#thinking that one day he would be able talk her again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crimsonvictory · 2 days ago

Text

Emergency

MINORS DNI

Word Count: 8.2k

Tags: simon riley x reader, self-reader insert, simon riley x you

Warnings: SMUT, p-in-v, overstimulation, pain kink, mature, voice kink, fingering, oral sex, fluff

Looking up at the building's sign above your head, you were starting to think that this was a mistake. Maybe driving yourself to a sketchy address texted to you by your friend wasn't the best idea, and there was the possibility that she may be planning your funeral next week. The tan brick building was old and crumbling, but somehow still standing after all the weathering over the years. You pulled your phone out, double-checking the address from your messages, and yes, 869 Elvie Street was the correct address.

The events leading to this scenario started a couple of weeks ago when you mentioned to a friend that you were having some stress-induced pain due to your job.

"Have you tried getting laid?" was her first question.

After exclaiming to her that not every problem is fixed with sex, she provided the option of possibly seeing a chiropractor or massage therapist. You had gone over the suggestion in your mind, waiting a few days before texting her and asking for recommendations. She had a tried and true place she had been going for years, so you trusted her judgment.

"Now, don't be put off immediately. Simon doesn't have a lot to say, strictly work. Not the friendliest type but I swear he can pinpoint exactly where my pain is coming from and I feel like I'm on cloud nine when I leave his place. He's a private practice, so only one-on-one with him."

The issue with going there was that Simon’s hours conflicted with your work schedule, and it was extremely difficult to get time off. It took you a while to message him, but when you finally did work up the courage, you asked if there was any possible way he could stay a little late to work you into his schedule. You were met with the blunt reply of,

"No. - S”

And that was that. You didn't dare message again, determining that your pain wasn't actually that bad to manage and that you could deal with it. To be honest, you had forgotten all about the text and went back to work, keeping busy for the next several weeks. That is until the sharp pain shooting from your hip down into your groin was unbearable and you could hardly walk. You were never one to call off of work, but there was no possible way you would be able to get through the day in the state that you were currently in. Teeth gritting in pain, you called your friend, begging her to talk to Simon - put in that it was an emergency.

"Can you get yourself there by 10?" she had texted.

You shot a glance at the clock - 8:47. A soft groan left your lips, you had texted a short reply that you would be able to. Maybe you should have thought about it for a moment before sending an immediate reply. Typing in the address that your friend had given you, you were pleasantly surprised that it was only a few minutes down the road from your apartment. Slowly sliding to the edge of the couch, you grit your teeth in pain once again as you try putting your weight on your good hip. The sharp jabbing pain raced like fire down into your groin, causing you to cry out softly. You huffed in annoyance, slowly making your way to the bedroom to get dressed for your appointment.

It took a lot longer than you wanted, the attempt to put on a new pair of pants almost sending you into a fit of hysterics. You limp over to your bathroom vanity, taking a moment to brush your hair and then your teeth. Your eyes are a bit bleary with tears, so you blink them away, attempting to not look deranged. This is the best that you can do in your situation. Taking one final look at yourself, you huff yet again and make the long and painful route (typically a less than 2-minute walk down a short flight of stairs) to your car.

Shutting the door behind you, you lean on your good hip as you lock the front door to your apartment. It's a bit chilly out, the sun is not quite over the clouds this morning. A quick glance at your watch lets you know that you have about 15 minutes until your designated appointment. The familiar wash of anxiety starts from the crown of your head, making you shutter slightly as it passes down your shoulders and into your stomach. Everything would be okay... you told yourself (almost unconvincingly).

The ride over was quiet, opting to not listen to any music as you were already overstimulated. You followed the little arrow on the map, almost missing your turn because your thoughts were elsewhere. A quick parallel park of your car and you throw it into Park, letting out a deep breath before attempting to pull yourself out. You have your keys and phone in one hand, using the other to grab the handle above to use as leverage. Your good foot makes contact with the asphalt, digging in slightly as you hoist yourself up, careful not to jerk too quickly.

You stumble for just a moment, leaning against the now-closed car door before righting yourself once more and slowly making your way over to the sidewalk. Nervousness pulls in your stomach again. A glance to the left and right of your surroundings shows there are no other cars on the street that you're parked on. You tilt your phone up, opening up your messages to let Simon know that you're here.

A few moments go by in silence, and you shift your weight again, taking a look at your surroundings. A bell chiming grabs your attention and you look back towards the front door, surprise etching itself along your features as a man - you are guessing Simon, fills up the entrance. He appears almost out of nowhere, still as a statue as he stands there. He crosses his arms, stretching the grey t-shirt he has on to the point where they might almost bust out of the sleeves.

You blink rapidly, taking him all in. His dark eyes lock onto you, gaze unwavering. Brows furrowed slightly, the only available space you can see are his eyes. The lower half of his face is covered by a black surgical mask. Mysterious. You're at a loss for words, not knowing what to say. His gaze has you pinned to the spot, almost as if you were caught doing something particularly naughty.

A soft grumbling noise comes from his chest, a noise of annoyance as he rolls his eyes and turns back to walk back inside, letting the door fall back into its previous closed state. A frown tugs your lips downward, confusion whirling a spiraling pattern into your thoughts as you slowly hobble towards the door. You push it open, the bell chiming once again before the rush of the wind pulls the door shut quickly behind you, causing you to jump. Taking a look around the office, it's - as expected. Neat, white walls and grey wooden flooring. Nothing is decorating the small area, but surprisingly there are a few well taken care of monsteras by the front door. The air smells like eucalyptus and mint, a relaxing scent that causes your tightly drawn shoulders to droop just a bit.

You're not sure where Simon went so you stay by the front door, not wanting to be caught snooping around the office. He comes back just a few moments later, still silent as he steps forward and crowds your space. You inhale sharply, the faint smell of cigarettes and Earl Grey filling your nostrils. He reaches beside your head, flipping the deadbolt to the left - locking you both inside.

Heart fluttering in your chest, you grip your keys a bit tighter, watching as he turns quickly on his heel and disappears down the hallway.

"Down here, love," he calls, his deep voice reverberating off of the walls.

It takes you by surprise, a warm heat spreading in your belly. You somehow get your feet to move, brain short-circuiting as you try to actively process what the hell your friend got you into.

The room at the end of the hall is much cozier than the front office. Light grey walls and a carpeted floor, shelves full of herbs and salves, a long black bench, and a rack of towels are inside. Simon's sitting on a black rolling chair, legs spread out on either side of him. The soft glow of a lamp casts a variety of shadows in the room, making it a bit hard to see his face.

You are hesitant, but trust your friend and step forward into the room. Your eyes bounce around, taking everything in before landing back on Simon.

"Your friend said this was an emergency?" he asks coolly, eyebrows raising slightly.

You nod, pressing your lips together in a slight grimace, the pain of your hip dully radiating at the moment.

"What's bothering you?" he asks again, eyes flicking quickly over your form before landing back on your face.

You feel your cheeks flush, the rush of embarrassment hitting you quickly. A quick clear of your throat before you answer timidly.

"M-My hip."

His brows furrow for a moment before relaxing back on his face. He didn't pry, which you were grateful for. God only knows the thoughts running through his head at your answer. Simon beckons you closer and you oblige, trying your best not to put too much weight on your leg. He hums softly, almost as if confirming to himself what to do with you. You're standing rather close, the scent of him filling your nostrils again. It makes your stomach flutter.

"Can you sit?" he asks, dark eyes catching your gaze.

You nod, almost dumbly as you shuffle forward, turning and placing the back of your lower thighs flush with the black table. Leaning back slightly, you go to sit down when that flash of pain shoots down your leg again, causing you to gasp sharply.

Simon's hand wraps itself around your waist quickly, holding your weight for a moment while you try to steady yourself. Your brows furrow in pain, tears welling up as you look past him, staring at the wall and willing the moment to pass. Your body trembles slightly and you let out a huff of air, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them again. The moment has passed.

You notice his dark eyes on you again, cheeks flushing with the scrutiny of his gaze.

"Alright?" he asks lowly, eyes scanning your face again for any sign of pain.

You nod slowly and he helps you lower yourself on the table. You're seated now, resting for a moment as you tell him.

"Thank you..."

He hums softly again, the sound rumbling around in his chest. Simon steps forward, pushing himself up from the small stool he was sitting on. You sit there wondering how it manages to hold his weight. A light press on your shoulder from him, wanting you to lie on your back. The plushness of the table is comfortable, and you wiggle for a moment before deciding that you're comfy. It's hard to resist looking at him, large frame taking up your entire field of vision. You can't even see the door anymore.

Your eyes flutter closed, willing them to stop for a moment. Simon’s standing by your side, and you feel his large hand circle your ankle, pushing your knee up toward the ceiling. There's a slight pull again from your hip and you tense, wary of the oncoming pain.

"Relax," he murmurs.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and tell yourself to calm down. Blood rushing in your ears, you hear the familiar whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

"'M gonna try and stretch your hip flexor before I adjust you, alright?" he explains and you nod.

With one hand on your knee and the other circling your hip he starts with a small range of motion, moving your knee towards your chest and back out again. So far so good, minimal pain. His fingers squeeze into the fat of your hip, keeping it stable as he goes through a few motions for mobility. It's only when Simon moves your knee out parallel from your body that you cry out involuntarily, the sharp sensation pulling the breath from you.

You watch as his brows furrow once more and he squeezes your hip gently - an apology. Your breath quickens, eyes widening as he slowly moves your hip back to its original spot before doing it once more. The pain is there again, but not as sudden. You let out a shuttering breath, the anticipation of the imminent pain causing you to sniffle.

"There we go..." he murmurs.

His voice causes a wave of relaxation over your body, and you go pliant in his grip. The motions are becoming easier, less and less of the pulling pain as he stretches your hip out. It's become more of a dull ache, something that you could manage. He moves to your other hip, repeating the motions from just moments earlier. This one causes no problems at all. Your gaze flits up to the ceiling, watching the shadows of the light bounce as it reflects off of his movement. He releases your hip, and you immediately miss the contact. Simon shifts down to the edge of the table, holding both of your feet together as he examines the natural alignment of your hips.

"One's a bit shorter than the other," he explains, crouching down to look at which one to adjust through one squinted eye.

"Good news, it's not the injured one," you hear a hint of a smile in his voice.

You smile back softly in return, watching as his two large hands wrap around your right foot after letting your other leg drop gently to the table. He wiggles your foot slightly, loosening up your hip.

"Relax f'me," he instructs (and how could you with the sound of his voice making pleasure burn deliciously in your stomach).

Wiggling your foot one more time, he yanks back towards himself suddenly, a sharp crack! from your hip filling the room.

"Woah," you gasp out quietly.

