at an innocent smile, at a doe-eyed look somehow, but you doubted you achieved anything even remotely close.

"Lieutenant", you muttered again, heat pooling in your lap once more simply at the look on his face. You'd uncovered another one of his layers and you were already anticipating the consequences. "Do you want me to beg again?"

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