#struggling to be coherent about anything but angst

[shegetsburned]

Uhm hi 👋🏻 could you please write something about Gojo, Nanami, Geto and Toji's reactions to their significant other's life being threatened? Like heartbreaking stuff that ends up well? 👉🏻👈🏻

LOSING YOU w. jujutsu kaisen men ˚ 𐙚 ⋆.

.angst/fluff.

• — ft. satoru gojo, kento nanami, suguru geto, toji fushiguro. took me ages to get to but i’m a sucker for angst, so i just had to do it. thanks for the request, luv! • — content. their reaction to your life being threatened. • — tw. mentions of death, violence, murder.

satoru gojo

₊˚⊹ ᰔ as soon as your name came out of yaga’s mouth, satoru wasted no time and vanished. he searched every place he knew, every corner and alley, in a matter of seconds. there was no coherent thought in his mind while he teleported. the only thing he could clearly see was you. that you were in danger and that you needed to be saved. that he couldn’t let you die and that he previously had so clearly promised that he’d never let anything happen to either you or him.

a liar, he thought he was. how could he have let this happen? what was the point of being the strongest sorcerer if he couldn’t even protect you. he really did believe nothing could happen to you if he was by your side. he’d murder anyone who’d ever try to harm you without even looking back. this time wouldn’t be any different.

he felt his heartbeat reach his ears when he finally felt you near an ally, back pressed against the wall. a hand on your chest, crimson blood dripping down your shirt. jerky breaths escaping your trembling lips. this curse had taken his sweet time with you. it wanted to feed and you were a tasty dinner. there were marks of struggle on your shredded clothes and bruised wrists.

nothing came out of satoru’s mouth when his eyes landed on you. he just couldn’t believe he had let this happen to you. his expression was stoic. when he slowly approached you the curse immediately felt it. the strongest sorcerer doesn’t let most curses escape from his grasp. but this one.. this one would inevitably suffer the most.

it wasn’t long before the curse felt his body being pushed against the wall in front of you. a yelp was heard when his skull hit the wall head-on. you could hear the bones crack and send shivers through your entire being. that’s when you realized your boyfriend had finally arrived. but when you lifted your head trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes he had already turned all his attention towards the threat.

you had never seen him like this. he was lifeless. his eyebrows were lowered and pulled closer together. you could’ve sworn his eyes bulged. he was enraged. he didn’t even bother to raise his arm towards the curse, he just advanced and slowly- very slowly crushed every little bone in the monster’s body.

you were out of breath but couldn’t shift your gaze from the horrible spectacle in front of you. the wall caved under the pressure as gojo used his infinity to create a space between him and the curse which only crushed it more. it was cruel. cruel but deserving considering the circumstances.

the curse’s body was retracting upon itself with no way out. a loud and piercing cry followed the sound of the wall being crushed under the weight of the infinity. the only thing you found the strength to mumble under your breath was your boyfriend’s name.

after a few seconds, black smoke emanated from the crushed bricked wall with no curses in sight. no remains, nothing. your heavy breath filled the air as satoru finally sighted. you could barely see his eyes when he turned to you, crouching down at your height.

his violence had surprised you, but you were so relieved. tears ran down your cheeks when you tried to speak. you tried to reach for satoru when he crouched but he was quicker and wrapped one arm around your back and another supporting the back of your head. he held you close and it made you feel at home. his scent and touch reassured you when you buried your head in his neck.

still silent, he held you tightly close to his chest. his hand threaded your hair, a slight pressure applied so he could make sure you were okay. you could feel all his anger slowly fade when you returned the gesture with one hand against his chest. your tears slowly fading as you felt the warmth of satoru around your body.

“satoru..”

he shushed you. always pulling you closer and closer to him. he wasn’t going to leave this time. he’d never let you endure something like this ever again.

“i’m right here. you’re safe. lend me your pain, baby. i’ll carry you the rest of the way.” he whispered into your ear, caressing your back so that you’d warm up to his touch. you could feel he was slowly coming back to being the satoru you knew.

you were safe in his arms but guilt still ran deep inside of him. he promised to take you to shoko as soon as possible, resting by your side until you were completely healthy. he also promised himself to assign you with an escort when he couldn’t be here to protect you.

satoru’s only concern was you and he’d never let anything get in the way of your well-being ever again. if he had to show every curse on this earth that he’d destroy them if they ever tried to get near you, he’d have no hesitation in doing so. you were safe. you knew it, now.

kento nanami

₊˚⊹ ᰔ you were the most important person for nanami. his one and only. his love, his soul, his heart. he would’ve resigned in an instant if you hadn’t begged him to keep his job as a sorcerer. but knowing his personal feelings about loss, you knew it’d break him if something came to happen to you. that is precisely why you always acted cautiously, never putting yourself in harm's way and living your life as safely as you could. unfortunately, this time, your efforts had been in vain.

when he saw you, helplessly struggling at the mercy of a first-grade curse wrapped around your throat, all he could think about was how much he regretted not having taken a safer job and bought you that house you both talked about so much on a beach in malaysia.

he knew he needed to act quickly or the curse would finish you off as easily as it had taken you hostage.

you wiggled your feet when it lifted you off the ground, hands desperately scratching and holding onto his grasp so he’d let go of his claws around your throat. you could feel kento’s eyes on you but couldn’t even dare to look at him or do anything else than push against the claws so they wouldn’t crush your neck further.

therefore, you couldn’t see him remove his tie, wrapping it tightly around his knuckles. he knew he couldn’t use a weapon, scared that the curse would use you as a shield. his fists were more precise and his sword wasn’t enough to unleash the rage he had built up inside.

he slowly made his way to the curse but, with every step, its hold crushed you more. you were so scared, almost out of breath with tears rolling down your cheeks. these cheeks kento had kissed so many times to take away your pain. you were hoping he’d do it once more.

once he realized that the threatening stance he was in only alarmed the curse, kento stood down, lowering his curse energy’s flow to an almost invisible state. he made himself look harmless in the face of the monster which slowly but surely helped you to breathe better.

you knew your husband. you had heard it several times from yuji and Ino and you also personally knew that he always handled things the right way. this is was kept you from breaking down and letting go of your almost meaningless fight against the curse’s strength. you had never doubted him and you wouldn’t now. he built his strength with yours. that’s what kento had told you the day he had asked for your hand.

his eyes were locked with your struggling gaze. despite him trying to contain himself, his veins stood out from how tightly he clenched his fists. he would’ve massacred the curse right here and now if it hadn’t cowardly taken you hostage. nanami might have seemed harmless in the moment but his anger was apparent.

without thinking much about it, he threw his sword aside, lifting his hands above to show complete surrender to the curse.

“let her go.”

the furious and deep voice of your husband made you whine, finally hearing a sign from him. unfortunately you could feel that the curse was still hesitating. the clinging of the sword on the ground had startled it which only showed kento how weak it really was. it also showed that it did not want to fight but preferred to flee.

this strange demeanor encouraged kento to step closer, hands still in the air, and that’s when he saw his opening. the curse was looking left and right to find an escape which diminished his attention and loosened his grip around your throat. it lasted just a few seconds but it was enough for you to breathe out his name.

“kento..”

that’s when he drew his fist and used all of his force and cursed energy to deliver a devastating blow right into the curse spirit’s face. it was sent flying several meters away after dropping you so kento could easily catch you and keep you from hitting the ground, arms wrapped around your body.

it only took one hit. one punch to obliterate half of the curse’s body in pieces. the shock had been so violent that your savior’s knuckles bled on your shirt through his yellow tie.

“mine.”

you could feel his heavy breath against your neck when he got on one knee, holding you against him, a hand carefully placed on your cheek. his thumb caressing your skin and whipping the single tear you shed.

“my love..”

kento’s expression had returned to the one you knew. the calm but stoic gaze he wore returned your breath to a normal pace. his arms pulled you always closer to him and he felt his sense come back when your fingers brushed the hand he had placed on your shoulder. you couldn’t talk or you’d burst into tears so you smiled in admiration.

he placed his warm lips upon your forehead and you could feel how scared he had been, maybe even more scared than you. his eyes were stuck on your finger, the one that wore his ring.

losing haibara had crushed his soul to tiny little pieces and you had been the one to delicately put them all back together with your innocent kindness and understanding. he’d be damned if he was to let something happen to the one who saved his heart.

this was the first and last time your life had been threatened, thanks to the careful supervision of kento but also his promise to quit his job and buy that house. he hadn’t realized how much he already had with you and would curse anybody who tried to take his happiness away from him ever again.

suguru geto

₊˚⊹ ᰔ you trusted him. you trusted that, if you were in pain, suguru would find ways to eradicate that pain. you trusted that if you showed any sign of distress, he’d be by your side helping you in any way he could. most importantly, you trusted that he’d protect you no matter the cost and no matter the consequences, because he was devoted to you. if there was something he’d burn the whole world for, it’d be you.

these men, these humans, these pathetic monkeys that had attacked you on your way home never knew what would come for them. you were beaten and almost lifeless when the men started searching for any kind of money or jewelry you had on your person. of course, you had resisted. that’s the only thing you could do, because you were so scared that if you had willingly complied to their demand they would’ve asked for more.

being helpless was scary. you thought it wouldn’t be so scary with suguru by your side, but right now you had never been more terrified. you also knew that your boyfriend would never forgive the men that harmed you, so the only thing you could do was wait. because you did not doubt him. you never doubted him. you knew he’d come for you.

when the men had finished checking your bags and any belongings you had on your person, one approached you, lifting your chin with a vulgar smile. you couldn’t even look at him in the eyes but hit bullseye when you spat directly in his face making him drop you in anger. he cursed under his breath before tightly grabbing you by the collar. a hand in the air so it’d land on your face.

with a weak and desperate groan you turned your face away but was surprised when the slap never landed.

when you reopened your eyes to look at your aggressor, he had his own hands wrapped his throat. it’s like he was struggling to breath, a firm pressure was crushing his neck as he tried to break free from this invisible hold.

when you realized what might be happening you tried to take a peak at the other men who were all struggling with the same problem. scratching and screaming at the invisible menace that were preventing them from breathing.

under the distressed shoutings, a cocky laugh attracted your gaze. when you turned to look at the source, your face lit up at the sight of suguru. but he didn’t look as relieved as you were. his laugh was dark, almost cynical. it was psychotic and displeased.

you had seen him despise simple-minded humans before but killing them was a different story. he wasn’t only taking their lives, he was torturing them. their necks were getting slowly squashed by the curses he had sent on them.

seeing you struggle to breath, helpless at the hand of those who had harmed an innocent girl like you. his girl. it had awaken another kind of hatred in him. a hatred that had been buried deep for so long.

suguru took one good look at you, searching for your eyes but you were incapable of keeping them open. you were just glad your boyfriend had arrived. you knew you were safe when you rested your eyes, a small smile of satisfaction drawn on your lips.

when he concentrated his gaze back on the man that had touched you, he crouched in front of him, getting to his level before taking over the curse and wrapping his hand around the stranger’s neck. tormenting him and taking the air away from him. suguru tightened his grip, his smile fading when he brought the man closer and closer towards death.

“so you think you can just harm her and get away with it?”

the man was hissing swears as small cries of help escaped his bloody lips. his face was swollen and breaking down under suguru’s hold and his watering eyes looked like they would pop out of their socket sooner or later. that’s how tight he held the man.

“pathetic.”

he fed on their cries. helplessly calling out for help, the men only fueled his rage with their insufferable sounds. the sorcerer remembered every time he had felt an ounce of empathy for these beings in the past and regretted every actions he had done to protect them when he saw your wounded state. what they had done was inexcusable and no amount of pain would be enough to atone for it.

after a while, resigned, your offender chocked out a weak apology. but as he did, all the bones in his body instantly broke under another a new kind of pressure coming from yet another curse suguru had unleashed upon him. so now he laid there, between your boyfriend’s compressed clutch. dead.

after a few seconds he dropped the body on the ground like garbage waste and walked to you, passing by the other men that were struggling to breath. he pushed the first one aside with his foot, throwing one on the ground, creating a path for him to walk to you.

“move. i’ve come to take what’s mine.”

on suguru’s command, two snaps followed when the curses broke the other men’s necks before they fell on the floor. three lifeless corpses were now scattered in front of both of you, and as soon as he made sure those stupide monkeys had payed for what they had done, he joined you.

when he leaned towards you, his hand grazed yours, wrapping it with his own in a warm grip. his eyes searched for yours, lifting your chin with his thumb before running it along your jaw, making comforting circles on your cheek.

“are you alright, my love? can you walk?”

suguru’s tone was calmer than before. his eyes never left yours when he wiped one of your tears. his comforting smile reassured you and you nodded at his question, holding onto his wrist when he helped you up, closing the distance between the two of you.

you could hear his calm heartbeat when you leaned against his chest, hiding between his arms and you wondered how he could be so tranquil after killing these men so easily. little did you know the only thing he felt was rage. he knew he was right to despise these inferior beings that had harmed the only important thing that mattered.

he could’ve burned the world for you.

toji fushiguro

₊˚⊹ ᰔ toji fushiguro was an asshole. a first-class asshole. you guys had slept together left and right and he always left first. you had no expectations regarding the man. no doubt that you were replaceable. he didn’t open up much and never talked about his work which didn’t alarm you much considering toji’s character.

basically, emotionally and personally speaking, you two weren’t close. that’s why, when two strangers raided your apartment, screaming fushiguro’s name in anger, you wondered why you had accepted to sleep with a man with a secret and violent past.

your furniture was on the floor and the men had destroyed most of your electronics so you had no way to call for help. one was guarding the door while the other took care of questioning you. it had something to do with a bet and broken promises. of course, money had to be involved, otherwise, why would they be threatening the girl he had slept with once or twice to know of his whereabouts?

tied to a chair, almost unconscious, he had been covering you with bruises and scratches using anything that he could find but you still gave him the same answer. you had no idea where toji was as he never kept contact with you. he was always the one that came to you. and if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t expect him to come save you anytime soon.

after a while, when the man realized he might not easily get an answer out of you, he reached in his back, pulling out a pistol from the edge of his pants. at the sight of the gun, your heart shattered. that was it for you, you thought. you couldn’t get out of this mess and you would die convinced toji was out there somewhere, probably getting rich and fucking naive girls like you.

you couldn’t even talk anymore, your head was hanging in front of you, blood dripping from your mouth to your thighs. you didn’t know if you’d last long, your vision was blurry and you felt yourself chasing the dark tunnel that clouded your eyesight.

you could hear faint words of command when your chin was lifted with the cold metallic canon of the pistol. the man had your life between his hands. you knew he’d pull the trigger if he eventually realized you couldn’t give him any information he needed. you knew he would kill you. it was so easy and you were pissing him off.

your eyes never left his nervous figure which only frustrated him more and, out of instinct, he slapped you with the handle of the pistol, almost knocking the air out of you. your jaw was broken and tears were flooding your eyes when the blow forced you to look away.

but as he pulled his arm up, preparing for another strike, he seemed to stop in his movement, startled by something behind him. sounds of struggles and a broken door were heard when he shifted his gaze entirely towards the front of your apartment. his accomplice had disappeared which alerted the man and made him call out to him.

several seconds and unanswered calls later, on his guard, the armed stranger decided to go take a look. as soon as he took a step towards the broken piece of wood that was left, a corpse dropped to his feet.

it was the other man, and he seemed to have been brutally murdered from the back, a hole at his heart’s level revealed the level of violence he had endured which left the man panicked and distressed. sweat was covering his forehead when he tried to peak out the door, fingers trembling against the handle and trigger.

unfortunately for him, a tall and broad shadow quickly covered him, before a shot came off. one single gunshot followed by a loud thud.

you could barely make up the identity of the person who had saved you with your weak sight, but his odour was enough for you to distinguish the man clearly. he always smelled the same.

toji was here. he was standing in the doorway, a tight grip around his gun and a grin covering his scarred lips. “can’t believe they send these weaklings to come after me.”

he carefully stepped between the cadavers, examining the poor state of your apartment and their lifeless bodies before his gaze shifted to you. a quick exchange was enough for you to sigh in relief and let yourself relax to an unconscious state.

despite himself, he did feel an ounce of guilt when he took a good look at you. his mistakes had almost gotten you killed. he couldn’t have imagined how he would’ve felt if he had arrived too late. the blood on your face, the broken jaw and the many scars were revealed by the moonlight passing through the door. the cold air misplaced your hair for toji to see tears strolling down your face.

his grin faded as he stood still in front of you and the mess he had made. his grip had loosened around the gun but he slowly moved the canon towards the second man he had killed. without hesitation, he emptied his clip through the culprit’s head, a look of contempt and disgust plastered on his face.

“tsk.. you just had to go and get yourself noticed, hm?” he said, now focused only on you.

thanks to toji, you were safe now. and you had silently thanked him for coming back for you.

carrying you bridal style as you laid there now unconscious but safe in his arms, he placed his thumb against your jaw, tilting your head to get a proper look at you. even now, you were so beautifully calm and your cheeks wore a pink tint, probably because of the cold, which only accentuated your beauty and innocence.

with a sigh, like it weighed on his conscience, toji murmured. “guess someone’s gonna have to take care of you, from now on.”

but the truth was far from what it appeared to be. saving you that night had just brought the man closer to the conclusion that he cherished you more than he thought he did. you weighed on his conscience like a guilty obsession which he could only nourish by spending more time by your side.

© shegetsburned 2024 please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

[newobsessionweekly]

Rays of hope

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x wife!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: Your son is kidnapped and you and your husband, Tim, do everything you can to get him back.

ANGST | Hurt to comfort

Requested: Yes - here

Warnings: Kidnapping, kid being held hostage, description of being shot, injuries, losing consciousness.

A/N: I LOVE WRITING ANGST. I've worked so hard on this one and I absolutely love how it turned out. I won't say anything else, I'll let you enjoy it. I have so many ideas and I seriously make it a full time job writing everything.

Words: 6.1k

GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

As the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, the Bradford household stirred with the promise of a new day. The aroma of brewing coffee mingled with the gentle sounds of morning chatter as you and Tim bustled around the kitchen, preparing for the day ahead.

Evan, your bright-eyed three-year-old, bounced around the room with infectious energy, his laughter filling the air. Tim knelt down, scooping his son up into his strong arms, showering him with tickles and kisses.

"Hey there, little man," he chuckled, his voice infused with affection. "What adventures are you up today?"

Evan giggled gleefully, wrapping his tiny arms around his father's neck. His response was a jumble of words, excitement evident despite his struggles with forming coherent sentences. "Catch the bad guys like mommy and daddy!"

Tim chuckled, planting a gentle kiss on Evan's cheek. "That's right, buddy. Just like Mommy and Daddy" he said, his voice gentle as he tousled Evan's hair affectionately. "But first, how about some superhero breakfast?"

Tim's presence seemed to illuminate the room even more. He approached you with a tender smile, his eyes reflecting the depth of his love as he enveloped you in his embrace. His arms wrapped around you securely, a comforting shield against any worries or doubts.

"Morning, baby," his voice, like a soothing melody, whispered into your ear, sending shivers of warmth down your spine. "How are my two favorite girls this morning?"

In that moment, as his hand brushed over your bump with such tender care, you felt an overwhelming rush of love and gratitude for the man standing before you. Tim's gaze lingered on you, his eyes filled with an unspoken promise of unwavering support and devotion.

"We're doing great," you replied, leaning into his embrace, savoring the feeling of being held so close.

Tim pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there for a moment as if to convey all the love he felt. "You look absolutely radiant," he murmured, his voice filled with awe and admiration. "I swear, every day you glow even more."

As Tim settled Evan into his chair, you couldn't help but admire the sight before you. Tim embodied strength and tenderness in equal measure. Dressed casually, his rugged charm shone through effortlessly. With every movement, his love for you and your son was evident, his hands deftly helped Evan eat breakfast while his eyes sparkled with warmth. Watching him with Evan, you couldn't help but feel a wave of adoration for the man who filled your home with love and security.

"Uh-oh. We have a problem," you announced, your voice tinged with concern as you glanced down at your phone. "Nanny just texted me. She can't make it today."

Tim's brow furrowed slightly as he considered the situation, his mind already working on a solution. "What about your mom?" he suggested. "Can't she babysit Evan today?"

You shook your head regretfully, a sigh escaping your lips. "I don't think so. She's outside LA now," you explained, your thoughts racing to find an alternative. "Maybe your sister?"

At the mention of Genny, Tim's expression darkened slightly, "No, custody battle today," he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of worry. "We'll figure something out, baby. Don't worry."

As you and Tim exchanged worried glances, Evan piped up from his seat, his innocent voice breaking the tension in the room. "Mommy, Daddy, no worry," he declared, his eyes wide with determination. "Evan help!"

You stepped into the familiar hustle and bustle of the station and Evan's eyes widened in wonder at the sight of officers in their crisp uniforms bustling about their duties. With a gleeful tug on Tim's hand, he eagerly dashed around, taking in every detail with unbridled enthusiasm.

"Daddy, look! Cops!" Evan exclaimed, his words a jumble of excitement as he pointed at the officers. "Lots and lots!"

Tim chuckled softly, his heart swelling with pride at his son's eagerness. "That's right, buddy," he affirmed, his voice warm with affection. "This is where mommy and daddy work, with all their friends."

Your son darted around, his boundless energy matched only by his excitement, he greeted each familiar face with enthusiasm, his words a mixture of gibberish and genuine attempts at conversation.

"Hi, Lulu!" Evan exclaimed, flashing Lucy a toothy grin as he reached up to give her a high-five.

Lucy laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Hi there, little buddy! If it isn't our favourite visitor!" she replied, returning the high-five with a gentle pat on the head. "You've grown so much since the last time we saw you!"

Evan beamed at the attention, his chest swelling with pride. "I big boy!" he declared proudly, his words punctuated by a triumphant grin.

Next, Evan turned his attention to Angela, his eyes alight with recognition. "Hi, Auntie Angie!" he chirped, reaching out to tug on her sleeve.

Angela's heart melted at the endearing nickname, her smile softening as she crouched down to Evan's level. "Hey, champ," she said, ruffling his hair affectionately. "He's the spitting image of his mother." she said to Lucy, shooting you a playful wink.

Evan beamed at the praise, his chest puffing out with pride. "I grow big like Daddy!" he declared, his words filled with confidence.

Nyla and Nolan watched the exchange with fond amusement, their own smiles widening as Evan made his rounds. You watched your son with amusement, glad he's terrorising your friends and gave you and your husband a moment to catch your breath.

"Don't forget Nyla and John." Evan eagerly nodded at your words, making his way to Nyla first.

She joined in, her face breaking into a wide smile as she crouched down to Evan's level. "Hey there, buddy! You remember my name?" she extended her hand for a handshake.

Evan shook her hand vigorously, his eyes shining with excitement. "You Nyla! I Evan, I help mommy and daddy catch bad guys!" he announced proudly, his words punctuated by a giggle.

Nolan chuckled, ruffling Evan's hair affectionately. "Looks like you've got quite the little helper there, Tim," he remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Evan saw the opportunity for more attention and he grabbed Nolan's pants, "John, look!" he exclaimed, pointing at something only he could see.

Nolan chuckled, crouching down to Evan's level. "What am I looking at, buddy?" he asked with a grin.

Evan giggled mischievously, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You funny!" he declared, wrapping his tiny arms around the officer's neck in a spontaneous hug.

Then, in a burst of excitement, Evan's face lit up with a newfound revelation. "I meet baby sister soon!" he announced, his words tumbling out in a rush.

The officers exchanged surprised glances, their expressions shifting from amusement to shock at the unexpected news. "Baby sister?" Angela echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Congratulations!"

Nolan grinned, clapping Tim on the back in hearty congratulations. "Well, Bradford. Looks like you're in for double trouble," he teased, his tone affectionate yet teasing.

Amidst the chorus of well wishes and congratulations, both you and Tim couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude for the supportive community they had found within the station.

"So, what's the little guy doing here?" Angela inquired, her brow furrowed in concern.

Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair as he explained the morning's events. "Well, nanny bailed on us last minute," he admitted, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "We didn't have enough time to find someone else to watch him."

Nyla nodded understandingly, her expression sympathetic. "I can call James," she offered, already reaching for her phone. "He can take Evan with him for the day."

Meanwhile, Lucy's eyes lit up with an idea. "And Tamara's here for a school project," she added eagerly, gesturing towards the young woman across the room. "She can watch Evan in the meantime."

Tim's shoulders visibly relaxed at the offers of help, gratitude flooding his heart. "Thank you, both of you," he said sincerely, his voice filled with relief.

You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, touched by the kindness and support of your colleagues. Despite the unexpected hiccup in their morning routine, you couldn't help but feel reassured knowing that you had such caring friends to rely on.

As Evan bounced around the room, his excitement palpable, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of your son surrounded by so much love and warmth.

Tamara returned from the restroom and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the empty break room. Evan's toys lay abandoned on the table, but there was no sign of the energetic three-year-old. She left only for a moment, assigning Smitty to keep an eye on Evan but she couldn't find any of them.

"Evan?" she called out, her voice tinged with concern as she scanned the room frantically. "Where are you?"

Panic began to bubble up inside her as she rushed out into the hallway, calling out for Evan at the top of her lungs. "Evan!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls of the station. "Come on, kid! This isn't funny. We didn't agree to play hide and seek!"

Her heart pounded in her chest as she raced through the corridors, her eyes darting from room to room in search of any sign of the missing child. The fear gnawed at her insides, threatening to overwhelm her with its intensity.

"Y/N's gonna kill me," she murmured under her breath, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. She couldn't bear the thought of facing you and Tim with the news that your son was missing on her watch.

With each passing moment, the weight of responsibility pressed down on her shoulders, driving her to search even more desperately for Evan. She prayed with all her might that he was safe and sound, waiting to be found somewhere within the station.

Tamara's heart raced as she rushed to Angela's desk, her hands trembling with fear. Her eyes widened at the sight of Tamara's panicked expression, immediately sensing that something was terribly wrong.

"What happened?" Angela asked, her voice filled with concern as she reached out to steady Tamara.

"It's Evan," Tamara blurted out, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I don't know what happened. He—uh, he's not in the break room. I can't find him."

Panic surged through Tamara's veins, threatening to overwhelm her as she struggled to catch her breath. She couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gripped her heart, knowing that Evan was missing and she was responsible for his safety.

Angela's eyes widened in alarm as she grasped the gravity of the situation. "Okay, okay, let's stay calm," she reassured, though her own heart raced with fear. "Let's go to talk to Grey."

Together, they hurried to Sergeant Grey's office, their steps quickening with each passing moment. Angela explained the situation to the sergeant, her voice urgent as she described Evan's disappearance. He wasted no time in springing into action, dispatching officers to search the station up and down and the surrounding area for any sign of Evan.

Returning to Angela's desk, they accessed the security cameras from the station, their hands shaking as they scrolled through the footage. With bated breath, they watched as a figure dressed in black approached Evan in the break room, his face obscured from view.

As they watched in horror, the figure took Evan's hand and led him out of the station through the front door, disappearing into the bustling city beyond.

Angela's stomach churned with dread as she exchanged a horrified glance with Tamara. "We have to find him," she said, her voice trembling with urgency.

You and your rookie arrived as backup for Tim and the day seemed like any other—filled with the usual hustle and bustle of police work and the consuming thoughts about your son now more than ever. It wasn't about that you didn't trust Tamara or James, it was more the fact that your son was in a not so familiar place.

When Sergeant Grey's voice cut through the radio, your maternal instincts kicked in, suddenly feeling something was not right.

"7-Adam-19, 7-Adam-100, please return to the station," he commanded, his voice terse and filled with an unspoken sense of dread.

Immediately, you and your husband exchanged a look of concern, your hearts pounding in your chests as you hastily wrapped up the call. Questions swirled in your minds, but you could sense the urgency in Wade's voice, driving you to act without hesitation.

Rushing towards the station, your thoughts were racing with a million terrifying possibilities. The atmosphere was charged with tension, officers scurrying about with grim expressions etched upon their faces. You and Tim shared a look of mutual fear, your hearts pounding in your chests as you braced yourselves for the worst.

"What happened? Where's Evan?" your voice trembled with fear as you approached Sergeant Grey, your eyes searching desperately for any sign of reassurance.

Grey's expression was grave as he met your gaze, his own eyes filled with sorrow and sympathy. "Please sit down," he urged gently.

But Tim couldn't bring himself to comply, his chest tight with anxiety and dread. "Don't do that," he interjected. "Just tell us what happened."

Sergeant Grey sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the news he had to deliver. "Fine," he relented. "Evan's been kidnapped. We're waiting for the security footage of all cameras around the station, but Detective Lopez might have a lead."

The words hit you and Tim like a sledgehammer, leaving you reeling with disbelief and anguish. Your sweet, innocent son had been taken from you, and you both were powerless.

The weight of the situation settles over you like a suffocating blanket, "Thompson" the name escapes your lips in a whisper, heavy with the burden of past encounters with the man.

Memories flood your mind—the chilling threats, the sinister promises of retribution, the menacing glint in his eyes as he swore vengeance upon you and your loved ones.

Tim's expression darkens with a mix of anger and concern, his mind racing as he processes the implications of Thompson's involvement. "I didn't know he got out," he admits, his voice tight with frustration and worry.

Your eyes fill with tears, heart aching with the unbearable fear of the unknown as you grasp your husband's hand tightly. "We gotta find him, Tim. We need to find Evan," you plead, voice trembling with desperation.

Tim's jaw clenches with resolve as he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms a comforting anchor amidst the storm of emotions raging within you. "We will, baby," he vows, his voice a steady reassurance in the face of uncertainty.

He holds you even tighter, his touch a silent reassurance amidst the chaos that surrounds you. With gentle strokes of his hand along your back, he tries to soothe the trembling of your body, his touch conveying more comfort than words ever could.

A wave of despair washed over you both as you sank into nearby chairs, minds racing with a whirlwind of emotions. In that moment, your world shattered into a million jagged pieces, leaving behind only a gaping void where your son's laughter once filled the air. Both of you were consumed by a sense of helplessness and grief, your hearts heavy with the unbearable weight of uncertainty.

Tim feels your trembling body in his arms, he knows that mere words can never be enough to ease the crushing weight of your fear. With gentle fingers, he brushes away the tears that stain your cheeks, his touch tender and comforting. Each stroke is a promise—a promise that he will do everything in his power to bring your son home safe and sound.

In the depths of his heart, Tim feels a surge of pain and helplessness, knowing that you, his wife, are bearing the weight of your son's disappearance with every fiber of your being. His own worries and fears are pushed aside as he focuses solely on providing comfort and strength to the one he loves most in the world.

Tamara rushes to your side, her usually composed attitude shattered by panic and guilt. Her face is pale, her hands shaking as she struggles to find the words to express her guilt.

"Y/N, Tim... I'm so sorry," she stammers, her voice quivering with emotion. "I was only gone for a minute, I left Smitty with him. I... I don't know what happened. When I got back, he—uh, he was gone. I'm so sorry."

Your heart breaks for Tamara, knowing the weight of guilt she must be carrying on her shoulders. Despite your own anguish, you reach out to embrace her, offering comfort and solace in the midst of the chaos.

"It's not your fault, Tamara," you reassure her, voice filled with compassion and understanding. "It's okay. We'll find him."

The tension in the room reaches a fever pitch, Angela breaks the heavy silence with a sense of urgency in her voice. "Guys, I think I've found something," she announces, her eyes darting between Tim and you.

Tim's heart leaps with hope as he strides over to Angela's desk, you close behind. "Show us," Tim demanded, his voice tight with barely contained emotion.

Angela quickly pulled up several surveillance footage clips on her computer screen, the images grainy but unmistakable. "Look here," she pointed, her finger tracing the path of a rusty van leaving the surroundings of the station.

Tim's jaw tightened with determination as he surveyed the footage, his mind already racing with plans and strategies to track down the van and bring Evan home. "It's worth a shot," he declared.

Your heart swelled with gratitude and relief, eyes shining with tears as you leaned in closer to the screen. "We have to go after it," you insisted, voice trembling with desperation and determination.

Tim nodded in agreement, his resolve unwavering. "Alright. Let's get airship support and all the surveillance footage we can find. We need to know every move that van makes," he commanded, already reaching for his radio to issue the orders.

Before you could finalize the plans, Tim's hand shot out to stop you in your tracks, his expression wrought with concern. "You should stay behind," he insisted, his voice soft but firm, his eyes pleading for you to consider your safety.

Your heart sank at the thought of being left behind, your fear for Evan overwhelming any sense of self-preservation. "Not a chance," you declared, your voice trembling with determination. "I'm coming with you. We need all the help we can get."

Tim's gaze softened as he looked into the your eyes, his heart swelling with love and admiration, "Y/N, please. I need to know you're safe. I need you and the baby girl safe," he confessed.

Your resolve only hardened at Tim's words, determination unyielding in the face of adversity. "And what about our boy? What about Evan? I need to find him," you insisted, voice filled with desperation.

In that moment, Tim knew that there was no arguing with your determination. With a heavy sigh, he relented, his heart heavy with worry but his resolve unshaken. "Alright," he murmured, pulling you into a tight embrace. "But promise me you'll stay close. I can't lose you too."

You nodded, your heart swelling with gratitude for Tim's understanding and support. "I promise," you vowed.

With a sense of urgency driving forward, you quickly arrived at the last location where the van was seen. The air crackled with tension as you surveyed the surroundings, the weight of the mission pressing down on you.

Tim's voice cut through the silence as he commanded the team to split up and patrol on foot, his words echoing with authority. "We need to cover every inch of this area," he instructed. "Lucy, Nolan, take east side. Nyla, Angela, cover west. We'll take north."

You nodded in silent agreement, eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. With each step you took, your hearts hammered in your chests, minds racing with a thousand terrifying possibilities.

Together, you moved cautiously towards the building, the footsteps echoing in the eerie silence of the abandoned street. Tim's hand brushed against yours, a silent gesture of reassurance as you approached the looming structure.

Around the corner, you caught sight of the van parked haphazardly in the alleyway, its doors hanging open as if inviting you inside. Tim's grip tightened on his radio, the other one squeezing your hand even tighter, as he relayed your location, his voice steady and controlled despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"7-Adam-19, we've located the van. Requesting immediate backup at the north entrance," he spoke into the radio, his words precise and urgent.

With bated breath, you entered the building, hearts pounding in your chests as you navigated through the dimly lit corridors hand in hand. Every creak of the floorboards, every flutter of movement in the shadows, sent shivers down your spines as you pressed forward, determination unwavering in the face of danger.

Your hearts stopped as you took in the sight before you— your precious son, bound and gagged, his eyes wide with fear, and the kidnapper, a sinister glint in his eyes as he held the gun to Evan's head.

Evan's small body trembling in fear as he stared up at both you and Tim with tear-filled eyes. The sight of him, helpless and vulnerable, struck a deep chord within you, igniting a firestorm of emotions that threatened to consume you whole.

The knots that bound Evan's wrists and ankles were tight and unforgiving, cutting into his delicate skin and leaving angry red marks in their wake. The sight of your son restrained like a prisoner sent a wave of nausea crashing over, your stomach churning with a mixture of anger and helplessness.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you took in the sight of your son, heart breaking with every whimper and cry that escaped his lips. It was a sight you had only imagined in your worst nightmares—a sight that would haunt you both for the rest of your days.

You attempted to approach Evan, heart pounding with desperation and fear as Thompson responded with a chilling gesture, taking off the safety of the gun and pressing it even more firmly against Evan's trembling head. You froze in your tracks as you watched in horror, helpless to do anything but stand by and pray for a miracle.

Tim maintained a facade of indifference and purpose despite the pain and anger that consumed both of you. His face was a mask of determination, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity as he faced down the kidnapper. Inside, however, his heart was a tornado of fear and worry, his mind racing with a million worst-case scenarios.

Your heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice grip, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled against the overwhelming urge to protect your child.

Evan's whimpering pierced through the tense silence, his small voice tinged with confusion and fear as he struggled to understand the gravity of the situation unfolding before him.

Tears streamed down your face as you reached out a trembling hand towards your son, desperate to comfort him, but Tim's firm grip on your arm stopped you in your tracks.

"We can't risk it," Tim whispered urgently as he pulled you back to his side, his eyes never leaving Evan.

Your heart felt like it was being torn apart as you watched Evan's innocent whimpering, your own fear for your son threatening to consume you whole.

"Please," Tim pleaded as he addressed Thompson, his hands held up in a gesture of surrender. "Let him go. We can talk about this. Just let him go."

But Thompson's face twisted with anger and resentment, his grip on the gun tightening as he protested vehemently. "You think I'm just gonna let you walk away after what you did to me?" he spat. "You think I'm just gonna let you go back to your perfect little life while I rot in prison?"

Your heart sank as Thompson's words echoed in your mind, "What do you want?" you asked, your heart breaking at the thought of what Thompson might demand. "I'll give you anything. I'll do anything, just please let him go."

His eyes narrowed with hatred as he glared at you, "I want you to suffer," he snarled, his words like daggers in the silence. "Just like I did."

You and Tim tried to talk Thompson down, your hearts pounded in your chests, every second feeling like an eternity as you desperately sought to keep the kidnapper occupied. With Lucy and Nolan slowly approaching from behind, you prayed that they would be able to disarm him before it was too late.

Nolan positioned himself strategically behind Evan, ready to act as a shield if needed, while Lucy positioned herself behind Thompson, her muscles tensed and prepared for action.

"You're making a mistake," Tim stated firmly, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with the kidnapper. "You don't want to do this. Let my son go, and we can figure this out."

Thompson's eyes narrowed, his grip on the gun tightening as he glared at Tim with undisguised hostility. "You think I'm just gonna let you walk away after what you did?" he growled.

Tim's jaw clenched with determination as he met his gaze head-on. "We made a mistake," he admitted, "But that doesn't mean you have to make things worse. Let's talk about this like rational adults."

The kidnapper's expression remained cold and unforgiving, his finger twitching on the trigger as he glared at Tim and you with a mixture of anger and resentment. "You ruined my life," he spat, his voice filled with bitterness. "Now it's time for you to pay."

Tim's heart sank as he watched Thompson's finger inch closer to the trigger, every fiber of his being screaming to protect Evan at all costs. "Listen to me," Tim urged, "This isn't the answer. Let Evan go, and we can work this through."

But Thompson's eyes burned with a fierce determination, his grip on the gun unyielding as he leveled it at Evan's head. "It's too late for that," he snarled, his voice filled with rage. "You took everything from me. Now it's time for you to suffer."

Your heart sank at his words, the weight of his hatred crushing you beneath its suffocating grip. "We're sorry," you whispered, "We didn't know..."

Thompson cut you off with a bitter laugh, his laughter echoing off the walls of the empty room. "You didn't know?" he scoffed, "You didn't know that because of you, my wife and daughter are dead?"

Tears stung your eyes as Thompson's words hit you like a punch to the gut, the guilt weighing heavy on your conscience. "We're sorry," you repeated, "We didn't mean for any of this to happen."

His expression remained cold and unforgiving, his gaze fixed on Evan with a mixture of rage and sorrow. "You think your apologies can bring them back?" he growled, his voice laced with bitterness. "You think your words mean anything to me?"

"Even if you take our son away, it won't bring your wife and daughter back," Tim interjected, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "Don't make things worse for yourself. If you let him go, we won't say a word. You won't go back to prison."

His words hung heavy in the air, a plea for reason in the midst of chaos.

But Thompson's patience wore thin, his grip on the gun tightening as he grew increasingly agitated. His eyes gleamed with malice as he surveyed the scene before him, a twisted smirk playing on his lips.

"Maybe you're right," he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "Maybe your little bastard isn't the solution. Your whore of a wife is. And pregnant with your daughter. She's perfect."

The words struck like a dagger to the heart, sending a wave of agony crashing over you. Tim's jaw clenched with barely contained fury, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he struggled to maintain his composure.

When the kidnapper's attention shifted towards you, pointing the gun in your direction with a menacing glare, it created a window of opportunity for Lucy and Nolan to intervene. In that harrowing moment, your heart skipped a beat as the barrel of the gun leveled towards you, but amidst the terror, a glimmer of hope flickered to life.

Lucy lunged forward, her eyes focused solely on disarming the kidnapper before he could harm Evan any further. She reached for the gun, her muscles tensing as she prepared to wrestle it from Thompson's grasp.

But in the chaos of the moment, his finger tightened on the trigger, the deafening sound of gunfire shattering the tense silence like a thunderclap. Your heart stopped as you watched in horror, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as the bullet struck its mark. Pain erupted through your body, but in the heat of the moment, the adrenaline dulled the sensation, allowing you to push through.

Every second felt like an eternity as you and Tim rushed to your son's side, the adrenaline coursing through your veins driving you forward. With trembling hands, you helped Nolan loosen the knots, your fingers fumbling in your haste to free Evan from his restraints.

As the last knot came undone, Evan let out a whimper, his tear-streaked face turning towards you and Tim with a look of desperation.

"Mommy!" he cried, his voice trembling.

Your heart shattered into a million pieces at the sound of Evan's voice, tears streaming down your face as you gathered him into your arms. "I'm here, baby," you murmured, your voice shaking with emotion. "Mommy and daddy are here. You're safe now."

Lucy pressed on, pinning the kidnapper to the ground and she swiftly secured him in handcuffs, effectively neutralizing the threat he posed.

Tim knelt down beside you and Evan, his movements were a blur of frantic yet tender gestures. With trembling hands, he pulled you both into his embrace, holding you close as if his mere touch could ward off the looming threat.