He grabs your shoes again, checking the alignment before dropping them gently, satisfied that the adjustment did the job. Simon's large hand reaches out, an offer to help pull you into a seated position. His hands are calloused, but not super rough against your own skin. He gently lets go and whirls around to his shelves of salves, rummaging through before he finds some BioFreeze. It's in a small aluminum tin, the sharp smell of medical tincture burning your nose.

"Apply this once you get home, you're gonna be sore for a few days. Helps relax the muscles," he explains.

You pluck it gently from his fingers, twirling the tin in your own.

"I can't thank you enough..." you murmur, looking down in your lap.

He tuts softly, placing a hand on the small of your back and helping you up and off the black table. You look up at him once more, eyes focused on his mask as you ask,

"How much?"

"Consider it a favor for a friend," he says.

You're walking down the short hallway now, looking over your shoulder at him. He follows you to the door, reaching over to unlock the deadbolt before leaning back at a respectable distance once more.

"I can't just not pay you," you argue softly.

He shakes his head, a soft huff of a laugh falling from his lips.

"Heal that hip up and I'll think about it."

With that, he gives you a wink and opens the door for you, ushering you outside. Your mouth drops slightly, blushing at his words before you click your key fob to unlock the car. You grab the handle, missing it a few times before you finally yank the door open and hop inside, throwing your belongings in the passenger seat. The first thing you do is grab your phone, furiously typing your friend's phone number into the dial box. She picks up in two rings.

"Well...?" she prods, an obvious grin in her voice.

"Well-" you huff, putting your seatbelt on in a hurry as you start to drive, not even fully clicked in before you speed off. "I feel a lot better."

She laughs on the other end. "I told you! He's amazing! And sooo handsome too, even behind the mask.”

You laugh softly at that, nodding your head even though she couldn't see you.

"He wouldn't let me pay," you pout, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel as you drive home.

"Really?" she asks incredulously.

"Mhm..." you answer, thinking back to the conversation. "He told me to let my hip heal and that he would think about it." you continue. "He also-,"

"What? He what?" she prods, so excited it sounded like she was trying to jump through the phone.

"H-He winked at me when he said it," you blush deeply, thinking about his dark eyes staying glued to you the whole appointment.

"Oh my god!" she squeals. "You know what that means right?" she asks.

"No?" you answer, genuine confusion in your voice.

What it meant was that he wanted to fuck. Unbeknownst to you, Simon could barely keep himself appropriate when he opened the door to you that day. A client of his, your friend, had practically begged him to get you in. She declared your situation an emergency. It was an emergency all right, the emergency being that he wasn't stuffing your pussy full of his cock at this very second. It took all of his composure not to strip you down in his office and have you begging for more. Your little whimpers and cries of pain turned on that wicked part of his brain that got off on it. He kept replaying them in his head that night, thick fingers wrapped around the base of himself as he bucked into the tight fist he had made. Simon was seriously fucked up. He knew it but couldn't help himself. Couldn't help dipping into the temptation of the possibility of having your soft body underneath his own.

He wanted to know what you tasted like, what you felt like under his rough hands. He'd treat you well. Pulling every last little noise out of you that he could. The thought alone had him crying out hoarsely, covering his hand in the sinful act of imagination.

Good god.

Simon groaned, shame filling his stomach as he rolled off the side of the bed, strolling over to the bathroom in just a few steps to clean himself up.

What was he going to do?

The salve Simon had given you was a godsend. As he had told you, your hips were super sore over the next few days, but having the cooling salve helped ease the tense muscles. You had gone back to work, your friend pestering you every second about him. Simon...you sigh, shaking the thought of him from your mind. Something about him...

You had thought about texting him, but that would be weird. There was no absolute reason for you to have to see him again. Your hip was doing better, the overstretched ligament finally healing with the help of his hands. Oh, his hands... You reminisce on the feeling of having his long fingers wrapped around your hips, the gentle squeezes of comfort, the sure way he knew what to manipulate on your body to make you feel better.

God. You were fucked.

Things were going well for a couple of weeks until one Sunday evening, you had decided to take a bath and treat yourself to a nice evening. The water was scalding, just how you liked it, as you slid into the water, a long sigh escaping your lips as you soaked your weary muscles. You close your eyes, thoughts drifting to a certain someone... imagining what he would do to you. A soft moan escapes your lips, hand sliding down your torso to gently brush against your clit.

An exasperated laugh left you, applying more pressure at the thought of his hands sliding down your body. Your hips jerked up suddenly, and to your horror, the sharp pain came back instantly. Oh no...

Dread filled your body as soon as it happened, already knowing that you were going to have to message him again. Maybe you could try to get out of the bath...

The sharp pain pulled again, causing you to curse in frustration. Looks like you were stuck for the time being. You grab your phone, open up to your contacts, and send Simon a quick message.

Another emergency.

...

Silence. You huff, knowing that he's not obligated to answer you. It was his day off after all. You might as well enjoy the hot water as much as possible. The warmth envelops your body, providing a little bit of comfort as you relax.

You must've dozed off because when you wake, the bath is lukewarm. A groan falls from your lips, rubbing a hand down your face before blindly reaching over for your phone. You blink blearily at the bright screen, looking at your notifications. Simon had replied. Oh shit. Your fingers shake as you open the notification.

Hope it wasn't because of something naughty. ;) - S

You nearly scream, cheeks ablaze with emotion. How the hell did he know?

Ha. Ha. You reply quickly.

You see the ... floating back and forth as he types, thoughts in limbo.

Can you walk? He asks.

You weren't sure, not having tested before because of the pain. Easing up slowly, you're able to pull yourself into a seated position. The water drips down your body and into the water, rapid descent of the drops making a soft tinkling noise. You reach for your towel, slowly starting to dry yourself off and wrapping it around your damp body. It takes a moment, but you're able to pull yourself up and over the tub, staying in a small crouch. If you're in this position, it's not too bad. You grip the counter, sending a quick text back.

Barely.

It takes a few moments for him to respond, and by that time, you have your towel dropped around your feet and are attempting to put on your panties.

I can stop by.

Your stomach flutters after reading his text. Fingers grip your phone as you respond.

I wouldn't want to bother…

Maybe you could make it until the beginning of the week. Tilting your hips back, you push yourself up, throwing an oversized shirt on quickly before bunching back over in discomfort.

Address?

Is all he asks. You huff, knowing you're not going to be able to argue, so you send it to him.

—

He arrives at your apartment in 20 minutes. In that time, you had slowly made your way to the living room so that you could sit on the couch and wait for him. A sharp rap of his knuckles notifies that it is indeed him. You groan when you sit up again, slowly shuffling to the door. Your fingers fumble with the lock, twisting the metal bar to the side before you pull back, allowing the door to open.

It's a bit hard to see him from the angle that you're bent at, but you tilt your head to get a quick look at him.

Simon opted for black scrubs this time, his pants pulling deliciously taut against his thick thighs. His shirt is just a thin white tee, doing little to hide his broad chest. You notice a smattering of ink crawling up his forearm, as it’s closest to your field of sight.

Your eyes catch his, noticing the softness of his gaze. You realize you must look like a wounded animal to him - pathetic.

“Can I come in?” he asks politely, voice rumbling with deep timbre.

“Yes,” you sigh out, catching the way his eyes fall to your lower half.

His mask crinkles up against his face, he's smirking. It's only then that you realize that you forgot to put on pants. How embarrassing. Heat flushes hot up your chest, staining your cheeks pink.

“I’m sorry,” you half apologize. “I couldn’t-.”

“S’okay,” he soothes.

You nod, slowly stepping back and allowing him in. He looks odd in your apartment. The hulk of him taking up most of your entryway. He has to duck to step through the threshold, kicking his shoes off by the door. What a gentleman.

You swing the door shut, mimicking his actions from a few weeks ago, and locking the deadbolt behind you. The air is a bit awkward, mostly due to your own insecurities. You attempt to pull your shirt down farther to cover your bare legs.

“Don’t have to hide from me, lovie,” Simon murmurs. “Let’s get you sorted out, yeah?”

You nod, looking at him for direction. He takes a step forward, crowding your space with his presence. Simon’s paw of a hand flexes at his side, clearly restraining to the best of his ability to not touch you.

“Where’s most comfortable?” he questions, taking a look around your small apartment.

You hum, thinking…the bed would probably be the most comfortable, but also very intimate. The couch could work too, but being only one-sided due to the back of it. There was also the floor…but you didn’t know if you could get back up from it afterward. Bed it was then.

“The bed…” you murmur shyly.

His mask crinkles again, pulling against his face as he smirks again.

“After you,” he gestures with a slight nod of his head.

You turn then, stomach twirling with anxiety as you lead him into the bedroom. Slow, deliberate steps to not flare up your injury. The air is a bit cooler and you shiver, goosebumps crawling up your skin. Your clock reads 0442, the golden rays of sunshine confirming the time.

Your bedroom isn’t messy, but a bit eclectic with the clutter - a few books stacked on your nightstand, a jewelry tray, and a few odds and ends from your purse scattered on your vanity. You always leave a lamp on, along with an essential oil diffuser. Eucalyptus and mint - your favorite.

Simon pads silently behind you, almost forgotten until you catch him out of the corner of your eye. You watch as he takes in the small space, a soft hum as his eyes dance around the room.

You had, for once made your bed today, a fluffy black duvet and a grey throw stretched across the queen size. You didn’t particularly need such a wide space, but it was a luxury of yours, being able to spread out on your own.

Walking (limping) around to your side of the bed, you take it slow when sitting down. You laugh suddenly, imagining what Simon must think of you - an old lady.

“Somethin’ funny?” he questions, a smile in his voice.

“I must look be a sight, hobbling around like this,” you laugh breathlessly.

A slight shake of his head, eyes nearly shut. He’s cheesin’. Simon steps around to meet you, mimicking his movements from a few weeks prior. Two of his thick fingers push into the rivet of your shoulder - a silent plea to lay on your back. Obviously, your bed is much comfier, plush pillows surrounding your head as you sigh. Eyelids fluttering, you look directly up at him, a blush dusting your cheeks as you wait for him to move.

A large hand slides down your side, settling in the crook of your hip. His fingers squeeze at the fat there, stabilizing the joint as his other hand slowly brings your knee up to point to the ceiling. The movements are much slower now, remembering from the first incident that he had caused you pain.

Your body is tense, waiting for the sharp ripple that travels down your thigh - it does, as soon as your hip flexor is tilted to the side.

A sharp cry punches out of your lungs, eyes immediately filling with tears.

“Sorry, love…” Simon murmurs, voicing genuine concern.

You sniffle, taking a deep breath as he makes the rotation back to the first position.

“You’re too tense,” he grumbles, releasing the hold on your knee before sliding his fingers down your bare leg, erupting goosebumps along their wake.

He allows his fingers to unfurl from your hip, pushing the hem of your shirt just above it, so that he can see the bare skin there.

Your eyes flicker down to the exposed spot, desperately wanting to yank your shirt back down.

