#this took HOURS because i made way too many gifs lol

[f1girliefics]

Their Reaction to You Being Pregnant - Preferences

A/N: Both planned and unplanned pregnancies below.

Daniel Ricciardo

It was a planned pregnancy and yet it hit you like a truck. You have been trying for so long, you almost gave up.

You planned a special dinner and even bought a special gift for him.

Little socks.

You gave it to him during dinner and watched as his face morphed into confusion.

"Isn't this too small for me to wear?"

"For you, perhaps, but not for our little one." you put him out of his misery as his smile grew bigger and bigger and tears fell from his eyes.

He would be so proud to finally become a dad.

Max Verstappen

Your pregnancy was unplanned but it was a nice surprise.

You had a stable relationship and you did talk about children before.

The way you told Max was not cute or romantic, you just basically blurred it out one day while watching TV.

"Come on Max! Your baby mama is craving some popcorn."

Oops.

He was shocked but then you spoke again. "I'm pregnant." to confirm what you just said.

Once he is able to close his mouth and talk, he will tell you that he is indeed happy.

"I just can't believe it!" he said.

"With the way you behaved for the entire summer break... I'm not shocked." you gave him a wink as he handed you the popcorn.

Fernando Alonso

He always wanted you.

Even if you were years younger. You didn't care about his age, you loved him.

It was a complicated love with many headlines.

Your pregnancy became one of the biggest, claiming you are a gold digger.

But Fernando didn't care for the headlines. He loved you and your baby.

Even if it was an unplanned baby, it was definitely not an unwelcome one.

"I would do anything for the two of you." he promised you the day you told him about your pregnancy.

Lance Stroll

You told him about your pregnancy on his birthday.

At first, he didn't believe you, but then he would be so thrilled he picked you up and spun you around for two minutes.

You had to tell him you would throw up if he didn't put you down.

Lewis Hamilton

You two would be trying to have a child for years when you finally get pregnant.

Both of you would be told by your doctor after weeks of hope due to your symptoms.

He would be so happy, he would shed many tears and he would be unable to stop hugging you.

On your way home, you would stop by to start and plan your baby's room.

George Russell

He would be in the middle of a meeting when you texted him. He could only check your messages after the meeting. George would drop his phone upon seeing the picture you sent.

5 pregnancy tests, all positive.

He would pick up his now broken phone and call you, rushing to his car to go home.

But you picked up the phone and you sounded so happy, it made all his worries lift off of his shoulders.

"We are having a baby George! I'm so happy!"

All his worries and doubts, out the window, the second he heard your laugh.

George will never forget that moment and how he cried of happiness at a red light.

Lando Norris

You two constantly joked about you getting pregnant.

When you started using pills instead of condoms, it was a constant joke between you two.

Lando did like to play with the idea of getting you pregnant.

But neither of you was serious until you took a test.

Positive.

"Okay, that is only a little plastic, the doctor needs to confirm." he would say and the next day you would be at the doctor's.

And the doctor did confirm, you were indeed 3 weeks into your first pregnancy.

You two sat in the car after the visit in silence.

Your mind was empty yet is was filled with thoughts.

"Let's grab something to eat before we go home." he would finally speak, making you look at him, you smiled when you saw the happiness in his eyes.

All your worries were gone because you knew you two can do this.

Oscar Piastri

To say that your pregnancy was a shock would be an understatement.

Both of you stared at the result for hours in silence.

Then, you finally spoke up. "Well, at least now we know I don't actually hate you."

He would laugh. He would laugh so hard that tears would fill his eyes.

You and your baby will be in good hands. Oscar would be the best father ever.

Carlos Sainz

You were on a vacation in Spain when you started to feel sick. You thought it would pass but Carlos insisted on visiting a doctor. This is when the news of your pregnancy hit you.

You didn't speak much Spanish, but that word, you understood.

Almost like a truck, it knocked all air out of your lungs.

When the doctor left, you turned to Carlos.

"Looks like we will have a little one running around soon." he spoke as he laughed but tears also left his eyes. "I'm so happy." he said, finally calming you down.

Charles Leclerc

After getting Leo, you didn't even talk about babies anymore. You were happy where you were in that moment.

But of course, the universe and a heated night had different ideas.

Your pregnancy was confirmed by the doctor and now you just needed to tell Charles.

You travelled to his upcoming race and had a plan.

But that plan all went out the window the moment he finished first.

Suddenly you completely forgot about everything and everyone as he hugged you close and you told him.

"Now our baby can say their father is number one!" you didn't even realise what you said.

"You're pregnant," he said and you nodded, crying from happiness. "PREGNANT!" he yelled as suddenly the trophy in his hand wasn't the most important thing.

[luv-lock]

⸻ ᴊ ᴀ ʏ ʙ ɪ ʀ ᴅ ⸻

“ Safe Home: Night of the Young Heroes ”

Pairing: Dark Jason Todd x Fem Reader Part 5

Summary: He was your safe place. The only one who always keep you safe. And you were his. His home. His love. His first. He promised to always protect you... But did he?

Warning: Teenagers in love, sexual tension and intimate situations.

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

She ran her fingers through his damp, golden hair, combing it gently as she worked the dye into the strands. Jason sat between her legs, his back resting against her as she applied the color with slow, deliberate care. His head tilted slightly into her touch, eyes closed, shoulders relaxed. It was the only time he ever really let his guard down—when it was just the two of them, in the dim glow of her shitty bathroom, the smell of hair dye thick in the air.

She had never seen him like this before. The real Jason. Not the copy. Not the replacement. Just him.

And God, he was beautiful.

“Wow,” she murmured, voice soft as she ran her nails lightly across his scalp. “You’re so pretty, Jaybird.”

Jason huffed out a laugh, but there was something guarded in it. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it. It’ll be black again in an hour.”

She hummed, tilting her head as she studied him. His sharp cheekbones, his full lips, the way the light made his green eyes almost glow. He looked just like—

"Y’know," she started, a teasing lilt in her voice, "you look just like Dick like this."

Jason stiffened, shoulders tensing beneath her hands. She felt it immediately, the way his fingers curled into fists against his thighs, the way his jaw clenched.

"But you already knew that, huh?" she continued, tone saccharine, like she was talking about something innocent. "It’s why you do this, right? Why Bruce makes you do this. Gotta keep his little Robin looking just like the last one."

Jason swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He didn’t answer.

But she didn’t stop. “It’s weird, y’know? You’re like... his twin. Just with blonde hair.”

He flinched, barely, but enough that she noticed. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t start,” he muttered, his voice low, like a warning.

She leaned down, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. "But you're not him," she whispered. "You never will be. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?"

His breath hitched, and she saw it—the crack in his armor, the flash of raw, unfiltered hurt in his expression before he forced it down, burying it deep.

“Bruce never wanted you, Jaybird. Not really. He only took you in because you were a replacement. A distraction, so he wouldn’t have to face the fact that he lost Dick.”

His chest tightened, his heart hammering beneath his ribs.

She reached around, fingers finding his, prying his clenched fists open. His palms were warm, calloused from too many fights, too many hours spent swinging between rooftops.

"It’s okay," she murmured, pressing his hand against her chest, right over her heart. "You don’t have to be him, Jaybird. You never did."

Jason exhaled shakily, eyes fixed on where their hands met.

"He doesn’t want me," he finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

She hated the way he sounded. Like he had always known it. Like it wasn’t even a question anymore.

"He doesn’t see me," Jason continued, voice raw. "He sees a fucking shadow. A mold to fill. A—"

"A copy," she finished for him, nodding.

Jason's fingers curled around hers, gripping tight, like he was holding on for dear life.

"Yeah," he whispered.

She moved her hand, threading their fingers together, grounding him. "Then fuck him," she said simply. "You don’t need him to see you. I do. I see you, Jason."

His head snapped up, green eyes locking onto hers, searching for a lie. He wouldn’t find one.

Jason’s breath shuddered, his heart pulsing harder. It was like she was saying the things he didn’t even know he needed to hear.

He swallowed hard, then let out a shaky exhale, his hand coming up to rest on hers. He pulled her closer, his forehead pressing gently against hers.

“Yeah?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, strained with something raw he didn’t know how to name.

“Yeah,” she replied, a slow, dark smile spreading across her face. “I’ll always love you, Jaybird. Even if he never could.”

She pressed her lips against his, soft but insistent, as if to pour all the poison in his mind, to drink all the doubts that Bruce had planted in him. As her hands slid around his neck, pulling him in deeper, Jason let himself sink into her warmth, into her twisted comfort.

For once, he didn’t feel like he had to be anyone else. He was just Jason. And that was enough. Enough for her.

But even as he kissed her, his thoughts lingered. She really does see me, doesn't she?

And in the back of his mind, a voice whispered, Maybe... she’s the one who’s always seen me.

The hair dye was forgotten. The world outside of that room was forgotten. There was only her, and Jason’s reflection in the mirror—blonde hair and all.

His breath left him in a shuddering exhale, and for the first time that night, Jason let himself lean into her, let himself be held.

And when she rinsed the dye from his hair an hour later, watching as the last traces of blonde washed down the drain, she couldn’t help but wonder—

How much of Jason had already disappeared down there with it?

The ropes around her wrists were tight. Not too tight, though. Amateurs.

She sighed, legs crossed, perched on a rickety chair in the middle of some dusty-ass warehouse while a bunch of greasy-looking criminals argued over what to do with her.

“Maybe we call the Bat,” one of them grunted, pacing.

“Nah,” another said, shaking his head. “The Bat’s a pain in the ass. We should—”

“Boring,” she muttered under her breath, tilting her head back.

“What?” one of them snapped, turning to glare at her.

She rolled her eyes. “I said boooring,” she repeated, drawing out the word. “You guys suck at this.”

One of the goons—probably the leader, considering how he had the most scars and the least amount of brain cells—stepped forward, scowling. “The hell you say?”

She gave him a once-over, unimpressed. “Look, I’ve been kidnapped before, alright? Plenty of times. And this?” She gestured vaguely at her tied-up state. “Weak. No drama, no creativity. You didn’t even monologue. What kind of low-tier villainy is this?”

Scarface turned red, jaw tightening. “Listen, you little bi—”

A loud crash cut him off as the warehouse skylight shattered, glass raining down. A figure dropped from above, landing right in the middle of them, cape billowing, boots hitting the ground with a solid thud.

And there he was.

Jason. Her hero for the evening.

He straightened, rolling his shoulders, cracking his knuckles as he surveyed the room with that signature cocky smirk. “Evenin’, gentlemen.” He tilted his head toward her. “And lady.”

She sighed dramatically. “Finally.”

“Miss me, princess?” he asked, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. "Hope they weren’t too annoying."

"Oh, they were."

"Figures." Jason rolled his shoulders. "Alright, boys. You know the drill. We can do this the easy way, or—"

The leader pulled a gun.

Jason sighed dramatically. "Oh, thank God. I was hoping for the hard way."

Then he moved.

And it was beautiful.

Jason fought like he lived for this—like every punch, every kick was part of some perfectly executed symphony of violence. He ducked under a swing, spun behind another guy, kicked out a knee, and grinned as someone screamed.

He ducked under a swing, slammed his elbow into someone’s gut, spun, kicked another in the jaw. He was so dramatic with it, flipping over one guy’s head, twisting mid-air, landing in a crouch before sweeping someone’s legs out from under them.

She just sat there, watching. “Show-off,” she muttered.

Jason, currently mid-punch, glanced at her and winked.

She rolled her eyes. Dumbass.

"You guys are making this too easy!" Jason taunted, dodging a knife and slamming his escrima stick into someone’s ribs. "C’mon! At least try to make me sweat!"

The last guy standing made a run for it. Jason sighed, pulled a batarang from his belt, and chucked it without even looking. It nailed the guy right in the back of the head.

"Night, night," Jason quipped as the guy face-planted.

Then he turned to her, hands on his hips. "Now, let’s get you outta there, princess."

She huffed. "Took you long enough."

Jason grinned, stepping behind her to untie the ropes. "C’mon, doll. You love it when I save you."

"I could’ve handled it myself."

"Mmmhmm. Sure you could’ve."

He knelt in front of her, his hands working quickly to untie the ropes, his fingers brushing against her skin with a shocking tenderness.

“Thanks for the save...” she whisper, the teasing in her voice light, but underneath, there was a spark of something else—a warmth that she couldn’t ignore.

Then, before she could react, he lunged forward, grabbed the back of her chair, and tipped it back.

She gasped as the world tilted—but before she could hit the ground, Jason caught her, spinning her up into his arms like something straight out of a damn movie.

She landed against his chest, his arm strong around her waist, his other hand tipping her chin up.

Jason smirked, “Anything for you, sweetheart.” He gave her a playful wink, “You sure you didn’t miss me?” he asked, his voice playful but with a hint of something deeper.

“I was starting to think you forgot about me,” she replied with a roll of her eyes, even as she leaned into him.

“Oh, I could never forget about you.” His voice softened for a second, just a flicker of something real before the cocky grin was back, wide and dangerous. “Now, let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

He spun her into his arms suddenly, lifting her with ease as if she weighed nothing. She gasped, a little taken aback by the suddenness of it, but he just flashed her that grin again, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“You’re not gonna drop me, are you?” she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck to steady herself.

“Me? Drop you?” Jason raised an eyebrow as if the idea was preposterous. “Sweetheart, I’m not that cruel.” He held her effortlessly, twirling her around once, then pulling her close again, his lips brushing her cheek as he whispered, “Besides, I’d never let anything happen to you. You’re too damn precious.”