"I've got you," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion as he pressed kisses to your foreheads. "I've got both of you. Everything's going to be okay." His words were a fervent mantra, repeated like a prayer as he desperately tried to reassure himself as much as you and Evan.

You found solace in Tim's embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby against your ear. Despite the pain coursing through your body, his presence offered a sense of calm amidst the storm, grounding you in the midst of chaos. With each tender touch and whispered word,exhaustion began to overtake you, the weight of the ordeal bearing down on your weary body, sleep beckoned like a siren's call.

Your eyelids grew heavy with weariness, the pain fading into the background as you surrendered to the embrace of sleep, trusting Tim to keep you safe.

Tim's heart clenched with fear as he felt you grow limp in his arms, panic surging through him like a tidal wave. "No, no, stay with me," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "Don't you dare leave me, Y/N."

But despite his desperate pleas, unconsciousness claimed you, your body going slack against him. Evan's worried voice pierced through the fog of Tim's panic, the little boy shaking your hand with his tiny fingers. "Mommy?" he called out.

Tim's heart shattered at the sight of you lying unconscious on the ground, your face pale and peaceful in sleep. With trembling hands, he scooped Evan into his arms, shielding him from the sight of his mother's still form.

"It's okay, buddy. Mommy's just resting, that's all." Tim whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held Evan close. But inside, Tim's heart was gripped by fear, his mind racing with worry for you and your unborn baby.

Tim's shouts for help pierced through the chaos, his voice trembled with desperation, tears streaming down his cheeks unchecked as he held Evan tightly in his arms. Each cry for assistance was a desperate plea, a fervent prayer for the help that he so desperately needed.

As the paramedics rushed to your side, Tim watched in horror as they whisked you away on a stretcher. Fear gnawed at his insides, a cold dread settling over him like a suffocating blanket, his chest tightened with every step they took, each moment stretching out into an eternity of agonizing uncertainty.

Angela rushed at Tim's side, and with trembling hands, he handed over Evan into her care, his voice shaking with emotion as he tried to reassure his son in the midst of his own storm.

"It's okay, champ," Tim murmured, his voice choked with tears. "Go with Aunt Angela. Daddy's going with mommy to make sure she's okay." Despite the weight of his own fears bearing down on him, Tim forced a small smile for Evan's sake.

Tim sat at your bedside, his fingers gently tracing patterns on the back of your hand as he watched over you. Evan was nestled against his chest, his soft snores filling the room with a comforting rhythm.

"How are you holding up, Tim?" Lucy asked, placing a reassuring hand on Tim's shoulders.

"Hanging in there." he whispered, caressing his son's hair like it was an anchor that kept his sanity at peace.

They took turns checking on you, their concern palpable in the air as Tim greeted them with a weary but grateful smile. With each visit, Tim's heart warmed by the unwavering support of his fellow officers and friends.

"Thanks for being here," he offered, his voice tinged with exhaustion but filled with appreciation. "It means a lot."

Angela's gaze softened as she placed a reassuring hand on Tim's shoulder. "We're here for you, Tim," she reassured him. "Whatever you need, just say the word."

As you began to stir, Tim's heart skipped a beat, his gaze never wavering from your face as you slowly blinked awake. "Hey there," he whispered softly, a tender smile gracing his lips as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "How are you feeling?"

You returned his smile weakly, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, "Better, now that you're here." The weight of the past few hours pressed heavily upon you, but the sight of Tim's presence beside you brought a sense of calm that you desperately needed.

Tim's heart swelled with relief at the sound of your voice, his fingers intertwining with yours as he leaned in to press another gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm never leaving your side again," he vowed, his voice filled with conviction as he gazed into your eyes.

Evan stirred against Tim's chest, his sleepy voice calling out for you. "Mommy" he mumbled, his little arms reaching out in search of you.

Tim's heart melted at the sight of his son, his love for both you and Evan swelling within him like a tidal wave. "Shh, buddy," he whispered, his voice soft and soothing as he gently lifted Evan into his arms. "Mommy's right here."

Evan's sleepy eyes widened with delight as he caught sight of you, his face lighting up with joy. With a sleepy grin, he reached out towards you, his tiny fingers curling around your hand as Tim helped him to gently crawl onto the bed beside you.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of your son, his presence bringing a sense of warmth and comfort that washed over you like a gentle wave. With Tim's steady hand guiding him, Evan nestled against your side, his sleepy gaze meeting yours with an expression of pure adoration.

"Love you, Mommy," Evan murmured, his voice filled with sleepy affection as he snuggled closer to you.

"I love you more, sweetheart," you whispered in reply as you pressed a tender kiss to Evan's forehead.

Tim's eyes glistened as he looked down at the two of you. With a tender smile, he leaned in to press a kiss to both your foreheads, his touch a silent affirmation of his love for you both.

"I love you both," Tim whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held you and Evan close, "More than anything in this world."

[mockerycrow]

Frozen Fingertips [2/2] (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist - part one

Summary: Ghost struggles to keep you alive through these harsh times.

A/N: I’m so glad you guys enjoyed part one!! i did not shrink the font of this one because i realized that it may strain some peoples’ eyes. this is not as angsty as i wished it to be, and it isn’t as long as i hoped. i apologize. tbh i don’t like this, but i hope y’all enjoy

[WARNINGS: Descriptions of developing hypothermia and frost bite, delirium, near-death experience(s), angst to fluff.]

THE BLIZZARD WAS not stopping and it didn’t show signs of stopping any time soon, which honestly terrifies Ghost because of your awful condition. Despite his previous efforts, you quickly slipped back into a delirious state of developing hypothermia—a state you weren’t completely aware of, but you knew something was wrong. You could vaguely acknowledge the way that you were fading in and out wasn’t normal, but it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. What you hated was the painful tingling and the weird.. harsh cold entering your lungs every time you took a deep breath. You’re so warm, yet your lungs burn cold.

You only saw times in glimpses—what you thought was likely a matter of hours, expanded across a matter of a few days. The harsh blizzard was unwavering, it’s snow falling from the sky harshly messing with the radio signals. Ghost would sit by the window with his personal radio on his vest, along with the emergency signal radio he had stowed in his pack. He would get small glimpses of other peoples voices—Price’s would come through occasionally, luckily long enough for Ghost to update him about their situation and their whereabouts, your condition; but Ghost was never able to provide an update about an exact location. The windows were frosted over and even when they weren’t, all Ghost saw was endless snow and pine trees far as the eye can see, until they eventually faded from view due to the snow coverage. Every time Ghost suddenly becomes aware of his breath, he can’t help but glance over at you; wrapped up in two sleeping bags, sitting way too close to the fireplace—sometimes shuddering, and sometimes.. not moving at all. His heart drops to his stomach when he doesn’t see your breath in the air. He calls your name loudly, firm and demanding and when you don’t answer, he scrambles from his position by the window. “Fuck,” He utters. “Fuck!”

Ghost ignores the pain in his knees when they harshly bash against the ground as he kneels next to you. He grabs your face by your cheeks, startled by the hue of blue on your lips. “Bloody bell—wake up!” Ghost snarls, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. He holds his breath until he sees your chest slowly yet shakily rise—and then you exhale very slowly, and clearly with amounts of trouble. Relief floods Ghost’s veins, but it’s quickly replaced by frustration and panic. You gasp quietly before you begin to shiver uncontrollably again, and taking Ghost completely by surprise; you open your eyes. Your eyes are glazed over, your eyelids puffy. “[Name]?” Ghost questions, his eyes staring hard into yours, silently noting your dialed pupils. “[Name], can you hear me?” If you do, you don’t make coherent indication. Your tongue darts out and wets your lips before you croak out, “I gotta pee.” Ghost huffs and shakes his head, his hand shooting up and laying on your chest—which is covered by many thicker layers, so disregarding Ghost’s hand, it’s not very likely you could’ve gotten up without help, anyway. “You went an hour ago, yeah? You need to stay layin’ down.” You groan and despite your arms being tucked into your multiple covers, something moves against the fabric as if to swat Ghost’s hand away. Ghost can’t help but swallow nervously; he isn’t stupid, he’s aware you’re in one of the stages of hypothermia, he told Price as much. He’s been able to keep the frostbite at bay, but he’s running out of firewood. It’s snowing way too damn hard for him to even pick up stray logs and sticks laying around. Your slowed heartrate, increased urge to urinate, slow cognitive functions, slurred speech, cold skin—blue lips..

It’s not looking good and Ghost doesn’t want to think about that, but that’s all he can see of you right now, so how could he not? And it’s hard both mentally and physically to stay in this cabin, seeing you deteriorate while he himself is getting absolutely fucking freezing. Ghost has had to shed a layer or two just to keep you alive. He can’t deny the way the cold air is scratching at his skin, seeping through his balaclava and into his jaw, nearly making his bones hurt. Ghost clenches his teeth as he shudders for a moment, eyes fluttering closed just long enough to gain his composure. Fuck. Ghost doesn’t want to die here. He doesn’t want you to die here, not like this. Not in a run-down abandoned cabin with shitty insulation, where frostbite is nipping at your fingers and where the cold is finally getting to Ghost’s head. He grits his teeth and sits back on his ass normally with a gloved hand to his head, his vision absolutely swimming. “Stop it,” He grunts quietly. “Hafta stay up.” Ghost takes a deep breath and grunts as he pushes himself to his feet, his boots booming against the wooden floor as he walks over to the area where the firewood is kept. He grabs a few of the pre-cut logs and he makes his way over to you and the fireplace, tossing the logs into the ashes, slowly refueling the dying embers. Ghost sniffles a little under his mask as he grabs a piece of paper and takes out a lighter, lighting it on fire before quickly tossing it into the fireplace to make a better fuel source. He crouches near the growing fire, taking his spot by your feet. Ghost sucks in a shuddering breath and rubs his upper arms, and he can’t help but take another glance at you. You stopped trying to get out of your warm enclosure of blankets, but your eyes were darting around the room slowly, unfocused and hazy.

Ghost’s chest clenches for a moment and he walks back over to your shivering form, and he already did it, but he presses his fingers against your lukewarm skin—nearly cold. Your eyes flutter again and then they vaguely glance in the direction that you think he’s in; which you’re almost right, but a few inches off. You try to speak but a quiet choked noise leaves you, your breathing shaky—finally from fear this time. Ghost puts his finger to his mask in a shushing motion, trying his best to keep you calm. “You’ll be alright, yeah? Gotta wait until the storm’s done brewing out there.” He attempts to reassure your delirious brain, but you can only make another “out of it” noise before your eyes flutter shut once again, you losing consciousness. Ghost feels an ugly and dreadful feeling deep in his gut, scratching at his veins, climbing them until his fingertips are cold both due to the temperature and panic. Ghost has always insisted he doesn’t panic, and he hasn’t—until now. Not until he fears the storm won’t pass over and help won’t arrive until you’re frozen and stiff under your fear, despite his desperate attempts to keep you warm—and alive. Ghost doesn’t want to admit it, but fuck, he’s terrified to fall asleep because out of the two of you, what if he’s the only one who wakes up?

Ghost’s eyelids flutter for a moment before he inhales in a sharp manner and his spine straightens up, his hands clenching together for a moment. “M’not going to fall asleep.” He mutters to himself as he takes his place next to you on the floor and holy hell, the floor is cold—so he silently scoots closer to you and wraps an arm around your body, and Ghost uses his other arm as a pillow. Your chest very slowly rises and falls, and he finds comfort in the sight of a sign of you being alive—you’re still here with him, and that’s all he needs.

Ghost is awoken from a banging on the cabin door. He jolts ever so slightly, but he’s immediately hit with chills, his limbs trembling. Fuck, he fell asleep. His eyelids feel like sandbags and and he can’t stop fucking shaking—and he feels so heavy.. so tired. “Ghost!” A familiar voice yells outside of the cabin. His arm wraps around your form tighter when he doesn’t immediately recognize the British accent behind the door, he grunts as he clumsily sits up and pulls you closer, his trembling hand grasping as his hip, taking out his service pistol. The door opens as he attempts to aim it, his weak and low voice hissing out, “I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out—“

“Ghost, it’s Price. We found you. Put the gun down.”

Ghost blinks slowly as he looks at the figure who slowly approaches, two others trailing behind—and it is Price—with Gaz and Soap. Ghost sharply inhaled and his arm lowers, the pistol slipping out of his grip. Gaz rushes over to him and your limp form, taking off his gloves. “We got you, Ghost. We got you.” Price assures, but his lips are pressed together as he watches Gaz. Ghost’s head rolls back for a moment, blacking out for a few seconds—Soap’s hands catching his head before it hits the floor. “They’re alive,” Gaz grunts out, leaning down to pick you up bridal style while keeping all of the layers around your body. “Barely, but we gotta get ‘em both to warmth. Now.”

When Ghost finally comes to, the first thing he notices is the smell—it doesn’t smell like rotting and burning wood; his lungs don’t burn with every breath and he can keep his fingers. The second thing he notices is the ache within his throat and his limbs, and the third thing he notices is that he is not wearing his mask. He still feels heavy, but it’s not the kind of heavy where you want to sleep forever heavy. It’s a.. comforting heavy. Someone laying on top of him heavy. It takes him a hot second to open his eyes, and another second to adjust to the harsh lights of the hospital room—oh, wait, they’re not that bad, his head just hurts. Ghost notices someone laying their head on the bed on top of Ghost, their arms under their head as a cushion. He blinks blearily as he doesn’t register it at first; the hospital gown, two IV drips for two separate patients, and the bandages covering your fingers—it’s you. His eyes widen and he lets out a quiet noise, causing you to lift your head up immediately and look at him with the most vulnerable look you could ever have, your eyes wide and bulging like when a child doesn’t know whether to believe the adult in front of them. “Ghost?” You ask, and fuck, your throat croaks. Your vocal cords sound like they’ve been torn apart and reattached, croaking with relief and pain. He swallows thickly and he nods for a moment, unable to find his voice. Your eyes soften for a moment before you whisper to him. “Hurts to talk, huh? Me too.”

Then don’t, said his silent gaze. Yet, somehow, you manage to catch on his memo. Wordlessly, you reach up to one of his hands—covered in scars and calluses, but you don’t mind. Your hands are similar as you nervously glance at him, grabbing his wrist and turning it over so his palm faces up. Ghost eyes your movements, but makes no move to stop you. You take one of your pointer fingers—the one that isn’t bandaged—and you trace letters into his hand slowly.

T H A N K Y O U

Ghost meets your gaze, and you have tears in your eyes. His hand is grossly limp as he grabs the hand you were moving away, and he instead pulls your hand closer to his face for a closer inspection. The bandages concern him, so he looks at you again. You reach for the clipboard you left by his feet and you place it in his lap, pointing to the part of the medical report about your frostbite blisters. Ghost inhales deeply for a moment before his fingers tap against your hand—rhythmically? Oh, it’s morse code.

Ghost is tapping SAFE over and over while looking at you, to reassure himself—and you. You nod in response and offer him the smile he’s been waiting to see and you tap back to him, SAFE.

[sxcret-garden]

Jongho ღ Build You Up [M]

ღ Ateez Jongho x fem-bodied!reader ღ feat.: best friend!San, Wooyoung, Hongjoong ღ words: ~23k ღ genre & warnings: fluff (a lot of it, actually), some humor, a bit of angst (unhappy past relationships for both of them and the consequences, why do I like sadness), slowburn, smut (sub!Jongho, dom!reader, detailed warnings under the cut); brief discussion of (over)weight (it’s about a cat tho), alcohol consumption ღ reader: has a vagina, no other descriptions of reader’s anatomy, no pronouns used to refer to reader

Desc.: It hasn’t been long since you and Jongho have started seeing each other, when it begins to look like your originally purely sexual relationship is turning into something much broader. After you initially make it very clear that you aren’t ready for a new relationship after a painful breakup, you can’t help but wonder if Jongho would be the one who can finally help you heal, and at the same time you too are set on helping him with his own troubles, getting him to let go of control around you more and more easily. This is the sequel to my fic Break You Down - it can also be read as a standalone work, but probably makes more sense if you’ve read the original fic too~

ღ smut warnings: off-screen kink-negotiation, a hint of dumbification, subspace, lots of praise, some teasing, some begging, some humiliation, biting, oral & fingering (reader receiving), reader sitting on his face, (kinda) guided masturbation & cum eating (idol), restraints (handcuffs & rope, idol receiving), blindfold (idol), handjobs, edging, orgasm control, overstimulation as a punishment (and also just for fun tbh), traffic light system (only “green” is used), reader has a bit of a dom drop at one point, temperature play, a bit of finger sucking, unprotected sex, anal (fingering & with a strap, idol receiving), dacryphilia, they have pretty sweet and vanilla sex once, multiple orgasms

“Did so well for me…�� you breathe the words into his ear as he’s about to collapse on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and you let your lips brush against his earlobe. Your hand is up in his hair, gripping the dark brown locks to guide him into a position where you could comfortably wrap your arms around his broad figure, feeling the way his hot skin presses against yours and how his chest is rising and sinking in tune with your own, both catching your breaths. 

You lean your back against the headrest of your bed, with a pillow in between, and you wait for him to come down from the euphoric high you’ve swept him up in. Granted, it wasn’t your effort alone, and you wonder if words would be enough to convey to him what you’re feeling deep in your chest right in this moment.

“Such a good boy, letting me take care of you like that…” you mutter, and you notice a shade of pink dusted onto his cheeks as he looks up at you with big round eyes. He seems so much softer now - his features, his gaze, and the sound of his voice too, when he hums an elongated “mhmmm” at your praise. Eyelids drooping, he sinks down to a lying position eventually, with his head in your lap, and as he closes his eyes fully while you’re still playing with his hair, you think he’s dozing off, until his warm voice fills the room again.

“Say…” Jongho looks up at you, parted lips swollen from how hard you had kissed him just earlier, and you have to resist the urge to lean in and pepper little pecks all over his features. 

“What is it?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from grinning like a fool at how cute he looks, all fucked out, laying in your lap like that.

“Mmmm.” Lips pursed, his eyes dart to the side as he’s trying hard to come up with a coherent sentence. You find yourself chuckling, finding it amusing how this usually so eloquent man is struggling to form words now.

“It’s okay,” you speak soothingly, fingertips ghosting over his mouth and grazing his plush lips. “You don’t have to say anything right now if it’s too hard.” However, Jongho frowns at what was supposed to be a comfort to him.

“No, just… been thinking…” he slurs.

“About what?”

“Just… if maybe… we could meet up sometime?” Another short laugh escapes you.

“You mean, outside of having sex?” you guess, and he gives you a nod. “Hmm…” You ponder on the question for a while, and as you do, you feel resistance in your heart. Truth be told, you’ve been afraid one of your partners would bring up something like this sooner or later, though you do your best to keep things lowkey and not make any advances that aren’t of a purely sexual nature on anyone. And yet there is also a spark of curiousity lighting up within you. The little bits of his usual personality you get to see before and during the start of a scene can’t be more than a fraction of what he’s really like during his everyday life, and you can’t say you haven’t caught yourself wondering about who he might be outside of when you have sex with him.

“Don’t want to?” he asks, and you know he is trying his hardest not to sound sad, but the pout that involuntarily appears on his lips does nothing in helping him hide his true feelings.

“It’s not that…” you answer, soothingly caressing his face as you brush a strand of hair away and attempt to tuck it behind his ear, already knowing prior that it’s too short for that anyway. He raises his eyebrows as if prompting you to continue speaking. “Just…” You look around the room, wondering if you should let the doubt on your mind win or not, and eventually you figure that it’d probably be just fine.

“Alright,” you decide, finally, and you find a spark in his eyes upon hearing your answer. “Any plans on what to do?” Jongho makes a noise, opening and closing his mouth like a fish in water, and you smile at the way his mind has gone blank again, stroking his hair a few more times. “Maybe we’ll discuss that later, then?” you propose, and you see the tension leaving his shoulders. “No need to overexert that pretty little head of yours,” you tease, and you earn yourself a pouty frown, reacting immediately by giving him some more scalp scratches meant to appease him.

Thursday afternoon. You’re looking your reflection in the shop window in front of you up and down, adjusting the way the fabric of the simple but elegant blouse wraps itself around your shoulders to look as neat as possible. Its color an antique pink, with flowers cross-stitched onto the ends of the sleeves, you don’t get a whole lot of chances to wear this type of clothing anymore nowadays, so you made sure to pick out your outfit thoughtfully. Maybe a little too thoughtfully, as you’ve tried on all kinds of possible combinations a day prior, in an attempt to choose the most perfect one out of all of them. In the end you settled for something comfortable and in some way nostalgic, remembering the last time you wore this particular top having been at a friend’s graduation party. Paired with some dark grey dress pants and classy shoes with just a tiny heel, you think you match the definition of “elegant, but not over the top” - which is the only thing besides the time and meeting place that Jongho had told you about today. Judging from the fact that it’s almost 6pm you assume his plan is to take you out for dinner, plus the address he had sent you is in the middle of an area known for its fancy restaurants, and when he finally comes into sight as he’s turning a corner a couple of meters away from you, he’s about to confirm your assumptions.

“Hi,” he greets you with a tired but warm smile, and you return the greeting.

“Hi. How have you been?” He looks away as if he had hoped you wouldn’t ask him this very standard question meant to open up a conversation, yet here you are. “Sorry, should I not ask?” you figure, and he shows you a gesture of his hand to wave it off.

“Ah, no, it’s fine,” he says. “Today wasn’t so bad. I had a meeting until…” he checks his wristwatch, and you notice how expensive it looks, “half an hour ago, that’s why I’m a little late. I’m really sorry about that.”

“It’s alright, you let me know on time so it’s fine,” you assure him.

“But aside from that it wasn’t too busy today. Thankfully,” he says. “My father is away on a business trip so… can’t terrorize the whole company for a few days. But let’s get going, shall we?” Stopping himself from rambling, he holds out his hand to you for you to hook your arm through his, and you start walking. “How was your day?” he then asks back, having calmed himself down a little. You wonder for a moment if you’re right in your observation that he seems unusually open today, at least compared to what he was like when you had only just met him, but then again you figure it’s only natural to be comfortable opening up to a person who’s already broken down so many walls within you, no?

“It was good. I had a day off, actually, so I finally got to run some errands I’ve been putting off,” you explain briefly, as he’s taking the lead on the way to your destination. And maybe he’s noticed your dopey smile about it, because upon looking at you, he asks,

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” you lie at first, giving him big, innocent eyes, but the suspicion in his expression tells you he’s probably already figured it out anyway, so you might as well give him the answer yourself. “I was just thinking that this is the first time you’re guiding me.”

“Oh… you’re right,” he says, coming to a halt with you in front of a crossing.

“It feels…”

“Weird?” he laughs.

“Different,” you say with a smile. “Not bad.”

“I see?” he says, visibly intrigued, and as the pedestrian lights switch to green, he walks you across the street. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” you then say, and wordlessly, he shows you a toothy smile - you’re sure he knows what you were implying.

You arrive at the restaurant on the 15th floor of a huge building, having one of the servers show you your table right by the window with a vast view of the surrounding city. The sun is slowly beginning to set when you finish choosing your meals, and you’re served some sweet sparkling wine as an aperitif. 

“Cheers,” he raises his glass and you do the same.

“Cheers.” You both take a sip, and as you set down your glasses, he says, earnestly,

“You look good by the way.”

“So do you.” You shoot him a smile, reckoning that a well fitted, classic suit really does everything to make him look even more handsome. Even when it’s apparent that work is taking its toll on him, a part of him is glowing in that business attire - almost creating the illusion that a high ranking corporate job must be where he belongs most.

As the courses are served to you one by one, beautifully plated, each accompanied with wines from all over the world, which, according to your waiter, have been carefully chosen to perfectly round up the respective dishes they come with. You find yourself having fun like this, chatting with Jongho while having a fine meal, and the atmosphere of the restaurant only makes the evening feel more special. 

“You know,” you say, “it’s been a long time since I’ve gone out for dinner like this. Dressing up and having good wine and all that.” You swirl the drink around in your glass, watching as a layer of deep red slowly drips back down along the walls. “So, thanks for taking me out here,” you conclude, shooting him a smile across the table, and he reciprocates, before looking away with a hint of shyness on his face.

“So you’re enjoying yourself?” he asks after clearing his throat.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad I chose the right thing to do then,” he says, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Why?” you chuckle. “Were you scared I wouldn’t like it here?”

“I just… wasn’t sure if you’re the type for fancy dinners with wine and candle light and all that,” he says, and your eyes flick over to the candle burning at the edge of your table.

“Wouldn’t everyone enjoy this kind of thing every once in a while?” you wonder out loud, and the man in front of you agrees. “I also don’t get to dress up like this a whole lot,” you continue. “So, that was nice for the first time in a while too.”

“You really do look beautiful today,” he says, giving you a soft smile as he tilts his head to the side a little, and you can’t help but find the image in front of you cute.

“Thank you,” you say, reaching for the stem of your wine glass once again to busy your hands. “I also can’t remember when the last time was that I’ve heard that…” you add, keeping your voice low now. “Even though there was a person I would’ve wanted to hear it from more often.” Jongho raises his eyebrows, indicating he wants you to keep going. “Just…” you hesitate. Should you really mention your ex here?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” he says quickly, upon noticing you’re indecisive. 

“Right… sorry,” you apologize, taking a quick sip of your beverage.

“It’s alright,” he says, and before the silence between you can get too awkward, he changes the topic. “But… I’ve told you so much about my job since we started talking. I’ve been wondering what you do?”

“Oh. I work with animals,” you explain. “I’m a physiotherapist for animals like… cats, dogs. Mostly those two, but sometimes people also bring in other pets, and we take care of those as well.” 

“Oh,” he gasps, surprise written all over his face.

“What did you think I’d be doing?” you ask, grinning.

“Hm… I don’t know. I was expecting some boring office job, like me,” Jongho admits, and now you let out a short laugh.

“Yeah, no thanks,” you say. “I did study business, actually. But after a year I realized it’s not for me. I wanted to do something to help, you know? Something that’s actually fulfilling.”

“What, filling out excel sheets and handing in reports to your superiour all day doesn’t sound fulfilling to you…?” he questions, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Right, that’s totally the best job in the world…” you say, smiling and rolling your eyes.

“So…” he returns to the original topic, after taking a bite of his food, “you must like animals?”

“Yes,” you answer, smiling to yourself. “I have a cat at the moment too.”

“Right, I did think I heard a meow last time I was with you,” Jongho says.

“Yeah, my Meatball is very shy though, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if you hadn’t noticed he’s there at all.”

“Your meatball?” he repeats, and though you’re sure he understands it’s the cat’s name, he’s still chuckling at the sound of it - and maybe the mental image too. 

“Ah, yeah…” Now you laugh as well, having gotten so used to the name that time and time again you forget it might make other people scratch their heads. “He’s a rescue,” you explain. “Was severely overweight when I got him from the shelter, that’s why they called him that. His previous owners must’ve overfed him… thankfully he’s at a healthy weight now.”

“Ahh, now it makes sense.”

“Yeah. But,” you chuckle, “you still gotta be careful and not leave anything edible out on the table or something. He steals everything if given the chance.”

Dessert is finally served, a variation of chocolates accompanied by some fruit parfait, and it’s just as delicious as everything you’ve been served thus far. 

“This is so good…” you mumble, completely indulged in the food in front of you.

“Right? I really like that they don’t make their desserts too sweet,” Jongho comments.

“Yeah. Maybe I should let my subs take me out for dinner more often at this rate,” you joke, but the guy sitting opposite you doesn’t give you the expected light-hearted reaction.

“You’re seeing other people as well?” he reckons, trying hard to keep his facial expression neutral, but you can tell he must’ve been thinking he’s the only one.

“Yeah, at the moment,” you explain, and you find yourself monitoring him closely for any signs of upset. “I have two other people I sometimes do scenes with nowadays.”

“Right, that makes sense.”

“But what about you?” you try to divert the conversation elsewhere as you notice some tension leaving his shoulders.

“Me?”

“Are you seeing people? Dating anyone?”

“Ah, no,” he answers, and when a smile returns to his lips you too find yourself relaxing. “Aside from you, anyway. It’s… been a while since my last relationship too.”

“Oh?”

“Well, that was… a bit of a complicated situation.”

“You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to,” you repeat what he had told you earlier, but he shakes his head.

“It’s not that,” Jongho says, “I just don’t want to… kill the mood I suppose?” His gums show as he gives you an apologetic smile.

“Don’t worry about that,” you assure him, and so he leans back in his chair, looking around the room as he mutters,

“Where do I even start?”

“That bad?”

“I mean… I had a girlfriend a while back. A couple of years, no… four? Almost four years. Basically our parents set us up, hoping we would get married. You know, two wealthy families, it was about business to them. And our image of course.”

“Right,” you say.

“It’s not that we didn’t get along at all or anything, or that we weren’t attracted to each other. It’s just… after the honeymoon phase, we didn’t really know what to do with each other.”

“So you didn’t match,” you guess, and he nods.

“Yeah. I tried to make things work, to win her over, you know… rekindle the flame I suppose?” He laughs, and you think you can see a hint of bitterness hiding in the corners of his smile. “So I put in an effort.”

“...and?” you ask, expecting this story to take a bad turn quite soon.

“She was seeing other guys.” Jongho doesn’t look at you as he speaks those words, instead staring off into the distance, head turned towards the general direction of the window to his left. 

“You’re still hurt over that, huh?” you dare to say what’s on your mind, and without wavering, he responds,

“Yeah.”

“That sucks…” you look down at your plate, where there’s some remainder of the chocolate cream smeared across the white porcelain, and you drag the tips of your fork across them. 

“It’s how it is,” he says, sighing, and returning his gaze to you. “I’ve been focusing on my studies and then on work ever since, so I didn’t really have the time to date anyone else.” He thinks for a moment, before he adds, “Maybe I’ve been busying myself so much because it would mean I wouldn’t have time for that.” You begin to understand a little more why he seemed hesitant to ask for a meeting between you two after you started chatting online, or why he’s struggling so hard to let go of control, even in situations where he desperately wants to. And somehow now your determination to help him with that as best you can is growing some more, and before you can think, you find yourself reaching out across the table, your hand covering his. You don’t say anything, really, a smile that’s supposed to tell him you sympathize is all you can give here. And it’s not like you don’t get him - your last relationship didn’t exactly go great either, and maybe in that pain of being betrayed by someone you trusted, someone you had committed to, there might be a chance for you two to build yet another connection.

You say goodbye outside on the street, in front of the building where you were dining. Jongho had insisted on paying for the both of you, even after you had assured him you didn’t mind splitting the bill. So you make sure to thank him again, to which he shows you that toothy smile you’re starting to find strangely reassuring, and you find your heart warmed.

“We’ll see each other next week?” you say, finding an expression in his eyes that makes you think he doesn’t want you to leave yet. And still, he nods.

“Yes. Until then.” You wave each other goodbye, and when you turn on your heels to walk to the bus station to get home, you too feel a distant pull on your heart, begging you to stay with him for just a while longer.

“You seemed a little out of focus today.” San states the obvious as you undo the rope you had meticulously tied around this wrists. He gives you a smile while he stares up at you, warmth in his gaze, but you also make out some curiousity shining through.

“I’m really sorry…” you say once he’s freed from his restraints, and he lets his hands sink into his lap, sitting up on your bed with his lower back propped up against the headrest. It was a short session - you kept it like that on purpose, having known from the start that your concentration would give up on you sooner rather than later today, and you honestly feel sorry for him. He doesn’t even look as tired out as usually when you’re done with him, and San seems to sense that something’s weighing you down, because next thing you know after putting the rope aside is that he’s pulling you into his embrace, letting you rest your head against his bare chest. 

“Shouldn’t this be my job…” you mumble, even though you allow for your eyelids to close and your mind to rest for a while.

“Shh,” San shushes you. “Doms need reassurance too. Plus, I can take care of a friend, can’t I?” 

You and San have known each other since forever - high school, to be exact, where you ended up in the same class and somehow formed an alliance to get together for study sessions and to tackle exams together. You’ve stayed in touch ever since, and hooked up a couple of times, until it was him who introduced you to the world of BDSM, and you immediately found yourself in your element. Even now you get together to have sex sometimes, and to satisfy the sub in him from time to time.

“How’s Woo doing?” you ask, letting him cradle you in his embrace for now.

“Don’t try to change the topic,” San scolds you in the softest tone. 

“I really want to know!” you insist, and it wouldn’t be San if he could keep up his strict demeanor for more than a hot second when it comes to you.

“He’s doing fine. Bratty as ever.” You both laugh. “But I’ve got him tamed.”

“That’s my boy,” you chuckle, patting his thigh a few times.

“So? What’s on your mind, Y/N?” You let out an existential sigh. Choi Jongho, obviously. The thought pops up in your mind without permission, and you wonder if you should really keep fighting it so hard - and then you ask yourself why you’re fighting it in the first place.

“It’s just…” you talk eventually, but stop to ponder on your words some more. And then you peel yourself out of San’s hold, and you sit cross legged opposite him, with him mirroring your position. His smile dripping with warmth, he gives you the most sympathetic eyes known to mankind, and you curse him for it out loud.

“Why do you have to be so goddamn trustworthy and empathetic all the time?”

“What?” San laughs, the dimples on his cheeks almost as deep as the confusion in his gaze.

“I just… I met someone, I guess…” you admit.

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows in interest.

“The CEO son… I told you about him.” And now San leans back, arms raised in a stretch before he crosses them behind his head.

“Well this is getting interesting…”

“... Jongho… is his name.”

“Hmm?”

“Stop acting like this!” you yell out of embarrassment.

“Like what? I’m just curious!” San shrugs like he had done nothing wrong.

“Just… I’m not ready for a new relationship yet…” San’s expression becomes serious again as he pieces together the bits of information you give him in an attempt to see the bigger picture, and you continue, “I guess that’s why this feels so conflicting. I like him, don’t get me wrong, but he took me out to dinner this week, and I think he more than just likes me.”

“You went on a date?” Surprise echoes in your friend’s words.

“It wasn’t a date. We just went out together.”

“That sounds like a date to me…”

“It wasn’t-... well maybe it was.” You pause, staring at the bedsheets underneath you. “I wish it wasn’t.”

“Come here,” San spreads his arms, beckoning you to come closer, and you let him engulf you in yet another warm hug. “If you’re not ready for another relationship after what happened, you can simply tell him that, can’t you?” It’s such an obvious piece of advice, and yet it seems to have so much more weight, now, that you’re hearing it from one of your oldest friends, and not just as a constantly recurring thought in your head.

“Right.”

“Do you think he might react badly?” You think about it for a while. It’s not like you know Jongho well enough to have gained a deep understanding of how he works in situations like these, but your gut feeling tells you he’ll at least be reasonable about it.

“Probably not,” you say finally.

“You’ll be fine,” San encourages you, and he lets you rest against his strong figure for a while. “But now I’m curious…” he continues eventually. 

“Hm?”

“How is he?” He shoots you a smirk, and immediately several memories from the times you’ve been with Jongho so far flash by your inner eye.

“... haven’t had someone like him in a while. Actually, I haven’t had someone like him at all. A tough nut to crack.” You shoot San a knowing look. “But so worth it.”

“Hmm? Well, I’m glad you’re having your fun with him.”

“Yeah… it’s fun,” you say, and you can’t help but think of all the other things having sex with him is.

“I’m going to miss you,” San then says, without adding too much weight to the words - probably in an attempt not to burden you, but they hit you where it hurts anyway.

“What are you saying?”

“Well, we know you don’t do things like me and Wooyoung. When you’re dating someone, you’re dating just them.”

“Did you listen to any of what I just said?” You turn around to shoot San a look full of offense, and you’re met with a broad, playful smile from his side.

“Well, I feel like it’s only a matter of time with this one…”

“Choi San!” You call out his full name, only adding to his amusement. “Did you listen. To anything. I just said?”

“I did, I did, I’m sorry.” Your friend’s features soften as he falls forward to rest his chin atop your shoulder. You can’t tell if he was joking or not, if he was teasing you or if he really thinks there’s a chance being with Jongho would mend your heart enough for you to be ready to trust again. To fall in love again. And you know there’s currently nobody in your life who knows you better than San does. And yet, you can’t be mad at him.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” your friend speaks up, reaching out to put his hand over yours, thumb rubbing a few soothing circles onto your skin. “Take your time.”

“So that gave me a few sleepless nights, but fortunately we got the deal… oh, is that Meatball?” You turn your head into the general direction of where Jongho is looking, and find your cat’s pitch black fur blending into the shadows at the foot of one of the shelves in your living room.

“Ah, yes,” you say, and you smile at the small creature. “My grumpy old boy.” His yellow eyes are intently watching you and your visitor where you’re sitting across each other at your dinner table, and after a while of observing the both of you, he decides it’s time to venture closer. Stretching his body thoroughly as he gets up, he slowly walks a little closer, and then sits down halfway to watch Jongho with curiousity. 

“Do you like cats?” you ask as Meatball proceeds to clean his hind legs. 

“They’re quiet,” Jongho responds, not taking his eyes off your pet.

“I see,” you say, chuckling, and then you observe as Meatball comes yet a little closer, and you’re surprised to see him hop up onto Jongho’s lap, who seems flustered by the cat’s action. “I think he likes you,” you comment, and you find it amusing how the guy in front of you doesn’t seem too sure of what to do with Meatball rolling up in his lap, fully intent on taking a nap by the looks of it. However, he relaxes eventually.

“Can I pet him?”

“You can try,” you say. “If he doesn’t like it he’ll get up and leave.”

“Ah… so he doesn’t bite or anything?” Jongho asks, his palm finding the pitch black fur and Meatball doesn’t react as he strokes him from head to tail a few times.

“He does,” you say, pulling up the sleeve on your left arm and showing him the half healed scratches Meatball had given you just last week. “He hates taking his meds.”

“I see,” Jongho chuckles, continuously petting the cat in his lap.

“He’s used to it, so usually he’ll just accept his fate. But sometimes his fighting spirit comes out,” you explain, laughing, and the guy sitting opposite you laughs as well. “But in a situation where he can escape, he’ll rather do that. So no need to worry.”

“I see… oh?” Meatball gets up, and, seemingly having had enough coddling for today, jumps down onto the floor to spread out and continue his nap there. “He’s had enough, huh?”

“Looks like it,” you respond, and for a while you both end up just watching his sleeping figure. However, you eventually tear yourself away from the adorable image, remembering what you had planned to have a conversation about before starting your scene today.

“Uhm…” you clear your throat. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What is it?” Jongho asks, shooting you a smile. 

“So… we’ve been getting closer even… outside of the bedroom, right?” you say, unsure how to start the conversation, but you know you’ll have to start somewhere, even if things come out a bit awkwardly.

“Right.”

“And it feels like… you really like me. I mean, I like you too, just…”

“What is it?” Jongho raises his eyebrows, and you find a hint of concern hiding behind his gaze.

“Look…” You place your hands on top of the table in front of you. “Before this can go in any direction where we’re not on the same page anymore… I just felt like I should tell you that I’m currently not looking for a romantic relationship.” Silence falls over the room as soon as the words are out, and if you’re being quite honest, you’re a little scared of his reaction. You’ve been very sure there’s more going on here than just sex for him, and you can’t say you’re not taking a liking to him as well. But with your very recent past experiences, you just can’t see yourself already dating someone new. And he deserves to know that, so you know you’re doing the right thing by telling him that. However, at the same time there’s a part of you that’s scared he’ll want to stop seeing you altogether in that case.

“I see,” he eventually answers.

“It’s not you, it’s…” You pause as Jongho holds his breath, waiting for your explanation. “It just hasn’t been long enough for me to… get over my last relationship.”

“Ah…”

“I mean- get over isn’t the right wording. More like… heal?”

“Can I ask… what happened?” he poses a question. Memories flash by your inner eye, and along with them you feel the pain as if everything had happened just yesterday.

“Well… I had a long-term partner until about… five months ago?” you say, while simultaneously deciding you really don’t want to dive into any details right now. Explaining this out loud even just vaguely still hurts a little too much to handle. “We had a pretty bad breakup where a lot of stuff came up… like, that he’s been lying to me about all kinds of stuff. And looking back he never really was a safe person to be with emotionally, but I only realized it when it became clear we’d split up. So…”

“Right… I get that you need a lot of time to recover from something like that,” Jongho answers.

“Yeah…” You take a deep breath. “I’ve been with him for a long time too…” Your ex’s face appears in your mind, and the memories of the man you had once loved and admired so much now just makes you feel sick inside. A touch against your knuckles - Jongho’s hand grazing yours - brings you back to reality, and a look at his face stirs up conflicting emotions deep within you. However, once you watch his lips part for him to speak, and the soothing sound of his voice wraps itself around your ears, an unexpected wave of reassurance washes over you.

“You’re right, by the way,” he says, pausing as he looks around in search of just the right words. “About me liking you beyond just… someone I sometimes get together to have sex with.” You nod at his words as you listen to him speak. “But I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, or that triggers anything you’re not ready to face.” And then he hesitates, as if it was difficult for him to get his next words out, and as your hand slips into his in order to encourage him to keep going, you feel the dynamic between you two shifting into what you’re most comfortable with. You feel you have taken back some control over the situation, and that makes you feel safe. 

“So, how do you feel about this now? About us.” You ask a question, hoping it would help him speak his mind, and yet it takes him a while before he can reply.