“Where’s the salve?” he questions.

“Hm?” you hum, thoughts drifting again to his hands.

“The salve?” he questions again, eyebrows raising towards his hairline.

“Oh,” you sigh. “Bedside drawer.” you point to the nightstand to the right of you.

He rummages around for only a moment before the metal tin is in his large hands. Spinning the lid off, he dips two fingers down into the tincture before gently rubbing it into the skin of your hip. You whine softly, the cooling sensation a relief to the flared injury.

Simon huffs softly, eyes flitting over your near-naked form before settling on your own.

“Can’t be making noises like that, bunny,” he warns lowly.

A tingling sensation pulls in your stomach, desire pooling at the base of your spine. Only then do you notice his cock is straining against his pants, clearly turned on by your involuntary noises. You bite your lip hard, turning your head away to not look at him. He was doing you a favor - that was all. A favor for a friend…right?

“Simon,” you sigh softly. “I’m sorry.”

You roll your head back to the other side, blinking before looking up at his face. His brows furrow, confusion etching them into place.

“Don’t apologize,” he huffs, just a faint hint of frustration in his voice.

You can’t tell if he’s frustrated with himself or you. A frown turns your lips downward. His fingers have stopped rubbing the rest of the tincture into your skin, frozen in place as if he’s afraid to touch you again. His other hand is at a fist at his side, fingers clenching together in restraint. Simon’s chest rides and falls languidly as the moment passes, silence lingering in the shared space.

You take a deep breath before you speak,

“Is everything okay?”

His dark eyes flit to yours, pupils dilated to the point where they melt into his irises. Another unblinking gaze makes you a bit uneasy. A familiar flutter of panic itches at the back of your skull.

“No,” he finally answers, slicing the tension of silence with a verbal knife.

“Why?” you breathe out, entranced in his gaze, the rise and fall of your chest quickening.

“Because I want to touch you,” he admits, words so soft your ears are straining to hear them.

Your brain short circuits, a flood of arousal filling your panties. You tense slightly, an unwarranted reaction - before slowly relaxing and letting your legs fall open - an invitation. You’re still mindful of your injured hip, Simon’s fingers still slightly brushing the top of your thighs.

He groans then, a delightful noise that rattles around in his chest before spilling from his lips. Simon places his knee on the bed, slowly leaning his weight forward as he crawls up in between your legs. Your head was spinning, trying to catch up with what was unfolding before you. His touch is featherlight, fingers lightly brushing the bare skin of your calf closest to him. Sitting up on your elbows, you watch quietly, curious as to how this was going to play out.

The sun was starting to set, golden hues splaying across Simon’s form. A particular ray hit his eyes, revealing the brilliant ochre that spiraled within them. He looked like something of a god, on display for you and you only. Simon leans down then, pulling his mask down just a bit to place his lips on your skin. You shutter, the feeling of them erupting goosebumps. They were surprisingly soft, slightly chapped, and full. He slowly moves up your thigh, gentle kisses placed on your skin, nearly afraid of breaking you.

—

You were fragile in his eyes. Something that he wouldn’t dare to shatter. But yet, something in him wanted to, wanted to break and bend and manipulate you with his bare hands. Simon wanted to pull every ounce of pleasure from your body, to take away the pain that was lingering. He wanted to hear your pretty whines, watch your body react, and flush to his touches. Mold you into his own body, fitting the two as one. Dip his fingers into your soaking cunt. He opts for placing soft kisses first, warming you to his touch.

To his pleasure, you’re extremely reactive, soft sighs and hums of approval are music to his ears. His large hands slide up your bare thighs, admiring the smoothness of your skin. You answering your door in your underwear was not on his radar and completely threw him for a loop.

Things had moved quickly and now…now he was wanting to taste you. Mouth watering at the thought. Simon looks at you now, trembling under his touch, anticipation etched onto your pretty face. He’s resting on his stomach, broad shoulders causing you to stretch your good hip out almost near exertion. A slow lean down and…

His warm mouth makes contact with your clothed pussy, tongue flattening against the fabric and sliding up achingly slow. A low moan falls from your lips, head falling back against the pillow. Simon repeats the motion, slowly mapping out your folds to memory. A shudder of pleasure makes its way down your body and you reach a hand out, placing it on his bicep. You give it a light squeeze, fingers curling tight.

Soft moans of yours fill the air, along with the smell of your arousal. You’re dripping wet, soaked fabric of your panties clinging to your folds. Simon hasn’t let up since he began, your slick dripping down his chin. His mask is long forgotten, but his face is hidden between your legs, so you can’t see what he looks like in his entirety.

His long fingers brush against the side of your panties, causing your hips to jerk upwards suddenly. A sharp gasp punches out of your chest, pain radiating down your thigh once again. Tears spring up in your eyes - frustration causing them to bubble up and over onto your cheeks. Your eyes flutter closed and you are jostled by Simon moving. Cheeks burning hot with shame, you turn your face away.

Your lip trembles despite you trying your best to keep it still. This was a mistake, and now he was going to leave. Your hand curls itself into a fist at your bare side.

A touch to your face startles you, causing your eyes to flutter open in shock. Simon is still there, mask placed back on his face as he gazes down at you. He’s half leaning over you, hand placed by the space near your shoulder, eyes glittering with concern.

“Let’s try something different, yeah?” he suggests.

It takes a moment for your brain to process the words, still in shock that he is still here. He still wants to even though you ruined the moment. You nod slowly, still frozen and afraid to move due to the pain. Simon snakes his right hand down to wrap his long fingers around the fat of your hip. He squeezes tightly, holding the aching muscle in place as he climbs onto your bed yet again.

Simon’s straddling your left leg, taking the quick movement to switch your positions in one fluid moment. You yelp, hands flying out to land on his chest as you try to steady yourself. He’s still got a grip on your hip, the pressure keeping it from overextending itself as you sit in his lap. You can feel his length through your soaked panties.

He’s resting comfortably back against your pillows, eyes half closed as they lazily scan down your body. His chest rises and falls languidly, a sound of contentment rumbling throughout. It almost sounds like he’s purring. An experimental shifting of his hips has the tip of his cock brushing against your clit, sending fire licking down your spine.

A pathetic noise crawls up your throat, falling from your lips on its own accord. You watch as his mask crinkles again, eyes nearly closed as he smirks. Simon rolls his hips up towards your own, keeping you locked in place. All you can do is take it, his vice-like grip preventing you from moving. Your stomach flutters with arousal, slick dripping down your thighs as his cock slides against the sticky fabric of your panties.

“Look ‘atcha,” he praises. “Makin’ a mess and I’ve barely touched ya.”

Your lip trembles and you bite down hard, willing it to keep still. His eyes catch your own and you watch his pupils dilate. You can see a blurry reflection of yourself in them, watching your face contort in pleasure as Simon presses up into you. Another whine pulls from your throat, the friction not enough. You needed more - you tried to wiggle in his grip but to no avail.

“What’sa matter?” he mocks, tone almost turning mean. “This not enough for ya?”

You shake your head, a hot flush running down your neck and into your chest.

“N-No,” you gasp as he thrusts his hips upwards again. “I need you, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” he coos, squeezing your hip lovingly.

Simon doesn’t even bother to move you, just pushes your panties to the side and brushes his fingers through your folds. Your slick pools down onto his fingers, making it easy for him to press two inside. They’re thick, causing you to tense for a moment before relaxing and letting him in.

“‘Atta girl,” he praises again before sliding his fingers back out to the tips before thrusting back in your warm heat.

You moan, releasing your grip on his shoulder as he fucks you with his fingers. His other hand keeps you steady as he lowers you down and back just a bit, almost seated at an angle on his lap. Both of your legs are spread on either side of his hips, hand braced on the bed to keep yourself steady. Simon curls his long fingers towards himself, pressing that spongey spot that has your knees going weak.

“S-Simon,” you gasp, knees buckling inwards towards themselves.

His hand leaves your hip momentarily to push them gently back to their original position, keeping your glistening folds on display just for him. A laugh punches itself out of his chest, almost restrained. It’s a beautiful sound, one you wish you could’ve heard sooner. Simon takes the pad of his thumb and swirls it around your clit. Pleasure burning in your stomach and down your legs, you cry out, orgasm squeezing a moan out of your lungs. You tremble as it ignites your nerves, breath quickening as the pleasure wrecks your body.

He doesn’t slow his fingers, keeps milking every last drop until your body has settled. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on your skin, illuminated by the golden hues of your bedside lamp. A low whistle carries out, faintly hitting your ears as you try to push yourself back up into a sitting position. Your legs are like jelly and Simon laughs again before helping you up.

His fingers absentmindedly brush back and forth on your hip as he hums, giving you a moment to recollect yourself. Pleasure has your joints relaxed, and your hip no longer burning with discomfort. Your eyes roll languidly, almost as if floating in syrup, to meet his own. He’s watching you again, taking you all in. You try to get a good look at him - a slight furrow in his brows, almost as if he’s always in thought. The mask hides most of his face but you can tell his nose is a bit crooked - possibly broken? You fight the urge to reach out and run your fingers across the bridge. There’s a small spattering of freckles peaking out from underneath the mask and you smile.

“What?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, smiling.

He huffs out a laugh, a small smile on his lips as he shakes his head. Hesitantly reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder, you give it a soft squeeze before you slide your hand down his chest and over the tented part of his scrubs. His eyes follow the trail, locking onto where your hand is slowly stroking up and down his length.

A shudder of a breath leaves his lips and his eyes fall shut. Touch-starved and desperate for more, Simon restrains himself from reaching out and flipping the two of you, wanting nothing more than to have you under him. He reminds himself to be careful with you.

You slide your hand into his pants, stroking him through his boxers. He’s fucking huge, filling your hand with his girth.

“Jesus,” you huff out in astonishment, a small laugh escaping past your lips.

“Too much to handle?” he quips, peeking one eye open to look at you.

“No!” you huff, biting your lip as you try to plan on how to begin.

“Here,” Simon sighs, taking both of your hands in one of his own while he shimmies out of his scrubs.

His cock strains against the confines of his boxers for a moment before he pulls them down too, finally letting it bounce against his stomach.

He’s oversized, pretty - creamy skin with a lush pink tip. It curves to the right just a bit and is leaking from being neglected for so long. You want to bend down and have a taste, mouth watering at the thought. Simon still has your hands on his own when he settles back down. You wriggle them free, wrapping your fingers around the base and stroking slowly up to the tip.

A low rumble of pleasure starts low in his chest, so you keep going, swiping your thumb over the tip. He’s super sensitive, length twitching in your hand as you tighten your grip. Simon’s lids are half closed, watching you languidly.

His hips act on their own accord, bucking into your hand to chase more pleasure. You’re transfixed - watching over and over as he fucks into your hand. The action has you clenching around nothing, wetness creeping down your thighs again. A whine creeps up your throat and you roll your hips slowly against his clothed thigh - unable to stop yourself.