Her heart skipped. Just for a second.

She blinked. “Oh my God, you’re such a dork.”

His hand was on her chin, gently lifting her face so that she was looking into his eyes.

“I’ve got you now,” he murmured, the cocky bravado slipping away for just a moment, replaced by something softer. “You’re safe.”

She swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest. She nodded slowly. “I know, Jaybird. I know.”

He just laughed. “You know,” he said with a wink, his voice flirtatious and teasing, “I think I deserve a reward for my heroic efforts.”

Before she could reply, he leaned in and kissed her—deep, passionate, and all-consuming. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them. Her heart raced, her pulse pounding in her ears, as she melted into the kiss, forgetting for a moment about the danger, the fear, and the chaos. There was only him. Always him.

"Are you two done?"

Jason groaned against her lips. “Jesus, old man, can I have a moment?”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, but there was something else in his gaze—a flicker of something that resembled fond exasperation. “If you’re going to play games, at least get out of here before more criminals show up.”

Jason chuckled, shifting her so she was resting against him more comfortably. “Oh, we’re going, old man. But I’m not done with her just yet.”

Bruce’s glare intensified.

She snickered. Jason huffed, dropping his forehead against hers. “This is why we don’t invite him.”

Bruce’s glare could’ve melted steel, but Jason was already striding toward the exit, she was still in his arms. "We’ll be fine, Bruce. Don’t worry. I’ve got her."

As they walked out into the night, Jason's smirk never wavered. He was the hero. He was her hero. And as long as they were together, that was all that mattered.

Bruce could deal with the rest.

The classroom was silent, save for the scratching of pens on paper and the soft hum of the fluorescent lights. She was seated in the middle of the room, trying to focus on the question on the board, but her mind was racing in a completely different direction.

Why was he doing this to her?

Jason was sitting at his desk, one seat over, a few rows behind her. At least, that’s what she thought—until she felt the subtle graze of fingers against the side of her leg.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She glanced under the desk, catching just a glimpse of Jason’s hand disappearing under the table, inching closer to her thigh. His eyes were half-lidded, the kind of lazy gaze he always wore when he was enjoying himself, a teasing smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

No, he’s not…

She flinched when his fingers brushed against her skin, just above the hem of her skirt. It was gentle at first—just a light caress, like he was testing the waters. But she knew him. Jason never did anything by accident.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She shifted in her seat, but it only seemed to encourage him. His fingers snuck higher, brushing just under the fabric of her skirt, feeling the warmth of her skin.

Her breath hitched. She tried to focus on the board, on the lesson, on the goddamn question about trigonometry that she could barely wrap her head around. But Jason’s touch was too distracting.

“Focus babe,” he murmured low enough that only she could hear. His voice was thick with amusement, like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

She barely registered the next question on the board, trying not to shift too much in her seat. She had to stay calm. She had to.

But then—pinch.

Her eyes widened as Jason gave her a small, almost playful pinch on the inside of her thigh. It wasn’t hard, but it made her jump, her face flushing with heat.

She shot him a glare, but Jason just grinned, chin resting lazily in his palm, elbow propped on the desk as if he was in no rush. His eyes were heavy-lidded, watching her struggle with a look that said he was enjoying every second of it.

She gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the way his touch was driving her crazy. She couldn’t let him win. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

But Jason? He wasn’t giving up so easily.

His hand shifted again, slipping underneath the hem of her skirt—just enough to feel the bare skin of her thigh again. His fingers traced a slow path, just grazing her, pushing her to the edge of what she could stand.

She swallowed hard, gripping the edge of her desk to steady herself. Keep it together.

“Stop it,” she whispered through gritted teeth, her voice tight, trying not to let anyone notice how red her face was.

Jason leaned back slightly, shifting so that his gaze locked onto hers. There was something about the way he looked at her—half-lidded eyes, smirk pulling at his lips, his hand still lingering dangerously close to her skin. He was in control, and he knew it.

“I’m not doing anything,” he teased, his voice low, barely above a whisper. He looked at her like he could read every thought in her head. “Just keeping you company, babe.”

She clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around the edge of her desk. This was fine. She was fine.

But then his fingers dipped slightly lower, and she sucked in a breath, her body tensing. It was almost impossible to stay still. Every inch of her felt like it was on fire, her heartbeat thudding in her chest, and all she wanted to do was turn around and snap at him. But they were in class. In front of everyone.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to concentrate, trying to block out the growing heat in her chest and the way her body was betraying her every time his fingers brushed against her.

"Alright, Y/N," the teacher’s voice snapped her back into reality. "Could you please answer the question on the board?"

She blinked, caught off guard, and immediately felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on her. The classroom had gone dead quiet, and she realized, with rising panic, that she was the center of attention. Jason was still here, still touching her, and now she had to speak.

Her throat felt dry, and her palms started to sweat. She opened her mouth, her voice shaky at first. “Uh… uh, yeah. The answer is… um…”

Jason’s hand slid higher, his fingers pressing against her inner thigh with a soft, teasing motion.

“Calm down, baby,” he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. His voice was low, soothing in a way that only made her blush even harder. He knew what he was doing.

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, tried to steady herself enough to speak, but she couldn’t seem to find her words. Her mind was swirling, her body burning.

Jason was grinning, his head now resting lazily on his hand, leaning back with his usual attitude, watching her with those half-lidded eyes like this was just some game to him. But to her?

It was torture.

The teacher’s voice cut through the haze of her thoughts. "Are you alright, Y/N?"

She blinked, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks as she nodded quickly, unable to look away from the board. “Y-Yes. The answer is… 42.”

Her heart was racing, but she tried to sound confident, pushing the heat in her face away as best she could.

“Correct,” the teacher nodded, and she quickly sat down, her hands trembling in her lap. She could feel Jason’s eyes on her the entire time.

As soon as the teacher moved on to another student, Jason leaned forward, his chair scraping against the floor as he moved in closer. She barely had time to react before he cupped her cheek in his hand, tilting her face toward him with a grin on his lips.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine. “You held it together better than I thought.”

Before she could respond, he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned her face away, hiding the fact that her face was still burning hot. Jason’s hand remained on her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin in that tender, almost possessive way that made her feel dizzy.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy. But the moment the words left her lips, Jason pulled back, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“You’re so cute.” His voice was teasing, playful, and yet there was that underlying note of admiration, like he couldn’t get enough of her.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the class, and the classroom filled with the noise of students packing up and getting ready to leave. Jason stood up, flashing a grin as he stretched. “Come on, princess. Let’s get out of here before you completely lose it.”

She awoke gasping for breath, her sheets tangled around her as if the fabric itself was trying to hold her down. Her heart pounded in her chest, her body trembling from the remnants of the fear that clung to her skin like a cold sweat. Her throat burned, constricting as if the very air had turned to stone.

Her breath came quick and shallow, heart pounding, and before she knew it, she was slipping out of bed, her feet landing on the cold floor. She knew what she had to do.

Jason.

She padded quietly down the hallway, careful not to wake anyone, her hand trembling slightly as she reached for his door. She knew he’d be up—he always was, especially at this hour. It was the perfect time for him to retreat into his own world, just like she was trying to do.

She pushed the door open, and there he was.

Jason.

The faint glow of his cigarette lit up the room, the smoke curling up lazily toward the ceiling in soft tendrils. Jason sat on his bed, his back against the wall, his eyes half-lidded as he took a long drag, the orange tip of the cigarette glowing brighter in the darkness. The faint smell of tobacco filled the air, an oddly comforting presence that seemed to settle her nerves, even though she hated the smell.

Alfred, of course, would never approve of this, but it was well past midnight. The house was quiet, and the night belonged to them—if only for a few hours.

Jason didn’t say anything at first. He just glanced up at her, those familiar, piercing eyes meeting hers. He knew. He always knew.

Without a word, he opened his arms, an invitation she didn’t have to think twice about.

She crossed the room slowly, her heart still racing from the remnants of the nightmare, and sat down on his lap. The warmth of his body, the smell of his cigarette, and the comfort of his presence instantly made her feel a little less fragile.

Jason exhaled the smoke in a slow, measured cloud, watching her as she buried her face in his chest. Her breath was shaky, her body still tense with the lingering fear.

"Bad one?" he asked softly, his fingers running through her hair, gentle and slow.

“Yeah...” she whispered, her fingers clutching at his shirt. “I hate it. I just…” She trailed off, unable to find the words. She hated how weak she felt after one of those nightmares. How vulnerable, how exposed. But with him, it was different. She didn’t have to explain anything. He already knew.

The tears she tried to hold back finally broke free, one by one, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. She couldn’t explain it—not the pain, not the fear, not the memories. But Jason didn’t need her to. He just held her, tight and steady, his body radiating warmth, as though he was trying to shield her from everything.

Minutes passed in silence, only the soft sound of his cigarette burning in the background, and her soft sobs. His fingers never stopped stroking her hair, never stopped offering comfort in his silent, steady way.

After a while, she wiped her eyes, pulling back slightly to look up at him. “Can I try it?”

Jason raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a teasing smile. “What?”

She pointed to the cigarette. “I want to smoke too.”

He laughed softly, the sound low and rich with amusement. “No way, princess. You’re not getting hooked on this shit.” His hand slid up her back, fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her gently against his chest once more. “Not while I’m still around.”

She pouted, her lower lip jutting out as she tried to push against him. “Why not? It looks fun.”

Jason shook his head, his fingers tracing circles along her spine, sending shivers down her body. “You don’t need this,” he said, voice soft but firm. “You have me.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but it wasn’t in the playful way she usually would. It was a quiet, sulking gesture, her chest still tight from the lingering effects of the nightmare.

Jason’s smirk faded into something softer, something more genuine, as he cupped her face with one hand, tilting her chin upward to meet his gaze. His thumb gently brushed over her lower lip, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice low, thick with something she couldn’t quite place. He leaned in just enough for her to feel the heat of his breath on her skin before he softly pressed his thumb against her lips.

“Open up,” he whispered, his thumb moving slowly, gently, coaxing her lips to part. And when they did, his thumb slid inside, the warm pressure of it sending a shiver through her body. His thumb moved in slow circles against her tongue, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes, her body responding to the intimate gesture. She didn’t know what to do with the sensation—the way his thumb was pushing deeper into her mouth, the way she could taste the lingering trace of smoke on his skin, mixing with the taste of his cologne and the heat between them.

Her heart raced, but she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t.

Jason leaned in, his breath mingling with hers, the air thick and heady. And just when she thought she might lose herself in the moment, he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes—eyes that were now dark with something deeper than just affection.

“Breathe it in, baby,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. Then he kissed her.

It started slow. A gentle brushing of lips, a tentative touch, but it didn’t stay that way for long. The moment their lips met, something inside both of them snapped, and it was as if the floodgates had opened. Her hands roamed up to his chest, pushing his shirt up as the kiss deepened, and Jason’s hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, his body pressing against hers with a desperation that made her dizzy.

The kiss became hungry. Heated. With every movement, the tension between them built, thick and electrifying. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, matching the frantic pace of her own. His hands were everywhere, moving over her skin, pulling her tighter against him.

The world outside the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the heat between them. The pressure. The need.

She gasped into the kiss when his hands slid lower, his fingertips teasing the hem of her shirt. And then she felt it—the brief, fleeting moment of something she couldn’t control. She wanted him. All of him. Right now.

But Jason didn’t rush. He never did.

His hands explored, teasing, as if savoring every inch of her skin. She couldn’t stop herself from reacting, from leaning into him, from pulling at him, wanting more. She was lost in the moment, her senses overwhelmed by the feel of him, the taste of him, the way his body was pressing against hers.

Jason pulled away, breathing hard, his eyes wild, his lips swollen from the kiss. “You okay?” His voice was rough, more intense than usual. He was waiting for her answer, his fingers brushing her hair back from her face.

She nodded, heart still pounding in her chest. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.”

Jason gave her a soft smile, his thumb grazing her cheek. “Good. You’re always gonna be fine with me.”

And then, the kiss grew more intense, more heated, and it was impossible to stop. His lips left hers only for a moment, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, “I’ll never hurt you.”

A tremor ran through her as his words sank in. His hands were moving beneath her shirt now, fingertips grazing over her skin, making her shiver at the touch.

“I’m not like him,” Jason continued, his voice rough, desperate. “I swear on my life, I’ll never hurt you. You’ll be safe with me. Always.”

She could hear the truth in his words, feel the sincerity in the way he held her, the way he touched her. Her heart ached, her emotions spiraling out of control. She wanted him, needed him in a way she couldn’t explain, but it was more than just physical. It was the comfort, the protection, the promise that she wasn’t alone.

“I’d kill myself before I ever hurt you,” he whispered, his words a dark vow that made her heart stop.

The intensity of it all hit her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. The warmth of his body, the heat of the kiss, the honesty in his voice—it all collided inside her, breaking down the walls she’d built up for so long.

She kissed him back, her hands trembling as she pulled him closer, her body pressed tightly against his. Every inch of her skin was on fire, every nerve singing with the need to be closer, to be consumed by him.

And as the kiss deepened, the world outside of them disappeared. There was only Jason, only the promise he had made, the promise to protect her, to keep her safe. She clung to him, her fingers tangling in his hair, and for once, she felt like she could breathe again.

But it wasn’t just about the kiss. It was about everything—the broken parts of her past, the weight of the nightmares, the fear of being lost. With Jason, she didn’t feel lost anymore.