“What I want… is to keep seeing you,” he eventually says, though it seems hard for him to look at you while speaking so honestly, and you give his hand a gentle squeeze to encourage him to keep going. “I understand that dating someone would be difficult for you after something like that. So…” His gaze finds you now, and the sudden determination reflecting in his eyes makes your heart stop for a second. “It’d be fine with me if we kept in touch as just friends for now.”

“Ah…” you sigh, as the remainder of the tension and the anxiety about his response leave your body at once. “I would like that too. As I said, I do like you, and I enjoy spending time with you. It’s just…”

“Not the right time for more,” he finishes your sentence and you nod, relieved that he understands.

“Yeah.”

“That’s okay. Oh, but… Y/N,” he calls out to you, a little hesitant.

“What is it?”

“Does this mean… you want to stop doing scenes with me too?” You raise your eyebrows at him, staring blankly for a second, and he’s quick to add, “I mean, of course I’ll respect that if you don’t want to-” Upon him lifting his hands, waving them in front of his chest and his ears turning a bright shade of red as he’s afraid he might’ve said something wrong, you smile and you get up off your chair, approaching him, and when you’re standing right next to him you capture his chin between your thumb and index finger.

“If you still want to play after this, I’d like to as well,” you assure him, your tone soft, and you brush your thumb along his bottom lip as he glances up at you, need filling his eyes.

“Yes,” he breathes. “I still want to.”

“Then follow me. I wanna try something a bit different today,” you say as you lead him to your bedroom.

He lets you peel off his shirt without resistance, his palms landing on your hips as soon as his bare chest comes into view. And though something inside you wants to escape his touch and swat away his hands so as not to let him have even a fraction of control about the situation, you let it be for now. Instead, you draw closer to him, your fingers finding the buckle of his belt, never once breaking eye contact even when your lips are merely an inch apart. He kisses you back confidently once you close the distance between the two of you, and as his hands attempt to wander up your sides, you’re quick to grab his wrists and tear them away.

“Don’t touch me unless I tell you to,” you mutter dangerously, and though he doesn’t try to escape your grip, in the way he continues kissing you hard you find the desire to overpower you. “That’s enough,” you warn him as you take a few steps back. “Stay right there.” You throw another command at him, and you keep watching him as you rid yourself of your own clothes, revealing the harness you’ve been wearing all this while and no underwear. You’re amused by the way he’s ogling your figure, and a smile creeps onto your lips when you walk over to one of the drawers in your room in order to retrieve a pair of handcuffs from it. 

“You remember talking about this, don’t you?” you say on your way back to him, watching him gulp.

“Yes.” His curt answer intrigues you, as well as the sudden uncertainty behind his expression.

“This is what I wanna try today,” you explain. “Would you be okay with that?” Jongho thinks for a while, and as soon as he nods you run your hand up his chest and comb your fingers through his hair. “That’s what I wanna hear. Good boy,” you coo, and as per usual at this point of a scene, he doesn’t react much to the praise. Then your hand finds the hem of his pants, and as you tug at the fabric, you say, “Off with these.” This time he listens without hesitation, and you let your eyes take in his shapes as he rids himself of the remainder of clothes as well.

“Down.” You give him one simple command, and you watch as the struggle of considering whether he should listen to you or not reflects in the way he keeps his gaze fixated on you while you circle him on light steps. “Didn’t hear me?” you pry, raising your eyebrows at him, and you place your free hand below his chin, drawing near. Thumb brushing across his lower lip, you dig your nail into the plush for a moment, while biting your own bottom lip - the need to kiss him stupid arises within you, but you resist. Now is not the time for that, not when he’s disobeying you like this. Your gaze returns from his mouth to his dark brown eyes, and you decide to stay patient. You stop your movement and merely stare at him, and when his resolve finally wavers, he sinks to his knees, keeping his eyes on yours as his features soften. The look he gives you now hides so many things, you have to take a moment to dismantle all that you can read in it. First and foremost, need. Devotion. Hopefulness. Obedience. Submission. 

You let the emotions it stirs awake deep within you almost sweep you away, but you manage to collect yourself, and you speak another command, “Hands behind your back, pretty boy.” Your voice is soft, wanting to relay to him that you’re proud of him, and when he complies - though not without hesitation - you cuff his wrists together. Then you walk around him and you sit down at the foot of your bed, right in front of him, and with a gesture of your hand, you beckon him to come closer. Fingers lacing through his hair, you observe how his eyelids flutter shut for a moment, lips parting, and he leans into your gentle touch.

“That’s right…” you speak, and the way he peeks up at you is filled with both need and desire. You spread your legs apart, and you inch a little closer to the edge of the bed. “You know what I think?” you say, and Jongho waits for you to tell him the answer to your question. Your hand travels down from the top of his head to his lips, parting them so you could run your thumb across the bottom row of his teeth. “I was thinking you should put that pretty mouth of yours to use.” You can see his adam’s apple move as he gulps at your words, and on his knees he crawls closer yet. His gaze falls to your core immediately, laid out for him to bury his face right there, but with a tug on his hair you stop him.

“Not so greedy,” you say, and you chuckle. “You really think you can please me when you’re driven by nothing but hunger?” Wide-eyed, he stares up at you, and where you had expected a cheeky comment about how he knows how to give good head, you find only silence. “What?” you mock him. “Don’t tell me you forgot how to eat pussy?” And now you must’ve struck something within him, because you can see his eyebrows knit in dismay.

“I know what I’m doing,” he responds somewhat coldly.

“Then prove it.” Without making you wait, he goes in with a bite to the inside of your thigh that ends up being harsher than it would’ve had to be, and you immediately yank on his hair as a punishment. “Getting cheeky, are we?” You receive a glare from Jongho while he kneels between your legs, and though his anger directed at you like that affects you in all the best ways, you know you’re very close to crossing a line for him. You loosen your grip on his hair, massaging his scalp as you continue, “Gentle, or you’re not getting anything at all.” He glares up at you for a few seconds longer, but then reason wins him over, and he goes in more slowly this time. His expression softens while his lips brush against your skin, and he begins kissing his way to your middle. Reaching the spot he had sunk his teeth into just a moment ago, his tongue darts across the marks his little stunt had left, licking them better.

“That’s right,” you praise him. “That’s a good boy.” He hums at your words very quietly, and him already reacting to your praise satisfies you. Playing with his hair, you let him come closer, and when his hot breath hits your core, you let out a deep sigh. He looks up at you as his lips brush against your folds. Then he extends his tongue to lick up a stripe, and his eyes close upon tasting you. The warmth of his tongue pressing against your pussy has you letting out a breathy moan, and you notice how he’s carefully mapping you out - kissing your clit, dragging the tip of his wet muscle along your folds, dipping it inside of your hole only to come back up. And all the while he watches for your every reaction, set on figuring out how to best please you, while intentionally - or so you think, at least - riling you up by slowly testing out whatever comes to mind.

“Wanna do good for me, hm?” you guess, brushing a few strands of his hair out of his face. He responds by pushing his tongue inside of you, slowly, and as he pulls back out, you see him licking his lips. 

“Yes…” he whispers, not daring to look at you now, and you smile at what you can only interpret as shyness.

“Then make me cum,” you say. “And you might just get a reward.” His gaze returns to your face, and eager to please, he wraps his lips around your clit, beginning to gently suck on it. You gasp when his teeth graze the sensitive bud, and you pull away for a moment - you sure as hell aren’t planning on making this easy for him. Allowing him to dive back in, he tries a different approach, this time using his tongue to probe your reaction to him flicking it across the bundle of nerves. With you settling back in against his face he continues, giving it some time now before he starts putting some more pressure behind his movements to make you feel his touch more intensely. The timing being right this time, it makes you moan, and you can slowly feel the pleasure building up in your gut. Again, he keeps doing the same thing while never taking his gaze off of your face, and when he can see you getting slightly underwhelmed by his repeated motions, he lets his tongue wander south, licking into your dripping hole.

“Mmh…” A moan falls from your lips, and you throw your head back for a moment. Jongho takes it as a sign to continue, and when he begins thrusting his muscle in and out of you, you tug at his hair from the heat it sends rushing through your veins. “Feels nice…” you mutter, and when your eyes return to his face buried in your pussy, you find him slowly getting drunk on your taste. And then, just as you’re about to wonder whether you should tell him to switch up what he’s doing, he pulls back out and goes back to drawing figure eights on your clit. You hiss at the feeling - both at how good the sensation of his warm touch against your sensitive bud is, and at how empty him retracting from inside of you is leaving you. For just a moment you curse yourself for deciding to handcuff him, knowing just how good his long fingers would feel inside of you right now, but then you remember you were gonna make this a tedious task for him on purpose, and so you push that thought away.

“Doing really good for me…” you praise him. “But… it’s gonna take you ages to make me cum like that.” The challenging look you send him is met with acceptance, and as he gently bites down on your clit this time, your breath hitches in return, a wave of pleasure shooting right through you like lightning. And he doesn’t miss the opportunity to send you a shit-eating grin upon seeing how he just affected you, but before you can punish him for it, his tongue is already plunging back into your cunt, and you arch your back, pushing your core towards him. He hums at your reactions, pulling back out to draw a few circles onto your clit, and then diving right back in, lapping at your walls. As he repeats that process a few times, you can finally feel your high starting to build up somewhere in the distance, and yet you know this much won’t be enough to throw you over the edge.

“Shit, do more…” you say, and he continues eating you out eagerly, and then finally he angles his face so the tip of his nose brushes against your sensitive bud with each time his tongue fucks into you, and another moan falls from your lips. “Like that…” you say, breathless, and you tighten your grip on his hair. “Keep going just like that…” And he does, eyes closed as he continues licking up into you, nose rubbing up and down on your clit. You spread your legs apart just a little further, wriggling as close to him as you possibly can in order to allow him to reach deeper up into you, and when he moans in response the vibrations shooting up your cunt make you shiver involuntarily. “Fuck, Jongho…” you curse, and hearing his name only serves to make him more eager. A few more strokes of his tongue against that delicious spot right inside of you, and you come undone, your walls contracting around his wet muscle as you let your high overwhelm you.

“Did so well for me…” you praise him as you let go of his hair, and he pulls back. He licks up your juices glistening on his lips, and as you look down on him, you can unmistakably see how much eating you out has turned him on as well. “Get up,” you say, and he does. “And turn around.” You take the handcuffs off him, and as soon as he’s facing you again, you sit back against the headrest of your bed, and you make him come closer, until you have him kneeling right in front of you.

“Get yourself off. I wanna watch,” you command. He doesn’t think twice until his large hand wraps around his hard cock, and the heavy sighs he lets you hear as he jerks himself off tell you how much he must’ve been needing this. He falls forward, his free hand supporting him against the headboard right next to you, and like this, slightly leaned over your body, face distorted in desperation for a release, he ruts into his hand. His eyes wander your figure, fist tightly squeezing around his length, and within mere seconds he cums with a broken moan, spilling his seed all over you. Feeling the sticky white on your stomach and chest, you grant him a few moments to catch his breath, and then you reach out to push him back onto his heels.

“Look at the mess you made…” you growl, and in the way he takes in the image in front of him, you can clearly tell he likes the result of what he’s done. “And you didn’t even last more than a hot minute, huh?” you mock him. Reaching for the handcuffs you had simply tossed aside on the bed, you make him hold out his wrists for you to link them back together, in front of him this time. “Clean up your mess.” You think maybe it’s because making him struggle a bit just earlier that he doesn’t hesitate, but either way you make sure to praise him for getting to work almost immediately. He bends over, tongue lapping at your body to lick off his seed, and he doesn’t frown or complain - he simply does what you’ve asked of him. And the way he so eagerly cleans you up is making you want to force him to please you all over again, and suddenly you remember the question San had asked you when you last saw him. 

“How is he?” The words echo in your head as Jongho reaches your core, his position looking somewhat sorry, but that doesn’t stop him from lapping at your still sensitive pussy as soon as you give him the okay. 

“Wait,” you say, making him sit up briefly, just long enough so you could take the handcuffs off him. You trust that he wouldn’t do anything stupid at this point, so you fling the restraints to the side, and you lie down flat on your back so he could reach where you want him more comfortably. “Get to work, pretty boy,” you say, and he does, throwing your legs over his shoulders and burying his face in your core.

“Doing so good…” you mutter as you watch him, lips wrapped around your clit and sucking, while he pushes two of his fingers into you, stretching you out, and you throw your head back from the feeling of being filled up like this. You had been right, his fingers inside you combined with his mouth working your bundle of nerves really do feel amazing.

Amazing. That’s what he is. But you don’t say that out loud. Instead, you keep urging him on to continue what he’s doing with all other sorts of praise, bucking your hips into his touch, and making him fuck you from one high to the next for however long you feel like it.

“That’s a good boy… shit… listen so well… such a good toy for me…”

“Sorry I’m late!” One of your friends rushes towards the table as Wooyoung is in the process of pouring everyone their first round of shots. 

“You have to drink two for being late!” someone else yells and everyone agrees with laughter. Meanwhile you’re busy grilling some meat for everyone - pork belly, the usual for when all of you manage to make time for you to gather like in the old days. The soju shots are handed out, and you all say cheers, emptying the tiny glasses at once. You continue the conversation you’ve been having before the late comer announced her arrival, and soon enough, Wooyoung decides it’s time for another round of shots.

“What’s with you today?” Hongjoong, who sits right across from him on the round table asks. 

“What do you mean, what’s with me?” the younger man answers. “I’m here to have fun. But I can get you a glass of water in case you’re not.” His cynical comment evokes laughter, and Hongjoong fires back,

“Bring it on.” Next to you, San shakes his head.

“These two…”

“Yeah,” you agree, cutting the meat into bite sized pieces for everyone. “I bet by the end of this at least one of them is passed out on the toilet again.” San smiles, yelling over the table at his boyfriend,

“I’m not carrying you home this time, princess!” However, Wooyoung seems to have heard nothing but the last part, because now he’s grinning from ear to ear, blushing, handing out the glasses to everyone.

“Pff,” you snort upon witnessing their interaction, and when you see the display of your phone lighting up on the table, you shift your attention there. Handing San the tongs and the pair of scissors to continue cooking the meat, you unlock your phone to read the full message sent by Jongho.

“I think I’ll buy it, but I’ll wait for it to go on sale. Btw, I’m free on saturday, if you want to meet up?” You type up a quick answer.

“can’t make saturday. meatball has a vet appointment and then i gotta run some errands ㅜㅜ what about next week?”

You put down the device and return your attention to the conversation at the table, but soon enough your phone lights up again.

“Actually, can we call real quick?”

“sure” You get up, not saying a word, expecting you’ll be back soon enough anyway, and then you leave the busy restaurant. Outside, it is definitely a lot quieter, and standing at the side of the road, you give Jongho a call.

“Y/N? Hi.”

“Hi… what is it?”

“Ah… I just thought it’d be quicker this way.”

“Oh,” you let out a laugh. “I thought something happened.”

“No, no, don’t worry. I just… actually prefer calls to texting.”

“Oh. I get that. So?” You pause for a short moment. “Next week?”

“I could do Friday.”

“Works for me. At 5?”

“7? I’m not sure when I’ll be able to leave work…” he says, sounding somewhat apologetic.

“7 it is,” you reply.

“Nice,” you hear him say.

“Where do you want to meet? We could go to this café near me, the one I told you about last time.”

“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come to my place? I think I need some peace and quiet after a full week of work.”

“Sure,” you smile even though he can’t see you. “Your place then. You have to send me the address.”

“Will do.” 

“Great,” you say, and then the line goes quiet. Yet neither of you hangs up, so eventually you add, “So… how was your day?”

“It was alright. I only had one meeting in the morning. The company had stew for lunch today, so I ate at the cafeteria for the first time in a while.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“And you?”

“Ah, I’m out with friends right now. You know, my old high school friends.”

“I hope you have fun, then!”

“Yeah, it’s always fun when we see each other,” you assure him, and somehow the way you’re exchanging trivialities like this makes you feel a little closer to him. “I feel like one of them is trying to get all of us drunk today though. So we see how that ends,” you laugh, and so does Jongho.

“Well, I happen to know a very effective recipe for a hangover soup. So if you need me, just call,” he offers.

“Thanks,” you say. “Not trying to reach that state, but I’ll keep it in mind. Oh, but, I think I should go back in. I’m in charge of the grill today, so they’ll start complaining if I don’t come back to feed them soon.”

“Right,” he answers. “Then go. We’ll talk.”

“Yeah. Hanging up!” 

“Bye,” he greets, and for a second you hesitate to press the red button to end the call, and you sigh when he beats you to it. As you’re putting your phone into your pocket, you find a somewhat appalled San approaching you.

“Y/N, is everything alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just… you were suddenly gone, so I thought I’d check on you,” he says, seemingly embarrassed about how gravely he had misjudged the situation. You shoot him a smile.

“It’s okay, no need to worry. I was just talking to Jongho about meeting him.”

“Oh?” Now your friend raises an eyebrow at you suspiciously. “I thought you didn’t want to go on dates with him…?”

“It’s not a date!” you immediately refute. “We’re just seeing each other as friends. Is that so bad?”

“No?” San fails to repress a grin and he teases, “You sure it’s not a date?”

“Very sure,” you say. After all, you and Jongho had agreed to keep things friendly outside of the bedroom for now. “It’s not a date if the two of us meet up either, is it now?” you state, pointing at San and then yourself.

“No,” your friend agrees.

“See? Nothing to giggle about then. Let’s go back in,” you decide, and you put your hand onto his shoulder to push him towards the direction you both came from.

As soon as you enter Jongho’s apartment, you look around in awe. It’s neat, it’s modern, it’s spacious, and the rent is probably in a range you’d never even dream of earning in your lifetime ever. The walls are all white, the furniture is mostly black with some silver metal rods connecting everything elegantly, you find a grey rug underneath the coffee table that has a glass pane as its top, and the windows are tall - you figure they let in a lot of light during the day, but now, in the evening, they grant a magnificent view of the lights and the bustling nightlife in the city underneath. 

“Whoa…” you gasp, slipping out of your shoes and walking inside right behind Jongho. “So that’s how rich people live, huh.”

“Ahh, it’s not that impressive,” he waves it off, but you shake your head.

“Uhm, excuse me, you do know what my flat looks like, yeah? This here is more than twice the size!” you refute, and then you add, “I just think you’re lucky to be able to afford to live so comfortably.”

“Right,” Jongho agrees, and he loosens his tie as he walks over to the open kitchen. “Do you want anything? Water? Alcohol?” 

“What, wanna get drunk tonight?” you ask with a grin on your lips and you follow him. Catching a glimpse of the contents of one of the cabinets, you can see he doesn’t have a lot of tableware - which makes sense, considering he lives alone. 

“Honestly, I need it…” the guy sighs, looking away. The bags under his eyes are apparent, exhaustion carved into his features, and you wonder if it’s from the usual stress or if something additional happened. “Do you like drinking?”

“From time to time, yeah,” you answer, and you watch him walking out into the living room, opening a different cupboard there, to reveal several bottles of assorted alcoholic beverages. “I take it you enjoy it quite a bit?” you guess, and he gives you a tired laugh.

“Yeah… how about this?” He holds up a bottle of whiskey, and you wonder how many hours you’d have to work to be able to afford an expensive looking bottle like this.

“Whatever you can recommend,” you say. “I don’t know that much about what brands are good.”

“Then we’ll go with this,” he decides, and after bringing over two tumblers and pouring each of you a glass, he sits down on the sofa, inviting you to do the same. 

“Cheers,” he raises his glass, and you follow suit.

“Cheers.” You end up quite enjoying the rich taste of the beverage, along with the slight burn it leaves as it goes down your throat. You make sure to drink it slowly, savouring the taste, and yet soon enough you both find yourselves having emptied your glasses.

“Seconds?” Jongho offers, and you nod. “Oh, do you want ice in it?”

“Sure,” you say, adding with a grin as you watch him walking over to the kitchen for the ice. “You are trying to get me drunk, aren’t you?”

“No, no,” he denies it with a shy smile on his face, and you both laugh. You use the few moments that it takes him until he comes back to scan your surroundings again. There’s not many decorations on the shelves or the wall, a picture that has not been hung up yet and a candle that looks like it’s been lit maybe once. You also find a guitar in one corner of the room - a classical one, and you wonder if he’s good at playing it.

“There you go.” He returns with an adequate amount of ice, and he pours the both of you another drink. You watch as he brings the glass to his lips, taking a sip, and savouring it for a moment before he lets it glide down his throat.

“Had a rough day?” you too take a sip after posing your question.

“Yeah…” the guy next to you answers, and as he puts down his glass, his gaze finds you. “I need a distraction, I think.”

“A distraction? What are you thinking about?”

“You know… what we always do.”

“Ah…” you sigh and you set your glass down on the coffee table in front of you, before turning to him, leaning your body against the backrest of the sofa and placing your palm on top of his thigh. “I don’t do scenes when I’ve had a drink.” You can see the disappointment reflecting in his gaze, though Jongho tries his best not to show it. It’s enough to make you feel bad for having to turn him down though - even when you know it’s for the best. “I could… offer something else though.”

“What?” he asks, looking directly at you with his head cocked slightly to the side, his gaze taking in your features.

“Well… for starters, you seem like you could use a nice hot bath,” you suggest, your thumb drawing circles onto the fabric of his dress pants. “And then you can tell me all about what made you this stressed and tired. Does that sound good?” He nods, his eyes not leaving your face as your fingertips dance from his leg to his stomach, hand coming to a rest there. “And then maybe I’ll make you feel good too… just nothing too extreme today, yeah?” You reach up into his hair, combing it back with your fingers, and at this point his stare lingers on your lips so very obviously. Still, you don’t give him what he wants just yet. Instead, you get up and you position yourself right in front of him, cupping his chin in your hand.

“What?” you chuckle, while he stares up at you with round eyes. “Want a kiss?” Jongho nods and you reach for your glass that is still half full. “I have a better idea.” You take a sip of the cool liquid, and then you bring the tumbler to his lips, feeding him the remainder of the alcohol inside. You watch as he drinks up, feeling the movements along his throat with each gulp he takes, and he blushes upon hearing you mutter,

“Swallow. That’s a good boy.” With him expectantly staring up at you as soon as the glass is empty, you brush your thumb across his bottom lip, and his eyes flutter shut for a moment upon feeling your touch. You lean in, finally granting him a kiss, and as your tongue licks into his mouth, you can still taste the remainder of the alcohol. 

“Let’s go?” you then say, speaking softly, while you part from him slowly. He merely follows you into the bathroom wordlessly, giving you a good idea of just how tired he is, and as you think to yourself that either way this isn’t a state where you’d want to do a scene with him, you also feel the strong urge to take care of him in any way you can bubbling up from deep inside. 

And so you take him by the hand after you close the bathroom door behind you, and you scatter a few kisses in his neck at which he lets out a deep sigh, before you undo his tie for him and you toss it to the side. He reaches up to unbutton his white shirt, but you gently push his hands away, whispering,

“Let me do it.” You take off his clothes one by one, filling the tub up with some nice hot water, and you add some bath salt that you find in one of the cabinets. Ridding yourself of your clothes as well, you get into the bathtub first, sitting at one end of it so you could let him comfortably lean his back against your chest, and as soon as he’s all settled in, your arms snake around his waist. His eyes fall shut with a groan almost immediately, and as your lips brush against his temple, you stop yourself from placing a kiss there. You notice your face has heated up from the warm water, the alcohol in your veins, or maybe the way you feel you’ve never quite been as intimate with him as right now, and you reach over to the bottle of shampoo sitting beside the bathtub. You squirt a generous amount of it into your hands, and as your fingers are working the shampoo into his hair, gently massaging his scalp, you can feel his body relax against you, along with him letting out a deep sigh.

“Feels good?” you ask, and he mumbles,

“Myeah…” 

“So… you wanna talk about anything? Or just stay like this and have me spoil you a bit?” you ask, and it takes him some time to decide on an answer.

“Mmmm… both?” he says while the corners of his mouth curl up into a weak smile. 

“Alright,” you mutter, rinsing his hair, making sure none of the soap gets into his face.

“It’s just…” he sighs, knitting his eyebrows. “Some days I don’t think I can keep doing this anymore.”

“Your job?” you say.

“Yeah… I mean…” he pauses for a while to collect his thoughts. “I’m given more and more responsibilities. I’m not sure when my father is planning on retiring exactly, but it feels like he’s preparing to do it soon? Maybe within the next few years I’ll be able to follow in his footsteps. He hasn’t once asked me whether I really wanted that or not.”

“He just assumes you will do it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you are doing it…” you throw in, your fingertips dancing down to his chest. 

“What choice do I have?” Jongho responds. And though you decided long ago that you yourself would walk a different path than the one set out for you, it’s not like you don’t understand why he’s doing it. 

“You’re loyal to your father,” you conclude.

“Yeah…” A bitter laugh escapes him. “Sometimes I wish I was brave enough to rebel.” Combing your fingers through his wet hair, you hum at his words.

“For somebody who needs to be coerced into following orders when it comes to me, you sure are timid.”

“Whatever…” He pouts at your observation, but soon enough the exhaustion takes back over, and his facial features relax as he leans his head against your shoulder. You let your palms wander down his torso slowly, and when you graze his core, he lets out a soft moan.

“I hope you can do what you really want to do,” you then say, as you wrap your fingers around him, feeling him grow as you slowly move up and down his length. “I don’t know how realistic it is to change professions from one day to the other. But I really hope there’s a way for you to do music.”

“Mhm…” he sighs as his body reacts to your touch. 

“If I can help you with this somehow… you know where to find me,” you add, and when your fist reaches his tip, he whines a little.

“I know…” he says, and after a few more strokes of your hand he proceeds, “You’re already helping a lot.” You smile at his words, and at the way he sucks in a breath as the pleasure flows through his body. “But…”

“Hm?”

“No games today?” He raises an eyebrow at you, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, and you have to think for a second to understand what he’s referring to.

“Ah, no… I told you we’re not doing anything crazy while half drunk,” you respond.

“I know, but… this just seems very out of character,” he chuckles, and it’s not like you don’t find yourself agreeing.

“I just wanna make you feel good today,” you say. “You don’t like that?”

“No, no, I do…” he sighs and you know he’s getting closer and closer upon hearing him moaning. 

“I just…” you say, and you earn yourself a disappointed gasp when you stop your movements. “I’ve actually… had something on my mind as well.”

“What is it?” he asks, though it takes him a while to swallow the frustration of you ceasing your touch. Wrapping your arms around his torso now, you speak,

“I’ve just been wondering… if it’s really okay for me to do to you what I’m doing…”

“What do you mean?”

“Forcing you into submission.”

“Ahh…” Silence follows, and Jongho puts one hand over yours that’s resting on his stomach. 

“It’s just… sometimes I wonder if you really want that. Because it’s often so hard for you to let go and go there.”

“I do…” His answer is merely a whisper, and somehow you’re not convinced.

“You sure?” You feel him squeezing your hand in his, and he turns his head as far as he can so he could look at your face properly.

“It’s hard for me, that’s true,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it… once you do get me to submit…” You repeat his words in your mind, hoping they would wash away your doubts. You can trust him on things like this, you feel that deep inside, but sometimes you just can’t help but wonder. “And besides… you always take really good care of me. Even now you said you wouldn’t do a scene when you had something to drink. I assume not everyone is that responsible.”

“That’s true…” He turns his head back to look straight ahead, and you feel him intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I feel like I’m in safe hands with you. And if you ever do something I don’t enjoy, I will let you know.”

“Right… thank you,” you mutter, burying your face in the crook of his neck and resting your head there for a while. “That’s reassuring to hear.” You stay like this for some time, just holding him close and listening to each other’s breathing as you enjoy the warmth of the water. “You know what I think?” you eventually speak up. 

“What?” Jongho answers with a bit of a delay, making you think he might’ve been dozing off a bit.

“We should get ourselves to bed. You’ve had a rough day, and you need the rest.”

“So… you’re staying overnight?” he assumes, sounding a little surprised.

“If it’s okay with you… I think the trains will stop running soon anyway,” you make up an excuse, though you’re not exactly sure what time it is. But either way he doesn’t question it and you both get out of the water, wrapping yourselves into two large towels to dry off. You grab a smaller one to throw over his head, and as you roughly rub it against his wet hair, he sends you a boyish grin that makes your heart beat just a little bit faster.

When you’re about to reach for your clothes, Jongho takes you by the hand instead, and next thing you know your back meets the tiles on his bathroom wall, and his lips connect to yours. After but a moment of hesitation, you do the only thing that comes to mind, and you kiss him back, lips moving against each other in a slow rhythm. Drawing closer, his hands find purchase on your hips, and when he presses his body against yours, you moan quietly into his mouth. None of you speaks a word when you part, and though you had planned to simply slip under the covers together and tuck him in, you don’t feel any kind of objection within yourself against where he’s taking this night instead.

You stumble into the bedroom, your towels scattered somewhere on the floor, and when he gently pushes you down on the sheets, crawling on top of you, you can hear him whisper,

“Is this alright with you?” 

“Yeah…” you answer when his lips graze your neck, and your hand finds its way up into his hair as he begins trailing tired kisses down your sternum and belly. At this point you can see just how badly he needs some sleep, but even when you try to convey that to him, he shakes his head.

“Just a bit longer…” he mutters as he lies down beside you, rolling you over onto your side so your back is facing him. “Need you…” You suck in a sharp breath as he mutters those words, and his hot breath hits the back of your neck before you feel his lips connecting to the skin there. He pulls you closer by your hip, until you can feel his length against your behind, and his fingertips wander towards your core while he keeps kissing and nipping at your neck and shoulders.

“Shit…” you breathe, and your body immediately reacts to him running a finger through your folds and then dipping it inside your wet cunt effortlessly. He moans at the sensation and at how ready you are for him, and he snakes his other arm around you from underneath to keep you as close to him as possible. You whine when he slips out of you, lifting your leg up a bit instead for better access, and when you feel his tip grazing your pussy, a shiver full of expectation runs down your spine. You’re so used to long and intense sessions when you’re fucking someone, always staying on top of the situation and keeping control, but every once in a while this is nice too - or maybe your body and mind are reacting to him especially strongly. Either way, you moan when he pushes up into you, and his name escapes you when he begins to roll his hips. His thrusts are sloppy and lack control, purely guided by desperation and the need to be inside of you, but combined with the way his fingers are drawing precise circles against your clit, he’s getting you right where you wants you anyway. And with your back arched just at the right angle, he hits that sweet spot deep inside your cunt with every time he thrusts back in.

“Fuck…” he curses in between letting you hear the prettiest moans, and the sound of his voice only adds to the pleasure rushing through your body. 

“Jongho…” you breathe as he ruts into you faster. “Don’t stop… don’t you dare stop…” He whines in response, his dick twitching inside of you, and you know he’s just as close as you are. A few more thrusts and you feel your walls contract around his size, your high washing over you as a broken moan falls from your lips. He fucks you right through it, when mere seconds later, he too comes undone, teeth sinking into the flesh on your shoulder as he spills inside you. 

You stay just like this, with his arms wrapped around you, and him still buried deep inside you as you both catch your breaths, coming down from your respective highs. The tip of his nose grazes your neck as he lets out a sleepy groan, and you reach for his hand that’s resting on your chest, bringing it up to your lips. Your mind clouded by the blissful aftermath of your orgasm and probably the whiskey too, you press a kiss to his palm, finding yourself mouthing the words you wouldn’t dare speak out loud.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Him holding you as close as he possibly can, he drifts off to sleep behind you while his grip loosens a bit, and feeling safe and sound in his embrace, soon enough you too find yourself slipping into dreamland.

You wake up the next morning, a blanket having been pulled over both your and Jongho’s bodies at some point during the night, and as you blink against the light falling into the room through the windows with the curtains still open, you spot his sleeping face right next to you. It’s not the first time you’ve awoken next to him, yet somehow it feels different than it used to now. The little pout on his puffy lips makes you smile, and while the sunlight slowly wakes up your mind, you wonder whether you should stay in bed like this for a while, or see if there’s anything to make breakfast out of in his fridge. You choose the latter eventually, quietly deciding to borrow a t-shirt of his to throw on, and after you’ve managed to find your underpants in the pile of clothes you had left behind in the bathroom, you make your way to the kitchen. Looking through the scarce ingredients that greet you there, you figure Jongho doesn’t cook for himself a whole lot, but some eggs and rice should be enough for a simple breakfast. 

Soon enough, he appears behind you in his kitchen, using the opportunity to sleepily hug you from behind as he peeks over your shoulder.

“What you making?” he asks, his voice not yet warmed up, and you shake him off with a giggle to move towards the stove, cracking two eggs into a pan.

“Just this with some rice,” you answer. “It’s not a very fancy breakfast but I thought it’s better than nothing.”

“Hmm,” he makes a noise in return. “We could’ve ordered something, you know?” 

“That’s what I was trying to avoid, dumbass,” you laugh.

“Hey!” he exclaims in offense, and you shoot him a cheeky grin.

“Go wash up, it’ll be ready in a few minutes. Oh, also,” you stop him from running off right away. “Coffee?”

“Sure,” he answers, opening a cupboard to get two mugs out of it, and he gets to brewing some on the expensive looking coffee machine on the counter.

“I could’ve made it too,” you say, heating up the rice in his microwave, but Jongho just shakes his head. 

You carry the minimalistic breakfast over to the dinner table, sitting down across from each other, and you eat in silence. You find there’s some irony behind you sitting in such a fancy apartment, owned by someone who has more than enough money, and then you’re having such a simple and cheap dish with him. When you’re both done eating and you reach for the dishes to collect them and carry them back to the kitchen, he beats you to it.

“You go brush your teeth first, I’ll take care of this,” Jongho mutters, shaking his head at your attempt to clean up. “There should be a spare toothbrush in the drawer under the sink.” And so you leave him to it, finishing your morning routine in the bathroom, and soon enough he joins you.

“So? How are you planning on spending the day?” you ask, both of you back in the living room, lounging on his sofa.

“I usually don’t do much on the weekends,” he says. “I’ll go work out later, and then probably just catch up on some more sleep.” 

“Makes sense,” you retort, and your eyes find the guitar you had already noticed yesterday. Pointing at it with your chin, you ask, “You play?”

“Ah, yeah. It’s been a while though.” He gets up to bring it over, tuning it with the help of some app on his phone, and as he’s getting ready to play, he clears his throat a few times. “I can show you a bit if you want… my voice isn’t warmed up though, so sorry if anything sounds off,” he explains, an embarrassed smile playing on his lips, and then he begins strumming a few chords. You listen in anticipation, and though you knew you liked his voice before, you find yourself taken aback when you actually hear him sing for the first time. He’s playing a song you haven’t heard before, a Korean ballad, so not exactly your go-to genre of music. But you have to say it suits him very well, and so you find yourself enjoying the music he’s playing for you, finding that the song ends much too soon.

“Wow…” You give him an applause, causing him to look away a bit awkwardly.

“I’m not that good,” he says, but you disagree.

“No, that was really good actually,” you say. “I didn’t know you could sing that well!” He hesitates for a while, before taking the compliment.

“Thank you…” As he puts the guitar aside, you wonder whether you should stop him and ask him to play something else, but he ends up being faster in starting to talk.

“You see, I don’t have much time for music these days.”

“That’s a shame…” you say, and he nods in agreement.

“Yeah… but you know how it is.” You sense a bitterness behind his words that hurts to witness, and you wonder if there’s anything you could say that would comfort him. “Things have been decided for me. And the decision wasn’t this.”

“You should’ve been able to choose for yourself.”

“Yeah. My brother got that privilege. Not me.”

“How come?”

“He got to pursue his dream. When he was in middle school my parents had a talk with him to ensure he could do what he wants. Meanwhile they told me that I’m the future of my dad’s company, and I need to study well and do what they want.”

“That’s… really unfair,” you say.

“I guess it’s the burden of the first born,” he reckons, but there’s no sincerity behind his words. Maybe it’s something he’s been telling himself to make things a bit more bearable.

“Still…” You reach out, wanting to comfort him, but you hesitate to put your hand into his. Instead, your palm somewhat awkwardly lands on his shoulder, and he turns his head to look you in the eye. His gaze lingers on your face, taking in your features one by one, and once he can tear himself away, he continues.

“You know, I get that my father doesn’t want to give up the family business. It’s taken him and his parents a long time to build it up and to make it as successful as it is now. But… some days I wish it had been different.”

“I know.”

“Having a choice… must be nice.” You gulp. You are the one who had a choice here. And for a second the fear that maybe he resents you for it takes a hold of you, and you try to push it down with all your might. “Ah…” Jongho sighs, looking up at the ceiling now as he reaches for the hand resting on his shoulder, his warm palm covering it. “I’m jealous of him. To be honest, I’m jealous of you too.” Your breath gets stuck in your throat, but when he turns to give you a look filled with warmth, you find yourself relaxing a bit.

“Who wouldn’t be?” you say.

“Right…” He wraps his hand around yours, peeling it off his shoulder and instead intertwining his fingers with yours. You draw closer, until your faces are mere inches apart. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s okay,” you answer, shaking your head ever so slightly, and you find him staring at your lips. “I got a little scared there. But I know you wouldn’t take it out on me.” He closes the distance between you, but instead of kissing you, he buries his head in your neck, and he lets go of your hand to pull you closer and into his lap by your hips instead. You don’t fight it, quite the opposite - you let your lips ghost over his nape, and once you’re comfortably settled on top of him, your mouth searches for his, melting against him in a slow and lazy kiss. You permit him to have his fingertips wandering your figure, soft touches received through the oversized shirt you’re wearing. He nibbles on your lower lip, drawing a breathy moan out of you, and in return you roll your hips against him, taking back control of the kiss in the blink of an eye. You separate eventually, breathless, and you don’t hesitate to move on to his neck, brushing your lips against his mole there. One hand finds the short hair at the back of his head to tug at, and you make him expose his neck to you, giving you access to wherever you want it. Teeth sunk into his skin and your tongue pressing against his pulse makes him push you closer into him with his hand placed on the small of your back, and when you start sucking a mark into his nape, he hums at the feeling. You take your time with it, nibbling on the skin until it begins to change color, and even though you’ve chosen a spot that’s hard to cover up, he doesn’t stop you. Instead, his heavy breaths and the way you can feel him growing against your core tell you he likes what you’re doing, and once you’re done you make sure to soothe the spot with a few gentle kisses. You sit up straight to take a look at your work and then at his face, half lidded eyes watching you attentively.

“Say…” you begin, putting a finger over his lips and then tracing a line down from his chin, over his adam’s apple and towards the base of his neck. “How about a different kind of workout for today?”

“What kind?” Jongho asks, his voice low, and you’re sure he knows exactly what you’re thinking of.

“Well…” you mumble, drawing near until you’re sure he can feel your hot breath on his face. “We’re both sober now, so…”

“I think I’m in trouble.” San stares at you from across the table of the fast food place where you decided to have an emergency meeting during your lunch break. You know you don’t have time to beat around the bush, as you will both have to be back at your work places in less than an hour, so you ended up simply blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

“What do you mean?” Concern is painted all over his face as he picks up his sandwich, stopping himself in the process of biting into it to respond to you.

“Uh…” That’s the only sound that makes it out of your mouth as your gaze drops from your friend’s face to the food on your tray.

“Y/N, did something happen…?”

“...I think I’m in love with him.” 

“Ahhh…” Now San is leaning back in his chair, a smug grin appearing on his lips. “I knew it.”

“Shut up.”

“I knew it!”

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“Alright, alright.” Still grinning, he takes a big bite of his egg sandwich, and you do the same.

“I just… I’m scared,” you admit once you’ve swallowed the food in your mouth. “I know I’m repeating myself here, just…”

“I know,” San says. “You’re scared of getting hurt again.”

“Yeah… maybe,” you answer. “Actually, I don’t think… he would betray me like that. But… yeah, I guess the fear is still there somewhere.”

“That makes sense,” your friend responds. “But… it’s good to see you heal.” His words make you halt for a moment.

“Right… I suppose that does mean… I’m healing. But…” you let your gaze wander around the restaurant, “have I healed enough?”

“Only you know that.” You lower your head.

“I’m scared I’m not ready yet after all, and that I’ll end up hurting him…” you mutter.

“Y/N,” San says, reaching across the table to put his hand over yours, making you look him right in the eye. “I think you worry too much.” You sigh.

“I know that too…”

“And besides,” he continues, “how else are you going to heal wounds caused by a relationship other than in a relationship?”

“Right,” you find yourself agreeing, and at the same time you wonder if maybe there’s wounds you have helped Jongho heal. You’ve done a lot for him, you know that, so why wouldn’t it be possible that he’s also doing a lot for you?

“You know what I think?” San says.

“What?”

“You’re not gonna like this, but… as much as you’re trying to help that guy let go of his need to be in control… I think that’s something you too would benefit from practicing sometimes.” His words hit you like a speeding truck. You’ve actually never thought of it this way, but now that he’s laid this aspect of you bare, you can’t deny it’s always been there. For a while, you find yourself wondering since when you’ve been like that, and part of the answer is probably always. But you do remember moments where you let go of that control, where you quite willingly put it into somebody else’s hands actually. So where did all that go?

Oh. You hold your breath for a second. It was probably your ex who made you close yourself up to the possibility of letting someone else take care of you, take a bit of control away from you every once in a while. Because you couldn’t trust him.

“You’re right,” you retort dryly. “I didn’t like hearing that. But I think you’re right.” San shoots you a smile, his dimples showing.