“Just can’t get enough, can you?” he laughs, the sound getting interrupted by a moan as you squeeeeze your fingers tight around the base.

“Not fair,” he wheezes softly, hips stilled for a moment.

His thigh twitches, bumping up into your pussy, causing a spark of pleasure to pull in your core. Simon moves then, pulling his mask down and smashing his lips to yours. He leads the kiss, licking into your mouth with slow swipes of his tongue. You moan into his mouth, eyes falling closed and hands coming up to rest on his forearms. He tastes like Earl Grey and lingering tobacco. Simon moves his thigh up and down, the slick from your pussy drenching his pants. You whine against his lips, hips stuttering as pleasure overcomes you yet again.

“You comin’ again?” he asks with a laugh, smirking against your lips.

Your cheeks blaze furiously, tears pricking at your eyes as you come again. Simon kisses down your neck, biting down at the soft flesh above your collarbone. His arms wrap around your back, burying his face into the crook of your neck, and begins rolling your lower half up and down, up and down as you ride out your second orgasm against his thigh. You’re gasping for air, breath stuttering as pleasure squeezes your chest. All the stress forgotten as it washes over your body. You feel euphoric, the overwhelming release causing tears to fall down your face.

Simon shushes you quietly, rubbing soothing circles into your back as you come down again.

“There you go,” he coos. “Good…so good f’me.”

You sniffle, a laugh bubbling up and over your lips.

“Should’ve called you a lot sooner,” you joke.

He laughs loudly - the melodic sound filling the air.

“Mhmm…” he agrees, placing soft kisses on your overheated skin.

You tilt your head back, allowing him more access. Soft presses of lips to skin. It lights you on fire, desire tingling down to your toes. You arch up into his touch, sighing when his large hands caress your skin.

His thumbs brush across your nipples, stiffening them into peaks.

“Needy little thing…” he murmurs, sliding his hands down to the hem of your shirt to pull it up over your head.

Your shirt lays forgotten on the edge of your bed, you, bare except for your panties. A shiver runs down your spine, the cool air biting your skin. Simon shifts slightly, wrapping his hand around his cock and brushing the velvety tip through your folds. It catches on your entrance, slowly sinking into your pussy.

You moan, breath catching in your throat. His size stretches you open, causing your thighs to shake with exertion. Simon’s slow, allowing you to adjust before sliding you down another inch. His large hands keep you steady, squeezing the fat of your hips. There’s a moment of silence and that’s when you notice you’re trembling.

“S’okay,” he soothes, rolling his hips experimentally.

The tip bumps against your cervix - a mix of pain and pleasure.

“O-Oh,” you gasp, grasping at his shoulders for leverage.

Just like earlier, he has you pinned, stuck in pleasure as he slowly thrusts up into you. Your head falls back, arching your chest forward. Simon takes this opportunity to latch his mouth over your nipple. His tongue expertly runs over the bud, stiffening it yet again into a hard peak.

The sound of your bodies meeting echoes in your small room, the smell of sex heavy in the air. You clench around his length, wanting him even closer than physically possible.

“Bunny…” he warns, nipping at your jaw.

You laugh, pleasure blurring your mind’s worry. You can feel him in every thrust, thick cock bullying its way into your cervix. Simon’s pace has picked up, a steady motion of in out in out in out. You know he’s chasing his pleasure, large hands grabbing at your body ravenously. Itching to touch every part of your body, nothing left undiscovered by him.

He flips you quickly, your mind whirling from the sudden change of position. Simon steadies your hip, still so mindful as he pushes back in, the new angle causing your toes to curl.

“Ohmygod,” you cry out, breaths punched out of your lungs with every thrust.

Simon’s pace falters, growing sloppy as he chases his release. You clench around his cock and his hips stutter.

“Don’t ya fuckin’-“ he starts before you ignore him and do it again.

He curses, hips jolting as he comes.

“Fuck,” he moans, filling your pussy full.

You whine, the feeling overwhelming as he thrusts a few more times before slowly pulling out. A mixture of slick and him leaks down your thighs, cooling in the air. You grimace, going to sit up but Simon pushes you down. He gets up, walks to your bathroom, and grabs a washcloth to run under the warm water. It feels good on your skin as he cleans you up. He then grabs your shirt, picking you up to pull it over your head before gently laying you back down.

Your breathing has started to even, eyes closed as sleep threatens to pull you away. A cold feeling on your hip has you yelping - the salve. Simon has placed a generous amount on your skin, rubbing it in gently. Your eyes crack open to peek at him, he has his mask on again and you frown slightly - sad you weren’t able to see his face.

“Rest up dove, you still owe me,” he winks, leaning over and crawling back into bed with you.

As you start to drift, Simon pulls you close to his chest, warmth causing a slight shiver as you shift to get comfortable. He pulls a blanket over the two of you, warmth breath brushing your neck. His mask off once more. You smile, eyes fluttering shut as you snuggle down into the blankets, and the thought of how you were going to explain to your friend suddenly pops up. Shit. You couldn’t hide this from her.

“What should I say if she asks?” you mumble, almost half asleep.

“Hm..?” Simon rouses, nearly dozing himself.

“What do I tell her what happened this weekend?” you ask him.

“Tell her it was an emergency,” he laughs softly, pulling you closer as he rests his face into the crook of your neck.

#simon riley #cod simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #reader insert #crimsonwrites #cod smut

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thatguyjam · 1 day ago

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Highschool Sweethearts - Max Verstappen

Valentines event Masterlist <3

Max Verstappen x Male!ChildhoodFriend!Reader

You and Max Verstappen grew up in the same town, and went to school together, and quickly grew close. Although you didn't cart, you would always play with max's toy cars, leading to you being his best friend pretty quickly. His dad didn't like you very much, only ever seeing you as a distraction from Max's racing, but his mom always welcomed you with open arms, just happy that you could make her son happy.

As both of you got older, Max was away for racing more and more often, and the two of you couldn't help but separate a touch. Quite a bit actually, to the point where the once inseparable friends hadn't talked in years. That was, at least just until one day when you where towards the end of high school, he showed up at your door.

"Hoi- Max???"

"Y/N!!! Y/N guess what!!!"

Max came into the house like he lived there despite not having been there for years, buzzing with energy, only stopping to politely take off his shoes and look as you expectantly

"Huh?"

"Guess what"

"What?"

"Well, guess"

"Max, I haven't seen you in ages, how would I know? You've just randomly shown up at my house in the middle of the day."

"Oh yeah, it- I'm sorry it's just with carting and single seaters getting to a high level I'm hardly even in town, and whenever I am, dad is working me to the bone, I just- I'm sorry I haven't come by as much. I've missed you a lot. If it's any consolation you're the first person I've told? Even before my dad."

"Told what exactly? We didn't really get there"

"Oh! I'm gonna be a f1 driver next year!" Jaw dropping, your eyes widen as you stare at your childhood friend. Max takes your hand and pulls you to the couch as he rambles on, "Yeah, youngest ever, even younger than Vettel was. I'll be driving with Alpha Tauri, which isn't the best of course, but it is still very good, and they said if I perform well I'll definitely have a seat at Redbull."

Your brain finally catches up with the situation as Max continues on about things you never really understood, you think you hear the name Damiel a lot and mentions of F2, but your thoughts are going too fast to be sure. Looking up, you're finally able to really look at the blue eyes that have been absent from your life for too long. A feeling in your chest that you remember from when you where a kid bubbles up again, and there is nothing you can do as you surge forward and plant a kiss on Max's rapidly moving lips. His eyes go wide, and lips silent as he processes the situation, before he clumsily kisses back.

When you pull away, those big blue bambi eyes look up at you, cheeks tinted pink as he struggles to catch his breath

"That was- That was incredible. I've never kissed anyone before"

"Never? Awww, I was future formula one driver Max Verstappen's first kiss? Cute"

An even darker red forms over his cheeks as he buries his face into your chest.

"I'm glad you're the first person I told" he mumbles into your chest, pushing you further down onto the couch so that he can properly lie atop of you.

"Me too pretty boy, me too."

banner credit to @enchanthings-a

Taglist: (comment or dm to be added)

@koalapastries @justaf1girl

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 x male reader #male reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x male reader

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moonlit-imagines · 2 days ago

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Headcanons for Tim falling for you

Tim Bradford x reader

warnings:

a/n: im gonna be so honest i love him your honor

prompt: @sacredwarrior88: “May I please request headcanons for Tim falling in love with a female detective who's also a veteran and swore off love and relationships after her divorce?”

you’d just transferred to mid wilshire a few months prior

and from the moment tim heard you complaining about discipline and rookies needing a kick in the ass—he was head over heels

you were also a veteran, he felt a connection with you for that

he’d always make small talk with you

“so, where’d you serve?” -tim

he was cute and all, you just weren’t ready to fall in love again—or ever

“you know, i think tim really likes you, l/n” -lucy

“oh, i know” -you “you don’t become a sergeant in the army and not be able to tell when a boy has a crush on you”

“so? you don’t like him back or something. he’s a great guy, he was my TO. i mean, he’s a hard ass, but like, he’s a great guy” -lucy

“i appreciate you trying to help, but i’m not here looking for a relationship, chen” -you

harper and lopez would rag on him constantly for not making a move

“they just got here, i’ll give it a few more months” -tim

“it’s been a few months, what’s really going on?” -lopez

“yeah, bradford, i never took you for a shy guy” -harper

“we’ve been out for a few beers, it’s just…” -tim

“well, spit it out!” -lopez

“y/n just got divorced and told me they don’t want to get into anything serious—ever again” -tim

“wow, your dream partner just walks into your life and is unattainable by means of hating all men” -harper

“well, you thought you’d never find love again after your divorce and look at how far you’ve come, tim. at least give it a little time” -lopez

“isn’t that what i just said?” -tim

“i get where y/n’s coming from, though. i mean, after i got divorced i was over all men forever. now i’ve got a husband and another beautiful daughter” -harper

tim felt really discouraged, he thought you were perfect for him but he understood that dating a coworker was complicated. so was divorce

but instead of trying to get you, he tried to be there for you

“how’ve you been. new station, new city, new start?” -tim

“it’s fine. taking it day by day” -you

“you know, i could give you some good restaurant recommendations or something?” -tim

“no thanks, lucy beat you to it” -you

“of course she did. you know, she used to be my rookie” -tim

“she told me right after she told me you have a crush on me” -you

tim got red in the face very fast

and you made sure to keep your composure just long enough to make it awkward

“she…she did, did she?” -tim, through clenched teeth

“yep” -you, starting to laugh

“you’re messing with me” -tim

“i’m not, actually. i just think its cute you’re embarrassed” -you “but you already know my story”

“i do. and i hope you can take the time you need before you agree to go out with me, because i don’t think i’m gonna get you out of my head anytime soon” -tim