She pulled away from the kiss just for a moment, breathless, her eyes locked with his. “Promise me,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “promise me you won’t leave me. Promise me I’m safe with you.”

Jason’s hand moved to her face, wiping away a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen. His gaze softened, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek. “I promise,” he whispered back. “You’ll never have to be scared again.”

And in that moment, she believed him. She believed him in a way she never thought possible, and with him by her side, she knew she could face whatever came next.

For now, that was enough.

MASTERLIST

Next ☆ Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 6.

© luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[bakugoswifee]

Bakugo k. hc's losing his girlfriend .

Warning- none

angst, that's mainly it. + Bring tissues .

1. He Becomes Quiet & Withdrawn – The loud, brash, explosive Bakugo everyone knew is gone. He doesn’t yell anymore, doesn’t argue, doesn’t snap at people the way he used to. He just… exists.

2. Stops Hanging Out with Friends – Kirishima, Mina, Denki, and Sero try their best to get him out, but he refuses. When he does show up, he barely talks. Just sits there, eyes unfocused, lost in his own world.

3. Blames Himself – Even if it wasn’t his fault, he convinces himself that he could’ve done something. That if he had just been stronger, faster, better—he could have saved you. It eats him up inside.

4. Still Talks to You – Late at night, when he’s alone, he’ll talk out loud like you’re still there. Telling you about his day, the stupid things his friends did, how much he misses you. He hates how quiet the house is without you.

5. Wears Your Stuff – Keeps one of your hoodies in his closet, still smelling like you. He won’t admit it, but he sleeps in it sometimes. If you had a necklace, bracelet, or ring, he either wears it or keeps it in his pocket.

6. Keeps Your Room/Side of the Bed the Same – He doesn’t change anything. Your clothes stay where you left them, your favorite mug is still in its spot, and he refuses to move your pillow. It’s like he’s waiting for you to come back.

7. Gets Lost in Memories – Sometimes, he catches himself smiling at an old picture of you two before reality crashes down. Other times, he zones out completely, trapped in memories of your laugh, your voice, the way you used to roll your eyes at him.

8. Still Cooks Your Favorite Meal – Every once in a while, he makes your favorite dish, but he never eats it. Just stares at it for a while before pushing it aside. He just wants to feel like you’re still around.

9. Sleeps on the Couch Instead of the Bed – He can’t sleep in your shared bed without you. It’s too big, too empty. So he crashes on the couch most nights, pretending it doesn’t bother him.

10. Loses His Temper in Fights – On the battlefield, he’s reckless. Fighting harder, pushing himself past his limits, because what does it matter anymore? He’s angry—at the world, at himself, at whatever took you away.

11. Can’t Stand Hearing Your Name – If someone brings you up, he tenses. He either shuts down completely or storms off. He wants to talk about you, but it hurts too much.

12. Refuses to Cry in Front of People – He keeps it together around others, acting like he’s fine. But late at night, alone in the dark, the tears come. And he hates himself for it.

13. Talks to Your Grave – Whenever he gets overwhelmed, he visits your grave, sitting there for hours. Sometimes he talks. Sometimes he just sits in silence, staring at your name, gripping the headstone like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

14. Doesn’t Celebrate His Birthday Anymore – He used to love it when you planned surprises for him, made him a cake, gave him your dumb little handmade gifts. Now? He doesn’t even acknowledge it.

15. Keeps His Phone on Do Not Disturb, But Still Scrolls Through Your Messages – He won’t respond to anyone, but he rereads old texts from you, listening to your voice memos over and over again, just to hear you one more time.

16. Doesn’t Know How to Move On – Everyone tells him you’d want him to be happy, to live his life. But he doesn’t know how. Because to him, life without you doesn’t feel like living at all.

Extra :

People just didn’t get it.

No matter how much time passed, no matter how many times his friends told him he should "try to move on," Bakugo couldn’t. He didn’t want to. He already had the love of his life, and the world ripped you away from him.

So when Kirishima—the dumbass—thought it would be a good idea to introduce him to someone new, Bakugo already knew how this was gonna go. "Hey, man, I just want you to meet her," Kirishima said, rubbing the back of his neck. "No pressure, just—" "I ain’t interested.". "You don’t even know her yet!".

"And I don’t need to."

But before he could walk off, the girl was already there, all smiles and nervous energy. "Hi, Bakugo! I’ve heard so much about you." He barely glanced at her. "Tch. Good for you?". Kirishima nudged him hard in the ribs. "Dude, be nice." Bakugo clenched his jaw, his patience already wearing thin. "So," the girl tried again, "your friends tell me you’re a pro-hero. That must be exciting!". He didn’t answer. Just exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. "Uh… I was actually hoping maybe we could—". "Fuck off." The table went dead silent. Kirishima sighed like he knew this was a bad idea. The girl’s face fell, but Bakugo didn’t care. He wasn’t about to sit here and pretend to entertain the idea of someone else.

He turned on his heel and walked off without another word, hands stuffed in his pockets. The ring he still wore on a chain around his neck felt heavy, like it was reminding him who he really belonged to.

It was you. It would always be you.

Dividers! - credits @junabuggy 🤍

Sorry this took so long, I really needed a break and was stressed out. But I hope you enjoyed it!

[reidmarieprentiss]

hii wondering if you could write a little something about to how spencer would react to an undercover mission going wrong with his gf??<3 whether she’s on the mission alone or together with him is up to you

Where We Were Meant to Be

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: kidnapping, guns, typical case talk, break ups (not spencer), feelings talks, being injured

Word count: 7.8k

a/n: i took a little bit of creative liberty with this one i hope that's okay! it's spencer's best friend that he just so happens to be in love with heheh --- also this is meant to be a treat because i only posted once yesterday <333

main masterlist

Spencer Reid was a man of many secrets, but the one that weighed the heaviest on him was the love he harbored for you. It was a love that grew quietly over time, nurtured by the countless hours spent together, the late-night conversations that often veered into deep, uncharted emotional territory, and the shared experiences that bonded you in ways that words could never fully capture.

Everyone at the BAU knew how close the two of you were. It was impossible not to notice. From the way your eyes would light up whenever Spencer entered a room to the ease with which you could communicate without saying a word, it was evident that you shared a connection that transcended the ordinary.

"You two are like two halves of the same brain," Derek would often joke, a knowing grin on his face as he watched you and Spencer exchange another one of your silent conversations.

"Or the same heart," Penelope would add with a playful wink, causing you to blush and Spencer to give her a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

But despite the teasing, no one knew the depth of Spencer's feelings. No one knew that every time you smiled at him, his heart ached with a longing that he buried deep within himself. No one knew that every time your hand brushed against his, he had to remind himself that it meant nothing more than friendship—because that was all you could offer him.

You had a partner. A good one, at that. Spencer had met them a few times, and he couldn't find a single flaw. They were kind, intelligent, and treated you with the love and respect you deserved. It made things easier and harder all at once. Easier, because he knew you were happy, and that's all he'd ever wanted for you. Harder, because he couldn't help but wish that he were the one to make you feel that way.

But Spencer was nothing if not practical. He had always been good at compartmentalizing his emotions, and he used that skill now to keep his feelings in check. He accepted your relationship with grace, never once letting on that every "we" you mentioned with your partner's name attached chipped away at his heart. He forced himself to focus on the friendship you shared, cherishing every moment, every laugh, every secret confided.

In his quieter moments, Spencer allowed himself to dream. He imagined what it would be like to be the one who held your hand as you navigated life’s challenges, to be the one who made you laugh on your hardest days, to be the one you turned to when the world felt like too much. But those dreams were fleeting, and he always pushed them away, reminding himself that you were happy, and that was what mattered.

One evening, after a particularly tough case, the team decided to unwind at Rossi's place. The atmosphere was relaxed, the tension of the day slowly dissipating as everyone gathered around with drinks in hand. You sat next to Spencer, your shoulder lightly brushing against his as you leaned in to whisper something that made him chuckle softly.

"See, this is why you're my favorite," you teased, poking him playfully in the side.

"Flattery won’t get you anywhere," Spencer replied, his voice tinged with affection as he looked at you, his gaze lingering just a moment too long.

You caught it, your smile softening as you reached out to squeeze his hand. "You're the best, you know that?"

"Only because I have the best friend," he responded, squeezing your hand in return before letting go, trying to ignore the way his heart raced at the simple contact.

The night continued, filled with laughter and stories, but Spencer couldn’t help but feel the weight of his unspoken feelings pressing down on him. It was a bittersweet sensation, knowing that he would never be able to tell you the truth, that he would never be able to cross the invisible line that separated friendship from something more.

As the evening wound down and people started to leave, you lingered behind with Spencer, helping him clean up the remnants of the gathering. It was something the two of you often did, slipping into a comfortable rhythm as you worked side by side in silence.

Once the dishes were done and the living room tidied, you both collapsed into your car, a comfortable silence settling between you.

"Thanks for sticking around," Spencer said, his voice soft as he turned to look at you.

"Of course," you replied, meeting his gaze with a tired smile. "You're my person, Spencer. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Your words hit him harder than you could have imagined. He swallowed, forcing himself to smile even as his heart twisted painfully in his chest. "And you're mine," he whispered, more to himself than to you.

You rested your head on his shoulder, letting out a content sigh as you closed your eyes. Spencer remained still, afraid to move, afraid that the moment would shatter if he so much as breathed too loudly.

In that moment, Spencer allowed himself to believe, just for a second, that things could be different. That maybe, in another life, in another world, he could be the one you chose. But as your breathing evened out, signaling that you had fallen asleep, he knew that such thoughts were futile.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled back, his heart heavy with the weight of what could never be. 

And so, he continued to keep his secret, burying it deep within himself as he held onto the one thing he could have—your friendship. It wasn't everything, but it was enough. It had to be enough.

—

The briefing room was unusually quiet as Hotch laid out the details of the mission. The tension in the air was palpable, the seriousness of the situation evident in the way Hotch’s voice took on that hard, steely edge he reserved for the most dangerous of cases. You sat next to Spencer, your hands folded neatly in your lap, trying to keep your expression neutral as the reality of what was being asked of you sank in.

The unsub had escalated, and the BAU was running out of time. The only way to catch him was to go undercover, to insert yourselves into his world, to become the very thing he was hunting. And for this, Hotch had chosen you and Spencer to pose as husband and wife.

The room emptied out after the briefing, but Spencer lingered, his brows furrowed, a storm of emotions brewing behind his eyes. He looked at you, searching your face as if trying to find a way to convince you to change your mind before he even spoke.

“This is too dangerous,” he began, his voice low and urgent. “You shouldn’t go. We can find another way—there has to be another way.”

You reached out to him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Spencer, we’ve been through worse. We can handle this.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, his voice trembling slightly. “This isn’t just another case. This is… it’s different. If something goes wrong—if he even suspects for a second that we’re not who we say we are—” His voice caught in his throat, and he looked away, swallowing hard.

You squeezed his arm, trying to anchor him. “Spencer, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he turned back to you, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and desperation that broke your heart.

“We’re the best shot at stopping him,” you said gently. “You know that. If it were anyone else, I’d be just as worried. But it’s us. We’ve got this.”

His hands balled into fists at his sides, his knuckles white. “But what if something happens to you? I couldn’t—” He stopped, his breath hitching as he tried to compose himself. “I couldn’t live with that.”

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, at the raw vulnerability he was showing you. “Spencer,” you whispered, stepping closer, “I know it’s risky. I know you’re scared. But I’m scared too. And that’s why we have to be careful, why we have to trust each other.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, but the fear was still there, clinging to him like a shadow. “I do trust you. It’s just… I can’t lose you.”

The intensity of his words hung in the air, a confession of something deeper, something unspoken between you. You felt your heart twist, knowing how much he cared, how much he had always cared.

“You won’t lose me,” you promised, your voice steady even though your heart was pounding. “We’ll go in, do what we need to do, and get out. Together.”

He nodded slowly, though the worry in his eyes didn’t diminish. “Promise me you’ll be careful. No risks, no heroics.”

You smiled softly, trying to ease the tension. “I promise. We’re in this together.”

The days leading up to the mission were a blur of preparations, briefings, and final checks. Spencer was quieter than usual, his mind clearly racing with thoughts of what could go wrong. You tried to stay focused, knowing that you both needed to be sharp for this to work.

When the day finally arrived, you found yourselves in a small, nondescript hotel room that served as your cover. The ruse was simple: you and Spencer were a newlywed couple, traveling through the area, the perfect targets for the unsub’s twisted games.

The charade was almost too real, the way Spencer’s hand rested on the small of your back as you entered the hotel lobby, the way he leaned in to whisper something in your ear as you checked in. The familiarity of it all was both comforting and disconcerting.

The hotel room’s dim lighting cast a warm glow over the space, but it was nothing compared to the light in Spencer’s eyes as he looked at you. You had just finished getting ready for the final phase of the mission, slipping into the elegant dress that completed your undercover persona as the charming, newlywed wife. As you turned to face him, adjusting the last of your jewelry, Spencer’s breath seemed to catch in his throat.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. There was a softness in his tone, a tenderness that seemed to seep into every syllable. His eyes, those expressive hazel eyes, were locked onto you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

For a moment, the world outside the room ceased to exist. The mission, the danger, the need to keep up the pretense—it all faded into the background. All that mattered was the way Spencer was looking at you, with so much love and adoration that it was almost overwhelming.

But then, as quickly as it had surfaced, Spencer seemed to reel it back in. He blinked, his expression shifting as he forced a small smile, trying to play it off. “I mean, it’s… it’s perfect for the mission. You look exactly like someone who would turn every head in the room.”