“Then go tell him how you feel, and you can figure things out. You don’t have to rush into a relationship and, I don’t know, get married and move country right away,” he reminds you with a lighthearted tone. “You can take things as slow as you need them to be. Though I’m sure now I’m the one repeating himself.” He lures a chuckle out of you, as you manage to push the thoughts of your past relationship aside.

“Yeah… I wonder if I have the courage yet,” you respond. “Thanks for listening, anyway.”

“That’s what friends are for, don’t mention it.”

You stretch your back with your arms thrown above your head while you groan, and you don’t miss the amused gaze Jongho gives you for it.

“What?” you ask with a grin on your lips. “Sitting still for almost three hours is taking its toll on me!” And now he’s laughing at your words, and seeing the expression on his face makes your heart beat a little faster.

“I didn’t say anything,” he refutes, holding out his hand to take your empty popcorn bag from you. “I’ll be right back.” You see him walk over to the trash bins to throw it away for you, when the song played in the lobby of the cinema you came to watch a movie you’ve both been dying to see catches your attention. 

If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to you - you hum along to the melody, and when Jongho is back by your side, you point towards the general direction of where the nearest speaker must be. 

“I really like this song,” you comment, and he listens for a short while before his face lights up and he recognizes it.

“Oh, me too actually,” he says. “I tried playing it a few days ago, but I think I already forgot half the chords again.” You make your way out of the building, and when he’s getting ready to say goodbye, you speak up before he can.

“Your place is close to here, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then how about we go together and I drop you off. You didn’t come here by car, did you?”

“Ah, no. I walked,” he says. “I thought some exercise would do me good after today. Though it’s only like ten minutes.”

“Then let’s go!” 

You chat some more about the movie and the actors on the way, and somehow you both end up coming to the conclusion that it didn’t quite meet your expectations.

“The actress who played the female lead did a really good job though,” Jongho throws in, and you agree.

“Right, I’ve only seen her in dramas so far, and I liked her acting better here,” you say. “Are you a fan of her?”

“A bit, yeah,” he admits, and the urge to tease him about suddenly getting shy is overwhelming.

“So you like her, huh? You think she’s pretty?”

“Well.. yes,” he says, and you chuckle. 

“So she’s your type?”

“I don’t know, actually,” he says as you arrive in front of the apartment complex where he lives, and he fishes the keys out of his pocket. “I maybe wouldn’t go that far.”

“I see.”

“Then…”

“Yeah…” You both hesitate, and as he opens his mouth to say goodbye, you cut him off. “Actually, can I come in for a few minutes?”

“Sure,” he says. “You can stay for longer than that too.” He lets the both of you inside and you take the elevator to his floor. Having arrived in his flat, you both slip out of your shoes and leave them by the door before stepping inside. You know what you came here to say, yet somehow now that you’re supposed to start the conversation, nothing will come out of your mouth. Torn in your mind, you fidget with the sleeves of your shirt, and when you hear Jongho’s voice you snap out of it.

“Did you want to talk about something?” he asks knowingly, and you nod. “Then let’s sit down first of all.”

“I… haven’t been seeing other partners for a while, actually,” you blurt out before he can start walking over to his sofa, and he raises his eyebrows at you, seeming a little perplexed. 

“That’s… great I guess?” he answers, before correcting himself, “I mean… is it?” 

“I-” The words threaten to get stuck in your throat again, but you take in a deep breath and before the doubts in your mind can set in again, you say, “I’m falling in love with you… is what I’m trying to say.” And now the expression on Jongho’s face changes to genuine surprise, before you find a slowly growing smile appearing on his lips. “But… it still scares me,” you add, and wordlessly the man in front of you takes you by the hands, leading you over to the sofa and sitting down with you. He too seems to need a few moments to find the right words, as you see him looking around the room before he finally speaks up.

“I still… feel the same about you,” he starts, his gaze directed at you now. “I’m in love with you too. And I get that it’s still hard for you. So, we don’t have to go anywhere you’re not ready for.”

“I just… I know you won’t hurt me on purpose… but a part of me…” You struggle to keep going. You don’t want to project your past relationship onto Jongho, and yet you just cannot get that voice at the back of your head that’s constantly screaming danger to shut up.

“I know.” He gives your hands a light squeeze, and the gesture tears you out of your endless worries and brings you back to reality. To him. “And it’s not like my past relationship isn’t still haunting me either, to be quite honest.” Considering how long it’s been for him, you’re a little surprised. “But I think… maybe… we can just keep going at the pace we had so far. And see where it takes us.”

“You’re probably right…” you find yourself agreeing with him. You want anything but to rush into another relationship, because you know you still need time more than anything. But thinking about it now, you’ve actually been going at just the right pace all this time. “No, you’re right,” you repeat, and he shows you a reassuring smile. Hope grows in your chest that maybe, just maybe this might just work out for the two of you. No - that hope has been there for a long time, you’ve just never had the courage to admit it up until now.

“Oh,” he then exclaims, getting up. “Wait.”

“For what?” you ask, but you don’t receive an answer. So you simply watch as he turns on his radio, and then he searches for something on his phone, before you hear a song starting to play, and within the first few beats you recognize it as the song you’ve pointed out to him back at the cinema. Jongho puts his phone on top of one of the half empty shelves and then approaches you, holding a hand out to you.

“Do you like dancing?”

“Dancing?” The horror on your face must be apparent, because he briefly laughs at your reaction when he comes to a halt right in front of you and you hesitantly get up. “I… don’t know how to dance…” you admit, and he grabs you by your hands, pulling you aside to where there’s more space.

“It’s okay,” he mutters, placing his palm onto the small of your back and waiting for you to hold onto him. “I’ll lead you.” He begins moving along to the music, leaving you no choice but to follow as his grip on you remains steady. Your steps feel heavy, and you’re clumsily following along wherever he decides to sway next, but soon enough you recognize a pattern behind his movements, and you find yourself feeling a bit more comfortable in his hold.

“You’re doing well,” he says, and you crack a smile. This is probably the first time you’ve heard those words from him and not vice versa, and for some strange reason pride swells in your chest. You find yourself humming along to the singers on the track as you let go of the fear of embarrassing yourself or stumbling over your own feet, and you find him mouthing a few of the lyrics as well.

I don't even wanna do this anymore Cause you already know what you mean to me And our love's the only war worth fighting for.

You sway from side to side, the distance between your bodies closing almost naturally, until you have your head leaning against his chest, allowing him to just hold you close as you move in tune with the song’s rhythm. You close your eyes, and in that moment it dawns on you that you trust him to show you the right direction, to hold onto you so you won’t fall, no matter what. 

Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow Nobody's promised tomorrow So I'ma love you every night like it's the last night.

“You know,” he breathes into your ear.

“Hm?”

“I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now… Thanks for becoming someone I can rely on.” His sudden confession makes you smile, and at this point you feel like your body is moving along with his by itself, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Mhm,” you hum. “The same goes for me.” Warmth spreads all throughout you - a kind of warmth you haven’t felt in a while. You realize in that moment that you two have become a pretty good team in more ways than one. Emotionally, you’ve come to understand each other, being able to tell what the other might need from the slightest signs. And physically too, you’re not the only one who’s learned how to read him, how to handle him. He too has learnt how to see right through you, like coming together with you to form a perfect synergy, time and time again.

“Sit down for me,” you say, kneeling in front of him on top of your bed, a piece of cloth in your hands, and you give him a smile filled with both excitement and the need to take care of him. Jongho obeys, peeking up at you expectantly, and you cup his chin in your hand. “Good boy,” you praise him, and you see the way his eyes sparkle at your words. Then you bring the blindfold up to his face, covering his eyes with it.

“You feeling alright?” you ask once you finish tying the ends of the silky fabric together behind his head, and Jongho slowly nods. You have him straddled on top of your bed, sitting comfortably in his lap when you reach for the bowl of ice cubes you had prepared and you pop one of them into your mouth, letting it melt on your tongue for a little bit before you chew on it a few times and you swallow. Your now ice cold lips meet his, and as he gasps at the cool sensation, you slip your tongue inside. With your arms loosely wrapped around his broad shoulders, you share a slow but deep kiss with him as your lips gradually take on a warmer temperature again.

“Wanna be good for me and lie down?” you breathe, giving him a gentle push to his sternum, and he does as told. Then you reach for another ice cube, and holding it between your lips, you lean in. He sucks in a sharp breath as the cold material comes in touch with his skin, and it leaves a thin layer of melted water as you drag it along his collarbone and down his chest. His hands searching for something to hold on to, he finds your hips, but as per usual, you don’t permit him to touch you. Instead, you take a hold of his wrists, placing them to each side of his head, and letting go of the ice cube for a moment, you speak quietly but with an emphasis,

“Stay like this.” You watch as his lips part, though he doesn’t give you an answer. Instead, he merely holds the position you’ve put him in, even when you can see his hands forming fists as soon as you continue to move the ice along the lines on his torso. You let your warm palm glide up the same way you had dragged the ice down his body, and he gasps softly at the sudden temperature change. “‘S that feel good, pretty boy?” You run your nails back down over his well trained chest and the delicate skin on his stomach, and he flinches underneath you.

“Mhm,” he hums in response as the ice cube continues to melt against his skin. You lick up the water around it, flat tongue warming up the area, and you quietly reach for a new one from the bowl on your bedside table. Nipping on his skin while his chest gently rises and sinks beneath you, your lips wander to the left, and when you brush them against his nipple, he lets you hear a tiny whine. 

“You like that?” you ask, your voice sultry.

“Yeah,” Jongho breathes.

“And what about this?” You put the ice into your mouth, using it to draw circles around the sensitive bud, and immediately his chest rises as he sharply sucks in a breath of air. You use the tip of your tongue to soothe his skin, but when you begin to lap at his hard nipple, the heat of your mouth mixing with the chilling sensation of the ice, a moan falls from his lips. Your hand finds the other side of his chest, and with one thigh placed between his legs, you press up against his core, feeling him starting to get hard.

“Getting horny for me, huh?” you tease him. “And so pliant today.” Your partner can’t but whine at your words, as you move your thigh against his length for some friction. You pick up the remainder of the ice cube and move back up to his mouth to kiss him, parting his lips so you could let the ice melt between your tongues as you kiss him breathless. “Such a good boy,” you mutter into his mouth, and when you reach down between your bodies to wrap your hand around his cock, he throws his head back, teeth clenched. You hum at all the reactions you seem to be drawing out of him so much more easily today, and with your face buried in his neck to nibble on the skin there, you start slowly jerking him off. Jongho lets you hear a breathy moan when you sink your teeth into his skin with the intention of marking him as yours, and he writhes underneath you when your fist reaches his tip.

“Sensitive today, aren’t we?” you tease him a bit further, and his ears take on a bright shade of red as heat rushes to his face. “You’re so cute like this.” He whines in protest and all you can do is chuckle in return when you move further south, leaving a trail of kisses down his chest, and a few bites here and there too. A pained sigh falls from his lips when you let go of his fully erect length, sitting up on top of him now and gently running your nails down his upper body. “You don’t like it when I call you that?” He doesn’t say anything, but the pout that appears on his plush lips tells you all you need to know. “You can tell me, beautiful,” you mutter, reaching for one of his hands and placing a lingering kiss to his palm. “Or did I already make you forget how to speak?”

“No…” he says. “Don’t like it…” You find his other hand as well, and you pin both his wrists to the bed right above his head with one hand.

“Well I can’t help it,” you coo over him, and for a second there you have to recollect yourself upon taking in the image unfolding underneath you. “You’ll need to be a little less cute then.” And again, he whines in defeat, and you roll your hips on top of him once, your core grazing his hard on and it makes him shiver. “Shit, I didn’t think taking one of your senses away would make you this much more sensitive…” He throws his head to the side, mayhaps in an attempt to escape your looks, but he must know just as well as you do that he can’t hide. “Don’t,” you whisper, capturing his chin between your thumb and index finger of your free hand, and you place a kiss to the corner of his mouth before running your fingertips across his lips. He parts them ever so slightly, and you push your thumb inside eventually, leading him to gently bite down before you find the tip of his tongue. Hot saliva coating your thumb, you praise him to make him continue sucking on it. “I wanna watch you…” you mutter, almost mesmerized by how well he complies, a blush dusted onto his cheeks. “Wanna see everything.” You pull out your thumb and you bring your hand down to wrap it around his cock, distributing his spit along his length and spreading it on his tip. He arches his back underneath you, seemingly desperate for your touch, and maybe if he could see the wicked smile on your lips he wouldn’t get so into it already. However, like this you just can’t help but take advantage of his need, and so you gradually pick up speed, stroking him closer and closer towards his high.

“Doing so well for me today,” you grant him some more words of praise, and you enjoy seeing how his face distorts underneath the blindfold when you add, “And so needy…” He groans as you bring him nearer to the edge, his hips bucking up into your hand, but you immediately shift your weight to hold him down. “Don’t get greedy, pretty boy,” you warn him, and by the broken moan he lets out you can tell he’s about to come undone.

“Not yet,” you mutter when you take your hand away, and as soon as Jongho understands what’s happening, he sucks in a sharp breath. 

“Shit…” he curses through gritted teeth, and you chuckle at him, cupping his cheek in your palm.

“You really thought I’d let you cum? Just like that?” you mock him in a tone so sweet it must hurt. “Shouldn’t you know better by now?” He moves his head away from your touch, anger reflecting on his face, and it intrigues you. “What? You really are getting greedy.” Pouring some salt into the wound, you wonder how he would react. You know for a fact that if you had done this same exact thing to him a few weeks ago, he would’ve immediately tried to fight back, to turn the tables around on you. Or maybe he would’ve called out the safe word, unable to stomach all the frustration coursing through his body from how you’re treating him so unfairly - according to him anyway.

But nothing. He merely lies there, his jaw clenched, not starting a single attempt to free his hands from your hold. And it takes him a few moments, but eventually you can feel him relax underneath you, and an overwhelming wave of heat rushes straight to your core as you can hear him speak a single word very quietly.

“Please.” For just a second you want to give him everything, and so you reach for his cock, and when you start pleasuring him, he throws his head back, letting out an almost angelic sound as he moans at your touch.

“That’s right…” you breathe. “Such a good boy…” And he seems to get the hint, because as soon as the praise reaches his ears, he begs some more.

“Please… please let me cum…” 

“More, baby boy. Let me hear more…”

“P-please… want it so bad…” You feel him twitching in your hand and he whines at the way you’re moving your fist along his size, a drop of precum forming on his tip and you collect it on your fingers to coat his length with it. “P-please… please…!” The words keep falling from his lips while his body tenses up, and just when you think he must be almost there, you stop again, earning another strained noise from him. He says nothing as you let him catch his breath for a while, waiting until he’s come down from his almost-high, and again you find yourself affected by how he isn’t complaining at all.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” you promise. “Just trust me.” Jongho nods. He does trust you. And so, with a swelling feeling of pride warming your chest, you begin jerking him off again. “Doing so well for me, baby,” you say. “Gonna make you cum so good.” You lean in, your nose grazing the skin on his neck as you scatter little kisses all over, and eventually you wander down to his shoulder. You can feel him writhe in pleasure underneath you, and the stronger he reacts, the faster you move your hand along his cock. “Cum for me, pretty boy,” you mutter, before sinking your teeth into his flesh, and not long after he cries out from the sharp pain, he comes undone with a sweet moan, spilling into your hand and all over his stomach.

You let go of his hands and you reach for the wet towel beside your bed to wipe him clean, enjoying the few whines you draw out of him when touching an area that’s still too sensitive. Then you rub your hands along his thighs in a soothing motion, watching him catch his breath.

“Such a good boy…” you mutter, and you see him gulp at the praise. “You know what I think?” 

“Hm?”

“I’d really like to tie you up a bit… how’s that sound?” He nods at your suggestion. “Then sit up.” You get a piece of rope before you position yourself behind him. “Give me your hands.” Jongho does as told, and you place them so his elbows are angled at about 90 degrees, and his forearms are parallel to each other. You put some rope around them, checking if the position feels comfortable to him, and as soon as he gives you the okay, you get to work. It’s almost meditative, tying one knot after the other, watching as a pretty pattern forms along his arms, and he too seems to enjoy the sensations it’s giving him, because it’s apparent how the tension leaves his shoulders bit by bit.

“That should work,” you say when you’re done, and you run your palms up his shoulder blades, all the way to his neck, wrapping your fingers around it. He reacts immediately by leaning his head back, exposing his throat to you, and you go in for a few feathery light kisses against his pulse. “How are you feeling?” Your fingertips wander down his front, grazing his chest and then moving to his sides, following the lines to his hips before you rub your palm along his thighs. You feel the urge to bend him over right then and there, maybe give him a few spanks, but you remember he’s told you before he’s bad with pain - most kinds anyway, so instead you bring your hands back up, and you take them away as you move to his front, and you comb your digits through his brown locks while he says,

“I’m good.” 

“There’s so much I want to do to you…” you whisper, watching him biting his lower lip in anticipation, and with one look down his body you find him in the process of getting hard again. You huff at the sight. “Already recovering, huh? Well, I think if you want me to touch you some more you should first earn it, don’t you agree?” Jongho nods, waiting patiently for you to tell him what you want. “Lie down.” Your command is short, and he follows it immediately, lying flat on his back with his arms underneath. “That’s right,” you praise as you crawl on top of him, placing yourself right above his face with your thighs to each side of it. “Show me how much you want it, baby boy.” His mouth falls open as soon as you lower yourself onto his face, lips grazing your folds and his hot breath makes you shiver. You hold on to the bed frame with one hand, and you suck in a breath when you feel the tip of his tongue starting to carefully map out your pussy. And it doesn’t take long for it to become apparent that just as much as you got to know him pretty well over the past few months, he too knows a thing or two about how to push all the right buttons for you. Because even just the way he starts out with light, teasing touches, humming at your taste while he licks up your juices makes your head spin. 

“Doing so well for me…” you mewl, and he draws another moan out of you when the tip of his nose bumps against your clit.

“Y/N…” he slurs your name with his mouth buried in your cunt, and you clench around nothing in response. He takes his time outlining your folds with the tip of his tongue, always returning to your sensitive bud in the end. And when his wet muscle travels back down, he lets the tip of his nose rub against it instead. Slowly but steadily he makes you crave more, and in between soft moans and deep breaths, you order,

“More. Want you inside.” And he doesn’t keep you waiting, his tongue darting up into your dripping cunt and when he moans at your taste the vibrations he sends up your core have you mewling some more. “Shit, like that…” you praise, reaching into his hair and pulling on the strands while he begins thrusting his tongue in and out of you. You rock your hips on top of him, grinding down onto his face, and he whines at the way you tear at his locks somewhat ungently while searching for just the right angle. His moans mingling with yours in the air, you feel your heartbeat quicken as you fuck yourself on his face, and when the tip of his tongue hits that perfect spot deep inside of you, you say,

“Right there… don’t stop.” Hungrily lapping up your juices, he’s keeping a steady pace, and even though he can probably barely breathe at this point he lets you use him to get off. “Just a little… longer… shit, you’re doing so well for me…” Praise after praise falls from your lips, and with only a few more strokes of his tongue, you feel yourself clenching around it as your orgasm hits you. “Fuck, Jongho…” you mewl through gritted teeth as your entire body shakes on top of him, and he fucks you right through your high, until he can feel you starting to come down from it. 

“Did so well…” you whisper a praise as you crawl off his face to give him some space to breathe. A groan escapes him as soon as his nose and mouth are unobstructed, and you notice the way the lower half of his face is all covered in your slick. “Such a good boy for me…” you add as you lean in, licking your juices off him and then eventually kissing him, tasting yourself in his mouth as you dominate the kiss. “I’ll be right back,” you assure him, running your fingers through his disheveled hair once, before you lift yourself up off the bed to put on the harness and the strap on you had prepared. 

“You think you’re ready for your reward now, pretty boy?” you ask him on the way back, and he nods vigorously, letting out a noise in agreement. You chuckle at the image, and you order, “On your knees then.” He takes on the position you asked for - still managing to look good in the process, despite his hands being tied behind his back not being of much use, but you can tell the scene so far has exhausted him. You sit right in front of him, his cock rock hard and waiting to be touched, and when your fingers ghost over the tip he flinches.

“Guess what I got for you,” you whisper, leaning in close to his ear, and you brush your lips against his neck, grazing the mole there when he leans back his head to give you access. You take the invitation, sinking your teeth into his skin gently, before pulling back.

“What…?” he slurs.

“Guess,” you say again, but when his lips part and he doesn’t respond, you decide to give him a hint. “Something you liked a looooot last time.” He gulps, and you’re sure he understands. “Say it, pretty boy,” you mutter as you give his cock another light touch, and he immediately sucks in a sharp breath of air. “Or you won’t get to cum again.” Jongho whines in response - it must feel unfair to him that you’re making him wait for it so long. But at this point you know that with a few praises scattered in between all the teasing and edging and making him work for it, he’ll regain some patience, and you can keep playing with him a little longer.

“S-strap…” he guesses correctly, yet very quietly.

“What was that?” you ask him to repeat himself, and you wrap your fingers around the base of his length.

“Strap on,” he repeats, ears burning red, and you move your hand up and down his size slowly as a reward.

“That’s right,” you say. “Are you embarrassed?”

“A little,” he admits, and it makes you grin.

“A little?” you coo, as you jerk him off way too slowly. And yet his body tenses up under your touch, and he whines each time you graze his sensitive tip. “Don’t cum,” you warn him. “If you do, no strap for my baby boy.” He whines again, very clearly in distress, because all of the pleasure that has built up deep in his stomach is gradually getting too much to handle, and you see his thighs beginning to tremble. “You’re embarrassed… but my cock inside of you makes you feel so good.”

“Ah-!” Another whine falls from his lips, his hips charging forward as he ruts into your hand without control, but he manages to stop himself when you hiss,

“What did I say? No cumming until I allow it.” 

“Y-yes…” Seeing his gritted teeth it’s obvious how much willpower it takes him to hold back as his whole body begins to shake, and you reckon with the blindfold on it’s only harder to resist the overwhelming pleasure. But you don’t stop touching him, you don’t stop stroking his twitching cock, even when he begins stringing together all the curse words he knows and then some more.

“Fuck… shit… I’m-...” With a pathetic noise, he spills into your hand, and when he goes down, bowing before you to apologize, he doesn’t stop shaking all over. “I’m sorry… ‘m so sorry…” You remove your hand, watching as the man in front of you crumbles into nothing more than a tiny picture of misery, and when you see the wet stains forming on the fabric of the blindfold, you bring your hand that’s still coated in his seed to his mouth.

“Shh,” you coo. “Open up, beautiful.” And he does, he opens wide for you to put your fingers in his mouth, and without you needing to say anything else, he knows what to do. His tongue snaking around them, he cleans his cum off your hand thoroughly, not leaving a single millimeter of your skin stained when you pull out again. Instead, your hand is now coated in his saliva, and so you tell him to turn around.

“Bend over for me,” you order, and using the spit on your fingers as a substitute for lube, you start teasing his hole. And as soon as you come in contact with his ass, a heavenly moan slips past his lips. “That’s right, relax. Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you for cumming.”

“Mhm…”

“However… I think you do deserve a little bit of a punishment,” you continue, slipping one finger inside him. With the other hand, you reach around his body, and with a firm grip, you find his limp dick. His breath hitches immediately, and you chuckle at his reaction. “Too sensitive, are we?”

“Y-yeah…” he admits with a trembling voice.

“Should’ve listened to me then, hm?” You’re fully aware that he couldn’t have possibly held out any longer - truth be told, it was your goal to make him cum unallowed, just so you could punish him for it in the aftermath. “What’s your color, baby boy?”

“...green…” he whines desperately, and his entire body jolts as you stroke him, while you gradually prep his hole for what’s to come. Some actual lube serves to assist you, and when you find his sweet spot with two fingers buried inside of him, there’s nothing more than a whining, squirming mess left underneath you.

“Sh-shit… f-feels so… g-good…” he stutters, slurring his words as his mind must be filled with nothing but the overwhelming mixture of pleasure and pain from the way you’re overstimulating him. 

“You feel good?” you repeat, your voice gentle, and the more you feel him growing again in your hand, the more desperate his whines and whimpers become.

“Mmm… myeah… so good…” You add a third finger, wondering how quickly you’ll have him reaching his next high, and for how much longer he could go after that, but with the state you’ve put him in so far, there’s really only one thing left you desperately want to do.

“I’ll wreck you so good, my pretty boy,” you breathe at the shaking mess that he is. “So, so good.” When you feel he’s ready for the toy strapped to your hips, you finally pull out and you grant him a few seconds to catch his breath - though you’re sure at this point even hours wouldn’t be enough for him to regain his senses - and as you push up into him from behind, he cries out. His desperate noises alone could make you cum again, and as that thought crosses your mind, you reach over for a pillow, placing it underneath his lower stomach so his cock would graze it with every single time you thrust in and out of him. And it makes him moan even when you’re still going slow to make sure you don’t hurt him in the beginning, and when you pick up your pace you catch a glimpse of some drool dripping down his chin and you know he’s really gone too far now. Still, with each of your movements a noise more desperate than the one before escapes him, and when you go harder it doesn’t take long for him to come undone one more time. His moan upon being fucked right to his next high gets stuck in his throat this time, and as tears start streaming down his face, you reach into his hair, tugging at the strands and then pressing him down face first into the blanket.

“Is that all you can take?” you ask mockingly. “So strong, and already down, huh?” Tearing at the dark brown locks, he lets you hear a pathetic noise when his face is lifted up from the soft fabric for a moment. You wait for a response, but no words leave his parted lips. “What? Too fucked out to talk now?”

“Mhmm…” A whimper is all he can give to tell you yes, and the surge of power flowing through you immediately after has you beginning to thrust again. “Ah…!” he hiccups, crying from all the sensations overwhelming his senses, and one more time you halt and say,

“Give me your color.” 

“...g-green…!” You can tell how much it took out of him to speak that one word, but the fact that he did, even when he’s this wrecked, even while he’s crying, only makes you feel even prouder of him, and simultaneously serves as your sign to destroy him some more. So, one more time, you begin to fuck into him, pressing him down into the mattress with him writhing in the pain and the pleasure underneath you, sobbing and whining and crying out.

“Shit… you’re so perfect… so perfect for me…” With the strap grazing your clit at just the right angle with each time your hips snap against his, your own greed to cum again mixes with all the other emotions the image unfolding right before your eyes causes, and you pick up the pace relentlessly. “Taking me so well… fuck… my perfect boy…” 

“A-ah…!” He cries out one more time before his body convulses, and he cums all over the pillow once more. Just a few more thrusts, and you too feel yourself tumbling over the edge, and finally, you slow down and come to a stop. 

“Did so well… come here…” you breathe after pulling out of him and letting him collapse on his stomach right then and there. You lay down behind him, loosening the blindfold to reveal a pair of reddened eyes, and you wrap an arm around his broad figure. With your thumb, you wipe the tear stains off his face, and you scatter a line of kisses from below his ear to his neck and all the way down his upper back as far as you can reach. “You feeling okay?” Jongho nods, albeit seeming very tired.

“Then I’m glad… wouldn’t want to hurt my amazing boy…” With the last remainder of strength left in his body, he turns around so he could face you, and you immediately pull him close to let him rest his head atop your chest. “I’m so proud of you,” you continue to shower him in praises, and then you add some more when you notice the weak smile creeping onto his lips. “You did amazing.”

“You too…” he eventually mumbles, and with one arm loosely placed around your upper body, he draws a few circles onto your side with his thumb. Combing your fingers through his hair and feeling him lean into your touch, you feel your heart swell at the sight.

“I love you.” You whisper the words so quietly, you think he wouldn’t have caught them, but then he places a lingering kiss onto your chest, and he breathes,

“I love you too.” And for a second you can feel all the fears and the anxieties creeping back up to you. However, when he opens his tired eyes and he glances up at you with the most fucked out and at the same time love drunk expression you’ve seen, the doubts wash away. 

Right, maybe you did find each other at just the right time, so you both could heal some of the scars in each other’s hearts. And maybe this time, you’ve both found someone who’s right for you.

“That’s a good boy!” you cheer as you pet your last client for the day on his sides. The bulldog wags his butt upon hearing your praise, panting in expectation over the treat he knows you’re hiding in your back pocket. You reach around for the piece of jerky all dogs get after their physiotherapy session is over, and you laugh as he greedily lunges towards it.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head and lift your index finger in front of the dog’s face. “Sit. That’s a good boy.” The dog listens to the command obediently, and this time when you carefully hold out the treat for him, he takes it from you more gently. Well, a little more gently anyway. Smiling, you shake your head at the energetic pup, and then you get up off the floor and walk towards the door to let the owner inside.

“Thank you,” the young man tells you, before joyfully greeting his pet, his voice rising a few octaves and you find the image endearing. It always makes you the happiest to see how not only the animals, but also their owners seem to feel better after a session, having granted both of them relief from two different kinds of pain. You watch them walk out of the clinic together with a content smile on your face, before dedicating yourself to the last task of today’s shift: cleaning up. It takes you about half an hour to set up your office for a fresh start on Monday, and on your way out you greet your colleagues who are still standing by the reception counter chatting.

“See you next week!”

“Have a nice weekend!”

“You too!” You step outside into the warm air of late spring, and you take in a deep breath and close your eyes. You chose this profession because you knew you could thrive doing a job like this, continuously seeing payback for your efforts, and yet a full work week doesn’t leave you unfazed. Of course not, no matter how much someone likes their job, they’re bound to get exhausted from it from time to time - or that’s what your observations say.

“Y/N, hey.” You open your eyes to see Jongho standing in front of you, a smile full of adoration plastered onto his face, and you can’t help but return that same expression to him.

“Hey,” you greet him, hands in the pockets of the thin jacket you had thrown on in the morning, when it was still a bit colder. You notice you’re feeling a little too warm with layered clothing now, wondering if you should take off the jacket after all. “How was your day?”

“Ah, you know,” he looks to the side. “The usual.”

“Better if I don’t ask?”

“Better if you don’t ask, yeah,” he retorts, and there’s a hint of tiredness behind his smile. Jongho holds out his hand for you to take, and you don’t hesitate. “Let’s go?”

“Let’s. I’ve been starving,” you answer, and you intertwine your fingers with his as you begin to walk down the street.

“What about you? How was your day?”

“Good,” you say. “The grumpy chihuahua I told you about last time almost bit me again. But other than that it was good,” you chuckle, and instinctively Jongho lifts up your hand that he’s holding to check for any nicks or scratches. 

“You sure you didn’t get bitten?” he asks upon finding a bandaid on your other hand.

“Ah, that,” you exclaim as you arrive where he parked his car, and he opens the door for you to get in. “That’s from two days ago, actually.” He sits in the driver’s seat, and as soon as he’s shut the door on his side, he turns towards you, gesturing for you to give him your hand.

“It’s fine, really,” you assure, though you hold out the wounded hand to him anyway. “An angry cat scratched me, I’m used to-” Jongho lifts your hand up to his mouth, pressing a soothing kiss to the bandaid, and his eyes flutter shut while his soft lips linger. “Thanks,” you say eventually, watching him pull back and shooting you a serious look. He reaches out to cup your cheek in his palm, thumb brushing against the skin on your face.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He says it with such gravity that it almost seems a little over the top for the situation - it is just a tiny scratch after all, and it’ll be all healed up in a week or so. And still, you know there’s so much more behind his words than just worry over your hand. 

And so you do the only thing you can think of in that moment, and you shoot him a sincere smile, saying, “I know. Thank you for looking out for me.” Wordlessly, he returns your expression, before letting go of you and instead putting on his seatbelt and bringing his hand up to the steering wheel. “So?” you switch topic. “Where are you taking me today?”

“Surprise,” Jongho says, starting the engine. “But I packed you some clothes in the backseat that I think would be fitting for the occasion.” He points to the back and you reach behind you to try to get a glimpse of the contents of the bag. You find a pair of dress pants, making you assume he’s planning on taking you somewhere expensive, and upon digging some more, you find yourself holding onto an embroidered sleeve in antique pink. You stop your rummaging, and before you know it, you’re grinning from ear to ear like an idiot as memories of the first time he took you out on a date come back to you. 

“Thanks for bringing them,” you say, sitting up straight, and you glance over to him, who’s focused on driving out of his parking space.

“Of course,” he answers, before he enters the road towards your destination. “I think you’ll have to get changed in the car though.”

“That’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you brush it off, staring out of the window as the lights of the bustling city pass you by. Right. You two sure have come a long way.

Taglist:

@aaa-sia @wooyoungisbaby @winklehwa @asianpenguin04

@certifiedmoa @bunnyluvr25

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lyrics appearing in the story are from “Die With A Smile” by Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars

[mariasont]

hi!! I have a spencer reid x fem!reader request, how about emily plotline but it's spencer instead of emily and reader totally falls apart after she thinks he died, to the point of self-destructive behaviors. she simply can't cope. i totally understand if you're not comfortable with writing something like that, though.

i hope you're having a great day <3

Beyond the Grave - S.R

a/n: angellllll thank you so much for requesting !!!!!! <3 i hope you have the BEST day ever!

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: angst, spencer dead for a hot sec then he's not, reader using alcohol to cope, weight loss briefly mentioned, unhealthy coping methods, happy ending!

wc: 1.7k

The knocks were there again, a stubborn sound you chose to ignore as you smothered yourself with your pillow. You willed yourself to drown out the noise and fall back asleep, to forget that your existence now had shrunk to the four corners of your mattress--a fact that didn't necessarily bring you any pride.

When it first happened, you were in a constant state of disbelief. The harsh truth that Spencer had died, leaving a void that you were powerless to fill, seemed to a cruel joke. You found yourself caught in an endless loop of denial, half-expecting him to stroll through the door or wake up to the realization that this was all just a bad dream.

But that never happened so you spent your days imprisoned in your own home, a shell of your former self, devoid of anything that once animated your being. You distanced yourself from everything that once brought you happiness--your family, your friends, your gardening.

You had just introduced Spencer to it a couple months before it happened--when to plant each flower, how to prepare the soil, the schedule of watering. But now it all felt very meaningless, and the once-tended garden became a forgotten space, overgrown and disregarded.

Each morning at work, you were met with a twisting, angry sickness--a gnawing reaction to the collective failure of everyone in that room. You had all let him down, and now the weight of never seeing his smile again was a blade that kept twisting deeper. It was excruciating.

The blow landed on you with a severity that others seemed spared from. You couldn't simply erase the memory and move on. It wasn't an option; it was etched into your very being, monopolizing every thought and sensation.

The team had attempted to piece you back together, but eventually, their help felt like a stabbing reminder. You were beyond repair, a lost cause--you skipped meals, you never slept, you drank too much. With every look in the mirror, you saw the reflection of someone slowly crumbling away. 

Finally, you were angry, a scalding feeling that spread through your veins. You were furious at Spencer leaving you, at the unsub for taking him away, and at yourself for failing to save him, for arriving too late, for watching him struggle against the knife, for watching him disappear into surgery and not come out.

The incessant knocking persisted, an annoyance that finally drew you from your bed. Your limbs were heavy with sleep, a thick haze still clouding your mind. You dragged yourself toward the door, a string of mental curses directed at the uncivilized disturber--likely Penelope with her usual invites for a girl's night out.

But as you swung the door open, the familiar world upended itself, flipped around, and splatted to the bottom of the universe. Dryness clung to your throat, your hands rendered numb at your sides.

And there he was--Spencer, not a ghost, not a figment conjured by your overwrought imagination, but flesh and blood--alive. You fought the urge to pinch yourself. You questioned your sanity briefly, but those eyes--his eyes--were indelibly seared in your memory. You would know them anywhere.

You can't breathe, can't form coherent thoughts. This moment is the very one you've replayed in your dreams, a thousand different ways, and now that it's tangibly here, you can't breathe.

Spencer's heart squeezed at the sight of you. Your eyes were swollen and tinged with the redness as if you'd been crying or just woken up or both. Your hair was shorter than he remembered, ending just shy above your shoulders. You face was washed and hollowed out; the color sapped away as if the sun had become a stranger to you.

"Hey," his voice floated to you, soft as though he was worried you might vanish at any louder sound.

A hesitant hand reached out, trembling as if half-expecting it to pass right through him. But when your fingers brushed against his--solid and warm--reality intensified to an almost unbearable degree, too visceral to be anything but real. 

"B-But you're dead," you choke out, a tremor in each syllable. Your fingers find their way to your lips, the ground seeming to spin in a disorienting whirl. "Spencer, I watched you die."

"Can I come in?"

He didn't wait for an answer, stepping around you into the room. His eyes swept over the cluttered space--the litter of empty alcohol bottles, the stacks of dirt dishes. His heart plummeted, a sinking stone to the pit of his stomach.

One of the first things he noticed about you was your near-compulsive need for keeping things clean, orderly. Your desk had been organized to an almost surgical degree, and Morgan took a secret pleasure in disrupting your system, shifting your pens just to get a reaction. But Spencer had memorized the exact coordinates of your things and discreetly corrected each item before you could notice.

So, this, the sight of your neglected home was something he never thought he'd see.

"Maybe we should sit?" Spencer suggested, more firmly. "I have explanations for everything."

With a nod, you make you way to the couch. His gaze lingers on you, taking in the way the clothes that once hugged you, now draped over your frame in loose folds. He noted the strained swallow, the constant bobbing of your knee, and the startled wideness in your eyes, as if you weren't really sure how to process the sudden influx of information.

He told you everything--why he faked his death, what he had been doing this whole time, why it wasn't Hotch's fault for keeping it from you, and why you had to be kept in the dark. 

His expectations hadn't included you jumping up and down at the sight of him, but the coldness he encountered caught him off guard. Brows knitted downward, knees angled away as if his presence was unbearable, you offered no words when he spoke, an occasional vacant look washing over your features.

"Did you even think of me once, or was I out of sight, out of mind?"

The words surprised him, your tone casual, but your balled fists resting on your knees betrayed you.

"I never stopped thinking of you," Spencer's response was immediate, his hand reaching towards yours.

But you recoiled immediately, shaking your head.

"No, no," you stammered out, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to speak. "You can't just...leave me and come back and act as if... as if...it's all okay."

Your voice broke with every word and so did his heart.

With a quick motion, you're on your feet, nearly tripping over the disorder that's invaded your space. Spencer's instinct is to reach out, to steady you, but he knows better.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, standing to follow your movements. "I didn't have a choice. Believe me, if there was any other way, I'd never have left. I couldn't--"

He paused, a hand brushing through his hair as he blew out a breath.

"But that's just it, Spencer, I don't believe you," you snap, voice trembling with indignation. "You were my best friend, the one person I relied on, and you disappeared."

He started to speak, but you took a step back holding your hand out to stop him. 

"No, you died Spencer. I went to your funeral. I stood over your grave, and now you're here." Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you turned away, hiding your face. "How can you just stand there after all of that?"

Spencer moves closer. "You're being unfair," he says cornering you against the wall. "Why are you being like this?"

His eyes search yours, probing for an explanation, and you give it to him, raw and unfiltered.

"Why am I being like this? Maybe because I'm in love with you."

Spencer's steps falter, retreating as if struck. 

"Oh, come on, don't act so surprised," you blurt out, already wishing you could take back the words. "I know you know." You're rambling now. "I mean, in team briefings I always save you a seat, in meetings I'm always the first one to back your theories, and for crying out loud I got you a copy of the first edition of On the Origin of Species by Darwin for your birthday, like do you know how hard that was to find? What platonic friend would--"

Your admissions pour out unchecked until Spencer's hands are on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours, stopping the flow of your confessions. 

Your breath hitches, a startled sound muffled by Spencer's mouth, a rush of surprise coursing through you. For a heartbeat, you're frozen, but as quickly as it comes, it fades into a warmth that blooms deep in your chest, and you're kissing him back with a desperation that matches the pounding of your heart. 

The world narrows down to the sweet pressure of his mouth moving with careful ease against yours, your hands finding their way to his hair, tangling with the soft strands as you melt into him. 

You pull back just enough to see his eyes, your breaths mingling, foreheads still touching, softly panting. 

"I'm still so upset with you," you whisper, your eyes glistening. 

Spencer's hands are soft on your skin, brushing away the tear. "I know. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

You nibble on your lower lip and give a small nod. Spencer responds by wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer. "Promise?" you ask, heart in your throat. "I don't want you to leave me again."

You had never felt so vulnerable. 

"Promise," he replies. "I'm not going anywhere, baby."

You let out a shaky breath, the reality of his words setting in. In a moment of boldness, you reach up to trace the lines of his face, memorizing every detail. 

Spencer's eyes soften, and he whispers, "By the way, I love you too. From the very first moment I saw you."