“ooh, sergeant bradford, i didn’t think i’d get to see this side of you. you’re always tripping over your words with me” -you

“well, i had a helpful talk with some meddling detectives” -tim

“i can take a guess who you’re referring to” -you

“i’d love to grab a beer with you sometime if you’re not ready to date yet, but i’d love to grab dinner with you if you are” -tim

“i’ll give dinner a thought, but for now drinks will do” -you

tim started treating you mostly normal and getting his confidence back since spilling his guts to you over drinks, and the girls were cheering him on every time you were within 20 feet of each other

he started treating you professionally, with a few winks and sly comments here and there

“so, you’re giving bradford a chance?” -lopez

“i’m giving a chance to giving him a chance” -you

“i feel you there, after my divorce i couldn’t imagine dating again, but i’m glad i found it in me to give my husband a chance” -harper

“he’s a good one?” -you

“eh, i’d give him a solid 6 out of 10” -lopez

“yeah? well i’ve been debating taking him up on that dinner, but that six rating really convinced me” -you

you finally found caught tim after shift and gave him the good news and he couldn’t be more excited

really, he’d been planning this date for weeks

and it went amazingly

“can i kiss you?” -tim

“only if you want to” -you

taglist: @summersimmerus //

#tim bradford #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #the rookie #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader

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jackiesunshines · 2 days ago

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IN ANOTHER LIFE, MY DEAR | I.ENGEN²³

summary: you read over the collection of letters your ingrid has sent you over the year of your love. her words make your grief calmer.

contains: retelling of romeo and juilette in gay, letter form, juilet.ᐟingrid x romeo.ᐟreader, mentions of homophobia & death/suicide, set in an unspecified time in norway, ingrid is the only daughter of wealthy family while reader is apart of a poorer family of farmers, this is wlw!!, implied masc.ᐟreader, inaccuracies of the romeo & juilet story i'm adapting the story to fit what i want this to be, ingrid and reader are around eighteen to twenty years old, unhappy ending.

author notes: i just had the idea for this and was like might as well write it. hopefully you guys enjoy 💞

from lady ingrid of the engen family,

i saw you the other night at lady frida's gathering. you were wearing such a stuffy dress and i could tell by your expression that you hated every second of it, but oh you looked stunning. in your usual garments that i see you in, you look always look so handsome. is that weird to say of a woman? i hope not because the word suits you. i think stunning suits you as well. maybe one day we can try on dresses together? only if i can see the cute pout you had last night.

━ june 2nd

from lady ingrid of the engen family,

do you know i am sending my letters in secret? relying on the bribing of the men who work on my family's estate grounds? every time you write back, my heart feels warm. my parents don't believe in being close to ones "below us," whatever that means. i don't see you as below me. not at all. i made my riding teacher take me all the way past your family's farm, so i could see you. it was late in the afternoon, and i was worried that you would be resting inside, but no, you were out working like one of the men. if someone saw you and your brothers, they wouldn't be able to tell you apart, but i can. your brothers aren't as beautiful as you, no offense to their looks. you're like a rose amongst a bunch of flower less stems. you didn't see me, but i saw you. those few minutes felt like getting a taste of heaven. please write back sooner than last time.

━ june 14th

from your friend ingrid of the engen family,

are we close enough that i can call you my friend? is it strange that i complimented you various times but only now asking for your hand in friendship? i loved seeing you today, down by the river with your dog. if only my brother didn't take me away, i would have talked to you longer. i pray he didn't tell my parents about what happened, but they keep things from me, so what do i know? do your parents do the same? i doubt they do with the way they allow you to work on the farm. however if they do then they would be hypocrites. i ate a very sweet strawberry cake today as a treat and it reminded me of you. when the taste fleeted me, it reminds me of you the most.

━ june 23rd

from your friend ingrid,

how did you find a way to send me a gift? you are so clever. it just draws me to you more. i'm wearing the dress you sent right now. it's so soft but not as soft as your skin. that night, i snuck out and came to see you for those few minutes, i can't get it out of my head. please, may we do it again sometime soon? you said in your last letter that i hugged like someone yearning for something. it is true. i yearn for you.

━ july 1st

from your dove, ingrid,

no one has ever compared me to an animal before. especially not a bird, but when i came to your family's farm with my father, i heard you whisper to your friend who was there at the time that i was as angelic as a dove. thank you. i would compare you to an adorable animal as well, but that would be underselling your beauty. so for now and hopefully forever, you are my angel.

━ july 9th

from your dove, ingrid,

sorry for not writing back in ages. i'm having troubles here at home. my parents want me to get married. can you believe them? they say it would be worthwhile to get married now when my beauty isn't fading, but you always told me that my beauty would never fade. who shall i believe? am i only worthy if i am gorgeous? please help me answer this question of mine. you seem to be in a better state than me when it comes to marriage. your parents don't seem to care about your romantic life, but mines are stuck in the restricted standards of our class. i don't want to marry anyone who isn't you. is that too big of a confession?

━ october 24th

from your dove, ingrid,

we kissed last night. i can't believe it. forget any marriage to some man who can't even have half of the strength and smarts that you do and none of the beauty. i love you

━ november 1st

from ingrid,

my parents called me into their room and sat me down and told me that i would be getting married by the summer of next year. somehow, some way, they have found out about our letters. those disloyal men of my family's estate must have ratted me out. we are too close for my family's comfort. women shouldn't write like this to one another. my mother told me i should put my serenading skills to use for a man as that is the way of nature. if that is the way of nature, then why does it feel so unnatural? i'll find a way to write to, my love. hopefully, this is not my last.

━ december 2nd

from ingrid

happy new year, my angel. they can take me away from our hometown, but they can never take me away from you.

━ january 1st

from your dove,

putting my name on these feels risky now. i don't know how long the couple i pay for will continue doing this for me. i don't know the next time my family will try to tear me away from you. i have not met my husband yet, we will meet on our wedding day, but i promise you that day will not be a happy one. let's plan something together. take care, my angel.

━ february 16th

your dove,

i will send the couple with the amount of money we need and the documents i have forged. you are so handsome that i hope that when this plan happens, people will take one look at you and just believe you are a man. hopefully, they don't look closer because then they will see that your beauty is something a man can never achieve. i had to put a compliment into here, i would say sorry, but i know you love it. i love you, take care.

━ april 4th

your dove,

can't wait to be with you, my angel. see you in a month.

━ april 18th

your dove,

my family and his family have decided to get us married earlier than planned. i think my parents are worried that i am still thinking of you, and of course, they are right, but that doesn't mean it makes me any less angry. i will never be wed to him, i swear on my life. i love you, and we will be together, whether in this life or in death. if i can not run away, then i promise i will never let him take me away from you.

━ may 22nd

to my angel,

is it true? there are rumors that you have died of an illness, i don't believe that for one second. my wedding night is tomorrow, and my family is feeding me lies. i kept telling myself that, but then they showed me a letter from your father that stated your death right there in ink. i don't know what to believe, but i do know i do not want to be wed to this man. not for one night or for the rest of my life. i told you i would love you forever, and that is true. we promised to be together, but i never thought it would end up being in death rather than in life. i am only writing this in hopes that my family will find this and see that they have driven us to madness. i'll shall see you in heaven, my angel. i will ignore the sharp pain of the dagger by thinking of the sweetness of your kiss. i love you.

━ june 1st

author notes: this might suck? idkkkk 🙂‍↕️

#aj fics #ingrid engen x reader #barcelona x reader #woso fics #woso angst #woso imagine

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emsdevs · 1 day ago

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a/n: I had a nonnie ask for 25 with Joseph Woll specifically asking for fluff but I used the ask to ask them if they'd be okay with an angsty prompt so if you sent that in, this one is for you!! I can't wait to get through some more of these! 🧡

Prompt 25: “They were there. You weren’t.”

Birthday Celly 2025 Masterlist | masterlist

You never thought you’d run into Joseph Woll again, but here you are, staring at a man who left you high and dry almost ten years ago. You had moved on since then, found a nice guy, settled down, and had a couple of kids. Somehow, though, your past is looking you in the eye right now, and you wish there was some way to escape it. When you opened your front door, the last thing you expected was to be met with a skeleton you thought you’d hidden so deep in your closet it would never see the light of day, and yet, here he is, looking oddly hopeful.

“What are you doing here, Joseph?” you whisper rather harshly, pulling the door closer to your body, even though your husband was away on business and your kids had been asleep for a couple of hours now. You see hurt flash across his eyes. You hadn’t called him Joseph since you two were kids.

“I needed to see you, to talk with you,” he takes a tentative step forward, but when he sees you flinch, he moves back to his original spot.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” your eyebrows are furrowed, and even without raising your voice, he isn’t sure he’s ever seen you this upset.

“Can I please just come inside for a minute?” he pleads. You glance behind you to be sure your kids haven’t woken up, and once you are sure they are still sound asleep, you open the door wider and step aside.

“Okay, just… make it quick, please.” He steps inside, letting you shut the door before following you to the dining room. You gesture for him to sit down at the table, following suit. The two of you sit in silence for a moment before you have enough of it, “Joseph if you have something to tell me, can you please get on with it? It’s late.”

“To be completely honest,” he takes a deep breath, “I came to ask for a second chance.”

“Jo-”

“Look I know it’s been a long time, but leaving you has always been my biggest regret. I’ve missed you every day since I left. I know it probably means nothing now that so much time has passed, but I had to come try. I couldn’t keep living my life in Toronto knowing what I left behind.”

“You’re right, Joseph. It means nothing now. If you told me this nine years ago, things would be different, but I can’t give you what you want now.”

“What do you mean you can’t? Sweetheart, please-” he gets cut off by tiny footsteps padding down the hall.

“Mommy?” Joseph swings his head in your direction, looking as shocked as you probably did when you opened the door.

“Give me a minute,” you stand, making your way to your daughter’s room before putting her back to bed. A nightmare had woken her up. Soon, you’re back in the seat across from Jo.

“You have a daughter?” his eyes are wide, and you think you can see some tears beginning to form in them.

“Two actually,” that’s when Jo notices you playing with the diamond on your ring finger. That’s funny. You had always told him you wanted an opal engagement ring, never having liked how transparent diamonds could be.

“You’re married?” he lets his eyes shoot back up to yours, “You moved on?”

“I had to Jo. For me,” you feel slightly guilty for some reason.

“How could it be that easy for you?” he looks hurt, offended at the fact that you were able to leave him in the past.

“He was here. You weren’t,” you let a little bit of spite seep through your words, hoping it would hurt him a fraction of the amount you felt when he left.

“That’s not fair,” he starts.

“No, Joseph. What isn’t fair is you leaving me behind like I was nothing for an NHL paycheck. I moved on.”

“Did you? Because from what I can tell, this guy doesn’t know you at all.”

“Oh, and you do?”