You could hear the faint waver in his voice, the way he tried to rationalize the emotion he had just displayed. He chalked it up to the nature of the mission, to the need to sell the story, but deep down, he knew there was more to it.

“Thank you, Spencer,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You could feel the tension between you, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings that were bubbling just beneath the surface, unspoken but undeniably present.

Spencer nodded, averting his gaze as he adjusted his tie, trying to focus on the task at hand. But the way his hands trembled ever so slightly, the way his jaw clenched as he fought to regain his composure, didn’t go unnoticed by you.

You took a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his sleeve. “We’ll be okay, you know,” you said, trying to reassure him, to reassure yourself.

He looked up at you, his eyes once again filled with that same deep, intense emotion. “I know,” he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. “As long as you’re with me, I know we’ll be okay.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with unspoken words and hidden desires. It was as if the world had paused, holding its breath as you both stood on the precipice of something that could change everything.

But then, with a deep breath, Spencer forced himself to step back, his professional mask sliding back into place. “We should get going,” he said, his voice firmer now, though there was still a lingering softness in his eyes.

You nodded, trying to push down the emotions that were threatening to spill over. “Right. Let’s do this.”

And as you left the room together, hand in hand, the lines between mission and reality blurred just a little more, leaving you both wondering what would be left once the dust settled.

—

The situation had spiraled out of control so fast that it felt like a nightmare, the kind where everything you feared the most came true. One moment, you and Spencer were navigating the careful dance of your undercover roles, blending into the crowd at the lavish party where you hoped to catch the unsub off guard. The next, everything went dark—both literally and figuratively.

The unsub was smarter than they’d anticipated. He saw through the act, his twisted mind zeroing in on your every move, every glance exchanged with Spencer. And then, in an instant, the plan unraveled. The lights flickered, and when they came back on, you were no longer standing by Spencer's side. You were in the unsub’s grip, his arm around your throat, his gun pressed against your temple.

“Spencer!” you cried out, your voice filled with a terror that tore through him like a knife.

Spencer’s heart stopped in that moment. The blood drained from his face as he saw you, saw the fear in your eyes, the way you struggled against the unsub’s iron grip. His mind raced, every possible scenario playing out in rapid succession, each one worse than the last. He could feel his entire world crashing down around him, the panic setting in, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

“Let her go!” Spencer’s voice was raw, desperate, his hand reaching out instinctively as if he could pull you back to him by sheer force of will. “You don’t want to do this. We can help you. Just—just let her go, please.”

But the unsub only sneered, tightening his hold on you, dragging you backward toward the exit. “Help me? You’re the ones who need help. You think I didn’t see through your little charade? You think I didn’t know?”

Spencer felt his knees buckle as he watched the unsub’s every move, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t. The thought of it was too much, too overwhelming. He tried to take a step forward, but the unsub jabbed the gun harder against your head, making you gasp in pain.

“Stay back, or I’ll blow her brains out right here!” the unsub snarled, his eyes wild with a dangerous mix of paranoia and rage.

“Please,” Spencer begged, his voice cracking, his eyes pleading as he tried to reason with a man who seemed beyond reason. “Don’t hurt her. You don’t have to do this. We can talk, we can—”

But the unsub wasn’t listening. He was already backing out of the room, dragging you with him. And then, before Spencer could react, you were gone—thrown into a nondescript van that peeled away from the curb, leaving Spencer standing there, frozen in horror.

The moment you disappeared from sight, something in Spencer snapped. He was a man undone, no longer the composed, brilliant profiler but a man in the throes of utter despair. He spun around, his eyes wild as he looked at the rest of the team, who had arrived just in time to witness the tail end of the horror show.

“We have to find her!” Spencer’s voice was a shout, laced with a hysteria that made everyone in the room tense up. “We have to find her now!”

“Reid, we’re going to do everything we can,” Hotch said, his voice calm and steady, trying to contain the situation, but it only seemed to fuel Spencer’s rage.

“You sent her in there!” Spencer roared, pointing an accusatory finger at Hotch, his voice trembling with fury and anguish. “You sent her in there, and now she’s gone! You did this!”

“Spencer, we’ll find her,” JJ said softly, trying to step in, but Spencer wasn’t hearing it. His mind was a blur of panic, grief, and guilt. All he could see was you, the terror in your eyes, the way you had been dragged away from him.

“No! You don’t understand!” Spencer was nearly hysterical now, his voice breaking, tears streaming down his face as he continued to lash out. “She’s out there alone, and it’s our fault! We have to get her back! We have to—” 

“Reid, stand down!” Hotch commanded, his voice taking on a sharper tone, but it did nothing to calm Spencer.

“No!” Spencer screamed, his hands shaking as he pointed at Hotch again. “You don’t get to tell me to stand down! You don’t get to tell me to do anything after what you’ve done!”

Hotch exchanged a quick glance with Rossi, who gave a small nod, understanding that Spencer was too far gone, too deep in his emotions to be reasoned with right now.

“Reid, go back to the hotel,” Hotch ordered, his voice firm and leaving no room for argument. “We’ll handle the search. You need to stand down.”

But Spencer didn’t move. He just stood there, shaking, his eyes wild and red-rimmed, the pain etched so deeply into his features that it was almost unbearable to look at. He wanted to fight, to do something, anything to bring you back. But all he could do was fall apart, right there in front of everyone.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he finally gave in to the grief that was tearing him apart. “Please bring her back.”

“Go back to the hotel, Reid,” Hotch repeated, softer this time, but still with that commanding presence. “We’ll find her.”

Spencer didn’t want to go. Every fiber of his being wanted to stay, to fight, to tear the city apart if that’s what it took to find you. But he was too broken, too shattered to argue anymore. So, with one last, desperate look at Hotch, he turned and left, his heart heavy, his mind spinning with every horrible possibility.

Back at the hotel, Spencer was a man possessed. He couldn’t sit, couldn’t think straight. He paced the room, his thoughts running in endless circles, every one of them coming back to you and the unimaginable fear that you were out there, somewhere, hurt or worse. The room felt too small, too suffocating, and he found himself screaming, yelling out your name, cursing at the walls as if they could give him answers.

When the anger wasn’t enough to dull the pain, the tears came full force. He collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in his hands as he sobbed, the grief pouring out of him in waves. He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t. The thought of it was too much, and yet it was all he could think about.

Hours passed, though it felt like an eternity, and still, there was no word. No update. No sign of you. Spencer felt like he was drowning in the silence, the waiting, the not knowing. Every second that ticked by felt like another piece of him being torn away, until there was nothing left but the hollow shell of a man who had once been whole.

When the phone finally rang, Spencer lunged for it, his heart in his throat as he answered, his voice shaking with desperation. 

But it wasn’t you. It wasn’t even news about you. It was Hotch, telling him to stay put, telling him that they were still searching, still trying to find you. It was a command wrapped in reassurance, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside Spencer.

“Just bring her back,” Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible, broken. “Please, bring her back to me.”

And as he hung up the phone, Spencer curled up on the bed, clutching your jacket that still held the faintest scent of you, and prayed with every ounce of his being that you would come back to him, that this nightmare would end, and that he wouldn’t lose the most important person in his life.

—

Spencer was pacing the floor of the hotel room, his mind a whirlwind of fear, guilt, and desperation. The silence of the room felt like it was closing in on him, pressing down on his chest until he could hardly breathe. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, and the only thing keeping him from completely unraveling was the hope that the team would find you before it was too late.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he nearly fumbled it in his haste to answer. “Derek?” he gasped, his voice tight with panic.

“Reid        , we think we found her,” Derek said, his tone serious but laced with urgency. “She’s at an abandoned warehouse on the east side, just off of River Street. We’re heading there now.”

Spencer didn’t wait for another word. He grabbed his keys and bolted out of the hotel, the thought of you in danger propelling him forward with a speed he didn’t know he was capable of. The drive to the warehouse was a blur of speeding cars, red lights he didn’t bother stopping for, and the singular focus of getting to you as fast as he could.

When he pulled up to the warehouse, he barely threw his car into park before he was out the door, sprinting toward the cluster of agents and medics near the entrance. The sight of them only made his heart race faster, a mix of relief and dread coiling in his stomach.

“Where is she?” he shouted, his voice hoarse with desperation as he pushed his way through the crowd.

The sight of you nearly brought him to his knees. You were lying on a stretcher, your body bruised and battered, your face pale and drawn, as if the life had been drained out of you. The medics were working quickly, checking your vitals, hooking you up to an IV, but all Spencer could focus on was the faint sound of your voice, weak and trembling, as you mumbled incoherently.

“My love,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “Where is my love?”

The words broke Spencer’s heart into a thousand pieces. He rushed forward, ignoring the shouts of the other agents as he made his way to your side. You were so fragile, so small against the harsh metal of the stretcher, and all he wanted to do was gather you in his arms, protect you from the world, from everything that had hurt you.

The medics began to wheel you toward the ambulance, but as they moved, you caught sight of Spencer, your eyes fluttering open just enough to recognize him. Despite the pain, despite the exhaustion that weighed you down, you tried to sit up, your hand reaching out toward him as if he were the only thing that could keep you tethered to life.

“My love,” you said again, your voice cracking with emotion, your eyes filled with tears as you looked at him.

Spencer was at your side in an instant, grabbing your extended hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’m here, I’m right here,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held onto you like you were his lifeline.

The medics glanced at Spencer, recognizing the emblem on his jacket, the desperation in his eyes. “I’m riding with her,” Spencer told them, his voice leaving no room for argument.

The medics nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. They helped Spencer climb into the ambulance, making room for him next to you as they continued to work. Spencer never let go of your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your bruised knuckles, his heart breaking at the sight of you so weak, so vulnerable.

As the ambulance sped away, sirens blaring, Spencer leaned in close, his voice soft and soothing as he whispered to you. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes fluttered open again, your gaze locking onto his as you tried to muster the strength to speak. “I was so scared,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you clung to his hand.

“I know,” Spencer said, his own voice cracking as he fought back his tears. “I was too. But you’re safe now. We’re going to get through this, okay? I promise.”

You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting shut again as exhaustion took over. But even as you slipped into unconsciousness, you kept your hand in his, holding on as if he were your only anchor in the storm.

And Spencer held on too, refusing to let go, refusing to let the fear, the guilt, the overwhelming emotions consume him. All that mattered was you—keeping you safe, getting you through this. He couldn’t think about anything else, couldn’t allow himself to imagine a world where you weren’t with him.

As the ambulance raced toward the hospital, Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, his voice a quiet promise in the chaos. “I love you,” he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them, before he could overthink them.

But it didn’t matter now. There was no taking it back, no more hiding how he felt. And as the ambulance tore through the night, Spencer made a silent vow that he would do whatever it took to keep you safe, to bring you back to him—because losing you wasn’t an option. Not now. Not ever.

—

The antiseptic smell of the hospital was a sharp contrast to the warmth of Spencer's presence beside you. The sterile environment only emphasized how vulnerable and fragile you felt, lying in the hospital bed with a sling supporting your broken collarbone. The pain was manageable, dulled by the medication the doctors had administered, but the emotional whirlwind you were caught in was another matter entirely.

Spencer had been there since the moment you arrived, never leaving your side. His eyes, red-rimmed and exhausted, had stayed fixed on you, watching over you with a mix of concern and something deeper that you couldn’t quite name. He was a mess of emotions—fear, relief, and something bordering on anger, though you knew it wasn’t directed at you.

You were just beginning to doze off when a nurse entered the room, gently informing you that your partner had arrived. Your heart clenched at the words, not out of relief or comfort, but out of a confusing sense of dread. Spencer’s hand tightened slightly around yours, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but one that spoke volumes. He was still there, still holding onto you, but you could feel the shift in the air, the way his grip loosened as the footsteps approached.

When your partner stepped into the room, their eyes filled with worry and love, Spencer immediately withdrew his hand, standing up to make room. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his jaw clenched as he forced himself to step back, to let go.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” your partner said softly, their voice sincere as they looked at Spencer with genuine gratitude.

Spencer nodded stiffly, the bitterness in his expression barely hidden. “Of course,” he replied, his voice tight. “It’s what anyone would have done.”

But you knew that wasn’t true. Spencer had done more than anyone else would have, more than your partner could even begin to understand. He had been your anchor in the storm, the person you had instinctively reached for when you were at your weakest. And now, with your partner standing there, all you could think about was how much you had wanted Spencer—needed Spencer—when everything was falling apart.

Your partner leaned down to kiss your forehead, their touch gentle, comforting. But it wasn’t the same. It didn’t ignite that spark inside you, didn’t calm the commotion in your heart the way Spencer’s presence had. Your mind kept replaying those moments in the ambulance, when Spencer had whispered those three words that had changed everything.

“I love you.”

The weight of those words settled heavily in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t meant the world to you when he said it. But now, looking up at your partner, you felt trapped between two worlds—one where you were safe, where everything was familiar, and another where your heart was pulling you toward something deeper, something more complicated, something you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

Spencer stood there, watching the exchange with an expression that broke your heart. You could see the pain in his eyes, the bitterness that he was trying so hard to hide. He had given you everything he had in those terrifying moments, and now he was being pushed aside, as if all of that meant nothing.

But it did mean something. It meant everything.

“Spencer…” you began, your voice soft, uncertain.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours, waiting for something—anything—that would tell him what you were feeling, what you were thinking. But you didn’t know what to say. You were too confused, too overwhelmed to put your emotions into words.

Your partner squeezed your hand gently, drawing your attention back to them. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” they whispered, their voice filled with relief.