It's like a key turning a lock. You don't say anything, you don't need to. The silence is enough--the quiet understanding that you'll heal, you'll grow, just like the garden waiting for your return.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[maiverie]

THE RAIN HAS AN EDGE ╰ ﹙ ☁️ ﹚ft. park sunghoon ﹕ a oneshot ﹙ preview ﹚

you are the girl with an umbrella on a rainy day, and sunghoon is the boy at the bus stop drenched from head to toe.

in a nutshell ﹒ there’s a heavy downpour so you hold an umbrella over sunghoon and he looks at you like you’re crazy // 100% fluff

word count ﹒ preview is 1.5k; full ver ~6-7k

fic one of the chasing rainbows series ﹙ coming soon ! ﹚

“true, the sun and the wind inspire. but the rain has an edge. who, after all, dreams of dancing in the dust? or kissing in the bright sun?” — cynthia barnett

now playing ﹒ paris in the rain﹙ lauv ﹚

THE FIRST TIME you talk to park sunghoon, it’s raining, it’s cold, and jake had ditched you to “hang out” with chaewon, because he’s a crappy friend who pounces at any opportunity for female attention.

after your study session in the school library finishes, you find yourself standing at the school’s front entrance, grimacing at the downpour of rain in front of you. heavy pellets pummel from the sky like bullets, forming puddles in the divots of the ground and lowering the temperature enough to make you shiver. 

lucky for you, you remembered to bring your umbrella.

this was a habit of yours even on the sunniest of days, after spending five days bedridden with a fever following The Great Downpour of 2020.

when you reached for your backpack and unfurled your umbrella, it sprung to life and off you went, hopping down the cement paveway that led to the nearest bus stop.

you’re just about to slip in your earphones when you stop in your tracks, spotting a figure a few steps ahead of you. 

the person is crouching on the ground at the bus stop, hunched over and hugging their bookbag in an attempt at gathering warmth. 

the person is drenched and miserable.

and practically radiating angst and despair.  

because you’ve always been a totally (impulsive) caring and selfless person, you shuffle over and hold your umbrella over the person’s head.

they look up — and just when you encounter a cold gaze, dark brows and raven hair — you realise that the moody figure is none other than park sunghoon.

park sunghoon, the ridiculously good-looking senior everybody whispers about but doesn’t actually know anything about. 

park sunghoon, the guy who always wears a stoic, unsmiling expression that makes him the most unapproachable of his group of friends. 

and park sunghoon, the one who’s staring at you with a baffled and slightly distrustful expression on his face. 

oh.

you’re just standing here, staring at him like a creep. 

crap.

you should say something.

you open and shut your mouth a few times, trying to brainstorm what you might possibly say. you want to sound smart. and funny. and cool. so, naturally, the first thing that comes out of your mouth is a very intelligent and super profound, “it’s, uh. . . raining.”

sunghoon continues to stare, his brows slightly furrowed to suggest he was questioning your sanity. 

“it’s raining,” you stupidly repeat louder, as though he hadn’t heard you over the rain. 

“good catch,” he replies, his gruff voice coinciding with the slight dip of his lips. 

the rumors are so true. 

sunghoon definitely has a very grumpy, rather angsty demeanour. you’ve actually spotted him around school a few times (you may or may not follow him with your eyes every time he’s around. is that a crime? it can’t be! you’re not the only one in the student body who finds him extremely attractive and painfully enigmatic), but he’s not the kind of person you can approach so easily.

in fact, he’s been coined the nickname ice prince for a reason.

“yes, uh,” you struggle to string together a coherent set of words, especially because he stands to his feet now, and you have to make the effort to not be intimidated by his height. 

“what i meant to say is that it’s raining but you don’t have an umbrella,” you laughed awkwardly, wanting to whack your head and yell stupid, stupid, stupid for impulsively waddling over here and saying stupid things to park sunghoon of all people. “i-i mean, obviously it’s a free country and you can totally do whatever you want, but, as you might already know — and i’m sure you do because you’re one of the smartest kids in school — standing in the rain can get you sick, like, really sick, and i only know this because about three years ago i forgot my umbrella and — funny story — i ended up getting so sick that i had to take five days off school because my fever was so high.”

oh god.

you quickly slap the tips of your fingers over your lips to physically restrain yourself from talking. the motion makes sunghoon’s gaze quickly flit to your lips, before they bounce back up to your eyes.

his stare is so painfully emotionless that you cringe inwardly.

you wish he’d say something.

anything. literally anything.

but he’s silent.

well, of course he is — you basically just trauma dumped about your stupid fever story. boo-hoo, you were sick from the rain — who cares?

just when you think you’ve reached the death of the conversation, you’re surprised by the sound of his soft voice.

“. . . niki.”

huh?

you blink, leaning in slightly so that you can hear him better.

“. . . niki. my brother. he took the last umbrella.”

oh.

your lips form a small o as you nod in understanding. “oh, niki! that doesn’t surprise me. he’s in my class, you know, and he’s always playing pranks on our teacher. one time he actually hid the test papers so we got a whole extra day to study,” your voice lowers to a whisper, “can’t believe i still failed it though. . .”

sunghoon doesn’t say anything, and afraid of being submerged in awkward silence again, you rush to fill in the space. 

“so where’s niki now?”

he shrugs. “soccer practice, probably.”

“oh,” you frown. “wait, aren’t you part of the soccer team, too? you’re the goalie. you saved so many goals last season and helped the team to their first win in two years,” you say, though your eyes widen in panic as soon the words leave your mouth, “n-not that i’m a stalker, or anything,” you frantically add, “it’s just that everyone knows you’re the goalie because one, it’s common knowledge, and two, the game is coming up and we’re all on the edge of our seats to find out how it goes!” 

stupid stupid stupid. 

why are you rambling so much? 

sunghoon doesn’t seem to mind, though his lips flatten in a rather sour manner. “i quit the team, actually.”

you gasp. “you’re the person jake is replacing? he’s been so cocky ever since it was announced that he’d be on the team. what made you quit?”

he shrugs, “it got boring,” he mumbles, then his ears turn slightly red and he dips his head in an emotion you never imagined park sunghoon could wear — embarrassment. “and i accidentally sprained my ankle.”

you blinked in surprise. “how?”

he hesitates before answering. “i tripped.” 

you stifle a laugh at the irony, because while sunghoon was a lot of adjectives — tall, handsome, mysterious, brooding, kind of scary, even — you never thought he was clumsy.

you softly cackle, earning you a glare from the boy. 

“sorry,” you grin playfully, growing accustomed to his icy aura. “i just never pictured you as a klutz.”

“says you,” he grumbles, “weren’t you the one who tripped and fell in the cafeteria last week? ”

“what—” you choked, “you saw that?”

he exhaled through his nose in amusement. “who didn’t?” sunghoon raised a brow at you. “i’m pretty sure someone recorded and posted it. the caption was ‘dumbass fails to do simple task and ends up with food all over her clothes.’”

your eyes slammed shut before they shot open. “fucking jake,” you growled, gripping the umbrella tightly. “i’m going to kill him.”

sunghoon chuckled, and the sound made your heart beat a little faster. you caught a fleeting glimpse of his smile which — by the way — showcased the most emotion you had ever seen from the boy. it couldn’t be helped that your stomach mangled and twisted at his pearly-white boyish smile, one that made his cheeks bunch up his face and his eyes twinkle like stars.

how pretty.

his smile faded as quickly as it appeared, however, and you soon found yourself facing his usual blank expression again. 

you want to try say something that might make him smile or laugh again, but he suddenly steps outside of the cage of your umbrella and raises his hand, hailing down the incoming bus. 

it slowly stops by the road beside the two of you, marking the end of your little interaction. 

“oh, your bus is here,” you force a smile, rather disappointed. “i’ll, um, see you later, sunghoon.”

“get home safe,” he retrieves his bus card from his pocket, glancing over his shoulder before he boards his bus. “and thanks. for the umbrella.” 

“n-no problem!” you quickly smile, “and by the way, my name is—”

“i know your name,” he interjects, and you think your mind is playing tricks on you when you see the edges of his lips twitch upward. “see you around.” 

sunghoon disappears into the bus and it whizzes by you, though you stay frozen in your feet for what feels like forever. 

he knows your name.

he’ll see you around.

you tuck your lip between your teeth, cheeks and ears flaring up.

and he wants you to get home safe.

.

( to be continued )

this is a preview only ﹒ full fic is estimated 6-7k ﹒ taglist open — send an ask, dm, or reply !

a/n . btw this is a preview only. the full fic might come out next week ? anyway my first hoonie fic and it's 100% pure, unadulterated fluff <3 this is inspired by paris in the rain + the above quote + an exo fic i adore ^^ hope u all liked it :) see u in the full version maybe 🤓

[pretzel-box]

woe, Reverse AU angst be upon ye (not necessarily a request, just a thought i had, but if anything strikes feel free to go ham :3 i also like to think about this with the og universe because i love feeling emotional pain 🧘🏾)

but instead of the reader having a classified file for themselves (& having it for sale), there are videotapes (or maybe different colored pendrives? CDs work too, i guess!!) scattered across the abandoned offices, and at first Sebastian isn't sure what to do with them, but then he meets p.ai.nter and they recognize those immediately, questioning why Sebastian is carrying that stuff with him in a concerned tone, and Sebastian just stares at the computer like, "??? okay, what's up with it?"

p.ai.nter is hesitant to show him what those hide at first, but eventually agrees to let him watch, then warns him that he is not going to like any second of it

Sebastian gets comfortable in front of the screen but is only greeted with an extremely heartbreaking scene– it's (now an experiment) reader visibly shaking as they stare in horror at their new body, unable to speak in any way while sobbing and whimpering, hugging themselves (or maybe their tail? guess it depends on the way readers want to look) and wondering what they had done to deserve this outcome, to be stripped of their humanity

now i personally like to think that the reader struggling to speak is something that comes with their body being altered, like everything is big so they're not used to any of it so really all they can do is cry and struggle to say a coherent sentence because it sounds like a garbled mess, but that is also me wanting to add salt to the wound because this is supposed to be sad ooooo ⚡⚡

anyway, at the end of it all (cause there was more than one video, a whole documentary on reader and the experiments done on them), Sebastian is left feeling too many emotions and he doesn't even know when he started crying but he is (since the reader he knows now is different from the one he just saw in the videos but deep down it hurts so much because that is the same person in different years of their life) and p.ai.nter isn't sure how to comfort him so they keep apologizing till Sebastian finally chooses to leave

next time he stops by reader's shop he can't even bring himself to stare at them properly because he's afraid he'll start bawling his eyes out, meanwhile, reader is just staring at him like ":3? no snarky comments or banter today wow what happened to him" unaware that he has seen The Horrors

that's all thanks for coming to my tedtalk

Authors Note: This is inspired by this request but not 1:1 written like it. This is pure angst and some gore. READ AT OWN RISK.

Tags: GORE, Angst, Reversed AU, mentions of syringes, drugs and operations.

Words: 2,7k

The sound of a click filled the room, followed by the small red light blinking on the video camera, indicating it was recording. Sebastian glanced at you with irritation as you held the camera—a little relic you'd scavenged from a deeper part of the facility—not too long ago. He shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of the leather jacket you had once sold him.

"And we are live!~ Say hello to the viewers, Seb!" you teased, shoving the camera playfully in his face. He immediately pushed it away with his hand, his scowl deepening.

"I get it, I get it," he grumbled, pointing at the camera with a mock glare. "You found a new toy. Now what? You planning to make a movie or something?"

You shot him a sharp look, the room growing colder as if you were subtly irritated by his comment. Sebastian could sense he'd hit a nerve, a rare feat considering your usual carefree attitude. But then, unexpectedly, you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach and flashing him the signature grin that always greeted him when he came to your shop.

"I’ve already starred in plenty,” you replied cryptically, your words hanging in the air with an eerie undertone. Sebastian opened his mouth to ask what you meant, but you cut him off with another sly comment. “Maybe you’re the next big star, Solace.”

After leaving your shop, Sebastian wandered through the halls of the Hadal Blackside facility, the encounter with you replaying in his mind. He’d grown to enjoy your company—your banter, your teasing, the way you challenged him. But today, something about your behavior felt off. Beneath the jokes and sarcasm, there was something else—something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. And that unsettled him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

How could he be in a relationship with someone so different, so complex? You were like a puzzle with missing pieces, a riddle that refused to be solved. The more he thought about it, the more it nagged at him. His legs carried him on autopilot through the winding corridors, his mind consumed by thoughts of you.

It wasn’t until he found himself in the office segment of the building that he realized he’d been walking without really paying attention. His hand hovered over the keycard reader, and it struck him that he hadn’t even looked for the blue plastic card he needed to get through the next door. The desk was a mess of papers, ink, and tapes.

His eyes fell on an old, unlabeled tape, the kind they'd used for surveillance back in the day. Scrawled on it in red ink was a series of numbers: *Z-13.* The sight of it piqued his curiosity, a nagging feeling that it was significant. Without thinking, he slipped it into his pocket. He’d find a way to watch it later.

Sebastian rummaged through countless drawers, lockers, and cabinets, searching for the keycard, but instead, he kept finding more of those mysterious tapes. Each one seemed older than the last, covered in dust and marked with strange codes.

His practical side told him he should probably look through all of them, not just the one he had picked up. So, he gathered them into a makeshift box he'd found lying around and continued his search for the keycard, all the while wondering what secrets these tapes might hold—and what they had to do with you. He know the Name Z-13 was related to you.

If there was anything he knew for sure, it was that you were full of surprises. And maybe, just maybe, these tapes would help him understand you a little better.

By pure coincidence, Sebastian ran into P.AI.nter a while later as he continued through the seemingly endless corridors of the facility, taking casual steps despite the weight of the wonky box filled with random tapes he was carrying. The AI's sketched face flickered to life, its eyes narrowing with a curious gaze. "Quite the haul today, Sebastian," it remarked, its voice tinged with artificial cheerfulness. "Planning to deliver all of that to our trusty shopkeeper?"

Sebastian grunted in response, setting the box down on the floor with a thud. He raised his hands above his head, stretching to relieve the ache that had settled in his shoulders from lugging the heavy box around. "Can you play them?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and exhaustion. It was a simple question, and he knew the answer even as he asked it—of course P.AI.nter could play a few tapes.

But as soon as the question left his lips, the room fell into an uneasy silence. P.AI.nter’s usual cheerful demeanor seemed to shift, its sketched form glitching for a moment as if processing something more than just data. The AI stared at Sebastian and the tapes, an uncharacteristic hesitation creeping into its expression.

"It's just a tape, Sebastian," P.AI.nter finally replied, its voice flat, devoid of its usual light-heartedness. There was something in the way it spoke—something guarded, almost cautious—that only fueled Sebastian's curiosity further. The AI’s reluctance was like gasoline on a fire.

“A tape I want to watch,” Sebastian shot back, his patience wearing thin. He was tired of the evasiveness, the constant roadblocks whenever he sought answers. He moved with purpose, selecting one of the tapes and sliding it into the nearest recorder, right next to P.AI.nter’s screen.

“I have to warn you, Sebastian,” P.AI.nter said, its tone shifting to something closer to pleading. The air between them grew heavy, the tension thickening as the tape began to whirl in the machine. Sebastian paused, the gravity of the AI's words weighing on him.

"You won’t like any second of it," P.AI.nter added, its voice barely more than a whisper. There was a finality in its tone, a sense of foreboding that hung in the air like a storm about to break. The familiar face of his AI friend got replaced by some white noise and then a black screen.

Sebastian’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched the screen flicker to life, unsure of what he was about to see but certain of one thing: whatever was on these tapes, it was something the facility—and P.AI.nter—wanted to keep hidden.

“Hellooo! I'm one of the new researchers here at the Hadal Blackside. I'm recording Tape Nr. XXXX in Containment Cell XXXX. Wish me luck!”

Sebastian watched as a cheerful person appeared on the screen, holding a camera up to their face. Excitement radiated from their eyes, and despite the poor quality of the footage, their energy was infectious. Some of the information on the screen glitched out, redacting key details as if the tape had deliberately scrambled those moments, keeping certain things obscured.

The person on the screen shifted their stance, and the camera followed their movement. “This is a video for my friend who was super excited to hear about my job. I totally stole the camera for this, so shhh, we can't get caught,” they whispered conspiratorially, a playful grin spreading across their face. There was something unsettling about their carefree demeanor, yet Sebastian couldn't help but feel a small flicker of amusement. The tape felt like a low-quality YouTube vlog, reminiscent of simpler times, with this familiar-looking worker goofing off for the amusement of a friend.

“They told me this is super secret stuff,” the voice continued, the lens panning around the containment cell. “But I just have to show you this.”

The video abruptly cut to another segment, the view shifting to reveal a massive anglerfish-like entity lurking behind an enormous glass wall. The waters it swam in were inky black, like thick oil, giving the creature an unsettling and eerie aura as it moved in the dark liquid.

“Isn't it cool?” the person behind the camera asked with an almost childlike wonder, pressing their flat hand against the glass. “They’re hiding this here! They do some voodoo fish shit in this facility. Even the human centipede would turn pale in envy.”

Sebastian froze as he watched the footage. The creature behind the glass was terrifying—a monstrous anglerfish, its grotesque form barely discernible in the murky waters. It was an unsettling sight, made even more disturbing by the fact that this reckless researcher was standing mere inches from one of the most dangerous entities imaginable, their tone light and casual as if they were commenting on the weather.

A chill ran down Sebastian’s spine as he continued to watch the video, his breath caught in his throat. The footage shifted again, but the image of the monstrous fish remained burned into his mind. His gut twisted with unease. What was this person thinking, standing so close to something so deadly? And why did they seem so familiar?

As the old tape continued to play, the weight of the discovery settled on Sebastian’s shoulders like a heavy boulder. Whatever secrets were buried in these tapes, he was certain they weren’t meant to be uncovered—especially not by him. Yet here he was, staring at a reality that seemed more and more like a nightmare. The things he saw so far in the blackside were not as terrifying as this giant monster that rested behind that glass wall.

The tape ended abruptly, and for a moment, there was only silence. Sebastian’s hands trembled as he reached down to turn the cassette over, the worn edges rough against his fingertips. He knew there were at least four more tapes waiting in the box at his feet, each one a potential gateway to another nightmare. His breath caught in his throat, a cold sweat forming on his brow. Still, his curiosity and a gnawing need for answers compelled him to continue.

With a shaky breath, he pressed the tape back into the player, flipping it to the other side. The screen flickered to life again, this time showing a cold, sterile operating room. Several figures in hazmat suits moved with practiced precision, their faces obscured by masks and goggles. The room was pristine, a stark contrast to the horror Sebastian knew was about to unfold.

“This is Experiment Nr. XXXX,” a calm, clinical voice narrated. “And our newest trial patient, Z-13, who volunteered for their transformation.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened as he recognized the person strapped to the operating chair—the same person from the earlier footage. They were bound tightly, their limbs secured as though they were a dangerous criminal. There was no mistaking the fear and confusion in their eyes, even through the drug-induced haze.

“Z-13 was administered XXXX, XXXX, and XXXX 20 minutes prior to the start of this procedure,” the voice continued with an unsettling detachment. “Their pupils are dilated, and the patient has entered a state of delirium, necessary for the next phase of the experiment.”

The camera zoomed in on the bound figure, their eyes bloodshot and unnaturally wide, darting around the room in a frantic, unfocused search for something familiar. Sebastian felt his stomach churn with a sickening realization—this was no volunteer. This was a person trapped, forced into an unimaginable horror. The idea of volunteering was just another lie, a thin veneer over a darker truth.

Sebastian’s fingers dug into his knees as he watched, his body tense with dread. He knew what was coming next, but the tape did not shy away from the gruesome details. The hours that followed were a blur of pain and suffering, each tape more harrowing than the last. Scenes of torn flesh and oily blood filled the screen, detached limbs falling to the sterile floor with sickening thuds. Each cut, each scream was more unbearable than the last. And those eyes—those haunted, slowly awakening eyes—followed Sebastian throughout each frame, pleading silently for mercy.

With each passing minute, it became painfully clear that the drugs were losing its effectiveness and the person that was tied to the chair gained the ability to feel every single thing that happened there. The delirium ended and the terror began.

The scream tore through the speakers with such intensity that Sebastian flinched. It wasn’t just a scream—it was a raw, visceral sound, a guttural cry filled with a mix of agony, fear, and desperation. It was a sound so primal that it clawed its way into his very bones, settling there with an uncomfortable weight. It was the worst thing he had heard in ages. Every nerve in his body screamed in empathy for the poor soul on the screen, the person whose existence had been reduced to nothing but a vessel for pain.

“Silence them,” a cold, emotionless voice commanded from off-screen.

Almost immediately, a set of cruel, metal clamps were forcefully shoved into the patient's mouth, prying it open with a brutality that made Sebastian wince. These were the kind of instruments used for people with severe jaw fractures, designed to immobilize and inflict pain to prevent further injury. But here, they were used as a tool of torture, a means to quiet the suffering that had become too loud for the facility’s sterile walls. The rough, unyielding metal dug into their flesh, tearing into the soft tissue of their mouth, blood trickling down their chin. The sight was gruesome, and Sebastian could feel his stomach twist with disgust.

The person’s screams were abruptly cut off, replaced by a wet, choking gurgle. They were left to suffer in silence, their jaw now clamped shut, the metal rods cruelly keeping it from moving even a fraction. Tears streamed down their face, their eyes wide with terror and pain, every muscle in their body taut with agony.

And just when Sebastian thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse, the camera shifted. The surgeon, clad in a sterile suit that seemed to mock the very concept of humanity, moved over the patient's eyes. Those eyes—once filled with life, now wide with shock, pain, and a frantic, animalistic fear—darted around in sheer terror. They were crying frantically, tears mingling with the blood on their face.

“We will now begin our final part,” the disembodied voice continued with a chilling detachment. “Removal of the natural human eyes to replace them with XXXX using XXXX and XXXX. The expected results will lead to an ability to see underwater.”

Sebastian’s breath caught in his throat as he watched a gloved hand reach for a long, thin needle, the metal glinting ominously under the harsh, fluorescent lights. The needle was positioned directly over the patient's eye, the sharp tip hovering just above the delicate orb. Their wide, terrified gaze seemed to plead with the unseen surgeons, with the camera, with anyone who might be watching—to stop, to help, to do something.

But there was no help. There was no mercy.

The screen flickered for a moment, and then, mercifully, the tape cut to black. The room was plunged into darkness, the only sound the low hum of the equipment around him. Sebastian sat frozen, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind racing with the horrific images he had just witnessed. His hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white, the tension radiating through his entire body.

He was left alone in the darkness, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. The horror of what he had seen, of what had been done to someone who had likely never asked for any of this, crashed over him.

Then P.AI.nters face greeted him on the screen.

“They first drugged them, then they put in a row of ocean animal dna into their body.”

He was pointing out the steps that the surgeons did in the tape.

“They cut off their fingers, waiting for them to grow back. They took of the part from the knees to the feet…and then they noticed that it wasn't enough.”

Sebastian raised his hands, to put them over his ears.

“They lost both their healthy legs. Next was their ears, they cut it off. And then…they silenced them by closing their jaw.”

He could still hear P.AI.nter.

“And then they lost their eyes. The transformation from the human self to…the thing they are now…took 7 weeks. They attached and deattached plenty of stuff on them.”

For a moment he felt the urge to shut P.AI.nter off for good.

“Our shopkeeper went through much, don't you think?”

A loud sound filled the room and then there was darkness.

[yanderes-galore]

Romantic yandere Leo (2018 tmnt) with your prompts 8, 55, and 59!!

I struggled hard on this due to prompt 55, but I hope I can figure out something coherent. This takes place in the future after the movie.

Yandere Rise! Leonardo Prompts 8, 55, 59

"I could look into those eyes forever...."

"Now there's always a part of me with you...."

"Are those friends of yours? Are they your everything?"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Insecurities, Jealousy, Possessive behavior, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Guilt tripping, Human/Mutant, Angst, Delusional behavior, Dubious/Coerced relationship.

"We'll... always be friends, right?"

It's an innocent question that falls from Leo's lips. You and him were sitting on a rooftop late at night. Sometimes it was just nice to be alone and speak with one another.

In a world where mutation was becoming the norm, a human being friends with a mutant turtle wasn't new. Many humans knew about or at least heard about the mutations going on around town. It was... shocking at first.

Yet when you met Leonardo, the cheerful, confident, and carefree blue ninja turtle... You knew he meant no harm.

April certainly helped to act as a bridge between you two.

In fact, eventually you became one of the only people Leo could voice his concerns to. Which... when it came to him... there was a lot to vent. You didn't mind... Even Leo listened to your fears.

A fear that was mutual between you was the fear of losing those you care about....

"I don't see why not?" You confess with a smile, glancing towards Leo with a soft look. Such a simple gesture made Leo feel... calm. "I think we're great friends."

"Good, good! But... um... You won't forget about me if we ever... lose contact, right?" Leo finds himself murmuring, his insecurity nibbling at his confidence like some hungry beast.

"Hm... Well, what if we exchange keepsakes?" You bring up. The suggestion sends a look of confusion over Leo, making the turtle tilt his head.

"... keepsakes? What does that mean exactly–?"

"I mean personal items, Leo," You laugh, making Leo's heart flutter. "Like..."

You tug off a bracelet you always wore. Leo remembered it, it was your favorite color. You practically wore it all the time... said you made it with one of those jewelry makers when you were younger.

"What if I exchange this... with something like one of your bandanas?" You hum, making Leo scoff for a moment.

"You serious? You expect me to just give something like that away?" Leo crosses his arms, yet his gaze does drift to your bracelet in thought.

"And you expect me to give my bracelet away for nothing? It means a lot to ME too~" You chuckle, making Leo grumble. He... does have extra bandanas so....

"Fine! Only because it's you...." Leo murmurs, removing his bandana before passing it to you. You take it and slip the bracelet on his wrist.

Even that makes him feel... vulnerable? Flustered? He doesn't know but his face feels hot....

"There we go!" You hum, tying his bandana around your arm where the bracelet was. "I'd say this is sufficient proof we're best friends, right?"

Leo glances over you, the bandana around your wrist. He thinks for a long time before nodding with a soft smile. Yes... Why was he scared in the first place...?

Now you'll always be reminded of each other....

"Now there's always a part of me with you...." Leo finds himself murmuring, a foreign heat crawling across his cheeks. You just smile again and the feeling increases.

"Of course! By the way, you look funny without the bandana~" You tease, making Leo's gaze snap up to you with a frown.

"Shut up!" Leo snaps, but it was more out of embarrassment than anything.

You just respond with a laugh... making Leo flush more. Yet despite his supposed irritation...

He found himself laughing too.

....

...

"Are we still friends... or are you something more...?"

Leonardo had often thought of such a question. It has always popped into his mind when fidgeting with the bracelet you gave him. He was always careful when handling it... it was a gift from you... one that showed you cared.

You had always meant the world to Leonardo. In fact, when he was fighting the Krang, he hoped you were okay. Truthfully...

He never came out the same after nearly losing his family and own life.

When the Krang were defeated, you were quick to come to your friend's aid. You had embraced him, muttering about how worried you were. It was a rather friendly gesture then... yet to Leo, if felt like something more.

Since his near death experience and the fact he was getting older... Leo had wondered if he cared for you in a more mature way. When he was younger, it just felt innocent. But now Leo was an adult... one that was the same age as you.

He kept up with the burden of being a hero. Yet you... You moved on with your life. Well, you still saw him when you could....

Yet Leo always saw you with other people... be that coworkers or friends from college and/or work. As a human you were continuing your life. Despite the bandana you often had on you...

Leo felt himself slipping away from you.

Part of him knew it was wrong. He shouldn't feel envious when it comes to you. But... part of him was frustrated that you could move on...

While he couldn't.

He didn't want to let you go yet! He... He couldn't do that. You mean everything to him....

Sure, you're human. Technically he shouldn't have these feelings in the first place. Yet he feels like a lovesick puppy when he sees you.

Your smile... the playful yet kind glint in your eyes.... Every feature you have makes his heart flutter. That's not even covering your personality.

Nowadays though... You rarely pay him mind. Whenever he looks at you, you're always off with other friends. For a long time, he tried to tolerate it....

On the days he did see you... You felt almost like your old self. Just... more distant. It was like your mind was somewhere else...

It's like you were thinking of other friends than him.

It... breaks his heart. The fact you're spending time with others more than him. For a long time... he was fine with it because his bandana was around your arm all the time.

Yet one day, you just weren't wearing it anymore... all while giving others that cute smile of yours...

It made him... and the bracelet... snap.

"... No... You love them more than me... Am I even a friend now?"

Leo had tried to silently accept the fact that his feelings were one-sided. You were simply too busy for him... you just didn't love him like he thought you did. Normally he'd be devastated at the idea of him breaking your bracelet...

But... You've hurt him.

Do you even have a bond anymore?

At first there was anger. Then... Leo began to realize he never stopped loving you. Which... is why this hurt so much....

He can't ignore this forever...

He should just force your attention... make you remember what you two had.

Leo was careful to wait for when would be a good time to meet you. Using the ninja stealth that's been taught to him... He watches you from the shadows. Each time you speak to those other friends of yours...

His blood boils.

Soon enough, as night hits, you make your way home. Leo knew you were walking home... It was close by. He has the location remembered by heart....

So he jumps down in front of you, causing you to yelp.

"Leo!?" You gasp, a look of confusion settling on your face when he glares at you. "It's been—"

"Too long? I know." Leo snaps, staring you down. "You've been too damn focused on paying attention to other people than ME! I thought we were pals!?"

"Leo, I know, I've just... you know how things are...." You try to reason, only for Leo to ignore you, stepping closer.

"Yeah, you're right, I know how things are..." Leo growls, his demeanor intimidating to you. After all... He's gotten taller since you last saw him.

"Now... about those people... Are those friends of yours? Are they your everything?" Leo continues to accuse, not caring if you look scared. "Are they more important than me? After everything we did?"

You grunt when you feel your back hit the wall of your home, Leo too focused on venting about your supposed neglect.

"I thought you LOVED me!" Leo finds himself nearly sobbing, only for a look of realization to dawn on your face.

"... Leo, no, sweetheart..." You murmur, Leo's eyes never leaving yours. "I love you... but I don't think you understand how...?"

Leo goes quiet...

Then pins you to the wall by your shoulders.

"You're such a liar! And I know liars...." Leo barks, tears forming in his eyes. "You loved me... I know you did... Don't you DARE say we were just friends!"

"Leo, please, we were—"

"No! No we weren't!" Leo whines, pulling you close. When he was younger, this wouldn't be intimidating... but he's like almost 20 now...?

"... I could look into those eyes forever...." Leo confesses, trying to force you to hold his gaze. "I thought those eyes told me everything... I thought they said you cared...."

"I do!" You say, only for Leo to hold you closer.

"Then WHY don't you LOVE ME?" Leo snaps again, looking down at you with a hurt gaze. "You don't even wear my bandana anymore!"

"I keep it safe, Leo...."

"That was the point of our deal!" Leo counters, "It was to show we belonged to each other! Didn't that mean you loved me too...?"

You stay silent, making Leo shake.

"... you're... just overwhelmed, right?" Leo murmurs, "You love me... You're just worried about what those other people will say about us...."

"What? Leo, n—" You're quickly shushed by Leo, the turtle smiling down at you. It was probably meant to be sweet... but with the look in his eyes...

He looks deranged.

"It's okay, sweetheart..." Leo murmurs, nuzzling into your neck. "It doesn't matter what they think... as long as we love each other, It doesn't matter!"

You feel Leo tug on you to pull you with him. You stay your ground though, making Leo's dark gaze shift to you.

"Where are you taking me—?" You ask, making Leo scoff.

"Don't want you home tonight... You're staying with me! We have a lot to talk about...."

"No we don't?"

"Yes we do!" Leo shuts you down again, tugging you along to follow him. "Let's have a night to ourselves, you owe me, right~?"

You reluctantly end up following Leo. The grip on your arm is tight, preventing you from running off. You hear him hum happily... the noise eerie in the night.

"Oh! By the way... I accidentally broke your bracelet...." Leo murmurs in a guilty tone, like that was the worst thing he's done tonight.

"But don't worry...!" Leo hums, pulling you close to him."

"We'll fix it... I'm sure we can make it special again now that we're together, hm~?"

You just meekly nod... trying to keep the peace long enough to bring this up to his brothers.

[gingersxng]

Caught In The Act

Pairing: f!reader x Yunho

Genre: smut 18+, angst?

Summary: you finally caught your boyfriend in the act after months of cheating.

Notes: gf!reader, dom!reader, bf!yunho, switch!yunho, yunho is a manwhore, bigdick!yunho, cheating, getting caught in the act, unprotected sex (DONT), punishment, teasing, nipple play, fingering, cumming. May have forgot something!

Words: 1.3k

You and Yunho had been in a kinda messy relationship for 6 months. It was now very common for you to spend some of the nights alone without your boyfriend’s presence while he was out doing other stuff. You knew he slept around with other girls, the horny manwhore he was. You loved him so much that you actually accepted his behaviour, as long as you couldn’t see anything it didn’t happen you thought to yourself and you knew that he loved you more than everything.

All it took was some random girl to bite her lip or show a bit of cleavage for Yunho to go crazy and drag her to the nearest bathroom or whatever he could find… well tonight unfortunately it was your shared bed.

You stormed through the front door of your apartment, your heart racing with a mixture of anger and hurt. You had just received a tip-off from a friend about your boyfriend and now you was about to catch him red-handed. As you quietly made your way down the hallway, the sounds of passion and pleasure filled your ears, confirming your worst fears.

Stepping into the bedroom your blood boiled at the erotic sight in front of you. There he was, your so-called boyfriend, thrusting vigorously into some random girl, his big body dominating the petite stranger. The girl's moans echoed through the room, a stark contrast to your seething silence. Yunho's eyes were closed, his face contorted in pure ecstasy as he pounded away, completely oblivious to your presence.

"You fucking bastard!" Your voice cut through the air, sharp as a whip.

Startled, Yunho froze mid-thrust, his brown eyes widening as he turned to face you. The girl beneath him, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, quickly scrambled off the bed, covering her naked body with the sheets and got out of there in a flash.

"Y/N... baby, it's not what you think," Yunho stammered, his face flushing with a mix of guilt and arousal. His thick, veiny cock, still glistening with the girl's juices, stood erect, a testament to his recent activities.

"Not what I think? Really?" Your voice dripped with sarcasm as you took in the scene. The tangled sheets, the used condom on the bedside table, and the unmistakable scent of sex hanging heavy in the air. "You're fucking some random slut in our bed, and it's not what I think? You're a fucking manwhore, Yunho!"

Yunho's mouth opened and closed like a fish, struggling to form a coherent response. He knew he was caught, and the evidence of his infidelity was as plain as the hard-on that still tented the sheets.

"Get out of my sight," you spat, your hands balling into fists. "I want you out of this apartment by tomorrow. And take your pathetic dick with you because you're not getting a second chance at fucking me."

As you turned to leave, Yunho's hand shot out, grasping your wrist tightly. "Wait, Y/N. Please, just hear me out."

You glared at him, your eyes flashing with fury. "Let go of me, you asshole. I swear, if you don't let go right now, I'll scream and have you arrested for assault."

Yunho's grip loosened, but he didn't release you. "I know I fucked up, okay? I'm a dick, but I love you. I'm sorry. Please, just give me one chance to make it up to you."

You snorted derisively. "Make it up to me? How? By fucking me in this bed where you just had some nameless girl? No thanks. I've had enough of your bullshit."

"I'll do whatever it takes," he pleaded, his eyes pleading. "I'll do anything to keep you, Y/N. Please, just give me a chance to prove myself."

You studied him for a moment, your mind racing. Despite your anger, a small part of you was intrigued by his offer. Perhaps you could use this situation to your advantage, to teach him a lesson he'd never forget.

"Fine," you said finally, her voice cold. "But on one condition."

Yunho's eyes lit up with hope. "Anything, baby. Just name it."

"You will do exactly as I say, no questions asked. If you agree to that, I might consider giving you a chance to redeem yourself."

He nodded eagerly, his eyes fixed on you. "I agree. Whatever you want, I'll do it."

"Good," you purred, a devilish smile spreading across your face. "Then let's start with your punishment, shall we?"

Without waiting for a response you grabbed Yunho's hand and pulled him towards the bed. You pushed him down onto the mattress, his back hit the headboard hard and you straddled his waist, your short skirt riding up your thighs.

"You like fucking other girls, huh? Well, let's see how you like being fucked by me," you whispered seductively, your fingers reaching for the button of your blouse.

Yunho's eyes widened as you slowly unbuttoned your top, revealing your lace bra and the swell of your breasts. His cock, already semi-hard from the earlier encounter, began to stir again, thickening under your gaze.
"That's right, you filthy whore-lover," you taunted, your hands cupping your breasts, squeezing and teasing your sensitive nipples through the lace. "You're going to watch me pleasure myself while you lie there and do nothing. That's your punishment for being a cheating piece of shit."

As you spoke, your fingers worked the clasp of the bra, freeing your round and firm breasts. You leaned forward, your hard nipples grazing his chest, your breath hot on his skin. Yunho's cock twitched, straining against his stomach, but he didn't dare move, knowing any sign of resistance would only prolong his agony.

Your fingers drifted down your body, tracing the line of your waist before slipping beneath the waistband of your skirt. You moaned softly as your fingers found your wetness, stroking your clit, your pussy already aching for release.

"You like that, don't you? Watching me touch myself, imagining it's some random slut's hand on my pussy instead of yours," you teased, your fingers delving deeper, sliding through your slick folds. "Well, guess what? You're not getting a taste of this sweet pussy until I say so. And if you even think about touching yourself, I'll stop and leave you high and dry."

Yunho's breath hitched as he watched your fingers disappear into your pussy, his cock throbbing with need. He yearned to thrust his hips, to bury himself deep inside you, but he knew he had to endure this punishment if he wanted a chance at redemption.

Your moans filled the room as you fucked yourself with your fingers, your hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. Your eyes never left his, daring him to look away, to break the intense connection that bound you in this moment of forbidden pleasure.

"That's it, Yunho," you whispered. "Watch me cum, you filthy pervert. Imagine it's some other girl riding your cock, but remember, it's my pussy that's getting off, not yours."

Your fingers worked faster, your hips bucking against your hand as you neared your climax. Yunho's eyes were locked on you, his mouth dry as he fought the urge to beg for release. He wanted to taste you so bad, to feel your tight pussy clenching around his cock, but he knew he had to earn that privilege.

With a cry of pleasure, your body stiffened, your pussy clenching around your fingers as you came, your juices flooding down your hand and onto Yunhos dick.

You collapsed against him, your breath ragged, your heart pounding.

"There," you said satisfied. "That's your punishment for now. But remember, this is just the beginning. If you want to prove yourself, you'll do whatever I say, no matter how depraved or humiliating it might be."

Yunho nodded, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and determination. "I'll do whatever it takes, Y/N. Just tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen."

A wicked smile played on your lips as you considered the possibilities. "Oh, I have plenty of ideas, believe me. And if you thought this was humiliating, just wait until tomorrow. Because that's when the real fun begins."

[alexiethymia]

Boiling Hot Iron vs Lukewarm Water

Maomao's Way of Affection Part 2

[LN 12 spoilers]

I AM ACTUALLY FOAMING AT THE MOUTH. I mean I read it somewhere, but apparently yes, Maomao does initiate the kiss in the light novel. Even if she did accept his feelings, I always thought that it might have been too fast the way she was ready for a night visit already, but I always chalked it up to her upbringing in the pleasure district and her being fifty-fifty that Jinshi wouldn't actually try anything. But the fact that she is the one to actually instigate a kiss, and quite a sweet one at that, while Jinshi was sleeping. This scene in LN 12 really is in contrast to the scene in LN 5 where it was Jinshi who forced the kiss, and even to later on when Maomao ends up falling asleep and Jinshi restrains himself to a kiss on the forehead for replenishment.

It's hard to be coherent with my ramblings but one of the reasons why I love this series is the slow burn on Maomao's part which is really fulfilling, and the slight angst we get because of that, and not just on Jinshi's part.

Below is a translation from the Spanish translation of LN 12:

She just doesn't get it. He wants to step down from his position near the top of the country for a purpose. If that purpose was MaoMao himself, he would definitely have gone mad.

It's as hot as cast iron.

Maomao is not interested in such blazing heat. The only thing she can give back is a warm temperature.

Slowly puts his hand on Mr. Jinshi's cheek and feels his body temperature, which is the same as warm water. Her cheek was slightly colder. His eyelids were completely closed and he rubbed his cheek against my hand like a kitten to be pet. Looks like he sleeps, like he feels safe.

Maomao seems to struggle with the inequality of Jinshi's feelings and hers. She compares Jinshi's feelings to hot cast iron, and hers to warm water. And no wonder, to her, Jinshi willing to give up everything, including his position, for her, seems to be such a passionate love. As much as she snarks and would rather say that she could just do without all of Jinshi's gestures (*cough branding himself for example, this damn masochist cough*), she recognizes how much Jinshi has given up and is willing to give up for her, not to mention all that he has in fact given her.

She even goes to say, "I don't even have anything in return for you." When she says this line, I think that she isn't just referring to being unable to return the depth of Jinshi's feelings, but even their difference in position. As Suiren observes, despite Maomao's forthrightness, perhaps because of the environment they're in, she is very much aware of her station.

It's such a melancholic line coming from her. It seems to me as if she really is afraid of hurting Jinshi. She already doesn't like the thought of Jinshi being hurt like Luomen, but now she also doesn't want to be the one to hurt him. On top of that, for the normally aloof Maomao, it may be that she's starting to feel unconfident precisely because of the difference in position.

Maomao strikes me as a person who wants to be used. Even when she wasn't in love with Jinshi yet, she always seemed to want to be praised for doing a good job. So for her to think that it's just her who keeps receiving and receiving, while not being able to give anything back, the inequality (this time going in the reverse direction) must bother her a lot. She never used to care so for her to feel different from how she usually does because of Jinshi - caring about him, being unsure of herself because of him - oh she must hate how that feels so no wonder she wants to remove herself from the equation. But alas, it's too late.