“I do! I know you probably secretly hate that diamond on your finger because you would’ve wanted an opal. I know you’d never paint the walls this shade of beige. You always wanted colors, real colors, that make the room feel brighter. I know you wish there was a bouquet on this table right now because you love fresh flowers. I know one of those girls in there is named Margot, and if I had to guess the other is named Maeve because those were always your top two options for girl names. I know if I went to the master bathroom right now it would probably have a Jack and Jill sink because you think there’s not enough counter space for two people otherwise. Don’t tell me I don’t know you when I know this isn’t what you would’ve wanted. Where even is this guy, huh? How often is he home?” he takes a moment to catch his breath, but all of your emotions hit you at once. Before you know it, you’re crying in the arms of a man you thought you’d never see again.

When you finally calm down, you decide to be honest with Joseph, “Never,” you say it so lowly he almost doesn’t hear.

“Never what, baby?”

“He’s never here. The girls are used to it now. They barely talk to him when he is. I couldn’t even tell you the last time he kissed me Jo, or even took me out to dinner. You’re right. He doesn’t know me. He never has, and I’m miserable. The only thing keeping me going are Margot and Maeve.” Jo feels his heart soar knowing he got the names right, but he doesn’t let it cloud his judgment.

“Let’s get you out of it then,” he says it like it’s a fact, like he knows you’ll say yes. You suppose he does know you better than anyone because you agree quicker than you’d like to admit.

“Okay,” you risk looking up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll work on starting the divorce process tomorrow. I can’t live like this. Ellis can keep doing whatever he wants without me and the girls tying him down.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful. You were truly happy, and you had a sneaking suspicion Joseph had a lot to do with it. You could only hope he’d stick around this time.

taglist: @heartsforjh @macklin-celbrini-71 @dancerbailey3 @joeyspuckbunny @beenucks @wolls-angel @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @t0xicinvasion @nadicakes143 @wollgirlie

join the taglist

#em's birthday 🥳#em's writing #joseph woll #joseph woll x reader #toronto maple leafs #leafs hockey #nhl #nhl x reader

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lloveboo · 1 day ago

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ALL THE WAYS WE BURN - a Kim Mingyu fanfic

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader, ceo!mingyu x employee!reader

genre: office romance, sexual tension, yearning, heavy angst, slow burn

pervious chapter: Under His Gaze

Chapter Three – A Step Closer

Nova

The conference room was filled with the low hum of conversation as the project team gathered, flipping through their notes and preparing for the next phase of the project. I adjusted in my seat, next to Lila who was scrolling through her tablet with furrowed brows.

A team member took the lead standing at the front of the room and clicking through slides as he outlined the upcoming steps. My focus wavered between the presentation and the quiet shifts in Lila’s demeanour beside me. I didn’t think much of it at first.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her press a hand against her lower stomach her fingers were gripping the fabric of her shirt just for a moment before she let go. Her brows pinched ever so slightly with a flicker of discomfort across her face before she masked it completely.

I leaned in slightly towards her, keeping my voice low. “You okay?”

Lila barely glanced at me, offering a small and tight smile. “Yeah, just a little off today.”

I studied her for a moment. She was a hard worker, dedicated, sharp, and efficient but something about the way she dismissed it didn’t sit right with me.

I let it go. If she wanted to talk about it, she would.

The presentation continued and by the time it ended Lila was back to her usual self, making sharp remarks about the next steps and assigning tasks with precision. If she really wasn’t feeling well, she was good at hiding it.

As we gathered our things, my eyes caught movement outside the glass walls of the conference room.

Mingyu.

He was walking past with effortless confidence, the sleeves of his designer shirt rolled up slightly. His hands were tucked casually into the pockets of his suit pants and his dark eyes flickered towards the room as he passed.

Towards me.

Our gazes met for just a second, one heartbeat, then another.

Then he was gone.

I swallowed, pressing my lips together as I grabbed my notes. I need to get it together.

Later in the day, we were in the office canteen for lunch and I noticed Lila’s odd behaviour again.

We sat together with a few other coworkers, discussing work and our plans for the weekend, but Lila wasn’t eating much. She picked at her food absentmindedly, barely contributing to the conversation.

“You sure you’re okay?” I asked again.

She blinked, like she hadn’t realised she had zoned out. Then she smiled, reassuring. “Yeah, just not that hungry.”

I hesitated, but eventually nodded. It wasn’t my place to push but something still felt off.

And then I felt it.

A presence.

My skin prickled before I even turned my head, and when I did.

It was him.

He was at a nearby table, seated with Vice CEO Seungcheol and a few other high-rank executives. He wasn’t looking at me at least not obviously, but I caught the way his posture shifted ever so slightly when I turned toward him.

I shouldn’t have stared.

But I did.

And when he finally glanced my way even for the briefest second, my breath caught.

He looked away first, continuing his conversation as if nothing had happened.

As if my heart wasn’t racing like I’d just run a marathon.

That night, after I got home, my phone buzzed with a message from Lila.

Lila: Hey, I haven't been feeling well so I won’t be able to come in tomorrow. Can you cover my presentation?

I sat up in bed, reading the message twice.

The presentation.

The one in front of Mingyu, Vice CEO Seungcheol, and other high-ranking executives. It was the presentation that Lila and me worked on, the one that she was supposed to present as the team leader.

My heart thumped harder in my chest but instead of panic, something else settled inside me. It was determination.

I took a deep breath and texted back.

Me: I got it. I hope you get some rest.

Tomorrow, I’m going to have to prove myself again.

The soft chime of my alarm pulled me from my sleep before the sun had even fully risen. I reached over silencing it with a groggy moan but I didn’t have the luxury of lying back down. Today was too important.

Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed I rubbed the sleep away from my eyes and forced myself up. The apartment was still quiet, Charlotte doesn’t need to wake up for school for another hour, which gave me enough time to make some final tweaks to the presentation.

I wrapped myself in a hoodie and made my way to the small desk in the corner of the living room, where my laptop sat.

I had gone over Lila’s notes last night, memorising key points and making sure I was fully prepared but there were still some details I wanted to refine. A stronger opening. A clearer explanation of one of our projections. And more precise visuals.

I lost track of time as I worked, immersed in detailing the slides until I felt satisfied.

A soft creak behind me made me turn. Charlotte stood in the hallway rubbing her eyes and her hair messy from rolling in her sleep.

“You’re up early,” she mumbled, voice thick with drowsiness.

I smiled, closing my laptop. “Big day at work.”

She yawned, stretching her arms. “You’re always working hard.”

“I don’t mind” I said, getting up and guiding her towards the kitchen.

We made breakfast together scrambled eggs, toast, and fresh fruit. It was our usual routine, a comforting normalcy before we both left for the day.

As we ate, Charlotte studied me. “You look nervous.”

I swallowed a bite of toast, raising an eyebrow. “Do I?”

She nodded. “Is it because of that CEO guy?”

I nearly choked. “What?”

“Mingyu,” she said casually, taking a sip of her juice. “You always talk about how intimidating he is.”

I cleared my throat, trying to keep my expression neutral. “I mean, he’s my boss. And he’s… definitely intimidating.”

And devastatingly handsome. And smart. And—

Charlotte smirked, clearly unconvinced. “Well, good luck.”

We finished breakfast and she headed her way to school and I headed to the office.

I arrived earlier than usual, stepping into the near-empty office. The hum of conversations and soft tapping of keyboards filled the air as a few early birds worked at their desks.

Taking a deep breath, I made my way to the conference room.

This was it.

I spread out my notes, pulled up the presentation on the large screen, and went over everything one last time. My hands were steady, but my heart was a different story, beating just a little too fast.

I can do this.

But the moment I thought about who would be sitting at the head of the table watching me with his dark eyes, my stomach flipped.

I clenched my fists shaking off the nerves. This wasn’t about him. It was about proving myself.

Slowly, the room began to fill. Executives, team members, and finally him.

Mingyu walked in with Seungcheol beside him, his presence commanding even in the casual way he adjusted the cuff of his suit.

His gaze flicked to me and just for a second it felt like everything else had faded.

But then he took his seat, expression unreadable, and the meeting officially began.

I exhaled and stepped forward.

The moment I started speaking, my nerves melted away.

I presented with confidence, explaining the project’s development, breaking down the projections, and answering questions with ease. This was what I was good at, analyzing, thinking ahead and proving that I deserved to be here.

I could feel eyes on me but one pair burned hotter than the rest.

He sat back in his chair, his sharp gaze unwavering, his fingers lightly tapping against the table as he listened. His expression was still unreadable but I could tell he was paying close attention.

When I finished explaining a key point about design efficiency I paused, scanning the room.

Then, a deep voice cut through the silence.

“How do you plan to handle the risk factor if unexpected costs arise?”

Mingyu.

I turned my head, meeting his gaze head-on. He was challenging me. Testing me.

And I wasn’t about to back down.

“By building contingency plans into the budget,” I answered smoothly. “We’ve allocated a percentage for unforeseen costs, ensuring flexibility without sacrificing quality. Additionally, we can adjust materials if necessary while maintaining the original vision.”

A beat of silence.

Then, Mingyu’s lips curled slightly. “Good.”

A rush of satisfaction bloomed in my chest, but it was quickly replaced by something else when I realized, he was still watching me.

The air between us thickened. His gaze didn’t waver, even as the discussion moved forward. It was like an invisible thread had formed between us, pulling us closer in a room full of people.

I forced myself to break eye contact, heart pounding.

Because I liked the way he looked at me.

Mingyu

Nova commanded the room effortlessly her voice was steady and her confidence unwavering. I leaned back in my chair, one elbow resting on the armrest as I watched her. She had everyone’s attention but I doubted anyone else was analysing her as intently as I was.

I knew she was sharp, I had seen a glimpse of it during our first meeting. But now, watching her handle herself under pressure, I felt something tighten in my chest.

She wasn’t just presenting; she was owning the space. Every word was intentional, every slide backed by solid reasoning.

I let my gaze wander, taking in the way her fingers barely trembled as she clicked through the slides, the soft glow of the projector casting shadows along the delicate curve of her jaw. And then there was her figure, the way she stood so gracefully that it made it impossible to look away.

I shifted in my seat, jaw clenching. This was business. Just business.

“That’s an ambitious approach,” I said, letting my voice cut through the air. She turned towards me brown eyes locking onto mine. “But have you considered the logistical limitations? Your plan assumes the project site will accommodate such changes without delay.”

Something flickered in her expression.

“Yes, Sir,” she replied without hesitation. “I anticipated that concern, which is why I included an alternative timeline with buffer periods for any structural adjustments. If you refer to slide fifteen—” she clicked the remote, shifting the slide “—you’ll see that we’ve already accounted for potential setbacks.”

I didn’t reply immediately. I just watched her. The way she held her ground with such confidence was an unshakable force.