You nodded, trying to smile, but it felt hollow, forced. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m okay.”

But as you looked back at Spencer, you knew that you weren’t okay. Not really. Because all you could think about was how much it had hurt to watch him leave, to see the pain in his eyes as he stepped back, knowing that he was walking away from something that had just barely begun.

Spencer took a step toward the door, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “I should go,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “You need time with your partner.”

The word "partner" seemed to catch in his throat, and you could see the way he flinched as he said it, as if acknowledging their presence hurt more than he could bear.

You wanted to call out to him, to tell him to stay, to tell him that what he had said in the ambulance had changed everything for you. But the words wouldn’t come. You were too afraid, too unsure of what any of it meant, or what it would mean if you acknowledged it out loud.

So you said nothing, letting him walk away, letting him leave the room with a heavy heart and a bitterness that you knew was only going to fester.

As the door closed behind Spencer, you felt a tear slip down your cheek, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once. Your partner was still there, still holding your hand, still trying to comfort you, but it wasn’t enough. Because the person you needed most had just walked out the door, and you didn’t know if you had the courage to bring him back.

—

When you returned to work after your medical leave, there was a part of you that was eager to get back to a sense of normalcy. You thought that once you were surrounded by your colleagues, by Spencer, things would start to feel right again. But from the moment you stepped into the bullpen, you knew something was different.

Spencer was there, of course, as he always was—dutiful, courteous, offering you a small, polite smile as you walked in. He asked how you were feeling, made sure you had everything you needed, even went out of his way to help you catch up on what you had missed during your absence. But there was a distance to him, a careful politeness that felt foreign between the two of you. It was as if there was an invisible barrier between you, one that he had constructed with precision and intention.

He wasn’t your Spencer anymore. He was still the brilliant, kind-hearted man you knew, but the easy closeness, the spontaneous laughter, the silent conversations that you had once shared—those were gone. And as much as it pained you, you couldn’t bring yourself to confront him about it. You were too afraid of what you might find out, too scared that if you asked him what was wrong, you would only confirm your worst fears.

So you stayed quiet. You forced yourself to smile when he spoke to you, even though his words were measured and distant. You nodded along when he offered advice or assistance, even though the warmth you used to feel in his presence was replaced by a hollow ache. But the more time passed, the more you began to realize that this wasn’t just about Spencer pulling away—it was about what that distance did to you.

It felt like half of you was missing, like you were a shell of yourself without him by your side. You’d never felt this way with your partner, not even when they were out of town or during the rare arguments that led to hours of silence. There was something about Spencer, something about the bond you had shared, that had become an integral part of who you were. And now that it was gone, you were lost.

It was that realization that led to the end of your relationship. You couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when your heart was somewhere else, when the person you thought you loved couldn’t fill the void that Spencer’s absence had left. Breaking up with your partner was one of the hardest things you’d ever done, not because you were still in love with them, but because they were such a genuinely kind-hearted person. They deserved better than to be with someone whose heart wasn’t fully in it.

When you sat down with them, your voice shaking as you tried to explain, they listened with a quiet understanding that made you feel even more guilty. “I’ve known for a while that something was off,” they said softly, their eyes sad but not angry. “I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “You didn’t deserve this.”

They shook their head, reaching out to gently squeeze your hand. “You don’t have to apologize. I’d rather you be honest with yourself—and with me—than stay in a relationship that doesn’t make you happy.”

Their kindness only made the pain of ending things more acute, but you knew it was the right thing to do. You couldn’t keep living a lie, couldn’t keep pretending that you were in love when your heart was somewhere else. And as much as it hurt, you felt a strange sense of relief when they walked away, knowing that you were finally free to face the truth.

But now that the relationship was over, you were left with an even bigger question: What do you do about Spencer? The very person who had unknowingly driven you to this decision was the one you felt you had already lost. The thought of telling him how you felt was terrifying, especially when you weren’t sure if there was anything left between you to salvage. Would he even care, or had he already moved on, content to keep you at arm’s length for the rest of your lives?

As you sat alone in your apartment that evening, the silence pressing in on you, you found yourself picking up your phone, your fingers hovering over Spencer’s contact. You wanted to call him, to tell him everything—to tell him that this whole mess had made you realize just how much you needed him, how much you missed him, how much you loved him.

But fear held you back. Fear that he wouldn’t feel the same way, fear that he would reject you, fear that you had already lost him forever.

In the end, you put the phone down, your heart heavy with the weight of your unspoken feelings. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to move forward. All you knew was that you couldn’t keep living like this, trapped in the limbo between what you had lost and what you could never have.

But as you lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, you made a silent vow to yourself: You couldn’t let things end like this. Spencer had meant too much to you for too long to let him slip away without a fight. And even though the thought of confronting him scared you more than anything, you knew that you had to try. You had to tell him how you felt, even if it meant risking everything.

Because losing Spencer without ever telling him the truth—that was something you couldn’t bear.

—

Spencer sat in his reading nook, surrounded by books that had once brought him comfort but now served as a distraction from the thoughts he couldn’t escape. The words blurred together as he tore through page after page, trying to keep his mind occupied, to drown out the memories of you, the sound of your voice, the way you used to laugh at his terrible jokes. It wasn’t easy, keeping you at arm’s length, but it was the only way he knew how to protect himself. He couldn’t endure watching you be with someone else, not when every part of him yearned to be the one you turned to, the one you loved.

The soft knock on the door startled him, pulling him out of the world he had tried so hard to lose himself in. His heart raced as he set the book down, a sense of unease settling over him as he stood up. He wasn’t expecting anyone, least of all you.

When he opened the door, the upper chain still in place, his breath caught in his throat. “Y/N?” he asked, his voice full of surprise.

You stood there, looking up at him with an expression that was both determined and vulnerable. It was clear you had made a decision, one that had led you to his doorstep on a Friday evening, one that had left you standing there, waiting for him to let you in.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your chest. “I think we need to talk. Can I come in?”

He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with the implications of what this conversation might bring. But the sight of you, the sound of your voice, was too much for him to resist. He needed to hear what you had to say, even if it meant reopening wounds he had tried so hard to close.

With a sigh, Spencer undid the chain and opened the door fully, stepping aside to let you in. “Of course,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with the familiarity of your presence.

You stepped inside, taking a deep breath as you crossed the threshold. The air in the apartment was thick with unspoken words, with the tension that had been building between you for weeks. You could feel it, the weight of everything you hadn’t said, everything you were about to say.

Spencer watched as you took a moment to compose yourself, his heart aching at the sight of you in his space, a place you had once felt so at home in but that now felt foreign, distant. He wanted to reach out, to close the gap between you, but he held back, reminding himself of the boundaries he had set.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this,” you said, turning to face him, your eyes searching his for any sign of what he was feeling. “But I couldn’t wait any longer. I have a lot to say, and I kept repeating it in my head. I was driving myself insane,” you laughed a bit at your own expense.

Spencer nodded, his throat tight as he gestured for you to sit on the couch. He took a seat across from you, his hands clasped together in his lap as he waited for you to speak, his heart pounding in his chest.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, the ones that would convey everything you had been feeling, everything you had realized over the past few weeks. “Spencer, I know things have been different between us since I came back. And I know it’s because of me, because of what happened.”

He opened his mouth to protest, to tell you that it wasn’t your fault, that he had been the one to pull away, but you held up a hand, stopping him.

“Please, just let me finish,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us, about what we had, and what we lost. And I realized that… I realized that I can’t keep going on like this. I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay when it’s not. I miss you, Spencer. I miss my best friend.”

His heart twisted at your words, the pain of losing you sharper than he had expected. “I miss you too,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… it’s complicated.”

“I know it is,” you said, leaning forward, your eyes locking onto his with a determination that took him by surprise. “But that’s why I’m here. I need you to hear me out.”

Spencer nodded, his hands trembling slightly as he braced himself for whatever was coming next.

You took another deep breath, your heart racing as you finally found the courage to say the words that had been weighing on you for so long. “I ended things with my partner.”

His eyes widened in surprise, the words catching him off guard. “You did?”

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief at finally saying it out loud. “Yes. I did. Because I realized that I couldn’t keep lying to myself, or to them. I realized that the reason I was so unhappy, the reason I felt like something was missing, was because… because I was in love with someone else.”

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding as he tried to process what you were saying. “Y/N…”

“I’m in love with you, Spencer,” you said, your voice steady now, the weight of the truth lifting from your shoulders. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time I think, and it took almost losing you to realize that. I don’t know how you feel, and I’m terrified that I’ve already lost you, but I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. You deserve to know the truth.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as your words hung in the air, the enormity of what you had just confessed settling between you. Spencer’s mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding all at once, but the one thing that stood out above everything else was the overwhelming relief, the joy, that came with hearing you say those words.

You loved him. You loved him.

“Spencer, please say something,” you whispered, your voice trembling now as the fear of rejection crept in.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions—relief, love, fear. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “that I didn’t think it was possible for you to feel the same way. I’ve been trying so hard to protect myself, to keep my distance, because I didn’t want to get hurt. But all it did was hurt me more, because all I wanted was to be close to you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words sank in, as the truth of what he had been feeling all this time became clear. “Spencer…”

He stood up, crossing the room in a few quick strides, and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest as if he was afraid you might disappear. “I’m so sorry for pulling away,” he whispered into your hair, his voice choked with emotion. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was wrong. I need you in my life, Y/N. I need you more than anything.”

You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as the tears finally spilled over. “I need you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with relief, with love, with the overwhelming emotion of finally being in his arms again.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, holding onto each other as the weight of everything you had been through, everything you had felt, finally began to lift. 

“Please don’t ever pull away again,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

He shook his head, his thumb gently brushing away your tears. “I won’t. I promise. I’m done hiding.”

With that, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was long overdue, a kiss that spoke of all the love, all the longing, all the unspoken words that had been building between you for so long. It was a kiss that sealed the promise of a future together, a future where you didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to hold back, a future where you could finally be with the person you loved.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and smiling, Spencer rested his forehead against yours, his arms still wrapped around you. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. And I’m never letting you go again.”

“I love you, Spencer,” you whispered, the words feeling right, feeling true.

“I love you too,” he replied, his voice full of conviction, full of the certainty that this—being with you—was where he was always meant to be.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[lefteagleblizzard]

ℌ𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔡𝔢 Mike Munroe x male reader

Summary: A request that i received: “before everything happened, Mike took a "friend" to accompany him to the cabin or something and this friend reveals himself as Mike's boyfriend in a scandalous way with a focus on what the reaction of others would be and maybe how this would affect the future.”

Tags: Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Secret relationship. Jealousy. Angst. Smut. Gay smut. Top Mike munroe. Dom Mike Munroe. Bottom male reader. Anal sex.

ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

Words count: 4500

The lodge was perched like a secret at the top of the snow-crusted mountain. Josh's voice had been bright over the phone when he invited you. Chris added some dorky joke that made Josh wheeze with laughter in the background and you knew they were just trying to include you and assist in your attempt to break out of your shell, or whatever fucking metaphor they wanted to pin on your anxiety.

You didn't say no. You should have, but you didn't. It wasn't that you hated the idea of fun like some cold-blooded loner skulking in the corner of the party, arms crossed, music too loud.

No, it wasn't that at all. It was him. The reason you spent the first three hours of the trip practically holding your breath, faking smiles that split at the edges, pulling your beanie lower so you wouldn't have to meet anyone's eyes.

Because how the fuck were you supposed to pretend? How were you supposed to watch him laugh and flex every person in the room like you didn't know the exact cadence of his breath when he came, the way his tone shifted when he whispered your name the second you two were alone?

You were Mike Munroe's boyfriend and no one knew. Now, in this thick wooden lodge that smelled like pine and old whiskey and snow- damp clothes drying by the fireplace, it felt like everyone in the room wanted him.

Emily had latched onto him the moment you stepped through the door of the big lodge, her perfectly manicured nails dragging down his arm like she'd branded it. Her laugh was loud, effortless, too loud, pitched too perfectly for every half-ass joke Mike made. She sat too close. Touched too much. Her eyes flicked to you once, just once, and dismissed you the way someone might dismiss a stain on a shirt-something unworthy, something in the way.

Jessica wasn't better. If Emily acted like she already had him, Jessica acted like she'd earn him. Every flip of her hair, every giggle, or the way she bit her lip when Mike so much as looked in her direction. It felt like needles under your skin, a hot, ugly truth trying to crawl out of your throat and scream that he's taken.

And sweet stammering Hannah, with those big eyes and pink cheeks and the way she looked at Mike like he hung the stars in the sky. She never threw herself at him. But it was obvious in every shy glance. Everyone knew Hannah liked Mike and they all let it be like it was just a natural fact of life.

Here in this big house every step felt like walking on cracked glass. You were the one who'd kissed him first, trembling in your dorm room as Mike kissed you back like he'd been dying for it.

Now you were just "one of the guys," a friend, a tag-along. Something less than a shadow. You watched Mike grin as he slung an arm around Emily's shoulder for a photo. You forced yourself to laugh when Josh teased Mike about how many girls he'd pull this week. You felt every second of it like a slow, sharp twist between your ribs.

He met your eyes across the room, once and it wasn't enough.

His eyes held regret, guilt, fear, you had no clue. All it did was remind you that you were the secret, the locked drawer in his chest no one else was allowed to open. The thing he tucked away when the lights were on, when the others were around.

You weren't even angry. Not really. You were just tired of feeling like a crime scene or something shameful and hidden. Your chest ached in a dull, familiar way, like bruises forming over old scars.