Unlike Maomao though, I don't think that there's such a disparity between her feelings and Jinshi's despite that she describes his feelings as boiling hot and hers as warm. Yes definitely I feel that Jinshi's feelings may be stronger, but I feel that Maomao's is actually closer to his than she thinks. I think it may be because the nature of their feelings may be strongly influenced by their past.

Jinshi has always had the things he's loved taken from him. He wasn't allowed to prioritize a single thing or a single person because of the responsibilities he's had to assume from such a young age. Sure he's childish now but that may be because he had to grow up fast. Of course he would be desperate and slightly bit manic when it comes finally falling in love. He'll always feel that Maomao will be taken away from him unless he does something about it with his own hands.

Meanwhile, because of Maomao's complicated past with her birth parents, it's no wonder that Jinshi's passion unnerves her. Remember it was that same passion that caused her mother to hurt her. No wonder she doesn't want it. But when it comes to that feeling called love, that's the only version she recognizes because that's what she's been surrounded with in the pleasure district and even in the rear palace - lust imitating love, or even if it was love, a passionate and all-consuming love that destroys everything in its path.

But what does Jinshi make her feel? Trust. Safety. Even if her rational mind tells her that people's feelings change, Jinshi's constant proclamations that he will make everything be ok so that the both of them can be together may in fact actually reassure her. Heck, perhaps that was why Maomao goaded him to make that verbal confession a while back, precisely so she could have that assurance. She doesn't recognize it because she's never seen or had it, but perhaps this stability is something she's wanted her whole life. And I would say her feelings for Jinshi are nearly as strong as his for her, precisely because she feels for him the same way he makes her feel. Nothing passionate but also uncertain. But rather something warm and can be relied on. It's a feeling that pushes her to want to see him safe and healthy. It's a comforting and homey feeling that allows her to relax. And for Maomao who's always considered herself frigid, for her frozen heart to feel that warmth is also a tiny miracle in a way.

Jinshi is childish. Maomao is weird. But apart from their extremes, they're actually a lot alike - engrossed in their work, willful, but ultimately just. Apart from anything else, they're at ease when they can talk to each other. It's actually interesting for me to see how those emotions develop from Maomao's side since Jinshi is giving her space to take things at her own pace, another slow burn in a way. But while Jinshi's love is loud, Maomao's love is quiet. Even before this admission, it was always there, in the soft touches to the hair or cheeks, in being a refuge for rest and sleep, in her worry when he was overworking himself. The moment I would pinpoint that Maomao had actually already fallen in love with Jinshi was when she was contemplating Enen and Yao's relationship. She thinks to herself, "the more you cared for someone, the more you wanted a say in how they behaved - especially if that behavior involved hurting themselves." Now doesn't that sound familiar?

*Note - because I loved it and I'm impatient I'll share the translations for that particular scene in LN 12 in the comments section. One is translated from the Spanish version, while the other is translated from the Korean version. I got all of this from facebook. I'm quite interested to see how it'll come out in the English version.

[muddyorbsblr]

bigger than the whole sky [rtc what if…?]

'relinquish the crown' masterlist See my full list of works here!

BE WARNED SPOILERS FOR THE LOKI SEASON 2 FINALE AHEAD

Summary: What if…you'd broken Frigga's memory spell without Loki? | Your search for your husband leads you to a peculiar void beyond the Nine Realms, to a place that vaguely resembles the Tree of Life that you'd only read about in historical texts.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: angst with no happy ending in sight; this is in the RTC universe so…themes of incest if you squint; Loki S2 finale spoilers; slight violence in the beginning [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: gonna repeat it again…Loki S2 finale spoilers ahead; no prior reading of RTC is required to suffer enjoy reading this story

"I will ask you one final time, you sadistic hedonist," you panted, taking a moment to lean on Stormbreaker while the eccentric tyrannical leader of Sakaar laid bleeding on the ground. One hand clutched his abdomen where you'd struck him, the other gingerly held his broken nose.

This wasn't something that you enjoyed doing, putting others through pain. But knowing Loki's history with this Grandmaster long before you two had met was easing your worry somehow that you were doing something reprehensible. There were pains that your beloved, even after all the time you'd known each other prior to your betrothal and marriage, were not quite ready to share with you.

His time in Sakaar was among those pains.

That knowledge alone was enough to get you to stop catching your breath, marching over to the Grandmaster and pinning him to the ground with the end of your battle axe's handle.

"Where is Loki?"

"Lady, I already told you back in the viewing box, I haven't seen your u--Agh!" You pressed Stormbreaker's handle harder against a tender spot on his shoulder, his body visibly showing signs of surrender before he started tapping on the floor. "Alright I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whined.

"Shall we try this again, then?" He did his best to nod his head, sighing heavily. "Where did you last see him?"

"I swear to you on my Champion's grave it's been millions of years for me here in Sakaar," he choked out, still audibly struggling to draw in his breath. "It was a time he didn't even know you yet. You probably hadn't even been born."

"So you truly bear no knowledge of my husband's whereabouts?"

"Your hus--I thought he was--"

"Mind your words, charlatan god." He let out another groan of pure agony as you pressed harder on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry! I--I really don't know where he is, Your Highness, I don't--"

"Then what use are you to me," you said darkly, another corner of your soul feeling ass if the lights had gone out. Another dead end.

You took a dagger out with your free hand, the Grandmaster's pleas of mercy sounding muffled as they fell on your dulled ears. Nothing he had to say could spare him now; to you, he was no longer a lead, a well lit path that could perhaps point you to where Loki had been all this time.

Now he was simply a shadow of your husband's past. Something so dark that he didn't even dare let you know about it.

Despair began to seep into your veins, a single question overtaking all other remotely coherent thought. Would you ever find him? Would you ever get to apologize? To tell him how you felt? How you'd always felt?

Before you could strike, a loud crack resounded throughout the Grandmaster's suite, coming from a glowing green portal that appeared in the center of the room.

"I would probably take that call, if I were you," the Grandmaster quipped, exhaling a large sigh of relief when you removed the weight of Stormbreaker off of him as you stepped toward the portal. Once the threshold had begun to close after you stepped through, he let out a final sentiment. "Please say hello to your husband for me when you find him."

That was more than enough for you to decide throwing your dagger into the small opening that remained, hitting the smug anachronistic bastard on his uninjured shoulder.

Then the portal finally closed, leaving you in a place you couldn't quite describe. All you knew was that it felt like a place you should never have been allowed access to. A place that should be beyond you. Beyond anyone.

Winding, glowing vines surrounded you, each of them looked and sounded as if they were teeming with a life of its own. If you listened carefully you could hear voices. Your voices. Infinite iterations of them. But one rang clearer than every other in the entire space.

"Did I do something that angered the Norns so fiercely that they condemned me to love a man I could never have?"

"I know what it feels like to kiss him. To touch him. To be desired by him. And it's ripping me apart to know that I will never know that again."

"The people will look at this union and see it for what it is. Sinful. Shameful!"

You tried to block the memories out of your mind, of you begging your grandmother Queen Frigga to lock your memories away. Of arguing with your grandfather Odin and with your father Thor because they were signing your life away to marry Loki. Of the harsh words you spat at them all behind closed doors.

Of the day the lock on your mind finally broke, after finding your journals prior to the spell being cast chronicling how you'd fallen for the god despite your better judgment. The head-splitting agony of your memories reconciling and finding their place back in your mind.

An agony suffered in your lonesome while Loki was away on assignment.

You scrambled desperately to think of anything else, to follow along the path of the vines and hear something other than your own mistakes being echoed back at you. These desperate attempts made you realize that the vines converged in a structure that eerily resembled an image that you'd only learned about in your youth.

"Yggdrasil?" you whispered in awe, your feet bringing you closer still until you found a parting just large enough for one to squeeze through.

Once you'd finally freed yourself from the winding vines, all air left your lungs at the sight that greeted you. A golden throne at the heart of the tree. All the vines anchored to the man -- or God, rather -- seated in it.

Loki.

"You've left quite a trail of bodies in your wake throughout this quest of yours, little Princess," he spoke, not moving even a fraction from where he sat.

He gave you a soft smile, tears beginning to form in his eyes as he stared at you. As if he couldn't believe you were here with him.

"It's been too long, my darling wife."

You'd rehearsed time and time again throughout your search for your husband what you would say to him once you'd been reunited. You would tell him how wrong you were for how you behaved throughout your betrothal, your marriage. And you would abandon every shred of your pride and beg for his forgiveness. You would tell him you loved him, that you'd always loved him.

And that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

Yet somehow you could form none of those words. Instead you finally felt your body succumb to the tiredness brought about by the centuries you'd spent searching and laying waste to every imaginable corner of the Nine Realms and beyond for even the slightest shred of a clue as to where he could have been.

Instead you sunk to your knees, the tears streaming down your face as you stumbled over your words. "I remember everything. I had to find you. Tell you that I'm--"

"I know you are, my love. I watched you on the day the spell broke, the day you finally remembered. I wanted so desperately to come home to you. To not let you have to endure that pain alone."

"Why didn't you?" you blurted out, staring at all the vines he held in his hands. "What are all these?"

"Timelines," he answered you simply, giving you a minuscule shrug of his shoulders. "In every single one, there is an iteration of you and me. Some circumstances may differ, minor details. But at the heart of each of them, we live a life together. We find each other, fall in love. In some we even start a family."

"A family," you repeated breathlessly. The knowledge that each vine -- each timeline -- that was anchored to him held a variation of you and him, of your story, began to eat away at you, flooding you with guilt.

How wretched did you have to be that in your timeline you'd rejected him? Foolishly pushed him away with every mistake you made until finally it took you centuries to find him again?

"What happened?" you finally spoke after what felt like hours. "How did you get--"

"That is quite the long and harrowing tale, darling. In truth, it was a cavalcade of miscalculations and bad judgment calls, failed attempts of trying to save all these lives until I realized that the result would always stay the same if the equation contained the same variables."

"And what was that result?"

"Annihiliation," he answered you simply, giving you a misty eyed look. "Every single strand of time that I hold safe now would have been obliterated on sight. I know it. I've seen it. I've seen you disintegrate before me too many times than I wish to count. The device that once held them stable could no longer scale for an infinite number of possibilities, and letting countless timelines die in the name of the survival of a few was…unacceptable. The only thing that could carry a burden that great was--"

"A god," you finished, the words fighting you their entire way out, nearly choking you on the weight of them. The question that you wished to raise crippled you with its answer's implications. For you and your timeline specifically. "What happens if you let go?"

"It dies. Slowly. Drifts away until it eventually turns to ash." He began to make a motion, as if to approach you, until ultimately he decided against it. "This was the only way. It remains the only way. I must stay, and keep them safe. Watch our lives play out in derivatives of what ifs."

The selfish question that danced at the tip of your tongue plagued you with even more guilt. But what about my timeline? What about our life together? "There has to be another way," you grumbled, stubbornly shaking your head as if you were once again a toddler, refusing to accept the world for being what it was rather than what you wished it would be. "I could stay with you. I could stay and we can find a way together."

Your heart splintered watching him shake his head at you. "My beautiful headstrong wife," he breathed out, his tone filled with both fondness and heartbreak. "I can't in my good conscience let you abandon your life just so you could stay here with me. That would be too selfish, even for me. What would you have here?"

"You! I would have you. All these centuries I've spent in a desperate scramble to find you and tell you that I lo--" You found yourself completely choking on the words now, never having to articulate them before. "That I love you. That I've always loved you and I want us to start our lives together. I refuse to accept that after all this time I have to let you go. You can't make me."

"Asgard needs you, its future Queen."

"And I need you!" Your voice finally broke, sobs that you'd fought inside starting to bubble up. "It isn't fair that you hold all these different tellings of our story in your hands, but your story, yours and mine, ends in us apart. That you spend your days here, watching our life play out somewhere and somewhen else, and you're alone. Please don't send me away, husband," you began to beg. "Don't make me leave you. Let me stay."

He let out a sharp exhale, a tear escaping his eye, rolling down his cheek. "I've longed for the day I would hear you call me that," he sighed, a rueful smile gracing the handsome features that you were bereft of for centuries. "Truly I didn't think I would ever see you again, Y/N. My Y/N. I never thought that I would have you before me, and I hear those words you would only say in dreams with my own ears. Thank you, my dear heart. You have given me a gift in this quest of yours, in having a final moment with the woman I love…" More tears rolled down his cheeks when his smile widened before finishing his sentiment. "And the woman that loves me."

Your sobs filled the endless space, your body collapsing onto the ground as your grief overtook you. The notion of grieving for the living never seemed sensical to you until now. Now that the man, the god, you loved was calling this the last time you would ever see each other.

And you knew in your heart that with the power he wielded now, he could make that your reality without even lifting a finger. He could push you out of this void and back into any timeline of his choosing just as easily as he pulled you out of Sakaar.

The feel of familiar large hands pulling you up to your feet startled you, only having the briefest moment to look at your husband before he pulled you into a crushing embrace. You didn't think twice before wrapping your arms around him, holding him as close as you could and sobbing into his shoulder before realizing…

If his hands were on you, then why were the vines still in place?

"Loki," you sobbed. "Husband, please. No illusions."

"I can't hold you," he said, choking back his own sobs now. "I couldn't watch you break like this and do nothing." The duplicate he cast to hold you disappeared from your hold in a flash of green. "I've done it before against all my better judgment, I refuse to do it again."

"Then don't." Against your own better judgment, you stomped your foot, like a bratty child being told you had to go home. Which was almost precisely what this was. "If this is where you are and where you will remain, then this is where I wish to stay. With the god that owns my heart. With my husband." You blinked rapidly to expel the tears that blurred your vision before uttering the words that splintered at your heart even more. "I was made to be yours. You said that."

"And I yours," he finished, averting his gaze, letting his own tears drop to the fabric of  his trousers. "In every timeline. We must take solace in knowing that among these infinite tales, one is ours. What could have been ours."

"What should be ours," you insisted. You made your way over to him, placing your hand on the side of his face. He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, the sight breaking your heart further. "Our story deserves its bliss-laden epilogue, too."

"Not at the cost of everyone else's. Deep down you know this to be true."

"That does not mean I accept it," you grumbled. "Let me stay."

"You know that I can't. I will not subject you to live out the rest of your days here. Without friends nor family, and only a husband that cannot even hold you as company."

"But at least you would have someone to hold you," you argued, throwing your arms around him and letting your tears flow once more. "I can't just leave you here all on your own. You can't make me." You knew that he damn right could.

"My love," he sighed, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. "I wish for you to live a long, and fulfilled life. You've lost so much time in your search for me only for it to end like this. I can give you those centuries back, as a final gift. Reverse the clock, undo the toll it took on you. Let this be the final token of my affection. My fealty. My undying vow."

"Let me keep my memories," you pleaded, already feeling that this would truly be your final moments with him. You did not need to turn your gaze to know that the portal leading back to Asgard was there, waiting for you. Perhaps he would simply nudge you through with his mind, knowing that you would refuse to leave. "Let me keep my remnants of you if that is all that I can leave this place with."

He nodded once. "Very well, little Princess. When you walk through the portal only the physical years will be stripped away. Live well, and remember always that I love you. My heart will only ever belong to you. Until the end of time."

"I love you," you choked out through your tears. "Husband." Your heart ached at the sight of his tears, not bothering to fight back the urge to kiss them away. "I will miss you desperately and always. In every step that I must take in this life without you."

"You will always have me by your side," he swore. "When you feel a presence you cannot see, in gentle breezes within a still room. I will always be there."

You continued to wipe his tears away, the god constantly kissing at your palms. Seemingly refusing to let you go, too.

"May I kiss you?" you asked, barely audibly, your voice unable to even completely form the words. "One last time?"

He gave you a small nod, and you leaned in to press your lips to his, trying to pour out your years of lost time and the future that you were doomed to lose in just a few short moments into that single kiss. You could feel that when he kissed you back, he did so with both all the love he'd never been able to give you before, and the love that he would never be able to bestow in the future.

It was a kiss of finality. A kiss of goodbye. A bittersweet final page in the story of you and Loki.

I love you more than words can ever say, his voice echoed in your mind. Goodbye, my love. My fated. My darling wife.

When you pulled away he was gone. And you'd been returned to your shared chambers back in Asgard. As he promised, the physical toll the centuries-long search had taken on your body were gone. No more scars from miscalculated skirmishes. No more bruises from Sakaar.

No more physical reminders of what you'd endured trying to reunite with the love your life.

All that remained were the memories of those years, and your time in his domain beyond the Realms.

"Goodbye, my darling husband. My love. My Loki," you whispered into the quiet of your marital chambers, sinking to your knees once more and letting out a shriek of pure agony, the sobs swiftly returning and wracking your entire body as you lay pathetically on the floor.

"Y/N??"

The sound of your mother Lady Sif's voice provided little comfort, but it felt like a familiar balm. "Mother," you said weakly, unmoving from your spot on the ground even as she rushed to you, cradling you in her lap.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" She stroked your hair while your tears soaked her sleep dress. You felt her wave someone over, and moments later you felt your grandmother Queen Frigga's presence in the room with you.

"I lost. I lost and I know not what to do now," you managed to say through your tears.

"What did you lose, Daughter?"

You'd briefly considered explaining your journey, from breaking the spell, to your journey through the centuries, to Loki's domain beyond the reach of space and time. To relay what had become of your husband.

Ultimately the words were beyond you due to your grief.

"Everything," you answered her, holding on to her tight as if you were a child again. This would be the only semblance of comfort you would have. "I lost everything."

A/N: I had to after that finale had me processing and feeling the big sad all day, I promise I'm working on 2 other stories based on the finale that have kinda better endings.

Also I sobbed throughout writing this entire thing, just for the record.

Now here's the song to add to the vibe:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

[clonetrooperjournals]

I hope you are having a great day today! 😊 I am so obsessed with your two fics about stuttering. You portray everything so well! I was wondering if I could request something similar with Tech and someone who struggles with putting sentences together and having smooth conversations. Thank you so much if you feel like it!

Summary : You're a field medic working with the bad batch. while working on your field guide of medicinal herbs and plants you catch the eyes of the batch's resident genius. Pairings : Tech x Fem!reader (Field medic) Warnings : reader has a stutter, fluff, slight angst, cutie tech, happy ending, pre-order 66 (before echo) Words : 1.6k masterlist here A/N : Thank you so much for this request! I was actually half way through writing this when you requested! I hope you love it these stutter reader fics are my favourite to write!

“C-Can you h-help m-me p-please?”  

Tech looks up from his data pad to your burning cheeks and downward gaze with a small smile on his lips, “Of course.”  

You lead him over to a large tree with high branches that had small yellow flowers gently blowing in the breeze, “I-I n-need the... the...,” you point to the flowers.  

“The flowers. How many do you require?” he asks you gently.  

You look up at the tree thinking, “Um... F-Five should b-b-be g-good.”  

Tech throws his grappling hook over the thickest branch and then climbs up to grab a handful of the flowers. He'll never say it out loud, (but it is quite obvious to his brothers) that he enjoys helping you, and having you ask him for help. Even though you are very shy and have a rather hard stutter he finds it quite endearing and adorable.  

At first when you got assigned to Clone force 99 as their field medic, he found your stutter to be quite annoying, believing that you just lacked the mental capacity to form coherent speech, and he told you so. The boys chewed him out for that one telling him that it wasn’t your fault that you talk the way you do and that if he paid close attention, he would see how incredibly intelligent you are. He did pay attention after that, and he did find that you were in fact, incredibly smart.  

You were creating your own medicinal herb kit from the plants and flowers found on the planets they visited and writing a field book on all your findings and how to use them in an emergency. Tech then became intrigued by you and your work, apologizing for his first impression of you. You accepted his apology and told him that before you joined the GAR you were a herb healer on your home planet, and you wanted to expand and share your knowledge which is why you joined the army. It gave you the ability to treat people and being a field medic let you go to different planets and explore the flower and fauna for your medical research.  

Most people thought you were really weird, walking around with your large toolbox you used to collect samples, flowers braided in your hair and your shy stuttering demeanor, you couldn’t really blame them. The batch thought you fit in really well with their crazy dynamic saying they needed a quiet one that wasn’t brooding or grumpy like Hunter and Crosshair.  

The boys also noticed how since Tech has gotten closer to you, he has developed a crush on you. He's become more patient and understanding, always letting you speak without judging or would help you finish your thought. He helped you with your research and would seek you out for quiet company when his brothers were becoming too much. Hunter can sense that you two have feelings for each other and has tried to say this to Tech, but he doesn’t listen, saying it's impossible for someone as perfect as you to like him back.  

“Here you go. Is there anything else in this region that you require for your research?” Tech asks you while giving you the flowers.  

You shake your head, “N-no. J-Just these.” 

He looks at the yellow flowers in your hand, “and what medicinal properties do these flowers have?”  

“T-Thier called s-s-star f-flowers. W-When m-m-mashed into a p-p-paste, i-it can t-t-treat b-burns,” you explain with a smile.  

“Time to go you two!” Hunter yells from the ship. You gather up all your supplies and the two of you head back to the marauder. Once back inside you head to your bunk and lay out all your stuff to make the paste while Tech pilots the ship.  

Hunter and Crosshair sit in their bunks quietly watching you while you do your work. Your used to the boys coming and seeing what you're doing or offering to help. You put the flowers in a small bowl and grab your mashing tool, then mash the flowers until it looks like a bright yellow paste. You dip your finger in to make sure it’s the right consistency and then get up and walk over to Crosshair.  

He raises a brow at you confused as you grab his wrist pulling his blacks back revealing the burn that he was trying to hide from you and gently rub the yellow paste over the burn then wrap it up. If anyone else would have touched Crosshair without his permission, they would have a broken nose, but Crosshair knew you, and knew you did everything with pure innocent intentions.  

He scoffed avoiding your gaze, “no point trying to hide anything from you is there petals?” 

You giggle at the nickname, “t-that's r-r-right.”  

He shows you a rare smile and you pat his shoulder and head back to your bunk. You start to clean out your tool kit, reorganizing the mess you made while you were cataloging, while also sneakily peeking to see if Tech would come and join you. He usually found his way over to you eventually saying that he was the best person to assist you. You smile to yourself thinking about the adorable genius that you’ve come to love, sure he’s straightforward and brutally honest but you’ve come to admire those qualities in him, even if he offends you half the time you know he’s not doing on purpose, it’s just how his wonderful mind works.  

Hunter sees you smiling to yourself and chuckles, “You ever gonna confess to him or do we have to continue watching the two of you pine over each other?”  

Your eyes go wide and cheeks start to burn, “I-I d-don't know what... what y-y-ou're talking ab-bout.”  

“Sure you don’t,” Crosshair crosses his arms looking between you and the cockpit, “apparently the two smartest people on the ship are really the dumbest.” 

“Crosshair...” Hunter warns.  

Tech leaves the cockpit to join the three of you, “Oh! Did you need any assistance with your cataloging? I am momentarily free...”  

“S-Sure Tech.” Hunter grins at you heading to cockpit with Wrecker while Crosshair lies in his bunk looking at his bandaged wrist with a soft look.  

... 

Currently you and the batch were on Raydonia, a forested planet in the outer rim near Dathomir. Something was malfunctioning on the ship and Tech had to land so he could repair it before you all headed back to Kamino. You had heard about the trees on this planet that had blue glowing fruit, and you had to collect some. Tech and Wrecker were working on the ship while Hunter and Crosshair went to check out the settlement and you figured you could sneak away to collect some of the fruits before anyone realized you were gone. So, you grabbed your supplies and headed into the forest by the ship staying within view so you don't get lost.  

 You find a tall tree with large fruits that would be perfect for your studies. After trying to shake the fruits from the tree with no success you decided to climb it, thinking you could just slide down the tree afterwards. However, once you were in the tree with a handful of the fruits you realized that you couldn’t get down without dropping and squishing them and it was in this moment that Tech jogged over slightly frazzled. 

“What have we told you about going off on your own?”  

You blushed, “S-Sorry T-Tech... I w-was j-j-just...” 

He sighed, “yes you were trying to collect the fruit but next time inform one of us so that we can assist you and more importantly keep you safe.”  

“O-Okay.” You glanced down at Tech with a warm rosy cheeked smile, making his heart flutter. 

“Can I assist you?” he asks gently.  

You nod, “T-Take the... f-fruit p-p-please.” Then you throw the glowing fruit down, Tech catching them with ease. He puts them in your toolbox and turns back to you as you start to climb down the tree. Except what should be a simple slide down the tree doesn’t happen when instead, your foot gets caught on a lower branch and you fumble, falling hard and fast towards the ground. You close your eyes expecting a hard landing but instead you feel warm arms and hard plastoid envelope you as Tech catches you bridal style before you can hit the ground.  

“That was close.” He says looking you over to make sure you were okay. You were frozen in his arms blushing uncontrollably as Tech admires how beautiful you are. The red of your cheeks, the small pink flowers you braided into your hair, and your favourite coveralls that you hand embroidered with colourful flowers, you looked like a walking garden, kriff he was so in love with you.  

You put your feet down, but Tech doesn’t let you go still holding your arms, “T-Thank... you T-Tech.”  

“Forgive me but I have to speak my mind about something I-,” he brushes a stray hair behind your ear, “I have developed feelings for you.” 

 Your eyes widen in surprise, “w-what!?”  

“I-I’m quite in l-love with you...” he admits nervously, his cheeks just as bright as yours. 

You smile at him giggling, “y-you’re s-stuttering.” 

He laughs, “I-I am, aren’t I...”  

You put a hand on his cheek feeling the burning blush under your fingers, “I-I love... you t-t-too.” 

“May I... kiss you?” he asks timidly.  

Leaning in you feel his breath mix with yours, “y-yes please.”  

The kiss is gentle and shy just like the both of you, and as you pull away you see his eyes twinkle under his goggles.  

“Finally! I thought we’d have to wait at least another 200 rotations before they said anything.” 

Tech sighs, “Crosshair!” 

You laugh and grab his hand, “L-Lets go... f-finish the sh-ship.” 

He leans in and kisses your cheek, “Good idea my dear.”  

[mae-gi-writes]

everything that i'll never be | kim mingyu . seventeen

You'll never be his first and that bothers you, that she had his heart before you ever did.

genre: angst, relationship problems, insecure! reader. Mentions of self-harm.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

She's so much better than you. In so many ways.

There's no way you can compete. You're not even competition to her. Come on, it's almost as if trying to compare a Ferrari to a stupidly tiny honda that would break down whenever it had to breach the motorway.

This is how envious you are of the girl that once had your boyfriend's heart.

And you hate yourself for it, because every argument that arises is because of that sole reason; you can't stand the thought of her having him first. You can't stand the thought that Mingyu had the opportunity, all his firsts, with a girl that was someone other than you.

Which is why the words suddenly fly out of your mouth one day without warning.

"How was she like? Your ex?"

The words sound raw and painful, even coming from your mouth. You hate it. You hate yourself the most at this particular moment. Even more so when Mingyu stops in mid-action and blinks at you like you've just told him you'd committed a first-degree murder.

It's not that it's surprising. It's just that-- more so -- it's been six years. Six years already, and you still haven't gotten over it. So there is, ultimately, a problem. With you.

Mingyu lowers the knife he's been using to chop the carrots into tiny thin slices. He suggested bringing duck to your annual family dinner this Christmas, which you thought was a good idea, until you realized the amount of preparation that came along with it.

So here you are, on a beautiful 24th December night with the snow falling like soft petals along the sky line, making sure that the duck that you've put into the oven a few minutes ago isn't roasting itself to death.

"Why are you asking now?" is Mingyu's question.

You shrug half-heartedly in an attempt to show him that it isn't that much of a big deal whether he answers your question or not. Though it is, as you keep your eyes trailed on the timer on your phone, "I had a nightmare," you admit.

"About?" his eyebrow raises a fraction, body stilling to await your answer.

You struggle to find something coherent, put together, that doesn't sound so lame once you say it out loud because god forbid it is the most childish thing to think of when it's been six years of your relationship.

And yet, she's still the gap, that empty space, that lingers between the two of you like the unsaid corpse filling the room.

"About you," you pause, "and her."

Mingyu lets out a soft breath, "Y/N, we can't be having this conversation six years down the line. I love you, and I'm with you--"

"I know that." he doesn't have to talk to you like you're a child.

"Then why are you still on about her when clearly you're the one I've chosen to be with for the rest of my life?" the hurt in his voice is real and it makes your heart ache with guilt. You shouldn't have asked him anything in the first place. You know, more than anyone, that Mingyu would steal the moon for you had you asked for it. It's undoubtable, the love that he bears for you, the way his eyes find yours across the room like you're the sun that makes his earth rotate.

He continues now, pent-up frustration laced in his alto. Almost like he's about to cry, "it hurts me too, to hear you talk about her over and over again. It gets tiring after a while, Y/N. I'm tired of it, honestly."

"Alright," tears prick at your eyelids but you refuse to blink, gaze permanently latched onto the oven as you fight against the flood of emotion building in the pit of your stomach, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you anything, but--"

"it's not doing you any good either. So why do you do this to yourself? What triggered it?" he's on a roll now, not caring what you have scrambled for an answer, the need to hear your reason a priority in comparison to the millions of excuses you have stacked up against your tongue, "because this isn't about just the nightmare, is it? You've mentioned her at least once during these two weeks and I--I'm tired of it, Y/N. I don't want to keep going through that. She's a part of my past and yes, we were in love once. But I don't love her anymore. You're the one I chose to be with," he holds up the peeler and the carrot in evidence, "isn't that exactly what I'm doing right now? Why do you have to ruin this for us?"

"I--" his speech hits you like a truck. You hadn't expected Mingyu to just spit out his feelings without filter or remorse, which makes it even worse as you try to struggle and comprehend what his words mean exactly. The ache in your chest grows. For a moment, you can't breath, the soft pants stinging the back of your throat as it burns with effort of restraining tears.

You swallow thickly, harsh gulps of air that makes you shudder. Finally, you manage to whisper out a soft, "I'm sorry, Mingyu. I shouldn't-- I shouldn't have bought this up. You're right. I'm just--I'm just a walking time bomb and I'm pathetic--" you shake your head, the tears now spilling down your cheeks as you bite down onto your lower lip. You catch sight of Mingyu's stance faltering ever so slightly, but you move back, as if the physical distance might help you keep your broken heart in check, '--I'm really sorry, Mingyu."

You don't wait for him to answer before you're swiveling on your feet and dashing through the open doorway of your bathroom. It's not much, but it's enough physical space for you to lock the door and slide down onto the floor.

You let the sobs take over, your shoulders hunching over your knees as you start crying. Once you do, you can't stop. You can't.

Because the truth is, you're scared.

You're scared that you'll never be enough for Mingyu and that -- whatever happened in the ktichen -- is the exact proof of that. You're not her. She's --gentle and kind and just agrees to everything that Mingyu ays without putting up a fight. And they made a cute couple, and she's prettier. Prettier than you'll ever be and you wonder what Mingyu even saw in you in the first place.

And she's his first. Will always be his first. Something that you'll never be, no matter how hard you try.

You're so focused on feeling your body shatter with tears and pain and guilt from the past that you don't hear Mingyu's voice until he starts knocking against the door.

"Please," he murmurs, "can we just talk?"

"I'm fine," you blubber out, "please just leave me alone. I really don't want to talk about this right now."

"Y/N, I didn't mean to hurt you, what I meant was--"

"I know already, Mingyu. Just stop." you sniffle and wipe your snot with the back of your hand, "I got it. It's me. I'm the problem. I'll always be the problem."

"That's not what I said, don't put words in my mouth--"

"Just leave me alone." And as if that might help, you whisper, "please." So he does. you hear his footsteps retract after a few beats of agonizing silence, and when he does walk away, you slump back into a small puddle of broken pieces of your heart as you try to hold it all together.

But it's not a memory that you can erase with just a few beers or some good sleep. It's a stain that will last forever, and you're not quite sure how you'll deal with that.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Hey Y/N?"

Your head rises from the slump of your arms. You're not quite sure how long you've been in the bathroom.

Mingyu knocks. You let out a sigh, but don't say anything. Nothing feels right at the moment, no words can seem to fill the empty, now awkward space between you and Mingyu.

"Y/N, I can leave you alone if you want," he pauses, "but...do you mind if I use the bathroom? I kinda...need to pee."

Fuck. Of course. Just when you're about to lose your mind and go on an existential crisis.

You unlock the bathroom after a beat of silence, not even bothering to look up at his face as you sidestep your boyfriend and make your way to the couch. You plop down onto it, hearing the sound of the door shut close as you find your usual navy blanket. It's warm and comforting, wrapping you up in its warmth as the toilet flushes, Mingyu's coughs reaching the living room area. The scent of roasted duck fills the room and you sniff appreciatively. Despite it all, it seems that the food has survived, a proof that no matter how much humans may suffer, they could still go about and do their things right.

"Y/N."

You jump slightly, turning your head in his direction but allowing your eyes to stray along his shirt. The silence answers in your stead.

"How are you feeling?"

You shrug once more. How are you even supposed to feel?

It's a weird contortion of things that make you want to hurl the living room chair at the tv and one that makes you want to curl up in bed and cry and cry and cry.

The couch dips under Mingyu's weight once he joins you on the couch. Still, you don't look at him, rather deciding that picking on your nails is a better option.

"Y/N," he says once more, before his big hand is reaching for yours and stopping your actions with a gentle grip, "don't do that. You're going to hurt yourself."

"That's the whole point," you mutter to yourself, though it's not quiet enough that he doesn't pick on it.

He squeezes your hand in response, "we talked about this before, didn't we? The nervous hand-picking."

"Can you just--" your voice raises, as if in a holler, only to die mid-way up your throat. You slump against the couch. You're tired and overwhelmed, and it shows.

The silence seems to stretch out before you, with only the slow hum of the fridge keeping you company as you keep on staring at the blank tv screen. How have you come to this? How are you fighting about someone that isn't even in the picture anymore?

Ah yes, because you decided to re-open that door and let yourself wonder, picture, your boyfriend with the likes of her when you know it's only going to induce more pain.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, or how to feel,” Mingyu starts, his voice shattering the silence like glass. “But just so that you know, every time you talk about this — about her — it hurts me too, because she’s not my present and I’m not in love with her, not anymore. You talking about it makes me uncomfortable,” he peers over at your face, “do you understand that, Y/N?” He says it gently, all his words without bite.

“Then maybe if you had just talked it through with me without avoiding my questions all the time, maybe we wouldn’t be here,” you shoot back, “maybe you like to take the easy way out a little too much.”

“I did give you the chance to talk about it. Remember that night when I told you to ask me anything about her that you wanted to know about?”

Another onset of tears builds at the back of your throat. Why is he doing this to you? What have you ever done to deserve this?

You turn away from him almost instinctively. This time, Mingyu lets you do your thing, not even bothering to try and call your name and honestly, you don’t mind. You need some space to cry it out and be with yourself for a little while.

There’s so much you want to tell him: why did he even break up with her in the first place? Why did he choose you instead? Would things have been different if you hadn’t told him of your feelings?

Would you have been happier right now, if you’d never been together?

ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s been a few days and you feel like a corpse.

Your life is a walking nightmare, your mind plagued by nothing but the pain of realizing you’re a second option to your boyfriend. You wish that he could walk in your shoes, only to get a glimpse of what’s going on inside your head. In any case, life feels dull and void of colour in contrast to the lights blazing across the streets to celebrate the new year’s coming up.

Mingyu doesn’t offer to talk it through and you take it as his way of telling you he’s not interested in your bullshit. So wrapping yourself up in your thickest blanket, you barely leave the flat on the days to come, if only for groceries. After all, you don’t see the point when your world is crumbling.

It’s on a Wednesday afternoon that Mingyu sends you a text while he’s at work. You receive it in mid-workout, frowning slightly as the message pops up on the screen.

Mingyu: do you have time this afternoon? Can we talk?

You type back your reply with a mere “yes” before resuming your squats with even more conviction. You decide that you have to brace yourself for anything that might happen, considering that you really did fuck up this time.

Will your heart be able to take it if he tells you to break it off?

All thoughts and memories of what would be your wedding, the concepts you’d conjured, the white dress that you’d fantasized over. All those things seem awash with the pain of knowing that maybe this won’t become a reality.

That hurts.

The afternoon crawls by at a snail’s pace and you spend it lumbering back and forth across the hallway as your brain tricks you into concocting all possible scenarios that might unfold; you and Mingyu breaking up is at the forefront of your mind, no matter how much you try to steer yourself away from it.

The door creaks open to signal Mingyu’s arrival. You freeze, fingers finding purchase onto your shirt as you grip its corners, panic suddenly overwhelming your senses.

He’s here, and he hasn’t greeted you yet.

You’re not sure how your heart will take it.

“Y/N?”

The scuff of his boots squeak against the silence of the corridor as he pulls them off. Small a small gesture, which holds so much meaning once you realize you might never hear it again.

You force out a reply, “yes?”

A few moments later, your boyfriend appears looking disheveled and, to your surprise, holding a bouquet of roses.

“Sorry if they’re a bit wimpy,” he says sheepishly while handing the flowers over, and you hope he hasn’t taken note of how your hands are trembling, “I was late to pick them up from the florist’s.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes. You looked up at him, eyelashes glimmering as your vision slowly blurred, “why?” You murmured.

“Because,” he shrugs then, a small gentle smile making its way to his face, “I know you’ve been going through a rough patch, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be taken care of.”

You couldn’t help it.

You burst into tears.

And Mingyu holds on to you as you sob and soband keep on sobbing. All the pain, the fear of losing him, the thought of never being enough… all of these mesh into you and cras through your body in waves that rocks your entire ecosystem. Mingyu is there through it all, murmuring soft encouraging words as he rocks you back and forth against his chest.

The crying stops at some point, leaving you numb and tired, a slumped figure that leans against your boyfriend while he’s gently pawing away at the caked tears along your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur out, breaths shaking from emotion.

But Mingyu shakes his head, “it’s okay.”

“It’s not—okay, and I shouldn’t have acted this way,” you whisper out, “and I’m sorry if I keep pestering you about her but the truth is, I’m scared I might never be enough for you, Mingyu, because I’m not. You—You deserve everything.”

Mingyu stays silent, still brushing the tears away as you wait for his answer. He finally turns you to him, holds you close in his lap so that there’s no chance of escape even if you wanted to.

In his dark eyes tou see your reflection; a disheveled maniac looking like she’s been haunted for days.

Mingyu probably thinks so too.

“I understand,” he starts off softly, “how hard it is for you to imagine me with other people, it sucks. And it’s not great, especially when you know these people.”

Your chest aches, another pang of hurt ringing through your heart at the mention of her. You suck in a breath, but he continues:

“But I think otherwise. I think she made me realize that maybe, she’s not what I want, nor what I need,” something softens in his eyes then, hands squeezing your waist, “what I need is right here, and nowhere else, Y/N. So you can cry about not being the first, but trust me, I want to make you my last.”

Another sob racks its way up your throat. You blink furiously, hands finding purchase onto your sweater sleeves to bunch it up nervously, “do you—“ you stammer out the words, “do you mean that?”

Mingyu nods, the softest of smiles on his face, as your hands come up to wrap around his neck.

“You’re sure sure?” You peer up at him.

He chuckles, “I’m hundred percent sure.”

And proceeds to kiss your next words away as if to seal the deal, to show you that yes, you are the woman he’s been waiting for, the only one he’ll ever have to wait for.

Maybe that’s just a baby step in your world. You will have more days like this, more days of insecurity and fear and straight up panic. That’s not something that you fix overnight.

But for Mingyu, you’ll try anything to make your happy ending.

[whysodelirious08]

Not Like Her - E.M [fem reader probably. Maybe neutral?]

Toxic bf Eddie Munson

Adult language. Angst. Hurt/slight comfort but not really. OK ending kinda.

"Why can you just be like-"

"Like what, Eddie? Like her?!"

"No- I didn't mean- I. Fuck-"

"I'm not, Eddie! I'm not her. And if you can't understand that then this isn't going to work! I'm sick of it. Sick of you comparing me to your ex. All the damn time!"

"Don't twist things. I don't compare you to her. Don't fucking lie!"

"Lie? Lie?! Do you remember what you said yesterday? You said that your ex wouldn't of made the cocktails like that. Wouldn't of made those kinds of drinks. Would've invited more people. Would've kept calm and composed when your ass of a friend broke MY t.v."

"Hey- OK-! That was a fuckin accident and I was just commenting. I was joking-!"

"Oh yeah. Haha. So fucking funny Eddie!"

"You want her soooo bad Eddie, why don't you sneak round her house again, huh? Go have a quick fuck and come back to me for seconds. You thought I wouldn't find out? Turns out your friends aren't as shitty of a person as you. Turns out they actually care about me. And MY fucking feelings."

You fell silent, waiting for whatever pathetic excuse was going to come from Eddie's mouth. Watching as his jaw hang slacked as he struggled to form some sort of lie. Some sort of coherent sentence to dig himself out of the grave. It almost gave you an ounce of satisfaction but the moment was short lived.

"It didn't mean anything- baby plea-"

"Just get out. Just get the fuck out Eddie. We're done. I'm done with your lies. Your games. Your sneaking out. I'm not here to just be used when it's convenient. Maybe I'll go for Steve. Maybe he'll be a better man than you ever were."