Smart. Quick. She hadn’t just prepared, she had anticipated.

I tightened my grip on the arm rest.

“Not bad,” I said evenly, hiding my approval beneath a layer of professionalism.

She held my gaze for a fraction of a second longer before continuing. The presentation carried on, but I found myself only half-listening. My focus kept drifting to the way she moved, the way her fingers brushed over the table as she gestured, the way her perfume lingered in the air when she passed by me.

It was maddening.

The meeting finally wrapped up chairs scraping against the floor as everyone stood to leave. Nova was busy gathering her notes, her focus entirely on her papers.

“I need you to stay,” I said, my voice low but firm.

Her head snapped up.

The last few executives filed out leaving the room eerily quiet. Nova hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around the files she was holding before she straightened her posture.

“Close the door,” I added.

She did.

I gestured to the seat adjacent from me. She lowered herself into it while looking at me.

I didn’t speak right away. I let the silence stretch, let the weight of my stare settle on her before I finally said, “Lila is taking maternity leave.”

Surprise flickered across her face. “Oh,” she murmured before quickly regaining her composure. “That makes sense. She mentioned not feeling well recently.”

I nodded. “She’s my most hardworking employee. But now, this project needs a new lead.”

Her breath hitched.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “That’s going to be you.”

She blinked, lips parting slightly.

For the first time since I’d met her, she looked momentarily speechless. But then, she swallowed, straightened her shoulders, and said, “Thank you for the opportunity, Sir. I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

I studied her, noting the way her fingers curled slightly against the table, the way her breathing had subtly changed. “You’ll be working closely with me from now on,” I said, my voice dipping slightly lower. “I expect the same level of dedication that Lila provided, if not more.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I understand.”

A moment passed.

The tension in the room thickened, stretching between us like an invisible thread had pulled too tight. My gaze flickered downward just for a second, taking in the slight press of her nails against the wood, the way her chest rose and fell just a little too quickly.

Too close. Too tempting.

I forced myself to lean back. “That’s all for now,” I said smoothly. “Be ready tomorrow morning. We have a lot to go over.”

Nova exhaled, standing up. “Yes, sir.”

She turned to leave but hesitated at the door.

Her grip on the handle tightened.

And then she left.

The second the door clicked shut behind her, I exhaled slowly and ran a hand down my face.

This was going to be a problem.

— S.

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows

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42ap · 1 day ago

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Talking about the differences in their relationship with desire again, I think it's fascinating how this difference influences their actions.

Stanley usually finds it relatively easy to get what he wants, and he doesn’t want that many things to begin with. Because of this, whenever he does want something, he acts on it immediately and with great enthusiasm to satisfy that desire. Want an electronic badger? Go out after dark and steal one—that kind of thing.

At first glance, it might seem like Stanley spends a lot of time chasing after what he wants, making him appear “greedy.” But in my view, for someone who doesn’t want much to begin with, accepting and pursuing desire is simply an enjoyable experience. You act, you get what you want, and you’re happy—it’s a positive cycle. It’s like how a 16-year-old craving fried chicken is an everyday, even unhealthy, occurrence. But an old lady with no teeth craving fried chicken? If she gets to eat it, everyone around her would be happy for her, because having a desire, and being able to easily fulfill it, is already a joyful thing. Not every old lady is so lucky—just a couple of bites of fried chicken can make her day.

For Stanley, pursuing his desires is undoubtedly a positive feedback loop. Especially after turning 30, when his life stabilized, things generally went well—except for anything related to Ford. Everything else he wanted, he could get. And if getting what he wanted made him happy, then of course he would keep chasing after those things immediately.

Ford, on the other hand, is completely different. He wants too much. He is always chasing after something, always pursuing a dream. But as soon as he gets what he wants, it loses its value because it’s now within reach, and new desires take its place, always distant and unattainable. Everything must feel terrible for him because, in his eyes, he has never truly gotten anything he wanted.

So his relationship with desire is deeply negative. To him, "wanting something" is a feeling that must be fought against—because desire comes with risk, consequences, and lack of control. It doesn’t bring happiness. Trying to fulfill desires only leads to exhaustion (though he is still hopelessly hooked on his “save the world” dream). Whenever a new desire arises, he locks it away in a mental prison, refusing to even look at it. He doesn’t evaluate whether it’s realistic or not, whether it’s saving the world or just a better-tasting cup of coffee—it all gets thrown into the same cell.

But not actively pursuing desires and not thinking about what one wants are two different things. If someone hands him a cup of coffee he wants, Ford wouldn’t refuse it. I think he has simply lived so long believing he can never have what he truly wants that he’s developed a kind of learned helplessness—or, to put it in a more flattering way, caution. He doesn’t really not want things.

If someone takes the first step, throws the opportunity in front of him, and he sees that it’s actually achievable, Ford would be the type to fully commit to making it happen. He has an incredible ability to act, a terrifying level of persistence, and the patience to see things through.

Honestly, I’m just saying all this because I really love the idea of old Stanley realizing he has feelings for Ford. At first, he’s happy but cautious, carefully testing the waters. But then he finally discovers that Ford has always liked him, has never stopped liking him—not just now, but since they were kids. He never truly let go of those feelings.

It’s just such a good flavor.

#gravityfalls #stanpines #fordpines #stancest #pinesbrothers

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beloved-cat-gremlin · 18 hours ago

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Major Ghost Trick Spoilers !!

need to talk about some stuff regarding the game as well as personal things that correlate

I am so very normal about Yomiel's and Sissel's relationship <- very obvious lie

But in all seriousness. Their bond is something so insane to me and it actually hurts to think about how Yomiel must have felt the very moment he realized that Sissel was dead.

Normally people say that pets are just what they are; pets.

That we shouldn't see them as anything more. And the moment a pet owner even just hints at or says it that they see their pets as more than that, that they see their pets as part of family, they are often given a weird remark about it.

Especially us cat owners.

I was often told that I shouldn't overreact over my cat. That she's just my pet and that apparently she doesn't need as much care and attention as a human family member.

But she is my family.

More than my blood family even at times.

I've had my cat (black cat btw) for 13 years now. She is probably one of the most important beings in my life next to my older sister and my best friends.

She is my everything and I love her just as much as I do with my older sister. And I don't want to have kids, but my cat is the only one I would say I actively express some sort of parental feelings for.

I practically raised her since she was a kitten. I was there for her in her worst times. And she has been there for me in my worst times. More than my actual parents.

I was on the verge of a mental breakdown once when something was wrong with her and I had to take her to the vet hospital, at 11pm on a Saturday night. The two hours she was away to be examined I was so so scared for her. That maybe she wouldn't make it.

I had experienced many cat deaths before, all were absolutely horrendous and god awful. I would be down and depressed for multiple days while grieving. And I know that when my current cat will pass, I won't be able to live normally again.

So to think that Yomiel probably experienced something very similar in that moment is gut wrenching. The moment he realized Sissel -the only one who was in his life for those 10 agonizing years- was dead. I can't imagine what kind of self control it needed for him to not break then and there.

Yomiel is already such a fantastically well written tragic character. But adding Sissel to the mix just makes it all worse. Because I know I would never "live" when my cat would be gone. One who I see as family.

And to Yomiel Sissel was family as well.

You cannot tell me that he did not see Sissel as anything more than just a pet who accompanied him. Sissel was as much a part of Yomiel's life as Yomiel was of Sissel's.

I really, really hope with all my heart that in the new present Sissel and Yomiel got to meet up again after Yomiel got out of prison.

They need to reunite immediately and I will not stand for anything else!

So yeah Ghost Trick really hit me hard.

#ghost trick #ghost trick spoilers #yomiel #ghost trick yomiel #sissel #ghost trick sissel #rambles #no art

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eringobragh420 · 1 day ago

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🖤 Pairing — Seth Rollins ♥︎ f!OC 🖤 Summary — Seth believes he's doing the right thing. (Part 2/?) 1 | 2 🖤 Word Count — 2.7k 🛑 Warnings — Attempted suicide, depression, infidelity, hospital setting 18+ 🖤 Taglist — If you'd like to be added, please click here! 🖤 MASTERLIST

Violet

Every time she moved, the uncomfortable vinyl chair squeaked, but it was a welcomed change, however brief, from the incessant beeping of the machine monitoring Seth’s heart rate. Six days later, and he was at the point where he appeared as though he were merely sleeping—his color had mostly returned from the pallid shade he’d been discovered in, he’d been given sponge baths, and the nurse had allowed Violet to gently brush his hair before twisting it into a bun the way he liked it and tying it in place with the very elastic band he’d been using that day, tears streaming down her face through the entire process. His long, beautiful lashes rested on his cheeks, and his fiancée had also been permitted to trim his beard, sobbing during this action as well.

He could have been sleeping.

But he wasn’t.

She’d been sad then. She was angry now. And she would be sad again in a day or two—a vicious cycle she was slowly getting used to. How could he do this? Why? Things had been going so well, or, she supposed, she thought they’d been going well. Seth had smiled and laughed and held her and kissed her and made love to her just as he normally did in the weeks leading up to that day. She’d never once suspected he was thinking about trying to kill himself, and neither had any of the friends or family or coworkers she’d interrogated—if Seth wasn’t going to give her any answers, she’d have to find someone who would, however utterly irrational a decision this was. No one knew what had been going through Seth’s mind but Seth, and he was in a coma.

He was recovering, the doctors assured her, though it was a slow process, and of course they couldn’t be one hundred percent sure he’d ever wake up again. His brain function had improved after several medications, oxygen, and sedation, and she’d been told his recovery was rather astonishing given how much poison he’d ingested. But, as someone with no medical background, she witnessed no advancement—just her sleeping, depressed, suicidal fiancé, dressed in a generic hospital gown, several IVs inserted into veins in both his arms. The medical team couldn’t be sure if any coma patient was able to hear the outside world, but they encouraged her to talk to him anyway. The first few days had been full of weeping and begging and pouring her heart out to him with no response.

“I have an appointment tomorrow,” she softly spoke. She’d turned the chair around so she could face Seth and hold his hand, both of which she was doing now. One hand under his, the other on top, and he was so warm and she recognized all his fingers and all his lines, but his muscles were lifeless. She never thought she could miss someone squeezing her hand so much. The head of his bed had been lifted, and she’d assisted the nurse in making sure he at least looked comfortable on his pillow and under the scratchy blanket and sheet. “It’s my first ultrasound.” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I was gonna—” She sniffed, flicking the tears away quickly so she could return her hand to Seth’s. “I was gonna wrap it up and give it to you for Valentine’s Day.” More tears. “Damn it, Seth.” She doubled over, forehead on her hand, and it was one of those moments where she couldn’t breathe.

Would he be around to see his child grow up? If he survived, what sort of quality of life would he have? Had she really kissed him for the last time? Suddenly she couldn’t remember what his voice sounded like. She’d have to pull up the videos of him on her phone so she could refresh her otherwise concussed brain.