Josh and Chris had long since passed out downstairs, the competitive fire of their third whiskey-fueled "rematch" sputtering out in snoring heaps. Their absence had stripped the room of even a thin veil of decency.

You were now surrounded by the people you were supposed to be calling friends, laughter a little too sharp, smiles too curved as they plotted something that made your stomach churn.

Emily's gasp was loud and dramatic, her hand flying to her mouth with faux shock. "You did bot just do that!" she cackled.

Ashley snorted behind a cupped hand, Matt beside her looking half-aware, fingers tapping mindlessly against his leg.

"Maybe we shouldn’t do that," Sam began, voice uncertain.

"No, no, come on," Emily interrupted, spinning around on her socked heels. "Hannah's had, what? Years? Years to grow a spine and confess to Mike. And now I want him and she knows it. So what's she doing?" Her voice pitched up like she was telling a joke. "Still simpering around him like some little wounded deer."

"And we're supposed to just let her? I’m just looking out for my bestie." Jess added with a grin that didn't reach her eyes.

Sam sat beside you in the armchair, her body close, caim, something grounding in the storm of this bullshit. She didn't say anything at first. She didn't have to.

Your eyes had caught on it without realizing that she was drawing you. The way her pencil moved, the curve of your brow shaded with delicate strokes. She wasn't hiding it. Her sketchbook was cracked open like a window, showing the version of you she saw.

One quiet, pensive, maybe even strong. It felt like a lie

Your voice felt thin when you spoke

"Guys," you tried, lifting your head, "I really don't think this is a good idea."

Jess glanced at you, her eyes narrowing with curiosity, lips twitching into a crooked grin.

"Let me ask you something," she said, slowly standing, moving closer like a snake. swaying just before it strikes. "If a friend of yours showed interest in someone you liked, would you really be okay with that?"

Her tone was light, but the edge razor. There was heat under her skin. A charge in her words.

Your heart skipped a beat. That wasn't a hypothetical. That was loaded. It was too pointed. Too precise.

You opened your mouth, closed it again, the words catching in your throat like dry glass.

She suspected something.

You shifted in your seat, glancing around the room like maybe someone else had caught It, but no one did. Emily was too busy twirling a strand of hair around her finger and beaming at what was gonna happen. Ashley offered a little "mmmhm" of agreement. Sam stiffened at your side.

"I get it,” you muttered, voice tight. "Hannah probably shouldn't be acting that way with Mike. But humiliating her like this? It's not like you can control who you're into."

Jess's expression twitched, her brows lifting slightly at your words, like she heard what you meant, not what you said.

You hadn't meant for it to sound personal. But it was hard when the person in question—your man—was across the room, sitting in that big leather armchair like some movie star.

Emily crossed the room in two easy steps, all hips and calculated charm, her arms opening in a theatrical flourish. "Just because he's class president doesn't mean he's everyone's man," she said, loud and clear, meant to be heard. "Mike is my man."

Mike glanced in your direction, sharp and fast, like his body moved without his permission. Your eyes locked and in that second, you saw the crack in his armor. The guilt.

It was in the flex of his fingers against the leather. The way his mouth twitched, not into a smirk, just tightened. A breathless second passed before he moved, rising to his feet as though pulled up on strings.

Emily spun beneath his raised arm like a fairytale version of herself, hair flipping, cheeks flushed with the thrill of feeling chosen. Your gaze dropped to the carpet, stomach twisting.

You missed the moment he looked at you again.

Mike saw your head down and his stomach turned over with something hot and cold at once. He suddenly hated himself for playing along.

Finally, he let her hand go. Let it fall back to her side like it had never belonged there in the first place.

"Hey, Em." His voice was low, firm and measured. "I'm not anyone's man."

The ache in your chest had already bloomed into something bigger, like being filled up with wet cement. You couldn't move or breathe around it.

Sam stood beside you, quiet and tense, her sketchbook closed now, hands tight around it. She leaned in, her breath tickling the shell of your ear.

"Please," she whispered. "Convince them to stop. This isn't right."

She walked out with purpose, calling for Hannah like she could still fix this.

Mike stepped in like a sigh of relief and a punch to the gut.

"Okay, okay," he said smoothly, a grin already curving his lips, charm dripping from him like heat off asphalt. One hand, strong and practiced fell lightly on Jess's shoulder, his fingers flexing just enough to steer her back with that calm, casual command he wielded like a weapon. "Let's all calm down, yeah?"

His voice was honeyed, warm, light, teasing and natural; it barely even sounded like he was defusing tension.

The rest of the room faded for you as Mike shifted, stepping in too close to you and the heat of him folded around you like gravity. His eyes caught yours and there was that softness again, that version of him that never showed up unless you were alone.

Both his hands lifted to your arm, settling on your bicep, palms warm through the fabric of your shirt. Thumbs brushing slow, rhythmic, like he was grounding you.

"Relax, alright?" he murmured, voice low enough that it barely carried, intimate in a way that made your spine straighten and your throat tighten. "No one's gonna do anything crazy.”

And god, his face so close you could see the gold flecks in his irises, the way his lashes dipped low over his gaze as he studied you.

You turned your face hard and sudden, your shoulder twisting away from his hands before you even realized you were doing it and you left.

Fast.

The air in the hallway hit you like ice-thinner, cleaner. Your heart was pounding, slamming against your chest like it was trying to outrun what just happened.

You didn't look back, your legs moved on their own until you found Sam halfway down the hallway, already scanning rooms like she didn't know whether she wanted to kick a door in or cry.

"I'll help," you said, voice tight and low

Her eyes turned to you and the relief was palpable. Her shoulders sagged, mouth parted in a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Thank you," she said and it wasn't just gratitude, she looked concerned and scared for her best friend.

"I'm gonna check her room first," she added, nodding toward the end of the hall.

Then she paused briefly to glance over your shoulder before marching down the hallway.

Your footsteps had barely started echoing down the hallway when a sudden pressure at your waist stopped you. The heat of a body behind you, close enough to steal the breath from your throat.

It was the kind of grip you knew too well, the kind that had once held you against a mattress in the dark, panting, whispered against your neck like a secret: mine.

You turned slowly, heart pounding, breath catching in your throat and there was Mike.

His hand stayed on your waist, thumb brushing in a small, slow stroke against the fabric of your hoodie.

"Hey," he said, quiet, pitched low, rough at the edges. "Everything okay?"

His grin spread, charming and warm almost too much. Like he was trying to compensate for what just happened in that room.

But you didn't answer right away. You just looked at him and something in your chest cracked. Your face twitched automatically. A smile bloomed at the corners of your mouth.

The kind of smile people to say everything's fine when everything is fucking broken. It didn't reach your eyes and it tore through Mike like a slow moving bullet.

It was all you could give him and it broke him.

“You… sure about that?" His eyes searched yours. "Cause that smile's the biggest load of bullshit I've seen since Chris telling everyone he was gonna win."

You almost laughed but your throat was too tight.

You swallowed hard. "I'm fine," you said.

He tilted his head, a tiny, frustrated huff slipping from his nose. "That's strike two, baby."

The nickname hit you like a gut punch because he never said it out here.

"You keep lying to me like that," he said, his voice dipping lower, thick and so close to a growl. "I'm gonna have to do something about it."

He tried to laugh, stepping closer to get rid of the space between you, the scent of him wrapping around you instantly. Spice, pine, the leftover sweetness of that expensive cologne he only wore when he wanted to impress you. His hand at your waist slid a fraction higher, slow and deliberate. Fingers dragging along the hem of your hoodie.

His other hand rose, fingers brushing just under your jaw, thumb gliding over the soft skin beneath your ear while his gaze dropped to your mouth.

His voice dropped, thick with suggestion and something darker, hotter beneath the tease. "Need some help to relax?"

His grin was there, lopsided and full of the usual boyish charm he was equipped with.

His lips landed on your cheek with a ridiculous sound, exaggerated and playful.

"Mike!" you hissed, voice cracking, cheeks flushing hot as your eyes darted past his shoulder like some part of you still had enough self-preservation to worry.

But he didn't give a shit or even pretend to stop.

Another kiss landed, higher this time and nearer to your cheekbone. Another just under your eye. Then one at the corner of your mouth, so fucking close and his laughter spilled out, rich and warm and filled with mischief.

"Shit," he chuckled against your skin, "you still get this shy, huh?"

His lips lingered more with each kiss, hungrier. Your skin was at this point flushed hot, tingling beneath each wet press of his mouth and that was all the confirmation he needed.

He kept going with slow kisses against your neck now, breath hot against your throat as he chased the pulse hammering there. Your voice came again, small and flat, barely a whisper

"Mike… quit it." But it wasn't the way you usually said it. Not full of laughter or breathy affection. There was a dullness to it, heavy and tired, eyes locked down at the floor like it could hide the truth leaking out of your mouth.

Mike's jaw flexed. He bit the inside of his cheek, irritation blooming in his chest, never at you, but at the ache in your voice and at the silence he'd let grow between you.

His grip shifted, stronger now, hand sliding from your waist to your wrist as he walked backward and pulled you with him, not stopping when you offered the barest resistance, not even hesitating. He reached the first nearby door, shoved it open with the heel of his boot and yanked you in.

The soft click of the latch felt like a gunshot. Then your back hit the door with a low thud, Mike's body pressing against you, crowding you against the wood.

You gasped, barely audible and to Mike it sounded like a green light.

Your breath came in fast pants, shallow and shivery as his chest pressed firm to yours. His nose brushed your temple, hair tickling your cheek. Heat poured off from him like a furnace, sweat beginning to build where your skin touched, clothes sticking.

You were mentally somewhere else and he didn't like that.

His lips dragged slow along the edge of your jaw, hot and wet and deliberate, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, letting his breath linger on every patch of skin he painted with his tongue. He scraped you gently with his teeth, kissed where it hurt.

He groaned low against your throat, grinding forward again as if to underline the problem he was dealing with in his pants. His voice was rough velvet as he mumbled against your lips, a grin curling up as he kissed the corner of your mouth. "You not in the mood or somethin'?"

A teasing bite to your bottom lip. Light and testing.

Your hesitation was too long but you did answer. Quietly.

"It's not that…"

A wicked smirk twitched onto his lips like a reflex. "So you do wanna fuck,” he murmured.

You grinned barely. Small. Brief. But it was there. A twitch of heat in your expression.

Mike exhaled through his nose, just a bit, his forehead still pressing against yours as his hands cupped your jaw. One thumb stroked over your cheek. His voice was softer now, lower but still thick with heat, brushing your lips with every word.

"What's goin' on inside that pretty head, huh?" he murmured. He didn't stop holding you. Didn't pull back. His breath was hot on your lips, mouth parted and kiss-swollen, but he waited. Waited for you to give him something real.

You swallowed hard. Your throat worked, voice caught there behind the burn and weight of your emotions but you forced it out anyway.

"I just… I feel like your friends don't really like me. Y'know?"

A pause.

"And there's so many people here who think of you as a prize, Mike. It makes me feel like this isn't even real."

Mike didn't flinch, something in him snapped. His fingers curled under your chin and tilted your face up. His eyes burned into yours, all lazy charm gone. Gone Replaced with something raw, possessive and protective.

“I hate that you feel this way. I know that i joke too much and play it cool out there. I should’ve told them weeks ago.”

He pulled you back by the shoulders so he could look at you again.

“What we have it's not fragile. It's messy, yeah, sometimes stupid. But I wouldn't risk this for anything."

You felt your chest tighten. Mike leaned in again, his mouth brushing yours.

"And come on. You think I'd be this hard for anyone else?" he breathed, grinding slowly again against your thigh, his girth dragging along your body with every word. "Think I'd be losing my fucking mind if you weren't here? You drive me crazy, baby. No one else does that. That's what you do to me, baby. Every fucking time."

His mouth found your neck again, licking a slow stripe up your throat before biting, hard enough to make you hiss.

Your head fell back against the door with a thud. He pressed up against you harder and your legs parted instinctively, hips canting forward to meet the roll of his.

His beard scratched at your skin, deliciously rough, the friction sending shocks through your spine as he groaned low and deep, the sound vibrating through you.

"You know how long I've wanted to have you like this tonight?" he whispered, voice cracking with need. "Back in that room… I saw the way you looked at me when I didn't say shit. And I hated myself for making you feel like you were nothing."

His teeth grazed your neck and you whimpered, in turn earning a chuckle from him, kissing that sound right off your throat.

"I missed the way you sound when I'm deep inside you and you're trying not to beg." His hand left your ass only to return lower this time, pushing between your thighs, cupping you through your jeans, palm rough and equipped with fingers spreading wide.

"You remember last week?" he breathed. "When you were on your knees in the locker room for me? We couldn't even wait to get home. Had your mouth wrapped around my cock in no time, eyes all wide like a good slut."

You shuddered. Fuck. He was right. "I couldn't even keep quiet," he groaned, grinding into you again, cock jerking between you. "Had to bite my damn fist so I wouldn't moan your name loud enough to echo."

He pressed his forehead to yours now, eyes burning into you, pupils blown out while his hand stid up your shirt, hot and possessive, dragging against your abdomen, past your chest, fingers grazing a nipple to watch you twitch.

Your jeans were shoved past your thighs with no patience, letting them crumple around your ankles as he kissed you like a starving animal, teeth that took hold of your lower lip and tugged before he ducked down to kiss a path along your throat, biting, sucking and marking.

You tilted your head back, hissing through clenched teeth. His fingers dipped between your cheeks, spreading and pressing against your hole through your underwear before impatiently hooking the thin material to drag it down.