The suggestion clearly rose a jealous fire inside the taller man but you couldn't care less now. You would hurt his feelings if it got him to realise he had truly lost you and all chances he had before. He didn't leave right away. It took you calling Steve for him to storm past you, shoving you into the walla almost, and walk out the door. Slamming it. Another new door you needed to now fix.

"Hey...you free tonight? We can rent that movie you wanted to watch. Bill and Ted? I've got plenty of snacks" you offered, though you could tell Steve was already trying to pull on his shoes as he had been waiting for this moment. You told him you'd watch Bill and Ted when you dumped Eddie's pathetic ass. And now you had to keep your word.

[cheynovak]

Sugar - Part 7  The final chapter

Soldier boy x F/ reader  (Y/N)       

Warnings: 18+, sex, age difference, anger, hurst, angst, happy ending...

Side note: English isn’t my first language.          

*Does not follow The Boys storyline * 

--      

Y/N is a college student who pays her apartment, bills and school tuition with the money she makes as ‘sugar baby’ for Soldier boy. What started as just being a companion on lonely moments became quickly more physical.     But how will Y/N cope with the dominant side of Ben when he finds out she has a life beside pleasuring him?    

-- 

Ben watched the door close in his face, rain started pouring down on him, the finality of Y/N's words echoing in his mind.

He had lost her, and the weight of that realization crushed him. He stood there for a long time, unable to move, his heart aching with regret and sorrow. Eventually, he turned away. 

The next few weeks blurred together in a haze of pain and self-destruction. Ben couldn't bear the emptiness that Y/N's absence left in his life, and he turned to anything that might dull the ache. He started drinking even more heavily, spending his nights in bars, downing shot after shot in an attempt to forget his pain. 

But alcohol wasn't enough to drown out the memories of her smile, her laughter, the warmth of her touch. Desperate for a deeper escape. It started with adding an extra few lines of cocaine, then escalated to pills and other substances. The highs were fleeting, but for a brief moment, they allowed him to escape the torment of his own thoughts. 

His downward spiral continued to deepen as he sought solace in the arms of other women. He frequented seedy motels and cheap escorts, trying to fill the void that Y/N had left. But no amount of meaningless sex could replace what he had lost, and each morning he woke up feeling even more hollow and broken than before. 

One night, as Ben stumbled out of yet another bar, high and barely coherent, he pulled out his phone and dialled the number of the only person he could think of. It rang a few times before a groggy voice answered. "What the hell, man? It's 3 AM." 

-- 

The next morning, Ben woke up on Legend's couch, feeling the effects of his latest binge. His head pounded, and his body ached, but the worst pain was the emotional one. Legend sat nearby, watching him with a mix of concern and anger. 

"You look like hell," Legend said bluntly. "How much did you take? No fuck that, what did you do?" 

Ben took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I messed up, Legend. I lost her. Legend sighed, shaking his head. " You need to get your shit together. She is just a girl, you’ll find another one.”  

Ben didn’t even listen, drowning in self-pity. 

One evening, Ben found himself back at Legend's place, as they sat in the dimly lit living room, the atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken tension. "So, what's next for you, man?" Legend asked, taking a swig of his whiskey.  

Ben hesitated, then said, "I’m going to try and talk to Y/N. Apologize. Try to make things right." 

Legend scoffed, shaking his head. "Forget about her, Ben. She's just another girl, a pussy to fuck. You don't need to go chasing after some chick who can't handle you. "Ben's expression darkened, his jaw clenching. "She's not just another girl.” 

Legend rolled his eyes. "Seriously, man? Get over it. There are plenty of girls out there. You can find another one to screw." 

The crude dismissal of Y/N as nothing more than a sexual object snapped something inside Ben. Before he knew it, he was on his feet, grabbing Legend by the collar and slamming him against the wall. His hand clamped around Legend's neck, his grip tight and unyielding. 

"Don't you ever talk about her like that," Ben growled, his voice low and dangerous. "She's more than that. She's worth more than.” 

Legend's eyes widened with shock and fear. He struggled to breathe, his hands clawing at Ben's arm. "Ben... let go..." Ben's eyes blazed with fury, but after a few tense seconds, he released his hold and stepped back, his chest heaving with anger. Legend crumpled to the floor, gasping for air. 

"What's wrong with you, man?" Legend sputtered, rubbing his neck. "You need to calm the hell down." 

Ben glared at him. "I won't let anyone talk about her like that. Not even you." Legend looked up at him, still shaken. "I... I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just trying to help you move on." Ben shook his head leaving his penthouse.  

Legend was nursing his bruised ego and neck. He couldn't shake the confrontation from his mind. He knew Ben was serious about Y/N, but he still thought it was all unnecessary drama. Deciding to take matters into his own hands before Ben would do stupid things he couldn’t fix, he picked up his phone and dialled Y/N's number.  

"Hello?" Y/N's voice came through, cautious and guarded. 

"Y/N, it's The Legend," he said, his tone attempting to sound friendly. "I think we need to talk. It's about Ben." 

"What about him?" she asked, suspicion clear in her voice. 

"Look, he’s been going through a rough time, and I know he wants to make things right with you. He just left my place.” 

“Did he made you call me?” He heard how displeased she was. 

“No, no he doesn’t know I was calling you, but he really cares about you. Can you please give him a chance?" 

Y/N sighed. "Legend, I appreciate the concern. But this isn't something you can fix with a phone call." 

"I get that," Legend replied, "He's trying... to be better. Just... hear him out, okay?" 

There was a long pause before Y/N responded. "I'll think about it. But Legend, this is between Ben and me. Please stay out of it." 

"Understood," he said, ending the call. 

-- 

A few days later. 

Ben found himself alone in his apartment, as he sat on the couch, lost in thought, a knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He wasn't expecting anyone, and a flicker of anxiety ran through him as he approached the door. When he opened it, his heart skipped a beat. 

Y/N stood there, looking determined yet slightly apprehensive. Ben blinked, unable to hide his surprise. "Y/N? What are you doing here?" 

"I'm ready to talk," she said simply, her voice steady. Ben stepped aside to let her in, his mind racing. She entered the apartment, taking a moment to look around before settling on the edge of the couch. Ben joined her, keeping a respectful distance. 

"I wasn't sure I would see you anymore," he admitted, his voice low. "I wasn't sure either," Y/N replied, her gaze meeting his. Ben nodded, his heart pounding while they sat down on the couch again. 

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "I need to understand why things went the way they did. Why you pushed me away, why you hurt me?” 

Ben ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of her words. "I was scared," he finally confessed. “Why?” she asked, she saw how difficult it was for him to answer. “I think I deserve this, Ben.”  

"I was terrified of not being enough for you, of not living up to your expectations. So I pushed you away before you could see how flawed I am.” Y/N listened, her expression softening slightly. "Ben, I never expected you to be perfect. I know your flaws.” 

As they sat in a moment of comfortable silence, Ben's curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to know how Y/N was really doing, beyond their complicated relationship. "How's school going?" he asked gently, hoping to steer the conversation into safer territory. 

Y/N's expression immediately shifted, her eyes welling up with tears. She looked down at her hands, trying to compose herself. "It's been... hard," she admitted, her voice trembling. "Ever since our fight, people have been treating me differently. They make jokes, call me names... they treat me like a whore." 

Ben's heart sank, guilt crashing over him like a tidal wave. "Y/N, I'm so sorry. I had no idea... I never meant for any of this to happen." She wiped at her eyes, trying to hold back the tears. 

She looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and vulnerability. "Ben, I don't blame you, not entirely... We both made mistakes. But it hurts, and... I don't know how to make it stop." Her tears started to stream down her cheeks. 

Ben reached out, taking her hand in his. Wanting nothing more than to pull her close to him, comforting her. 

Y/N looked up, meeting Ben's gaze, and saw something soft and tender in his eyes. The vulnerability and care reflecting, it made her heart ache with a confusing mix of emotions. She couldn't hold his gaze for long, feeling overwhelmed by the depth of his expression. 

His hand, warm and firm, enveloped hers, offering both comfort and connection. The weight of the world seemed to lighten just a bit with his touch. Ben's green eyes remained gentle, filled with an unspoken promise of support and understanding. It was a look she hadn't seen in a long time, one that made her feel safe and cherished despite everything. 

But also, one he would hide away every change he had, but not today, no it seemed like he was purposely showing her the man behind the armour.  

Without thinking, Y/N leaned in, resting her head against his shoulder, in the crook of his neck. She closed her eyes, breathing in his familiar scent, woodsy, but clean, a fragrance that had always brought her a sense of peace. 

Ben's arm instinctively wrapped around her, holding her close. The gesture was tender, protective, and Y/N felt a sense of calm wash over her. For a moment, all the hurt and chaos of the past weeks faded away, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble of comfort. 

And then for the first time in his life Ben said, "I'm so sorry for everything, Y/N," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I wish I could take back all the pain I've caused you." She nuzzled deeper into his neck, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. 

He tightened his hold on her, his heart swelling with a mix of hope and regret. "I promise I'll do better.” 

After what felt like an eternity, Ben gently kissed the top of Y/N's hair. The simple gesture sent a rush through her veins, igniting a spark that had been dimmed by their past pain. She could feel his breath against her scalp, warm and steady, grounding her in the present moment. 

Without thinking, her lips moved over the vein on his neck, not quite kissing but caressing his skin with soft, delicate brushes. She could feel his pulse quicken beneath her touch, a subtle thrum that mirrored the rising tempo of her own heartbeat. His breath hitched, and she felt the slight tremor in his body, a mixture of anticipation and restraint. 

His hand moving to cradle the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. He was torn between the urge to pull her closer and the need to respect her boundaries, uncertain of how far she wanted to go. The intimate connection between them was both exhilarating and fragile, a delicate balance of longing and hesitation. 

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely audible, filled with a blend of desire and caution. "You don't have to..." But she interrupted softly, lifting her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes were dark with emotion.  "I want to, but I need to know we're on the same page, Ben. That this isn't just a moment." 

“Tell me it’s not just physical.” she pleads. 

Ben cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing across her cheek. "It’s not just a moment," he assured her, his voice steady and sincere. "I want you, Y/N. Not just physical.” 

Her heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his eyes melting away the last remnants of doubt. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his in a tentative, tender kiss. Ben responded with equal tenderness, deepening the kiss with a careful intensity that spoke volumes. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer as if afraid she might slip away.  

Y/N's hands moved to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. The simple, intimate contact sent shivers down both their spines. Their breaths mingled, creating an electric atmosphere between them. Tongues asking permission to tango.  

Feeling a surge of need and urgency, Ben gently pulled her onto his lap. Y/N straddled him, her legs resting on either side of his hips. The closeness intensified the heat rushing between them, a connection they'd been craving for so long.  

His hands roamed from her thighs up to her back, drawing her even closer, while her fingers played with the strands of his hair, earning a soft groan from him. 

Their eyes locked, communicating a myriad of emotions without words. The world outside ceased to exist as they lost themselves in each other's presence. Ben leaned in, Y/N responded eagerly, deepening the kiss as her hands slid down to his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath his shirt. 

Ben's hands moved from her back to her hips, gripping them firmly but gently, guiding her movements as she felt his bulge growing underneath the fabric of his pants. The sensation of her warmth against him was intoxicating, driving him to explore further.  

He broke the kiss momentarily, trailing soft kisses along her jawline and down her neck, unable for her to keep a soft moan from escaping her lips. 

Her heart raced as she felt his lips on her skin, every touch sending a jolt of electricity through her body. She tilted her head back, giving him better access as she revelled in the sensation. The way he held her, the way he kissed her, everything felt right, as if they were finally aligning after being out of sync for so long. 

Y/N's hands roamed over his shoulders and down his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm. "Ben," she breathed, her voice a mix of desire and vulnerability. As their passion intensified, Ben's hands trailed down to her ass, leaving a trail of fire along her skin.  

With each caress, she felt herself unravelling, the tension and pain of the past weeks melting away in the heat of their desire. She let out a soft sigh as his fingers found the hem of her shirt, inching it upwards with a tantalizing slowness. 

Her own hands eagerly exploring the expanse of Ben's chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. His muscles tensed and relaxed under her touch, a silent invitation for her to continue. With a shaky breath, she began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the strong lines of his torso inch by inch. 

Their kisses grew more fervent, hungry and desperate, as if trying to convey the depth of their longing through touch alone. Ben's hands roamed lower, tracing the curves of Y/N's body with an almost reverent touch. She gasped as his fingers brushed against her clothes core. 

With a silent understanding, they shed their remaining clothing, each piece a barrier to the intimacy they craved. In the dim light of the room, they stood before him, vulnerable yet unashamed.  

Y/N found herself on her knees between Ben's legs. Their gazes locked, filled with a raw desire that spoke volumes without a single word. In this intimate moment, they were lost in each other's eyes, the world around them fading. 

She gently tugged his pants and boxers down, freeing him. pressing her lips against the sensitive skin of his hip. Ben's breath caught in his throat as he felt the warmth of her mouth against his skin, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his core. 

He watched with a mix of anticipation and longing as she moved closer, her lips trailing a path of fire along his thigh, inching ever closer to her destination. When she finally reached him, she hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching his for reassurance.  

Finding nothing but desire and trust reflected back at her. Ben's sharp intake of breath filled the room as she took him in her hand, her fingers wrapping around his length. She began with soft, slow strokes, feeling him harden even more in her grip.  

The warmth of his skin, the weight of him in her hand, all sent shivers of excitement through her. Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss on the tip before parting her lips and taking him into her mouth.  

She moved slowly at first, letting her tongue swirl around the head, the taste of him alone made her moan. Ben groaned, his hand coming to rest on her head, his fingers tangling gently in her hair.  

Y/N worked him with a combination of skill and desperation, needing to hear more of his words, to feel his approval. That's it, baby," he murmured, "You're so good at this," he groaned, his voice rough with arousal.  

"So perfect. My perfect girl." His words spurred her on, her pace quickening as she took him deeper. Ben's breaths grew ragged, his hips thrusting gently in time with her movements. "That's it, sugar," he murmured, his voice dripping with praise.  

"Just like that." Encouraged by his response, Y/N took him deeper, hollowing her cheeks as she moved her mouth up and down his shaft. She used one hand to stroke the base, while the other hand rested on his thigh for balance.  

Her movements were steady and deliberate, her eyes flicking up to meet his every so often, drinking in the sight of his pleasure. Y/N adjusted her angle, taking him even deeper into her throat. She could feel every ridge and vein of him against her tongue, and the sensation made her own arousal build.  

She bobbed her head, her rhythm steady and unrelenting, her hand moving in sync with her mouth. The sensation was exquisite, sending a surge of pleasure coursing through Ben's veins. He let out a low groan, his hands tangling in her hair as he surrendered to the overwhelming waves of sensation crashing over him.  

Her touch was gentle yet firm, her lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to drive him to the brink of ecstasy and back. 

She could feel him holding back, trying not to push her head down. But the loved the way he reacted, how she felt his grip in her hair tighten, how his hips sporadically bucked up. And the way he praised her... made her moan.  

“Oh, that’s it, sugar... fuck.” 

As Y/N continued to pleasure him, Ben's breathing grew more erratic, and she could tell he was close. Suddenly, he pulled her away, stopping her just before he could come. She looked up at him, confusion and desire mingling in her eyes. Without a word, Ben lifted her from her knees, pulling her onto his lap so that she straddled him. 

He leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her with a possessive hunger that made her moan softly against his lips. As they kissed, his hand moved between her thighs, slipping under the fabric of her panties.  

His fingers found her slick with arousal, and he let out a groan of appreciation. "You're so wet," he murmured against her lips, his voice husky with desire. "All for me." His fingers slid through her folds, teasing her entrance before circling her clit with gentle, deliberate strokes. 

 Y/N gasped, her hips rocking against his hand, seeking more of his touch. Her need for him was overwhelming, every nerve in her body alight with longing. "Ben," she breathed, her voice trembling with need.  

"Please..." He grinned, a predatory glint in his eyes as he watched her writhe above him. "Patience, sugar," he said, his fingers continuing their tormenting dance. "I want to feel you come undone for me."  

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she fought to stay upright. Ben's other hand slid up her back, pulling her closer as he kissed her breasts. Ben added another finger, increasing the intensity. He alternated between gentle caresses and firmer, more insistent movements, keeping her on the edge but never quite allowing her to tip over into climax.  

Ben's fingers worked her expertly, curling slightly to find that perfect spot inside her. The sensation was electric, and Y/N felt herself teetering on the edge of an overwhelming orgasm. "Ben, I'm so close," she whimpered, her voice a mix of desperation and desire.  

"Come for me sugar." With a final, confident movement, he pressed his fingers deeper, his thumb circling her clit. The pressure built to an unbearable peak, and with one last thrust and swirl of his fingers, he sent her over the edge. Her body convulsed in his arms, waves of pleasure crashing through her as she cried out his name.  

Throughout her climax, Ben's fingers continued their ministrations, drawing out every last shudder of pleasure until she was left trembling and breathless in his arms. As her trembling subsided, he gently guided her hips, aligning himself with her entrance.  

He looked into her eyes, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and tenderness. "Are you ready?" he asked, his voice soft and intimate. Y/N nodded, her breath still coming in heavy pants. "Yes," she whispered, her eyes locked onto his.  

Slowly, he entered her, filling her completely. She gasped at the sensation, her body adjusting. Ben's hands moved to her hips, guiding her movements as she began to ride him. The slow, sensual rhythm they found together was both intoxicating and deeply satisfying. His eyes darkened with renewed desire, and his grip on her hips tightened.  

He began to guide her movements with more force, his fingers digging into her skin in a way that sent delicious shivers down her spine. "That's my girl," he growled, his voice a rough whisper. "I need you to ride me harder, sugar."  

With his guidance, Y/N started to move with more urgency, her hips rocking back and forth with a rhythm that matched his rising intensity. Ben's hands moved to her waist, his fingers pressing into her flesh as he pulled her down onto him with each thrust, driving himself deeper inside her.  

The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of roughness and tenderness that made her head spin. "Just like that," he praised, his voice thick with pleasure. "You're doing so good, baby. Don't stop." He thrust up into her, meeting her movements with a force that made her gasp.  

Each collision of their bodies sent waves of pleasure radiating through her, the friction and heat building to an almost unbearable intensity. Ben's eyes never left hers, mesmerized by the look of her.  

You're so tight," he groaned, his grip on her waist tightening even further. "I can't get enough of you." His words spurred her on, her movements growing more frantic as she rode him. She could feel another orgasm building, the pressure inside her mounting with each hard, deep thrust.  

Ben's hands roamed over her body, one moving up to cup her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple in a way that made her cry out. He leaned forward, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue demanding and insistent. The kiss was a perfect mirror of their physical connection intense, consuming, and utterly passionate.  

"Come for me again," he commanded, his voice a low, urgent growl. "I want to feel you come around me." Y/N's body obeyed before her mind could catch up, the combination of his rough thrusts and his commanding word. 

They stayed locked together, their bodies trembling with the aftershocks of their shared pleasure. Ben's grip on her softened, his hands moving to gently stroke her back as they caught their breath. He looked up at her. “If I had known that this was the way to make it up to you. I wouldn’t have waited so long.” 

Y/N smiled weakly, her heart full and her body spent. She leaned down to kiss him softly, their connection feeling stronger than ever. “Ben I...” she said still out of breath but his kiss interrupted her. 

Ben looked in her eyes, seeing the hope shimmering. Seeing his future before him. His hand caressed her cheek, eyes tracing her face, ready to tell her the one thing he was scared of, for so long.

And then he finally whispered:  “I love you.”  

--

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[g0tmilkx3]

The Less I Know The Better

Sydney likes Luca's cooking and Carmy wants to kill himself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, Arguing, Angst, Toxic Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Unprotected Sex, Jealousy, Alcohol, Panic Attacks, Codependency

Divider: firefly-graphics.tumblr.com GIF: thiscoldheart.tumblr.com

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N:

I used to pray for times like this. I'm so happy I finished the fic and I am unburdened by it. I have one more installment planned. It's not a continuation but how I imagine they got together in the first place. I'll try to get that out soon. The title is based on The Less I Know the Better by Tame Impala. Posted on AO3.

She didn't feel like she was in her body when she woke up the next morning.

Her head was floating away to some vast unknown paradox, she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling. It made her senses fall out of whack. She felt cold, even in his warm embrace. His body was always so warm. When he pulled her against him she’d sink into it, against his artfully crafted body, she felt at home.

She missed the mindlessness his touch brought. He’d look at her and hold her like she didn’t have to worry, ever, about anything. He always made her feel safe. She briefly registered an emotion she hadn’t felt since her business failed. It was gone, shaken off by the flexing of her fingers down to her toes.

The feeling left her and she could finally move.

She slipped out from under him, a stealth mission to leave the house before he woke up. He stirred when she stood up, her  blood ran ice cold. With a heart fighting its way out of her chest and tightly closed eyes - she begged god to keep him asleep. Just for a little longer, she wasn’t ready to face him. After a few moments of silence his breathing evened out and she could safely open her eyes. The breath she released was sure to be quiet.

The morning didn’t greet her with the smell of freshly cut grass or a warm radiant sky, but with a brittle bite. Her cheeks were stinging and her lashes were wet by the time she reached her father’s house.  

Emmanuel stood by his coffee maker. He watched as his sweet'n low disappeared into his coffee. His back was to her when she turned her key and welcomed herself inside. She never got rid of her key when she moved out in case something went wrong. God knows she was used to things going wrong.  

“Something tells me you want to talk.” He called behind him as he added cream to his cup. He watched as the color of his coffee lightened until it reached the desired hue.  

Sydney weakly snorted as she shrugged out of her puffer and heeled her shoes off at the door. She hung her coat on the rack and sat on the too stiff wooden seat sitting at the table. She sat in silence as the sounds of her father’s spoon clinking against a ceramic mug filled the air.

She absently noted that it was the mug she sculpted for him when she was just 9 years old.

More silence stretched between them.

She liked it though. She didn’t feel the need to perform or pretend like she wasn’t burning on the inside. He finally turned around bringing an extra cup with him, already filled with coffee prepared just how she liked it.  

“What’s on your mind sweet pea?” He took a seat, the wooden chair shifted under his weight and the floor creaked.  

Each time she tried to speak the words died on her tongue. She couldn’t form a coherent thought and the longer she struggled the more she thought about how stupid this all was.

Finally, she let herself breath.

“God, I wish mom were here.” She stared down at her reflection in her coffee. Nearly black with 2 sugars.

“So it’s one of those problems.” He spoke into his cup just before taking a healthy sip. The mug hit the table with a subtle 'clank'. “I can call auntie, but it’s close to midnight where she is.“ He was already moving to grab his phone when she stopped him.

“No, don’t bother auntie!" Her outburst made him pause. He slowly moved back to his previous position, watching his daughter with intensity. "It-“ she sighed glancing between her cup and her father’s befuddled face. He patiently awaited her confession. “It’s just about Carmy…” she bitterly chuckled as she she played with one of her braids. Twisting it around her finger before letting it fall. “Stupid really.”

“Ah,” he raised his eyebrows. “It’s one of those problems.” He hummed, contemplating his next set of words. Silently pondering how to best go about this. “Why do you say it’s stupid?”

She shot him a deadpan stare, “Come on. Boy problems, at this age?” She rested her elbows on the table and ran her hands over her face. Her fingers rested firmly against her eyes.

She pressed and pressed until the burning feeling of tears subsided. She wished she didn’t feel the need to be so strong all the time. She wished she could just breakdown and let those feelings flow instead of intellectualizing them every chance she got.

Emmanuel gently nudged her shoulder effectively bringing her back down to reality.  

“If you have a problem, you have a problem.” He waited until her glassy eyes reached his. “Talk to me, you can tell me anything.”

She sniffled, laying her hands flat against the table, sliding them back so she could feel the smooth surface. A grounding technique that always seemed to work. She slid them until they fell off the table and rested in her lap. It wasn't working this time.

“I just didn’t think I’d ever find myself back here again.” She muttered more to herself than to him. But he nodded along nonetheless. “We broke up. It was finished. Yeah, it was awkward at the restaurant but it was working…” she lifted one shoulder and let it drop before adding. "Working enough." She shook her head in disbelief. “Then- then he came to me for help and I just couldn’t say no. It’s like he knows just what to say and I’d do anything for him. Anything.”  

Emmanuel nodded slowly taking in her words. Hanging onto everything she said, saving his response for later when she was done pouring her heart out.

“Then I learn he hasn’t let go of his ex and they’re still” her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and she felt her throat burn with constriction. She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth slide down her throat and warm her belly. “They’re still friends and he brought her to family dinner and I don’t know. I think I did something stupid just because I was jealous and afraid. Now i'm debating if I even want to go to California still and you know this opportunity is all I ever really wanted. I still lo-“ she choked on her words before gulping them down.“I just don’t want to lose him.”

He inhaled deeply taking in everything she said. But he thought not to speak. - at least for now. He let her words linger and he let them penetrate his mind. His daughter was his heart, a spitting image of her mother, he just wanted to coddle her. To hold her against him and tell her everything would be okay and that he’d get rid of anything causing her distress.

As he stared at her he realized she wasn’t that little girl playing in his shoes anymore. She wasn't tripping over her feet and scraping her knees on the hot concrete. That was back when his kisses could make the pain go away in an instant. She was different. She had complex thoughts and even more complex feelings that he was afraid to admit he didn’t quite understand.

He didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t know what to do.  

“I ever told you about the time your mother and I broke up?” He watched as her eyes lit up with curiosity. “Yeah it was Summer of '83, she was missing home. Her parents were getting older and she wanted to spend as much time as she could with them.”

She watched as his eyes drifted to the ceiling and he recalled what happened all those years ago.

“I think I told her that if she left me I’d never forgive her, that I’d never speak to her again.”

“God dad.”   

“I know, I know.” He chuckled to himself. “But I just couldn’t imagine losing her or living apart. I wanted a family and I knew I didn’t want that with anybody else but her.” He shrugged. “I was being selfish. Selfish and stupid-”

“What'd she do?” She questioned before the tail end of his sentence could leave his mouth.

“She left.” He chuckled with the shake of his head. “I was dumb, a kid. I didn’t fully understand what love was. I didn’t think it could exist when there was such a great distance between us.”

Sydney thought about Carmy again. The way she’d felt sick at the thought of leaving him and The Bear. She shooed those thoughts away when her father began speaking again.   

“I lasted about three days, I think...” He recalled. “Maybe two and a half before I called her parents’ house. She didn’t want to speak to me but I wore her down and the first thing I said to her was that I missed her and that I was sorry.”   

She felt a warmth spread from her heart throughout her body. Despite herself, a smile broke over her face.  

“She of course told me to go to hell.” He laughed. His infectious laughter pulled Syd in, beckoning her to participate in his delight.

“So what?" She chuckled between her words. "You just wore her down even more?”

“Well, sorta kinda” he hummed with a grin on his face. “I got the next flight out and showed up at her parent’s doorstep with flowers and a ring. Hat in hand, I asked for her back.” He quirked his eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. “I think I gifted her parents some fresh fruit so they didn’t run me off their property.”

“Jesus, so did she take you back?” She leaned forward, cheeks aching from her smile. She loved hearing new stories about her late mother.

It was bittersweet, she knew that one day there wouldn't be anymore stories to tell.

“She did.” He supplied. “I asked her father for her hand that night and we were engaged the next morning. Flew back to the states a few days later.”

“Real smooth dad.” She chuckled. “Did she come back with you?”

“No, she stayed there for a few more months after I went back but we talked all the time. She taught me a lot, Syd.” He rested his hand over hers. “She taught me about patience and trust. She taught me to put myself first just like she did. Most importantly she taught me that love is something tangible, something real and nobody can define what it means for you, but you.” He let her sit with those words. “Now, I can’t tell you what to do in this situation. I know things are different nowadays in relationships. Kids aren’t getting married all willy nilly” he stopped short. “You’re not thinking of marrying this kid are you?”

“No dad.” She replied as she rolled her eyes. “It feels like we are though.”   

“Well, I’ll ask you this: How does he feel about all this?”   

“He-“ she stopped with a sudden realization. She hadn’t even spoken to him. She left him alone in her apartment in her bed after she confessed that she was leaving the state for an undetermined amount of time.

A fog lifted from her mind and it donned on her just how much of an asshole move that was. She hadn't even consider how he'd be taking all this.

“Dad I gotta go.”

Carmy blinked a few times adjusting to the sun's rays bleeding through the blinds. He let a yawn pass his lips as he rubbed his eyes. His arms reached out as the kinks in his shoulder popped and relaxed. He was used to mornings with Syd being spent in leisure. Quiet and intimate.

Whoever woke up first usually started breakfast. They never spent the morning after separated. Syd teased him once about being a ‘water sign’ (whatever that means) but Carmy hated the idea of waking up alone.

This was something Syd knew.

Carmy frowned when he felt that the other side of the bed was cold. He opened his eyes fully to examine the wrinkled bed sheets beside him. She'd been gone so long that the bed was now cold to touch.

“What the?” He turned his head around searching the space for her, listening for anything. “Syd?”

He stood up tugging on his pants and stumbling out of her room.

“Sydney?” He rushed through the space looking for her, a note, anything. But, she simply wasn’t home. He huffed pushing his hair back and staring at the white wall before him. No note, no notice, nothing.

Was he not worth the decency of a quick nudge, ‘Hey I'm headed out’? He just never thought she’d leave her own apartment to avoid an awkward rejection the morning after.

He felt so stupid.

He never felt stupider.

Of course, this was nothing, of course, this was a sympathy fuck or something worse. Like closure.

What else could it have been if shes that eager to get up and leave?

Carmy’s spiral of self-deprecation was cut short by the sound of keys turning in the door.

“You’re up!” She notes before turning completely around and locking the door. She used this precious time to squeeze her eyes shut and count to five. With a steadying breath, she turned around to face Carmy.

She always loved how sensitive he was when it was just the two of them. It was the look on his face that reminded her of their little agreement.

Leaving each other after having sex wasn’t something they did. Sex felt sacred to them, the time carved out was far too precious to ignore. After breaking up, the pact to remain in each other's embrace after still stood apparently.

“Yeah, I’m up!” He met her with a warm embrace, a warm smile on his face.

She was surprised at his reaction but decided that she liked this more than the expected awkwardness.

“Sorry, you had to wake up alone.” She exhaled sincerely into his shoulder.

He closed his eyes enjoying their closeness before pulling away.

“Where were you?” He grabbed the bags out of her hand and pecked her cheek before bringing them to the kitchen. “What's all this? You went grocery shopping?”

“Yeah on my way back I stopped by the store. I’m out of eggs and bacon and milk and you know everything.” She shrugged. “Wanted to make us breakfast.”

Something to soften the blow. Butter him up.

“That tends to happen when you spend all of your time at the restaurant.” He replied, playful sarcasm in his voice. He moved to begin cooking their breakfast. “Don’t feel bad, my place doesn’t look much better anyways.”

She wanted to help him but holding onto this secret, this brewing confession, left her mute and stagnant. After a few moments of watching him she cleared her throat and leaned against the counter.

“I bet.” She remembers all the mornings and nights when they had to make something out of thin air or order delivery if they were too tired from working.

She began putting the groceries Carmy didn’t need away.

"Where were you on your way back from?"

“Oh yeah I um I also went by my dads...”

Carmy sliced a square of butter and let it sizzle in the skillet. Something peculiar was in her tone, he knew that much.

“Yeah? How is he?” He glanced over at her finding that her face matched her tone. Peculiar.

“Still buying canned cabbage.”

He barked a laugh before sparing her a glance. “Gotta get him to see the light, Chef!”

“I’ve been trying, Chef.” They both laughed, naturally letting it tapper out. A swollen silence filled the air. “I talked to him about us”

That seemed to make Carmy’s ears perk up. “What about us?” He tried to keep his tone casual, but she knew him well. Each inflection in his voice stuck out like a sore thumb. No matter how normal he tried to sound.  

“I asked for advice.” She slowly delivered “Carmy. I don’t know if what we did was smart.”

He momentarily stopped scrambling the sizzling eggs, it was only for a second but the hitch in movement was noticeable.

“I’m not saying I regret it or anything,” She supplied quickly. “But I already have my plane ticket. I’m leave soon and we’re-“

“We’re not gonna work long distance.” He finished her sentence, realization seemingly hitting him in that moment. “You're right we won’t.” He admitted dejectedly.

Frankly, she was surprised by his answer and how understanding he sounded. She wished that she could fully understand the breadth of her decision herself.

She promised herself from a young age that she’d never let anything hold her back from her dreams - not money, not circumstances, not relationships - one thing seemed to slip through the cracks.

She misses when she never looked twice in a guys (or a girls, for that matter) general direction.

She kept her head down for so long working, working, working now her dreams were being fulfilled right before her eyes and she found herself hesitating. All because of some blue eyed man with anger issues.

She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to leave The Bear.

But she knew she had to. She’d resent him. She’d resent herself. If her mother’s death taught her anything, its to always live your life for yourself. Time here on earth was so short, a drop in the boundless ocean. She had to spend her time doing what she loved even if it called for great sacrifice.

“I can’t pass this up.” Her voice cracked. A very surreal feeling thickened the air as they accepted defeat.

This felt eerily final. 

“I wouldn’t want you to," He let a beat pass before adding on an obligatory, “Chef.” He sighs, clicking the front burner up a few notches. “Just don’t go over there and decide you like working in their kitchen more than mine."

"Yours?" She raised an eyebrow, her teeth winked at him as she smiled.

"Ours." They both smiled at his words and settled into more tension-filled silence.

“What's gonna happen to us?”

Carmy rattled the words around in his head as he plated the eggs and moved on to frying bacon. He focused on the popping sound of the grease and the smell of crisping pork. His movements were cathartic.

Cooking never left him. It never disappointed him. He could rely on this.

“Carm?” She tilts her head and meets his eyes.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat “We'll be,” he searched for the words. What would ex-lovers become if they ran a restaurant together? "Friends?"

She chuckled surprised at how heavy and foreign the word sounded in this context. But that was better than strangers or whatever the fuck they've been these past couple months.

"Friends with Chef Carmen Berzatto." She slowly nodded becoming familiar with the term that now described their relationship. "I'll take it."

They waited for the words to settle and for the air to return back to normal but it hadn't and eventually Carmy finished plating their breakfast.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower then head out.” He began walking away before she could reply.

"We're not eating together?"

"I'm not that hungry actually!" He closed the bathroom door behind him.

Time apart would be good, Carmy thought. They’d get time to think and to grow. This was good.

This had to be good.

✓ A pen.

✓ The ceiling fan.

✓ Boots.

✓ The TV.

✓ A pillow.

Five things he could see, check.

‘Gauge your surroundings. This will help ground you.’

Carmy's therapist taught him this method not too long ago. It quickly became one of the only things that could ground him nowadays.

She taught it to him towards the end of one of their first sessions. Her voice was calm and slow, drawing him out in a steady tempo of gentle negotiation. She spoke to him as if he had a bomb strapped to his chest and any sudden movements would set it off. He’ll never forget that day.

He was finally opening up about Mikey, telling her all about how they didn't have the best relationship but he somehow felt closer to him after his death. He hadn't realized how much he'd spaced out until he opened his eyes and he was back in his mother's house. Glass was breaking. A million alarms blared in his ears replacing his thoughts. Everybody was yelling. He couldn't breathe.

A panic attack in front of a stranger was new.

When he finally calmed down he realized that the world hadn't exploded and chunks of the rock weren't drifting through space leaving him to float in the vast unknown.

He was still in her office. He was still alive.

He blinked the memory away and rubbed his hands against his jeans, hoping the rough feeling against his sweaty palms would bring him back to earth.

He began naming four things he could touch under his breath.

"Jeans." He continued moving his hands over his thighs.

"Lambskin jacket." The inside was lined with fur.

"Shutter." It sat atop his bedside lamp - the warmth felt nice again his palm.

"Blanket." Sugar gifted it to him this past Christmas, it was way too fluffy but it did keep him warm at night.

What could he hear?

A bird chirping just outside of the window. It’d been going for a while he realized.

The low hum of electricity.

His phone beeping.

He took note. Then it beeped again and again until he descended from the clouds and found that it was ringing. He did a double-take at the contact before answering.

“Carmy?” Her voice bled through the receiver and he felt like he could breathe again.

Light. He felt it shining through the phone.

“You there?”

“Yeah, I,” He inhaled more air before blowing it out in once quick exhale. “I’m here.”

“Are you okay?” She worried her bottom lip, listening for any signs of distress.

She promised herself before her move that she'd focus on looking forward not back. But being friends with Carmy kept her feet firmly planted in the past. She felt them slipping back into the place they were at just before they got together.

Their exchanges were far too soft, far too thoughtful, and far too tense to be simply platonic. She had to remind herself that they'd been there and done that. This was good.

This was better.

“I am. I was just- it’s nothing." He scratched the back of his head. Unruly curls tangled around his nimble fingers. "Trying this 5,4,3,2,1 method my therapist taught me. It helps me calm down..." He plopped down on his couch and threw his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I was actually thinking about things I could hear before you called.”

“I know that method." She replied before checking the time.

She didn't need to leave for another 15 minutes. “If I’m not mistaken you have 2 more steps to go then.”

“I'm okay now, you- you help me breathe.” He confessed through a relieved chuckle. "So, tell me are you running that place yet or what?"

Sydney grinned but didn't let his charming words deter her. “What are two things you can smell.” She encouraged.

He realized his leg was still bouncing, maybe he wasn’t completely grounded. “I made spaghetti earlier and accidentally put too much garlic, so, garlic.”

“I bet it was still fire.” She hummed almost dreamily remembering the taste of his cooking.

“Wish you were here to taste it.” He muttered sadly playing with a rip in his jeans.

“Alright, big guy don’t go soft on me now.” She teased ignoring the butterflies in her belly. “What else can you smell?”

“Ah, my cologne I guess it’s new I kinda hate it." He pulled at the collar of his shirt, bringing it up to his nose before dropping it. "Too, I don’t know, fancy.”

“Yeah, you do love an earthy scent." She closed her eyes missing him now more than ever. Missing the way he smelled when he held her close and did the thing with his hips that made her words sound like simlish. "Now lastly what can you taste?”

“I had a stick of orbit earlier and the taste is still in my mouth.” He waited a beat. "Happy now?"

“Beaming!" She switched ears and walked to look out her window.

The small apartment she was subleasing was located smack dab in the middle of the art district. She enjoyed the sounds of the neighborhood at night and there was always some sort of performance art near the corner store she frequented. None of that mattered though, she rarely got to enjoy the artistic views because just outside of her window was a brick wall.

She ignored the symbolic implications that screamed at her every time she'd stare at it for too long.

“I feel alright- great actually, thank you Syd”

“No prob Carm." The heavy silence only reminded them of their distance. Sydney was the first to speak. "I'm adjusting to this place quicker than I expected actually.”

“Of course you are. You’re an amazing cook.”

He closed his eyes, trying to conjure her image in his head.

It was fuzzy and out of focus. Her complexion wasn't as vibrant. Her eyes were the wrong shade of brown. He missed how they flashed red in the sun. And pictures were just sobering reminders that she wasn't there with him.

He had to stop looking at them for his sanity.

“You’re reliable and confident."

A day without seeing her face was a day too many.

"Hey, you wanna Facetime?”

“Yeah one sec.” After a few seconds her face came into view.

Carmy felt his chest tighten. He’d spent their time apart creating this image of her in his head. He assumed because he missed her so much the image he created wasn’t accurate, there’s no way that she was that beautiful.

She was though. She was even more captivating than he remembered.

 Ve​nust: beautiful, comely, graceful, elegant.

Their busy schedules kept them from speaking to each as often as they wanted. Even when she lived in Chicago, they’d seen each other mostly in the kitchen.

Now they had to schedule appointments to talk. How bleak.

This phone call wasn't scheduled though.

“Hey, why’d you call?”

“Shit! Right, I called you. I was talking to Marcus the other day and apparently his friend from Copenhagen is coming here to fill in for someone. Isn’t that cool?”

She had her phone set up on her counter as she went about cooking. Carmy watched her in silence missing the way she moved around his kitchen.

“Luca? That's new. At least you'll kinda know someone there.” He hummed. “Are you making Bouillabaisse?”

"He's supposed to be arriving tomorrow." She stirred her simmering concoction. "How do you do that?" She chuckles keeping her eyes on the cloudy liquid. “I am. I’m cooking for everybody tomorrow including Luca and I’m super nervous so I’m trying out a few things!”

“Why are you so nervous?” He could really only think of one or two times she was genuinely nervous about her cooking.

Each time he wanted to grab her and convince her just how amazing she was. To stop doubting herself.

Then again he was probably being bias.

“Marcus speaks so highly of Luca and I know you and him are acquainted. I just want to live up to the hype.” She rambled.

“You will Syd.” He promised.

It was late. It was very late in Chicago so it was late in California and she still hadn't called.

He'd been busy all day so he didn't think twice about her promise to call later that day. But, he couldn't sleep and he'd grown tired of watching black and white reruns.

He tried not to watch his phone like a hawk but each time it lit up he couldn't help but grab it.

When she finally did call he had nodded off to sleep.

"Did I wake you I'm sorry!" She winced realizing how late it must've been. "I'll call back-"

"No!" He sat up "it's okay, I'm up." He yawned checking the time, 3:00 AM. He yawned again as he stood to grab a glass of water. "What's got you out so late?"

"It's only 1:00 where I am!"

"Still."