A knock at the sliding glass door, and she didn’t acknowledge it for a long moment.

“Vi?”

She inhaled deeply, again brushing the salty tears from her cheeks, as well as her chin and neck. She sat up, automatically searching Seth’s unbothered face for any changes, even the most subtle ones, but there was nothing. Still sleeping. So beautiful. “What?” she rasped, then cleared her throat.

“How’s he—”

“He’s the same, Hunter.”

Triple H entered the room, likely knowing he wouldn’t receive an answer either way if he asked. Violet smelled his cologne—another embraced change from the stinging antiseptic scent of the entire hospital. Even the cafeteria. He stood on the opposite side of Seth’s bed, huge hands resting on the safety rail. “Have they said anything—?”

“Hunter, I promise, if he wakes up, I’ll let you know. If the doctors say anything different than what they’ve been saying for the past week, I’ll let you know.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Just,” Violet interrupted, lifting her hand from Seth’s to rub her forehead. “I’m sorry.” She sighed. “This is an angry day.”

Hunter shrugged and swatted a hand. “Don’t apologize. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” She nodded—she hardly knew what she was going through. “I just hope you know how much I care about both of you.”

Violet sniffed, watching Seth inhale, exhale, features so soft and serene and perfect. Could he hear them right now? “I know,” she replied.

“That being said—”

“You son of a bitch,” Violet chuckled dryly, shaking her head.

“It’s not my idea, but I promised I’d present it.”

“Let me save you some time.” She glared up at him. “I’m not going on television, and you’re not mentioning him on television. Anything else?”

“We just wanna give you time—”

“Hunter.”

Her boss held up a hand. “We just wanna give you some time to update the fans. You can say whatever you wanna say. You have carte blanche.”

“No thanks.”

Hunter’s smile was sympathetic, and Violet wanted to curb stomp him for herself and her fiancé. She squeezed Seth’s hand still resting in hers, her heart crumbling as she again received no response. “Obviously you can do what you want. But let me just say one thing.” Violet sighed, nodded. “A lot of these fans grew up with Seth. And you. And what happened effected them, too. Hell, some of them call you two their parents.” Tears brimmed once more, her gaze locked on Seth. Parents. “And you have kids—” He incorporated air quotes. “—in NXT.” Kids.

It came out before she knew it was happening. “I’m pregnant, Hunter.” Her boss’s mouth clamped shut and his grip tightened on the safety rail.

“Did Seth—” Violet shook her head, the tears accumulating before now freely falling. “Vi, I don’t—”

“If I promise to think about going on TV, will you leave?”

Hunter chewed on his bottom lip as he rounded the foot of Seth’s hospital bed. He placed a heavy, but comforting, hand on her shoulder. She knew he was just doing his job, but that didn’t make his reason for coming burn any less. It seemed like everyone wanted to know how Seth was doing for their own selfish reasons, not because they truly cared about him.

“If there’s anything at all either of you need …”

“Thanks.” Hunter patted her shoulder and finally made his exit. Taking a deep breath, she tried calming her nerves and focusing her attention back on her comatose fiancé, but she was successful in only one of her quests. “Did you get all that?” she asked, not expecting an answer. “I know on one hand he’s right—they do deserve to know. But it’s also none of their business and they should respect our privacy. I don’t know what to do.” She searched Seth’s worry-free face. “So you have to come back to me, okay?” The tears were forming once more. “I can’t do this on my own.” She collapsed into sobs, body wracked with shudders as she gasped and sucked in oxygen between wails. “I can’t do it, Seth.”

Seth

“I can’t do it, Seth.”

Seth’s brows furrowed and, although he knew he was alone, he turned to inspect the living area of the hotel room. No one stood behind him, especially not his fiancée, whose voice he swore he’d just heard. Shrugging, he returned his attention to the mirror and finished knotting the black tie at his neck. Finishing that, he smoothed the rest of his tuxedo over his fit body, smiling proudly at his reflection, the gap between his two top front teeth on full display. He was finally marrying Violet Lockhart, the absolute love of his life, the most beautiful woman in the world. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky, but he was eternally grateful to whomever may have had a hand in their courtship.

The locking mechanism on the door beeped and turned, and Seth watched as Roman, Mox, and Hunter entered the room, all speaking at the same time, each of them somehow understanding the other two. Seth chuckled, brushing his hair, then attempting to twist it into its normal bun while three grown men punched him playfully in the stomach, ribbing him like children about how his life was over since he was getting married. The Architect’s eyes narrowed, unable to ignore how much these guys actually were acting like kids, and when the hell had he asked Triple H to be a groomsman? He didn’t necessarily remember asking any of them, but at least Roman and Mox made some sense—Hunter was his boss, and the two weren’t particularly close.

The door beeped again, and Seth’s mahogany eyes switched to the entrance as Chelsea Green, one of Violet’s closest friends and maid of honor, seemingly floated over the threshold in a gown of gorgeous malachite.

“It’s time,” she sang, gently clapping her hands together.

Following her, Seth checked the inner pocket of his suit jacket for the rings, finding them tucked safely away, and he considered handing them to Roman or Mox, as he’d been instructed to do, but at the last moment, left them where they were. He was suddenly petrified of losing them. Chelsea glanced at him over her shoulder, smiling warmly, and she threw open a pair of floor-to-ceiling doors to reveal a magnificent church. Seth’s brows again knitted together, and he looked over his own shoulder to see exactly where he’d just come from, but the doors closed, and somehow he knew they wouldn’t open again. They weren’t supposed to get married in a church—it’s not what Violet wanted. As his eyes searched the various religious statues and stained glass windows, he dug through his brain files for where they had decided to tie the knot, but he couldn’t find it. The church wasn’t right, though he had no idea what was.

“Wait,” he said, “are you sure—”

“You stand up there,” Chelsea instructed, smile still sparkling, gesturing to the altar. “She’s on her way.”

Seth nodded. “Yeah, but—”

Chelsea drifted away, and Seth’s stomach knotted, an icy grip of foreboding squeezing his heart, making it difficult to breathe, causing his brain to throb. His legs carried him to the altar without his consent, locking him in place, and he was frozen to the floor as guests made their way inside and to their seats. Everyone moved in sync—their steps, turning into the correct pews, staring at him. An air of unease blanketed the church, and Seth gulped.

“You good?” Roman asked, standing beside him.

Seth shook his head. “Something’s wrong,” he said.

“Nah,” Roman smiled, placing a huge, heavy arm around Seth’s shoulders. “Everything’s alright.”

Seth followed Roman’s pointed finger to the doors he’d come through moments before, smile slowly splitting his lips. Violet now stood there, her bronze hair curled and hanging past her shoulders, makeup pristine, and her gown was—Seth’s growing smile began to fall—black. It hugged her curves, fanning out at her legs, a long train dragging behind her as she approached. The cathedral veil she wore was also black, and Seth racked his brain again for a memory of his fiancée mentioning wanting a black wedding dress, but he came up empty-handed.

“We’re gathered here today—”

A holy man appeared without warning beside Seth, and then Violet was standing in front of him, and he was positive something strange was happening. He just couldn’t figure out what it was. Everything seemed right, but were terribly wrong. Was he dead? Had he fallen into an alternate universe? But his fiancée was indescribably gorgeous, and he was finally marrying her after everything they’d been through—everything he’d put her through—and if things were a little off, then so be it. Whose wedding day was actually perfect?

“I love you,” Violet whispered, gazing up at him as if he held the answer to life itself.

“I love you, too,” Seth replied, squeezing her hands.

“If there’s anyone present who believes these two should not be wed, please speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

Neither Seth nor Violet expected an answer from their guests, maintaining eye contact with one another, their hands exchanging squeezes.

“I object.”

Violet’s mismatching eyes rounded, Seth feeling his do the same, and all the air left his lungs in a rush. The church was eerily quiet—no coughing, shuffling, children crying, or family members sobbing. He knew the voice that had spoken up, and he was sure Violet didn’t, though she certainly knew why the woman had interrupted. Seth licked his lips, chewing on the bottom one a moment before he slowly turned to look at the woman as she stood from her pew in the middle of the others. Seth swallowed again, instantly recognizing one of the women he’d cheated on Violet with, her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him expectantly.

“Seth,” Violet muttered.

“It’s okay,” Seth said. He turned back to his soon-to-be-wife to find tears and mascara dripping down her otherwise immaculate face. “Honey—”

“I object.”

Seth’s head whipped back to the guests to find another woman standing, another one of his flings. And then another. And another. And another. “No,” he mumbled. “This isn’t … This can’t be real.”

“Did you fuck all these girls?” Mox asked, and who the fuck was he to judge Seth’s mistakes?

“No!” Seth snapped. “I mean … yeah, I did, but I didn’t—”

“And you invited all of them?” Roman asked.

“No!” Seth yelled, glaring over his shoulder at the Samoan, who had a hand over his laughing mouth. “Fuck you, Reigns.”

“I wouldn’t be worried about me, brother,” Roman said, pointing.

Seth followed his finger, his own ocher eyes widening at the new scene before him. Violet, the woman who’d saved his life, in the gigantic arms of his boss, Hunter. Her body quivered, and her cries echoed off the intricate decorations and statues. Hunter’s eyes slid to Seth and the comforting smirk behind his beard was laced with lethality, and he winked at the younger man.

“No, no, no,” Seth breathed, hands clutching his suddenly pounding head. “Something’s wrong.”

Violet’s arms dropped from around Hunter’s neck, her body seeming to move on autopilot as she turned to face Seth. Her eyes were vacant, utterly devoid of life and love and happiness and excitement—dead. “Something is wrong, Seth,” she deadpanned. “And it’s your fault.”

“What else is new?” Hunter chucked.

“Seth did something wrong? I’m shocked,” Roman chimed in.

“Hey, Seth,” Mox hollered. “Are you done with this girl? Thought I might try her out.”

Seth shook his head, trying to block everyone and everything out of his mind. “I have to be dreaming,” he said to himself. “That’s all. Just a dream.”

“No, Seth,” Violet said. “We had dreams.” More tears, but her tears were black now, sludge, thick. “You turned them into nightmares.”

“How do I wake up?” Seth squeaked, slapping his head, pinching his cheeks. “I have to wake up.”

Violet grabbed his face, clutching his now sore cheeks, and she was beautiful again—makeup was pristine, tears dried, complexion free of the ooze from before. But the dread in her eyes was overwhelming, and Seth collapsed to his ruined knees under the weight of it, her hands never relinquishing their grip. “You’re not waking up, Seth. You’re gonna be here forever.”

Seth blinked. His surroundings melted, disappeared, rebuilt. When his eyes opened again, he was standing in front of the hotel mirror, tying his tie. The lock on the door clicked and beeped, and Roman, Mox, and Hunter entered. Seth’s heart stopped.

“No.”

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