You gasped when a familiar intrusion was detected, knees buckling, hands flying to the back of his head, grabbing messy fists of his hair as he groaned into you.

He spit directly onto his hand to breach you, working you open with slow, calculated thrusts that had your thighs shaking.

"Fuck, Mike—”

"Yeah?" he panted, eyes dark as he looked down at you. "What's that, baby? Need more?"

Another finger slid up, two of them now pressing against your hole, slicked from his spit and pushed in together. You choked on your own moan, head slamming back against the wall as your hole fluttered around him.

"God, fuck," you breathed, nails digging into his scalp.

"That's it," he groaned. "Squeeze me, baby. Fuckin' love how tight you are."

He fingered you hard with deep thrusts, curling his fingers to rub that spot inside you he knew would make you whimper.

There was barely any time to blink before he spun you around and bent you over the side of the bed, chest to the sheets, ass high, hole wet and ready. You heard the rustle of fabric, his jeans and boxers shoved down in one frantic motion.

The head of his cock landed against your hole, hot and thick and leaking, smearing pre all over your rim.

You pushed back instinctively, desperate, whining. Mike gripped your hip, hard enough to bruise and shoved in.

One hard, brutal thrust and he was buried to the hilt, thick cock stretching you open so fast it burned.

You shouted, voice caught between pain and need and he groaned loud behind you, head dropping forward.

"Fuuuck-God, you take it so good," he panted.

He started fucking you the second you gave him the signal you were ready. hard, fast thrusts that had the bed creaking under you, his hips slamming into your ass with wet, slapping sounds. His cock dragged against your walls perfectly, every vein rubbing against your insides and wrecking you.

Your hands clawed at the sheets, fingers curled in tight fists as you moaned into the mattress. He grunted behind you with every thrust.

"You love how I fuck you. Say it." He growled, leaning over you, his chest pressing to your back, voice hot in your ear.

You gasped, sweat dripping from your forehead, your body shaking as he fucked you harder, deeper.

"S-say it—"

"I love it," you moaned. "Fuck, Mike, I love—don't stop—"

He growled, biting your shoulder, fucking you so deep your toes curled, dragging you back onto his cock with both hands gripping your hips, fucking you like he meant to split you open, balls slapping your ass with every brutal thrust.

The tightening in your abdomen, dick twitching under you, untouched but aching. "Gonna cum, baby?" he grunted.

"Yes—yes—fuck—" He reached under you, jerking your cock with the same savage rhythm he was fucking you with, fist sliding up and down as your whole body tensed when the limit was reached, spurting across the sheets in thick ropes, ass clenching around Mike's cock like a vice.

And he soon followed you. Hot and thick. Spilling inside you in heavy, shuddering spurts, his hips twitching with every wave as he buried his face in your neck and groaned your name.

The silence afterward was thick. You laid there, sprawled across the bed, chest heaving, body boneless, glistening with sweat, streaked with Mike's cum and your own. The sheets were ruined beneath you, stained and crumpled and far, far from innocent. Your legs were still splayed, too lazy to close, too drunk on everything he'd just given you.

You didn't bother covering yourself. Couldn't, really. Even the air was too warm.

Mike was sitting on the edge of the bed, jeans only halfway zipped, still shirtless, bare chest flushed, muscles glistening. He leaned down over you, dropping loud and chaste kisses across your chest, obnoxious on purpose, wet and smacking. His grin stretched against your skin between each kiss.

"You're such a mess right now." He muttered, voice low and lazy, dragging his mouth to your nipple and licking it once, slow and hot.

You rolled your eyes, laughing breathlessly, fingers carding through his sweat-damp hair. "Asshole."

He grinned wider. "You loved every second of it."

Another kiss, right over a blooming bruise he'd left earlier.

A sound was barely registered at first due to how quick it was. You were too high off him and relaxed.

A gasp. It slipped into the air like a ghostly breath and the moment it reached your ears, it swelled, filling them entirely.

Ashley's voice, halfway to a whisper, but instantly sharp. "Mike? Are you here—oh—oh my God—"

Everything slammed into motion. Your body tensed under Mike's immediately, like a live wire yanked from the wall. You turned your head so fast your neck cracked, locking on the door where Ashley stood with Matt behind here, pale-faced and frozen, mouth open mid-word.

And he shouted too the second he realized what he and her had stumbled into when they were sent by Emily to search for Mike. "Oh! Fuck! Jesus! We're—we're sorry—"

Ashley backed up, hand flying to her face, babbling fast, her voice already rising. "Oh my God—oh my God, I didn't—I'm so sorry—oh God, we didn't know—"

"Fuckin'—GET OUT!" Mike barked, already grabbing the crumpled sheet from beside you and yanking it over your waist, shielding your lower half as he stood, chest heaving, voice snapping like a whip.

His body was between you and the door now, wide and furious.

But the door was still open and you saw Hannah peeking in at the back.

Her eyes found yours immediately and you couldn't even breathe.

She looked like someone had slapped her. Face drained white. Mouth parted, the whole picture clicking into place.

You could barely hear anything over the pounding in your ears when she turned and ran away.

The door finally slammed shut by Mike, rattling in its frame as silence dropped like a hammer.

You were shaking Heart still jackhammering. Sheet pulled tight to your chest. Breath shallow.

Mike turned back. His chest was rising fast, hair stuck to his forehead. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something but his eyes, when they locked on yours, were full of panic and devastation.

You tried to speak and nothing came out as well.

Mike dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, hands sliding to your thighs, gripping tight and dropping his forehead to press it to your knee.

His voice came out wrecked. "I'm so fucking sorry." The silence swallowed it.

[satowooo]

DID YOU LIKE HER IN THE MORNING? g. satoru

contents. angst, almost a second chance romance.

Fumbling with Gojo Satoru was the biggest mistake one can ever make. Unfortunately, the biggest mistake you ever made.

High school love… will probably be the last time you'll ever fall in love again. It swept you off your feet, got your heart jumping off your chest as it beat loudly towards the man you pine over, the love that turned your darkest days to a full ray of sunshine, to the point that it felt so unreal. So surreal. So perfect.

How did you let that happen?

So crossing paths with the man you deeply and greatly love, even until today, brought so many memories back to your mind. As a gust of wind blows past your face, a flashback of what once was got your heart reeling and clenching, as Gojo Satoru walked right past you.

Walk right towards a stranger. Towards a woman.

With a smile on his face that tells you, “I've moved on.”

And then there's the bittersweet taste in your tongue, as you stared so hopelessly still in love, hopeless still in pain over the smile that used to be yours.

“Did you like her in the morning? Right before the sleep left your eyes?”

“Toru, wake up,” You said as you left featherlight kisses on his cheek.

There was a small smile that crept on Satoru's face, pulling you closer to his embrace as he leaned in to your kisses. Then, he slowly rubs his nose against yours, his eyes still closed as he murmurs, “Just a bit more.”

A satisfied hum left your lips as you stared at his sleepy state, with his eyes still closed as the two of you drowned into each other's embrace. It was the quiet and calm atmosphere that you loved most during this hour, and the light smell of breakfast spreading through the air from the kitchen, and most of all, the look on Satoru's face as he slowly opens his eyes.

He blinked once to rub the sleep away from his eyes, and then there's the sincere smile across his face. The way his eyes softly stared at you, full of love and the genuine emotions that always show his affections, and you swear you could stay like this forever. His eyes were always too vocal, that always seemed to tell you that there was nothing else he knows other than to love you.

“Good morning, love.”

Did he do this with her too?

“Did you laugh over cold cups of coffee? That you hate but still drank anyway.”

Satoru was never a coffee drinker, but he'd force himself to drink one just because he sees how you loved it. Despite how coffees always keeps him up at night, and how his sleeping schedule was already messed up as it was, he'd still do anything just to make you smile.

“One Americano, and a Hazelnut Brew.” The waiter said as he placed the two cups of coffee at your table. You gave him a small smile and a ‘thank you’, then stared unknowingly at Satoru’s choice of drink.

“Are you sure you're drinking that?”

“Of course. It's good to have a little caffeine in my system every now and then.” Satoru would say smugly, sipping on the straw nonchalantly.

You watched the way he slowly tasted the drink, anticipating his reaction at the black coffee that is now running on Satoru's throat. You watched the way he slowly moves the cup away from his lips, and back on the table with an uneasy look that he tried to mask with a tight smile.

Don't get him wrong. It's not that the drink didn't taste good—it was perfect—so perfect that this might be the last time he'll ever let his tongue taste something so foreign to his buds. Satoru shivers, before he looks at you helplessly.

“Is it bad?” You chuckled.

“Good. Good…” He pouted, taking another sip as he looked away to avoid your gaze. It was so easy to read Satoru, and it warmed your heart even more that he was willing to do this just for the sake of nothing, just Satoru being your Satoru.

“We can switch drinks–”

“Absolutely not. I told you, it taste sooooo good!” The exaggeration was so evident in his voice as he took a long sip, ending with a cough and a frown on his face that made you laugh even more.

And now, you could only laugh painfully at the memory.

It was always a wonder to you ever since you two broke up. Did Satoru ever change? Did Satoru ever try coffee at least once in his life again while you were away just to taste the bittersweet memory of your love that didn't last? Did Satoru ever force himself to drink a good cup of coffee on a blind date just to impress the lady sitting opposite from him, and ended up having thoughts of you instead?

Did he ever force himself to sit down, alone, in a coffee shop downtown and stared out the window, in hopes that someone could ring the cafés door, just to see it was you?

Because you did. Every single time you did. Your time stood frozen, slowed down inside a small shop, your coffee gone cold as you feel that familiar looming aura in your chest. It aches, and it aches, and it aches so bad. And you're staring at the space in front of you, where Satoru used to be.

“Did you like her touch at night time? Did all the pretending help you forget? Was she weightless in just your sweater? And does it feel heavy now to look at me instead?”

It's torturing, seeing him happy with someone else, which should've been you, could've been you. That smile would have stretch on his lips for you, because it had always been for you.

But now is different. Now is just you, eyes focused on the road ahead, where there was no Satoru walking on the same path, and him, walking in the direction right past your shoulder. And he didn't glance at you. Didn't seem to notice that it was you who was only a touch far away as he took a step. Didn't seem to know that it was his greatest love that brushed past him.

“Did your hands find her waist when she got sloppy? After just a few Manhattans in Berlin, would you kiss her goodnight, would you walk her inside? Did you hope the nights would never ever end? And again.”

“What's wrong, Satoru?”

His head shot up at the voice. Luna, his date, looked at him worriedly. He had been going on dates for quite a while now, after finally and barely getting over the break up that had occured years ago. And Luna was the first girl he had a second date with after the many failed attempts of other blind dates, that turned into another date. Until a month passed with her.

To Satoru, she was perfect. He didn't want to admit it. To him, everything will always be about you. But now, he's trying to make it seem like it's not, as he focused on everything about Luna instead.

“Nothing's wrong.” He smiled forcefully to assure her. He grabs her waist, leading her around the bustling crowd of the city to go on about their date. And she gives him a smile, a smile that always made him feel guilty.

“But answer the question, did you like her in the morning?”

At some point, maybe he did. He liked that feeling of the morning kisses and the smell of coffees and pancakes. He loved that quiet night time of nothing but the sound of their breaths, and the beat of their hearts. He liked the soft touches and taking her home, and kissing her forehead.

He liked the feeling.

But he was cursed. In every corner, every unknown face, every single girl he met, he will always try to find them in you. He liked the feeling, but it was never with you.

And he knows, whatever he had with this new girl, it will never last. Like it always did after you happened.

Because he's looking back. He's tilting his head to glance at your direction, clenching his fist as he stops himself from calling, from asking how you were, from pulling you back to him.

Just like you, he didn't know if you saw him cross paths with you. He hopes you noticed. He hopes you knew it was him. He hopes you'd look back too. Yet, he also hopes you wouldn't look back either, and see him with another, because it will pain him to see the look on your face, whether it be pain or acceptance.

This will always be the cruelest reality that the two of you will never accept. Satoru will always hope that it was you right next to him. And you will always hope that you have never let him go.

oh well...

[thesquidgame]

Promises

Kang Dae-ho x reader

Summary: You and Dae-ho's relationship, from the beginning, to one night in a subway station.

Warning: female reader who can get pregnant, abusive parents, existential crisis, misogyny and toxic masculinity (not from Dae-ho), PTSD, shootings, injury, infertility, a lot of medical talk, surgery, male infertility, guilt and hopelessness, medical emergency with a pregnant woman, premature baby, lmk if I missed anything

The character's references to their infertility is their emotions and feelings towards the situation as a trauma response. A person struggling with infertility is not broken or a failure in any way whatsoever.

15k

It was the middle of the night, when you met Dae-ho. You were working at your job in a convenience store, and were staring at your phone. You had been scrolling for what felt like hours when you heard someone approach the cash register. You put your phone down, preparing for a quick transaction. Only to be surprised that  when you looked up, you saw the most attractive man you had ever seen in your entire life. 

He was wearing a full military uniform, and his hat was off revealing a shaved head.

“Um, hi.” You said, immediately internally face-palming because of your stupid first line.

“Hi!” The man said, “just this please!” He was smiling, even though it was after midnight on a Monday.

You panned down to see a candy bar and a sugary drink guaranteed to rot anyone’s teeth. Shockingly, you had only ever sold it to children before. 

“Um, yeah of course.” Jeez, was um the only word in your vocabulary?