"Luca brought this special wine and we all got drunk off of one glass and did karaoke"

"Sounds like fun." He replied sincerely, preoccupied with boiling water. Tea would help him get back to sleep after their conversation. "How was the dinner? Did you impress everybody?"

"I did!" She exclaimed. "Sorry if I’m being loud.” He could almost see the expression she was donning. “Did you know that weed is legal here?"

Carmy grinned realizing she was still tipsy and probably a little buzzed. Whenever she had a little bit too much to drink she'd get this slur in her speech. Each word would hug the next and her Chicagoan accent grew thicker. She laughed a lot more, Carmy would worry about her cheeks hurting by the end of the night.

He gnawed on his lip to keep from confessing how badly he wanted to see her and kiss that smile off of her face. That's not how friends talked to each other after all.

"They loved it but Luca made this braised wagyu," She groaned. "Hands down, the best dish I've ever had!"

Carmy paused switching his phone to the other ear. "The best?" He masked the crack in his voice with a chuckle. "Luca?" He scrunched his nose up.

He didn't understand why that statement made him feel uncomfortable (for lack of a better term) but it did and he didn't like it. Previous to this development she always remarked about how his food was the best she ever had. He held that close to him, clinched between his finger afraid of losing it. Afraid of losing her favor. Her compliments felt like a drug and he was forever chasing that high. Wanting to please her. Have her direct that smile and those dangerous eyes at him. 

"Yes, you have to try it!"

"Maybe...'m not a huge fan of Wagyu. Also, I've tried his cooking before." He didn't know why he was lying. He loved Wagyu.

Luca was a good enough cook, not better than Carmy, but decent.

His hands rattled as he stirred honey into his piping hot tea. That unwelcome feeling twisted within him tugging him down to a level of immaturity he despised. Maybe as a teenager this would feel more normal but as he stands now it felt unhinged.

His chest burned as he tuned back into Syd's rambling.

"…I invited him to eat at The Bear when I fly back for my birthday next month."

"Ah, so you two are friends?" He continued, voice soft. He couldn't bring himself to ask her the question any louder.

"Of course! He's so cool Carmy. He's a beast in the kitchen. He's teaching me how to make this cake that has an insane amount of layers tomorrow."

"You really like this guy..." He muttered. "I'm happy you're getting on well there. Really, Syd you deserve this." He continued with renewed interest.

Aside from those weird feelings, he couldn't quite pin down, he knew that his job was hyping her up. Being a supporter. A friend.

One day he’ll stop having to remind himself of that sobering fact. 

"Thanks." She settled on her bed. "I miss you."

He hoped it happened soon.

"I miss y-" he began, but she continued on without missing a beat.

"I miss everybody at The Bear"

"Well, we miss you too."

Today was slow. It went smoothly. There were virtually no mistakes made in the kitchen and Carmy found himself with extra time on his hands.

He could be normal and go home or go out for a drink, but alas he preferred the kitchen. There was always something to do in the kitchen after all.

"Hey are you busy?" Sydney lounged on her couch, exhausted from the busy day she had.

He looked around finding that he was in fact not busy and had finished all of his tasks.

"Nope, what's up?"

"I got secret shopped again!"

"Damn chef," he whistled "you're on fire. Once this year once last year."

"The asswipe said my lobster tail was 'overcooked'."

"Lobster tails' easy to mess up." He shrugged "I have this method I can show you when you visit."

"No, actually its okay. Luca taught me this technique and it came out so much better."

“Right, right." He cleared his throat hoping the popping in his ears stopped. He tugged on his earlobe before grabbing a damp towel and wiping down the same spot he'd just finished wiping down.

There goes that weird feeling again, creeping up his body forcing him to move until it subsided.

"What is he like,” he hesitated. “He’s mentoring you now?”

If she heard the shakiness in his voice she ignored it.

"Not sure if I'd say all that. He's a good teacher though, kinda filling that gap." She replied busy multitasking.

Her phone sat on the bathroom counter with the speaker turned up so she could still carry on with the conversation. Her braids bunched up comfortably under her silk scarf. By morning her scarf would've slipped from her head and made its way to the floor and her braids would be sprawled across her silk pillow. It's the thought that counts.

"You told me he was good but dude he's like your level good."

She grabbed her phone and made her way to bed. At the sound of his bashful laughter she felt a pinch in her chest akin to an esophageal spasm.

Missing him had grown physical and she just wanted to keep him on the phone. She was hoping that the sound of his voice bleeding through her phone would comfort her.

She could lie back and imagine that he was right beside her, that he followed her here like she wanted him to. But he had his own shit he had to sort out. She knew begging him to come and see her every time she missed him wouldn't be feasible because she missed him every second of every day.

But Carmy, who was on the other side of the world, it seemed, didn't know this. He only heard her praises of Luca shooting out of the phone like spears and piercing him until he didn't want to be on the phone with her anymore.

"I actually do have something I need to do. Catch up later?"

"Sure..." she stared at her phone screen as he hung up.

She remained there trying to figure out where things went wrong and why he rushed off the phone. The screen soon turned black and she saw her reflection staring back at her.

She didn't get much sleep that night.

"So you're just not gonna visit?" He frowned. "It's your birthday Syd, come on just take a couple days off I'll buy you a ticket myself."

'I just wanna see you!' He stubbornly thought.

"I can't. It sucks for me too, but it’s the mayor. I can't exactly pass up serving the mayor." She frowned looking at a framed photo of the two of them at The Bear's official opening.

'"Come on Carmy stop working for one second and get a picture with Syd!" Sugar grabbed his arm dragging him out of the kitchen and out front where Sydney directed a delivery man around back. She moved to follow him and make sure he found his way when Sug grabbed her arm and placed her next to an annoyed Carmy.

"Natalie we open in 2 hours I don't have time for this." He huffed placing his hands on his hips.

"Yeah and I think he's taking the order to the wrong entrance." Syd looked behind her following a delivery man with her eyes. She began to call out to him when Sug grabbed her shoulder making her turn back around.

"If you two stand still for a second I can get a picture and you can go back to stressing out, okay?" She rolled her eyes "You guys looks so cute in your matching outfits!" She beamed holding her phone up.

"Uh, everybody's wearing these?" Sydney looked around ignoring Sugars sound of indignation. Carmy stifled a laugh agreeing with her.

"Just smile." She gave up trying to reason with them. Carmy threw his hand over Syd's shoulder and threw his other hand out to Sugar.

"Okay, okay see I'm smiling come on take the picture!"

Syd was caught laughing, her eyes closed. While Carmy was caught with his mouth open, his hand thrown towards the camera. He hated it, but Syd thought it was perfect.

"No, no- yeah, you're right." He settled. Not much else was said after that. Carmy sighed closing the cookbook he'd been perusing for the perfect cake recipe and headed home.

“Fuck, sorry Chef!” Syd winced feeling warm all over. She’d stayed behind with Luca so he could teach her a few tricks. However, in the span of just an hour she compared his cooking techniques to Carmy’s about five times. But who's counting.

“All good, Syd. I never thought about trying that! He laughed. “And relax you can call me Luca”

”Right, Luca.” She continued “I’m just feeling a little homesick. My birthday is tomorrow and I decided to stay back because you know the whole mayor hoopla.”

She was close to saying screw the mayor just so she could hop on a red eye and do something pathetic like beg her ex-boyfriend for sloppy, rough, no-strings-attached birthday sex.

He nodded sympathetically before putting down his knife, a brilliant idea on his tongue.

“How about I take you out for a drink afterwards?”

”Maybe...I’m usually so tired after work. I was talking to a few servers last week and Fay talked about wanting to go out this weekend too-”

”I mean I can take you.” He waited a beat before hesitantly adding. “Just us...”

”Oh," she cleared her throat finding it harder to look him in the eyes. "Like a date?” She raised an eyebrow.

”Yes," he chuckled. "If that’s okay with you?”

She never got used to being hit on or asked out. She grew up awkward and introverted. But something happened when she turned 20.

Like a Cinderella transformation or something. Men were falling over themselves. Women began batting their eyelashes at her and inviting her to sleepovers. She soon realized that they were flirting with her and by sleepovers they meant sex.

Her immediate thought was to turn him down. But she couldn't find a good enough reason other than it would probably hurt Carmy's feelings.

He had been dodging her phone calls though. They barely spoke these days. Maybe he's moved on. Maybe he didn't care what she did.

She eventually remembered herself and she remembered that she and Carmy were just friends. So she put on her best smile and nodded.

"I'd love that."

Later That Evening

“I got the knives you sent me." She toyed with one, balancing it on her fingertips gauging how heavy it was. "Thank you they're really fucking nice.”

“I'm happy you like them. Just something I saw and decided to pick up...” He ran a shaky hand over his mouth. "For you. F-For your birthday I mean."

He didn't know when he started feeling nervous speaking to her but it sucked. He felt like a teenager. He even found himself avoiding her calls, figuring that if they continued speaking every day and night he'd never get over her.

At this point he didn't know if he wanted to get over her or if it was a possibility.

She'd gotten under his skin. Digging her way to his fractured heart and somehow making a home out of it.

He felt like a fucking loser, blushing during a phone call. A fucking phone call.

“You saw five hundred-dollar knives just lying around and bought them?" She replied endeared.

“Well, you know how it goes." He shrugged.

Heat rushed to his face again.

Realistically he figured he was going to get them for her months ago, but telling her that felt too eager. Like he was trying too hard to impress her.

“So," She sat the knife down but couldn't stop eyeing it. The pristine set sparkled under the warm lighting in her living room. Her eyes caught her name engraved at the bottom of one of the vegetable knives. 

Warmth covered her neck and traveled up her cheeks.

''Just decided to pick them up' my ass.'

"How's The Bear been with me gone?”

“You know, we’re staying afloat. The new hires are all great. Everybody's been getting better and better. And Marcus?" He whistled. "He's doing some shit I haven't even tried."

"I'm gonna have to ask him to overnight me some donuts or something." Her phone vibrated momentarily pulling her from the conversation.

Luca (restaurant): I know we'll probably be wiped after tomorrow so I'll stop by later on around midnight? I know this great place that's open late

"Looks like Copenhagen did him well." Carmy noted.

Like an incessant alarm her conscience rudely screamed at her. She had to tell him sooner or later.

"Hey, so, speaking of Denmark, I have a um I have something to tell you..."

He waited for her to continue speaking for a bit, but her deep sigh caught his attention.

"Whats up? Everything okay?"

“It's just-" she clenched her fist over her mouth wanting to swallow her next set of words. Through gritted teeth she finally choked it out. "Me and Luca are go-going on a, going on a date tomorrow." She waited a beat. "He wanted to take me out for my birthday!" Another awkward beat. "And I thought it’d be weird for me not to tell you considering...well you know.”

He didn’t speak for a while.

"I'm sorry if that's weird but I'd feel weirder not telling you." She winced bracing herself as she awaited his response.

He blinked a few times, pulling his phone away from his ear to look at her contact photo. Yeah that was still Syd on the phone.

He felt like he was speaking with a stranger not the girl he loved. The girl who would never purposely hurt him. Her voice was muffled, like she'd been submerged in water.

Now he wanted to be as far away from his phone as possible.

"You still there?" She bit her thumbnail regretting her words.

"I am I" He cleared his throat, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. "I just didn't expect that. That's all.” His voice quieted, just above a whisper now.

"I know. Was it weird that I told you? Are things weird now?" She tried to keep the panic out of her voice but it was evident.

"No, not weird." He cleared his throat in an attempt to find his voice. But when he spoke again the only thing he could muster was a hint of what his voice could be.

If Syd didn't know any better she'd think she heard heartbreak in his voice. But they were over right? They'd been over. They had to move on from each other.

Lingering wasn't healthy. No matter how romantic The Cranberries made it sound. 

Although she felt this way, she couldn't help but feel like she betrayed him. A Delilah stringing her lover along just to chop off his golden curls when he slipped into comfort. Just when he felt like he could let his guard down.

"I am a little busy so-so I have to check on that uh that," he snapped his fingers a few times. "Delivery. The delivery for tomorrow morning."

"Wait, what? I don't understand?"

"I'll touch bases with you this weekend." He didn't wait for her to answer before hanging up.

Syd found herself once again staring at her phone screen. It lit up momentarily reminding her of the unanswered text from Luca. With little reluctance she replied.

Syd: I can't wait! :)

Dinner went off without a hitch and the mayor even complement Sydney personally. By 10:00 P.M. she was on her way home and by 10:30 she sat on her couch, finger hovering over Carmy's name.

"He doesn't care Syd." He hadn't even wished her a happy birthday. "Just get ready for your date." She whispered to herself. "Maybe, I'll just send a text..."

Syd: Not to brag but the mayor said she never had a steak quite like mine

With that done she plugged her phone in the charger and began getting ready for her date. The date she was excited to go on and not at all dreading.

Every 10 minutes she'd check her phone for a response from Carmy. But nothing, he hadn't even seen the message. She huffed turning back to the mirror to pull her braids into a high ponytail.

The doorbell chimed over the radio playing oldies in her living room.

“Fuck he’s here early!” She cursed checking the time before rushing to the door only to find someone she thought she left back in Chicago.

“Carmy?”

“Hey." He strolled inside pulling his luggage behind him. His baby blues drinking her in. “You look nice.”

Keep it polite, he reminded himself. She looked more than nice, skin shiny and sparkling. Perfume pulling him closer and closer.

He cracked his knuckles, stopping himself from reaching out and touching her.

There were moments, fleeting, minuscule, when her voice would radiate from his phone. Resonating, seducing him. It made him want to reach through the receiver and feel her warmth.

He had to settle on touching himself. Then he'd feel like a creep and swear it off. It never stuck.

Now she was here, within reach, looking like that for someone else. He brushed his knuckles against his lips admiring her from a safe distance.

“Got any plans?”

She blinked a few times, hand still on the nob, door ajar. "Uh yeah, Luca is on his way.” She scoffed finally snapping out of it.

With each stride she took toward him, he felt his pulse drum faster.

“I told you that last night?”

She crossed her arms watching as he studied her. As if she were a puzzle or a Monet. He marveled almost. No one ever looked at her quite like he did.

“Right, you two are seeing each other or whatever.” He twisted his mouth instantly wanting the nasty taste of those words out his mouth.

He distracted himself by looking around her living room. His heart lurched when he came across a photo of the two of them on the morning of The Bear's official open. The entire staff took turns taking pictures together, they took several as a group but Sug just couldn’t resist getting a pic of them out front in their matching fits.

It was framed, he noted with reddening cheeks. "You got it framed.” He cooed just under a whisper.

“Of course, it's my proudest accomplishment.” His black t-shirt stretched across his back as he leaned forward to examine the picture more closely. A few strands of his hair were kissing his forehead when he faced her again.

"Proudest huh?" Something was different about him. Whatever it was evaded her. His hair wasn't in it's normal state, busy and tangled, instead his curls neatly sat upon his crown. He never really wore jewelry but now he donned a thin chain that played peak-a-boo with her wandering eyes. "Mine too."

He wasn't as jittery as he usually was. His hands were still, almost too still. This wasn't the Carmy she left in Chicago. He momentarily broke eye contact, a fleeting admission of anxiety that was gone by the time he captured her gaze again.

This was a facade she decided. There was something troubling him. Something huge that she knew he wouldn't be able to keep under wraps for long.

His tongue grazed his bottom lip, she watched it go.

She shook her head, plunging her thoughts into ice cold water.

"That's doesn't- what are you doing here?"

"Ouch" he placed a hand over his chest, leaning back as if she physically hit him. "Is it a crime to visit my friend?"

She cut her eyes at him growing increasingly more frustrated at his casualness. His gum chewing. His stupid hair that was always messy but for some reason was now perfect. And god those stupid eyes, she could excuse everything else if it wasn't for his penetrative stare.

Always calling to her. Burning up her skin, leaving her insides vibrating for minutes until she worked up the courage to will those feelings away.

"Carmen," she took a deep breath. "Please don't play with me right now. I have plans."

"Right, and you're still going?" He questioned like he was asking her for the time. "Because I really need to talk to you."

"What? I'm supposed to overlook you conveniently showing up the night I have a date?" She blew a raspberry, feeling her nerves burn up at his expression. "And stop looking at me like that!"

He maintained eye contact, trying his hardest to keep his smile at bay. He missed this.

"Okay I admit my timing isn't the best..." He trailed off shoving his hands in his pocket. "But I just needed to see you, Sydney. I need to talk to you."

"I actually have this really cool new invention called the cellphone-" she crossed the room grabbing her phone. The device flashed on as she turned around holding it up. "Would you look at that? It works! Did you forget that the phone worked both ways?"

"In person," he sighed finally dropping his facade. Apparently his sad attempt at charm was falling on deaf ears. "Can I please have a second of you time? Then I'm gone." His previous bravado had dissipated, leaving room for him to be himself. "I just need to, need you to hear me."

She shouldn't be talking to him right now. She left him in Chicago. She left all that stress and dysfunction, and this relationship behind. How did it still find her? What possessed him to chase after her?

"Luca will be here any minute, I mean after-"

"Why do you like him so much?" He cut her off, twiddling his thumbs - a pensive expression covering his face. He rubbed a finger over his eyebrow, a nervous tick. "Its like all you talk about is him. What is it? Are you fa-falling" he gulped, trying to conjure moisture in his mouth. "How serious are you two?"

"Carmen Berzatto, you took a 4 hour flight because I'm going out on one date with a guy I've known for a few months?" She shook her head. "This can't be healthy."

"I just need to know if you plan on dating this guy." He shrugged, hands palm up and outstretched. "As your friend I feel like I have an obligation. I care about you so much-"

"Cut the shit. You came here because you're jealous."

He felt the tips of his ears warm at her accusation. A very true one at that.

"I've been obsessed with you since before we even spoke to each other and I finally have the guts to have a drink with some other guy and you do this?"

“It's not just that Syd" His voice teetering on a desperate plea. Fuck if it didn't tug at her heart strings.

"Then what is it? What made you get your ass on a plane and show up at my door in the middle of the night."

He ran a hand through his hair effectively messing up the expert styling he'd done in the airport bathroom. "I-I missed you and I wanted to talk to you, and it's your birthday."

She stared at him long and hard before giving up and plopping down on her couch. "Okay. What did you want to talk about?" She checked her phone to find Luca had sent an 'On the way!' text.

"Are you thinking of moving here? Permanently, I mean." He sat on the bar stool adjacent from her, his leg shaking incessantly. "You mentioned Luca being the best cook in the world or something like that and I just wanted to know if you thought he was good enough to stay or maybe you'd want to go cook with him where ever he ends up."

She quirked her eyebrow, taking time to survey his face for any sign of humor but he was stone cold serious. That was when she surprised herself - and Carmy - with laughter.

"You're serious right now?"

"What? Why are you laughing at me?" He stopped shaking his leg. That reaction wasn't right, was it?

"I'm not..." She shook her head as she lifted up a finger. The sweet sound floated around them. Carmy shifted uncomfortably noticing how warm his face was growing. "All of this is because I said I liked his cooking?"

"No." He balked. Even he could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

She tilted her head to the side letting her laughter subside. She was looking at him how she used to again. With warmth and maybe even love, but he didn't want to get his hopes up.

"He's not going to replace you Carmy."

He felt embarrassed. Like these last few months in therapy were all for nothing. He didn't try any of his exercises and he overreacted. Now he felt like a possessive prick who can't get over his ex-girlfriend - who works for him.

He should probably make Sug head of HR, because their lack thereof was becoming starkly noticeable.

He should just leave. Go before she could officially cut him off. Get out of her hair for good. He didn't remember standing up but she was soon standing before him, placing a gentle hands on his shoulders.

"Stop it." She broke through his thoughts.

"What?"

"I said stop it. God I can hear your thoughts from here." She inched closer to him before running her hand from his shoulders to his clammy hands "Luca is cool and yes we have a date but I think I have something to say to you too."

He stiffened staring at their joined hands.

"Whats that?" He replied thickly. As if tears were threatening there way out of his downcast eyes.

She used two fingers to lift his head until he was looking her in the eyes.

"Carmy, I'm not going anywhere." Flashes of his vulnerable confession just before they hooked up came back to her.

She wanted to say this back then, she wanted to tell him that she didn't want their hookup to be a dead end but she felt weak for feeling that way. Like she had to prove something to herself, to the world, and to Carmy. She wanted to prove that he didn't have the upper hand. She could now see how naive that was.

"I want to be with you. L-like we were before, but healthier." She suppressed a grin but he caught it. "I have this huge, never ending, and frankly inconvenient crush on you. And I don't know man, it's gonna take a lot to get rid of me."

”I love you." It felt like the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he'd been baptized in cool water and his vitality had been renewed. "I don’t want you to feel like I’m this brainless prick. I know I don't own you and coming here was probably the last thing you wanted but-" he grabbed both her hands. "It's you Syd. You drive me crazy."

Bright flecks of happiness peaked from within him and shined against Sydney.

"And it's you."

Those grating feelings of uncertainly that dominated his thoughts and body began seeping out, never to be felt again. He was ready to let go of the baggage that came with doubt. He hoped Syd wouldn't pick it back up.

"So, what are you saying? You want me back?" He knocked their hands together, swinging them in a childlike bout of giddiness.

"Only if you'll take me back." She confessed, remaining hopeful that they were still on the same page.

He brought her hands up to his mouth and kissed each knuckle keeping his eyes connected with hers.

"Are you crazy?" And that was all it took really. He let go of her hands and didn't spare a second to pull her against his chest and inhale the fruitiness of her aroma.

She smelled like a freshly cut mango on a summer day. When you'd suck at the seed and the nectar would run down your arms. You couldn't bring yourself to care because it tasted so damn good.

Her lips felt like home. She tasted like she had before. He cradled her head between his hands, devouring her. His hands traveled down to her waist pulling her flush against him.

She gasped at the movement but let him will her body to his control. She missed how he held her. She missed how his hair felt between her fingers. How he kissed her like he couldn't get enough of her. His kiss was something that never changed.

He didn't care to pull away or open his eyes when the doorbell rang. Syd felt his arms pull her impossibly closer when there was a knock.

He'd forgotten all about Luca, who was innocent in all of this, but he was having a hard time rationalizing that.

Syd was the one that pulled back causing a sound of disapproval to leave Carmy's mouth. She remained in his grasp. She wasn't sure if she could get out of it if she tried. His hands clasped her in a firm grip, like she'd slip away if he let go.

"What are you gonna do?" He questioned bracing himself for her answer. She looked from him to the door and back again.

"I'll go talk to Luca." She decided. "I'll let him know I can't come out tonight."

"Okay." He breathed, finally letting her go. He missed her softness, how had he gone so long without this.

She pecked his cheek sweetly, briefly, admiring the scattered freckles littering his neck.

“Be right back." She promised before turning to get the door.

Carmy watched as the door closed behind her. He exhaled and looked up to the ceiling and thanked whatever god was up there that coming here actually worked. 

"Woah Syd, in a hurry to go?" Luca jested backing up as Syd stepped outside. He looked down admiring her outfit choice but stopping short at her feet. More specifically her choice in shoes. "No offense but, are these house slippers?"

"Uh," she glanced down. "Yes they are. Look-" She was trying and failing at internally psyching herself up. She loved Carmy, but this still made her feel like shit. "You know Carmy right? Chef Carmen Berzatto?"

He slowly nodded and raised an eyebrow. "I think you may have mentioned him once or twice also I kind of worked with him." He chuckled teasingly. "What about him?"

"Right, you did." She winced. "He actually dropped in and I'd feel bad leaving him inside and I'm so sorry but"

"You're canceling our date." He supplied.

She nodded shamefully. "Sorry, I just - we, I mean Carmy and I- and, and you drove all the way here. I just"

"Hey, hey Sydney it's alright." He laughed, hand shooting up to stop her. "I understand. We aren't reciting vows." He laughed more so to himself this time. "Mind if I say hello?"

She hummed imaging how that could turn out. She considered them being adults and not animals but she also considered how badly she wanted to send him away and climb on top of Carmy and stay there until the sun came up.

"Sure." She welcomed him in.

Carmy paused his nervous pacing, his eyes caught Syd's as she put on her best I'm sorry face and mouthed 'Be nice'.

"Chef Berzatto!" He reached a hand out waiting for Carmy to shake it. Carmy stared at it before Syd coughed breaking him out of it and forcing him to shake Luca's hand.

"Hey man." He cleared his throat shoving his hands in his pocket. A bout of awkward silence passes through the room. "How you been? Marcus said you've made quite the name for yourself in Denmark."

"I could say the same about you." He grinned "It's been great though. But it's different here. I'm actually considering a move out here, check out a few more places. Mind if I borrow Chef Sydney though?"

Carmy didn't answer not knowing exactly how to respond without it coming out snarky or rude. So he simply didn't respond.

"Just jokes, just jokes!" He broke the tension. "Well, I just came in to say hello. See how you were getting on."

"You know how it is, Chef. There's always something." He replied plainly.

Luca nodded sensing that his presence was no longer wanted. The air was slowly being sucked out of the room. The longer he stood between Syd and Carmy the more he realized their building tension.

When he moved she moved, when she breathed he replied with his own pattern of inhale and exhale. After seeing the way Sydney looked at Carmy he wondered how he ever thought she looked at him with any hint of attraction.

"I'm gonna head out." He nodded his head towards the door. "Bye Syd, see you Saturday. Come in early so I can finally teach you how to make Chocolat au Crumble de Fraises." He closed the door behind him.

Carmy kept his eyes on the door. "Have I ever told you how annoying that guys is?" 

Syd laughed sauntering over to her cabinet to pour herself a drink.

"Shut up Luca is a cool guy."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He playfully replied following her path and grabbing himself a glass. "Hey, I'm sorry about not telling you about inviting" he cleared his throat, "yeah to-to uh dinner."

"Carmy..."

"Please, just, can I actually offer a real explanation?" He waited for her to give him the go.

After she nodded he continued

"We ran into each other, randomly, she was still a little prickly towards me. I you know, I felt so bad. She's still a friend of the family, right? And I didn't know what to say, so I invited her to dinner. I didn't stay the entire night and left before we even got to the second course." He gulped down his brown liquor. "We haven't spoken since. Promise."

She looked down at her drink. Warmth covering her face. She was thankful of her rich complexion, how it protected her from that kind of vulnerability.

"Thank you." She breathed, looking up from her nearly empty glass. "For that, you, I should've just talked to you. I shouldn't have been so mean."

“Stop it." He refilled her glass. He followed her movements as she sipped the sharp whiskey. Her lips were shiny once she pulled it back.

She shifted under his stare. Attempting to match him by watching him back. It only made the room grow warmer. She was pulsating now. Liquor had always spelled danger for her.

Thankfully he lost their unspoken competition.

"I actually forgot, one sec.” He released a deep breath, bending down to grab something out of his bag. A manila envelope.

She eyed it curiously, intrigued by what he had up his sleeve. He ran a finger over his right brow before extending it towards her.

“Here”

She took the envelope and slowly opened it. It was a contract. A contract for The Bear. Establishing her as a co-owner along with Carmy. 

“You okay?” His soft voice broke her from her daze. He ducked his head catching her watery eyes.

She blinked realizing that tears were welling in her eyes. She wiped them quickly in embarrassment.

”Fuck sorry.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

"No, it's not, you don’t have to say anything right now." He assured. "The Bear is as much mine as it is yours. This isn’t me trying to make you stay in Chicago. I’d never do that to you, I know you want to do more than work in that shithole” he mocked. “But it’s, it's ours isn't it?  I want you to know you’ll always have a home.”

She kicked herself for letting more tears pass her lids. They were quickly wiped away as well. She shook her head skimming over it and seeing the signature line at the bottom. All she had to do was sign.

“Jesus, Carmy would’ve been easier if you asked me to marry you.” She laughs eyes still on the paper reading the header over and over again. She could own something. Something that wasn't destined to fail.

He hummed thoughtfully, “You’re right, it would be easier if I asked you to marry me.”

They let the thought linger. She gently placed the papers back on the envelop.

"Thanks again, for-for telling me about the uh dinner thing. I know we weren’t together so of really wasn't any of my business-“

"Together or not, don’t want you thinking I don’t care about your feelings.“ His words hit her deeply. How careful he always was especially with her. She pulled him into a hug, relaxing as she held onto him.

His hair smelled freshly washed and he was wearing some fancy cologne. Leaning back she took him in, more carefully this time.

”What’s got you all dressed up?” She raised an eyebrow.

He looked down at himself then back at her, “Didn’t want to ask you to be my business partner in a dingy white-tee.”

"You could’ve.“ She laughed. “But you look really nice. I like your cologne...“

"It’s the one I hate.“ He noted “Nat said I should wear it.”

"She knows you came?”

”She drew up our contract” He explained “She wants no legal obligation to that place by the end of the year.”

"Better me than her I guess." Her reply was absentminded as she trailed Carmy's body. How could someone who ate like a frat boy maintain a body like his.

"What?” He looked down self consciously.

"Have you been working out?” She always knew him to be fit but she swears his biceps were bigger than they were the last time she saw him. 

"Yeah, been hitting the gym hard since you left.” He shrugged. “Helps with stress”

”I’m sure it does.” She rips her eyes away from his arms to pour herself a heftier drink. “You look great.” The compliment slipped out of her. "You know what else helps with stress?"

Shut up Syd. SHUT UP.

"No, what is that?"

His arms rested on the counter, outstretched past her. She swayed brushing against it, stumbling back onto the bar stool behind her.

He didn't know if he wanted to look at her drawing eyes or kissable lips. His eyes darted between both as he leaned closer to her, wanting to know the secret she kept.

She should've stopped drinking one glass ago, now her filter was withering away and her sober mind was locked behind a cage guarded by her horny intoxicated mind.

Sydney's alarm made the both of them jump away from each other.

With this distraction, her sense came rushing back. They shouldn't have sex.

Not now.

She had work in the morning and everything was still so fresh. Plus she was feeling like a fucking doofus around him and she didn't know why.

Her reasoning sounded like B.S. in this moment but somewhere in her head it made sense.

"I'm- that's my alarm for bed." She chuckled, as she slid off the bar stool, temporarily swaying a bit too close to him. He followed her as she moved away, so close to kissing her but he decided against it at the last minute. "Just gonna go get ready for bed." With that she left.

Carmy watched her disappear behind her bathroom door and waited until the shower cut on to breath. He pressed his hand against the seam of his jeans, willing his hard on away.

Steam billowed out before her once she left the bathroom and padded over to her bedroom. He was looking over the Polaroids that hung above her dresser. Each memory she cherished. 

"Shit sorry." He turned around like he'd been caught red handed. "Didn't mean to intrude."

"No it's, you're fine." She pulled her towel, that she realized was entirely too short, closer. The fluffy white fabric stopped just below the curve of her ass.

He watched as a bead of water trailed over her collarbone and under the towel. She sat on her bed, fingers still tightly holding the towel around her.

"You, uh did you see the pic there at the top?"

Carmy heard her but he didn't have the capacity to respond. He was suddenly so thirsty. He missed how she tasted. He turned back around to find the photo she referred to.

Shifting, her thighs granted her temporary relief. Blood thudded inside of her.

"Holy shit is that?" He squinted his eyes trying to get a closer look at the photo. "It can't be we hadn't even met at that point." The restaurants name etched on a menu beside the dish confirmed his suspicions.

He prepared this dish during a time of devaluation and grief. He was alone and felt like he'd lost touch with his family. When really Mikey was just avoiding him. He was told it was never good enough. He was a fuck up who didn't know the first thing about cooking. He swore he'd never made it again - too many bad memories. Funny how even at the lowest point in his life, she seemed to find some good in him.

"Remember I told you I tried your cooking well before I met you."

"Yeah I remember I just," he glanced back at her, eyes dropping to her enticing thighs before darting back to the photo on the wall. "I-I didn't know you had a picture of it!" He chuckled. "Do you photograph all the food you eat?" He quirked an eyebrow, turning back to her. "Or was I special?"

He just wanted to hear her say it. He'd never ask her for anything else if she just called him special.

With each step forward an inferno blazed within her, it'd be impossible to look away now that he was so close.

She imagined this was how it felt after staring at the sun for too long. Hypnotized by its beauty. Blinded by it's ferocity. Appreciative of its life. She understood now why people worshiped the blazing ball in the sky.

He stood above her, overbearing almost. She looked up at him, trying not to shiver at his attention. She failed.

"You were special." Her voice was small. She feared speaking louder would give her away.

"Thought I was special, did you." He grinned knocking their knees together.

His mind wouldn't stop racing. He resisted his urges long enough, seeing that on her wall like it was art stirred something within him. She was always there seeing him for who he was and not who everybody wanted him to be. The depth of his feelings for her broke new ground, growing treacherous. He'd be terrified if he didn't trust her with his heart, his life. 

"I did." She replied, voice still hidden under her embarrassing desire.

"You're special too." He nudged her legs apart, moving closer. Still above her. Still staring down at her as if this were the most casual thing in the world. Beneath his depth he was anything but.

She wondered if he'd still respect her if she got on her knees right now.

If she begged for it. If she came by simply rubbing her body on his.

"You know that right?" The back of his hand grazed her cheeks. He could feel the warmth. She couldn't hide now.

She nodded, hypnotized by him, afraid to speak, fearing a feral moan would rang out.

"Can you say it for me?" He waited a second, hand now gently gripping the dip of her neck. "Say 'I'm special'."

"I-I'm special." She replied breathlessly. His eyes grew darker as he watched her squirm. She was dizzy now with desire. Seconds from dropping her towel and jumping his bones.

His hand that wasn't on her neck met her bottom lip, gently pulling it down. "Can I try something?" He left her mouth open, waiting for her reply.

She closed her mouth, gulping down the saliva that pooled there. She nodded and he smiled.

"Use your words."

She gulped down more saliva before speaking again

"Yes."

He gently tugged on her towel tossing it to the floor. She watched the tips of his ears turn red. Being fully clothed while she was on display like this was mind-boggling.

He opened his mouth to speak but his words were stuck in his throat. His stomach did back flips. He still didn't know how he landed someone so, "Beautiful." It was a whisper but she heard it.

He brought his fingers back up to her mouth but this time he gently shoved two fingers in her mouth. He stroked her tongue, being careful not to trigger her gag reflex.

Moaning drifted past her ears. She met his eyes, realizing it was her making those noises. She didn't know why but his fingers in her mouth pulled her closer and closer to the edge.

"Back up for me." He left his fingers against her tongue as she carefully backed further onto the bed. His knee nestled between her thighs as she settled on her back. "Gonna get you off, okay? Apologize for popping up like this."

She wanted to tell him there was no need to apologize but between her slowly slipping mind and his fingers against her tongue she simply nodded.

In an instant they were gone out of her mouth and circling her bud. She was so wound up, the first touch sent electricity through her. She trembled, frantically trying to control herself.

"Fuck Syd, didn't even need to do that." His fingers slipped easily into her. "You're so wet. So ready for me."

She nodded desperately, moving her hips, chasing an already building orgasm.

"So pretty. So pretty." He worried his bottom lip, watching her. What made her jerk, what made her moan, what made her eyes roll. "You're gonna make me cum in my pants." He huffs. "If you keep looking like that."

She clawed at his top, hands sliding up from under. She moaned his name, how could she be expected to form a clear sentence in that moment.

"Want me undressed too?" His soaked fingers rubbed her, applying just enough pressure. She feverishly nodded.

"Please." She managed to get something other than his name out of her mouth.

His touch was gone - she resisted the urge to throw a tantrum. She wanted him undressed after all. 

His chiseled body descended back on her. He immediately latched onto her neck. But he wasn't touching her like she wanted. Not like he was just seconds ago.

He soon noticed her vitriol and the fucker smiled.

"Relax," he continued kissing down her neck all the way down to her perky nipples. "I'll get you there, just missed this so much."

With each kiss he neared the place between her thighs.

Her mouth fell open once he latched onto her. Fingers slipping back into her.

With each come hither movement and each kiss worshiping her clit she moved closer and closer to the edge.

His tongue dancing in a firm circle pulling an orgasm out of her.

The feeling surprised her. This was different than all the other times. Her chest pounded and her thighs trembled. She gripped his curls and was pretty sure it made that fucker moan. She could feel the vibrations.

She loved him.

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyoufuckIloveyou

No one knew her like him. No one could do this to her but him. She didn't want anybody else to do this to her. With her.

He gently licked her, tongue slowly cleaning up her mess. He climbed up her body, nuzzling her neck.

"I love you too Syd."

Had she said that out loud?

He watched her come back to Earth, eyes low and hazy. He waited until she looked at him, clearly, to kiss her. She moaned when she tasted herself.

"You taste so good don't you?" He kissed her jaw. "Are you ready?"

She pulled him closer, far too weak and aroused to say anything.

He squeezed the base of his dick. He didn’t want to cum too fast, he wanted to relish in this. Savor it.

He exhaled as he pushed into her. He fit her so well. So easily. That stupid part of his brain preened at that. She was his.

He stilled once he bottomed out.

She was impatient. Feeling his throbbing head against that spot inside of her made her instinctively salivate. She canted her hips up, encouraging some sort of movement.

"Shit, you're" He buried his face in her neck as he began moving. Brutally. Slowly. As deep as he could get.

Her legs wrapped around him keeping him close. Needing him close. With each pound against her button she spiraled further and further into his spell. She felt drunk. In love. Dangerously so.

He groaned at her teeth digging into his shoulder, another orgasm echoed through her.

"Feel so good when you cum on my dick like that." He gripped the sheets, moving faster, more intentional - chasing his release. Her fitted sheets popped off of the corners of her mattress, rolling up under them.

She gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. She moaned in his mouth and he swallowed it.

He was so close, losing his grip on reality. On sanity. He wanted to cum inside of her. "Wanna get you pregnant." His eyes were closed, he didn't see her reaction but she clenched around him. Her legs and arms pulled him closer like a Venus flytrap devouring its prey.

"Please" she gasped gripping him tighter. "I want it."

A noise he hadn't recognized as his voice left him, muffled against her neck. He pumped inside of her, once, twice, three times so deeply he was sure they'd have a pregnancy scare. He couldn't bring himself to care though.

After cleaning up and fixing the bed he rocked her in his arms.

"We should get a Plan B." He mentioned kissing her forehead. “Or not.”

"I have an IUD." She reminded him.

He tried to hide his disappointment.

"Aw come on ya big sap, give me a kiss."

He happily obliged.

Sydney was back home and she and Carmy's relationship was on the up and up. They were working on it and things seemed to be progressing exponentially.

"Remember when I said it'd be easier for you to just ask me to marry you?"

"I do." He looked up from the document he'd been filling out. Syd long ago tried to bring Carmy into the digital age, but he was stuck in his ways. It was endearing. "What about it?"

"Is that," she hesitates, hovering over uncharted waters. "Is marriage something you ever think about?" She sat on his desk swinging her feet, too nervous to sit still or stand like a normal person. "Not with me I mean with anybody ever."

He sat his pen down, she now had his full attention. "You're the only person I ever thought about marrying." He replied openly, his hand sliding up her thigh. When he reached her belly his fingers twisted in the softness of her shirt causing her to stir and swat his hand away with a smile. 

Now he was standing before her, between her legs, caging her in with his arms. Reminiscent of their first kiss. "And maybe even some day," he breathed into her neck, planting a wet kiss there once she leaned into him. "You can take that stupid IUD out and let me put a baby in you."

Her eyes fell closed, thinking about what it'd be like to do that. She pulled back cradling his head between her hands, stars brightening her eyes.

"Let’s focus on raising this baby first before we think about any others. Imagine how fucked up it would be." She tilted her had slightly in an attempt to be snarky or maybe sarcastic, anything to alleviate the seriousness of the moment.

"Who says we can't do both?" He replied half joking half hopeful. There goes his hands again, warming her sensitive belly. "We can try before the meeting starts." He mouthed at her neck and gripped her waist, now determined to make his dreams a reality.

She chuckled "Carmen." She gently nudged him back. "Do you know what you're saying? Do you know my dad would kill you- me- no US if we got pregnant?"

"Sydney, you know you're an adult right?" He shot her a teasing grin. "Also, I'm not saying right now or any time soon. I was joking." He placated. But they both knew he wasn't really joking all that much. "It's nice to know you're open to that sorta thing."

Syd nodded still trying to calm herself down. "I think you'd make a great dad." She replied earnestly.

She admired the pink that spread across his cheeks.

Richie knocked on the door before walking in, not waiting for a response.

"Yo, cousin when you and the wife are done with your meeting the actual team meeting has started out front."

"Shut the fuck up Richie!" He replied, no real heat behind his words. "And who started the meeting?"

"Who else?" He glanced around the room with a scoff "I did, when you two fly off to la la land I pick up the slack."

"What do you teach them? The quickest way to fuck up lunch?" Sydney fired back.

"Hey that was once!" He shouted behind him, already making his way back to the meeting.

Syd followed behind him but Carmy's hand stopped her. She spun around and he pulled her against him, kissing her breathless. He rested his forehead against hers.

"You'd really marry a fuck up like me?" He glanced behind her making sure Richie was gone.

"Carmy." She sighed leaning forward and pecking him once. "What did your therapist say about self-talk?"

"Right" He nodded. "Sorry, I'm still learning."

"Don't apologize." She kissed him again, lingering longer than before. "I wouldn't want to spend my life with anybody else."

"See! I told you they're back here making out" Richie's voice drifted through the kitchen catching their attention. The rest of the staff followed behind laughing amongst themselves.

"Chefs, are you going to show them tonight's specials or do I have to?"