You quickly scanned the items, and the smiling military man grabbed them both, “thanks, see you later!”

Puzzled, you stared at him as he walked away, confused as to what had just happened with that smiling sculpted-by-the-gods man.

The man came in every night after that, always around midnight, and always with a smile on his face. After the first day, you noticed that he would go outside, eat whatever he had bought in front of the door, and then leave. You understood, sometimes after your shift ended you would stand in front of the convenience store for a while, just sighing. It was nice to have a moment of peace somewhere besides work or home.

After a week you got the courage to go outside and talk to him, “hi, excuse me, you’re welcome to come inside.” He turned, looking at you as he sipped his drink through a straw, “I just mean… I have another chair, you could. Um.” You paused, mortified. “I’m sorry, ignore me.” You hesitated for another second before saying, “Sir?” You were unsure of the title you should greet him with

He laughed, in a way that clearly felt like he was not admonishing you. “Sorry, that would be great.” He reached out his hand towards you, “and the only people who call me sir are the new recruits, you can call me Dae-ho.” You shook his hand.

Dae-ho came and sat on a chair that was halfway behind the cashier, and halfway in the open. “I’m sorry to be so awkward, I just don’t talk to too many people on the night shift. It’s the middle of winter so I thought you would be more comfortable inside.” He looked at you, entirely seriously, “I don’t think you’re awkward at all.”

You smiled, looking away from him. If he looked in your eyes he would definitely see how flustered you were. “Thank you.”

You were terrible at flirting. Terrible, awful. Every attempt you had made with previous guys and crashed and burned. The only people you actually dated were alpha male types who took control of every situation. They said the first line, your conversations followed their lead, and when you approached a topic they didn’t understand, or didn’t want to talk about, that would no longer be the topic you were talking about. 

Dae-ho wasn’t like that. At all.

Whenever you approached a new topic he would prop his elbow up on the table and rest his head on his hand, staring at you intently. No matter how long it would take you to get the idea across, or how long you rambled on about one topic, he would listen. He would never interrupt, only ask questions when you were done.

On one especially cold night, the power went out. The streets had become icy, and Dae-ho refused to let you make your way home in the dark by yourself. And you refused to let him walk you home, only to turn around right after and walk by himself in the dangerous conditions to the subway station.

So, you both were sitting in the back room of the tiny little convenience store, as far from the front as possible to stay warm until the power came back on. Your phone said it would be in an hour at most, and you crossed your fingers that it would because it was getting colder by the minute.

There was something about a small room, with no windows, that made deep conversations so much easier. Dae-ho was sitting cross-legged in front of you, talking about his mother and sisters, and how close he was with all of them even into adulthood. It made perfect sense, every time you learned something about him it clicked perfectly into place like a puzzle piece.

“All of my sisters have kids already. My oldest sister has three already.” He said, eating a bag of chips that you snagged from inventory.

“Three, well that’s not so bad. One of my friends in high school had eight siblings.” You laughed, and Dae-ho grimaced.

“Nine kids, and I thought five was way too many.” He said, chuckling.

“By the way Dae-ho, I just realized I never asked how old you are.” You felt embarrassed. That was one of the first questions you were supposed to ask, but somehow you had skipped that step. Dae-ho had insisted you talk informally even though he was in the military, and you begrudgingly did so. It would be amusing if he was younger than you after all.

Dae-ho took a swig of his drink, “I’m 24.” You gasped, “really? I’m 25, that makes me your elder.” You laughed, and Dae-ho blushed.

“Yeah, I guess that does.” He said, smiling as he ate another chip.

“So how old’s your sister? How crazy three kids really is depends on your age.” You laughed.

“She’s 28.” Dae-ho said, looking down.

“Wait, that means that all of you are less than a year apart! Your poor mother.” You laughed, only stopping when you noticed Dae-ho frowning. “Oh, I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean to-” “No, no it’s fine.” He said, “my dad really wanted a boy. So my mom, just- just couldn’t stop until I was born.” He looked pained, and your heart broke for both him and his mother.

“Dae-ho, I’m sorry, that must’ve been really difficult for your mother.” You reached out for his hand. It twitched, but he kept it still. Everything in Dae-ho’s nature told him to pull away, but all he wanted was to be comforted by you as tears threatened to spill out of his eyes.

He sniffled, “yeah, it really was. She had health issues for years after I was born.” You squeezed his hand, “I’m sorry, we barely know each other, I shouldn’t be crying about all my problems to you.”

“Dae-ho, it’s alright. I’m not going to judge you. If it would make you feel better, I could talk about my problems too.” You said, trying to comfort him. “You- you really don’t have to do that.” He said, wiping his eyes with the back of his jacket. He had offered to let you wear it too, over your already thick winter coat, but you refused to take away his only source of warmth.

There was a pause between the two of you, where you decided if you wanted to share or not. Dae-ho didn’t want to force you to talk, so he opened his mouth, ready to fill the silence. 

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m a failure.” You whispered. “I moved to Seoul with stars in my eyes or whatever they say, and so far all I’ve accomplished is a shitty dead end job. There aren’t any entry level positions for my degree open anywhere, and I just feel like my life is a boring, endless cycle.” Tears dropped from your eyes onto your jeans, “I’m really scared. What if it stays this way forever. Just being the under-achiever and the pushover who isn’t capable of making anything happen. Not interesting enough to have anyone listen to what I say.” Dae-ho squeezed your hand, interrupting you for the first time, “hey, I’m here. I’m listening. I think you’re interesting enough.” You looked up at him, and he smiled. “Who you are is enough, and you aren’t an under-achiever, or a pushover. You’re not failing, the world’s just waiting for the right time to let you live your destiny.” You smiled back at him and laughed. “Hey Dae-ho?” “Yeah?” “Can I ask you something crazy?” He smiled, and in that moment you could’ve sworn he would’ve said yes to anything. “Sure.” “Can I kiss you?” 

He didn’t answer. Instead he leaned forward and kissed you. It wasn’t like all the kisses you’d seen in movies. Your tongues didn’t ‘battle for dominance,’ and you didn’t feel the burn of lust in your stomach. It felt- sweet. It felt safe. His lips were soft, and his hand was gently holding your cheek.

After a minute, he leaned back, and he blushed, “that was nice.”

You giggled as he wiped a tear off your cheek with his thumb, “yes, that was.” Right after your kiss the power came back on, “I guess it’s time to go home.”

Dae-ho picked up his trash and stood up, groaning loudly as he stretched. “Yeah, I guess it is.” You grabbed all of your things as slowly as you could, not wanting to leave Dae-ho’s side. “Well, I guess this is goodbye.” Dae-ho said as you stood outside the store, locking it with your key. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” Dae-ho turned around, looking like a sad puppy. You watched him slowly walk a couple of feet. He undoubtedly had no idea what he was doing, but he still looked miserably pitiful. 

“Dae-ho?”

“Yes?” He turned around in a heartbeat, his big eyes pleading to you.

You sighed, “do you want to come and stay in my apartment? Since it’s so cold and you would have to wait for the subway?” 

“Yes!” Dae-ho’s whole face lit up, and he jogged towards you with a huge smile on his face. You giggled, he was such a goofball. 

You walked to your apartment slowly, due to the frigid cold. You almost slipped on ice several times. While Dae-ho was wearing heavy duty-combat boots that could grip the snow much better than your sneakers did, you still felt reassured in your decision to not let him walk home by himself. He caught you several times, and only almost slipped once, when he let out a very dramatic “ahhh,” when his left foot slipped for a half a second.

Giggling further, you felt bad when he looked at you with those big puppy eyes, but you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny.” You giggled.

He glanced away, his cheeks growing redder, “okay, it’s a little bit funny.” Your apartment was a lot warmer than outside. The hallways and stairwells weren’t heated, but at least there wasn’t the constant threat of ice and the temperature wasn’t in single digits.

You weren’t sure what to expect when you got inside your apartment. Dae-ho was a gentleman, but you weren’t sure how he would interpreta girl inviting him into her apartment in the middle of the night.

The second you unlocked your door, you both took off your shoes. “Ugh, that smells awful.” 

Dae-ho looked offended as he sat off the floor unlacing his other shoe. “It does not! So rude.” He apprehensively reached over to grab his boot, only to recoil in shock when he sniffed it, “Oh god. That is… That is just awful.”

You laughed heartily, your anxiety at least partially having gone away after you witnessed Dae-ho’s adorable reaction to his own shoes. He laughed too. 

Your apartment was tiny. A studio room with the bedroom and living room areas divided only by a curtain. The kitchen only consisted of a single stove top and a mini-fridge. Yet, Dae-ho didn’t look uncomfortable whatsoever. In fact, he made himself at home. Right after he took off his shoes he walked over to your couch and sat down. “This is a really comfortable couch!”

For some reason, that made your giggles turn into something a bit more serious. “Thank you.” It was a really nice couch, and your favorite thing in your apartment. When a neighbor from the first floor moved out, she asked if anyone wanted a couch that “wouldn’t fit with the aesthetic of her new house,” and you gladly took her up on her offer. You had tugged it up the stairs and into your apartment. It had taken hours, and nearly a couple of broken bones. But it was a very nice couch. It was softer than any couch you had ever sat on, and when you looked it up you saw that it cost 1500 dollars. A number you found completely shocking to spend on a couch. “It is a really nice couch.”

Dae-ho didn’t seem to notice you getting emotional, “woah, and it reclines too. This is so fancy. I feel like a king!” He pushed the buttons over and over again, reclining and un-reclining several times. 

He was entirely oblivious to your emotions, and you were glad. No one had ever commented on your fancy sofa. Not the few guys you had dated, not your friends, no one. But here he was, an incredibly attractive man, sitting on the couch that only he had noticed, giggling about a recline feature. His smile was infectious, and you didn’t want to bring him down. In fact, his smile made you start smiling too.

“Can I get you anything?” You said, bending over to look in your tiny fridge to see what you could grab for him. The fridge came with the apartment, and you didn’t see a reason to get a larger one. Especially since you lived so close to a store that sold almost everything you. Plus, you had an employee discount.

You turned around to see Dae-ho staring at you, and he blushed when you made eye-contact. “Just water is fine.” He muttered. You were confused for a second, just a moment ago he was acting like he lived here and now he was being shy?

Oh. Oh. You had bent over and he was staring at your ass, giving him quite a fine view. “Do you like the view?” You said teasingly.

“What? What view? Um yes.” He said flustered. You looked back at him, stifling a laugh, “I mean. No, no of course not. I- I would never.”

“Oh, so you don’t like the view of the skyline.” You gestured towards the window that was slightly visible past the half-drawn curtain separating the room into two.

“Oh! I love that view. Yes, of course.” He sat in silence for a moment, before finally understanding, “you’re messing with me, aren’t you.”

You giggled, walking over to him and handing him a glass of water. “Bingo.” As you sat down next to him on the couch the room grew quiet. You moved closer to one another unconsciously, and Dae-ho stopped when he was a few inches away from your face. You could feel his breath on your lips “(Y/n), can I kiss you. Again.”

You nodded, and he closed the distance between you. This kiss was just as good as the first, and entirely different. It was passionate, and his tongue explored your mouth. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to survive. You had never been that good at kissing, never finding it natural or comfortable. But with him, kissing was like breathing.

You and Dae-ho made out on the couch like teenagers for at least an hour. You stopped to make jokes, and talk about various things. But even after all that, you were still nervous. Although you really liked Dae-ho, you didn’t want to sleep with him right now. You weren’t even dating, and that was a boundary you didn’t feel like crossing until far deeper in the relationship.

You trusted Dae-ho, and knew that if you said no he wouldn’t push it, but you didn’t want to make things awkward. What if he left? What if he wasn’t interested any more? A lot of guys you had dated had been turned off by you not wanting to sleep with them. You couldn’t explain why you wanted to wait until you had been together longer. You weren’t opposed to sex before marriage, and you didn’t have any special desire to be a virginal bride. But that trust took a long time to build, and you hadn’t been in a relationship with someone you liked enough to date for longer than a few months. That was why it just hadn’t happened yet. A guy who got pissed you wouldn’t sleep with them was not someone you wanted to have sex with, and certainly not someone you wanted to marry, or really date for any longer than 30 seconds after they said that.

While you were taking a water break from cuddling on the couch, Dae-ho finally asked the dreaded question. “Do you want to sleep with me?” He sounded a little bit nervous and bashful, but knowing him he meant it. Dae-ho had a dislike for lying, something he had told you that stemmed from the trauma of not realizing that Santa Claus wasn’t real well into his teens.

Your whole body froze up. Another thousand questions ran through your head. What if he gets embarrassed and leaves? Or what if you were a complete idiot and he was like all those other guys. “I’m sorry, I really don’t want to. It’s just I’ve been waiting until I’m in a long term relationship and I know we’re going to-” Dae-ho interrupts you, “Okay.”

Wait, what. “Okay?” 

He shrugged, taking a sip of water, “Okay. I don’t mind. I think we have a very important conversation about our favorite types of soup to get back to anyways.” You were flabbergasted. For some reason you hadn’t thought that anyone actually wouldn’t care. But here he was, not trying to push you any further. Not only was he not pushing about sex, but he wasn’t pressuring you into talking about your reasoning.

“Ye- yes. Yes we do.” 

You stayed up until the sun had almost risen, talking about if stew was only stew if it had meat in it, if Santa’s Sleigh could really fly, and other random things from your lives. 

Dae-ho finally started falling asleep, even though he was doing his best to hide it. After his eyes closed for far longer than the length of a blink, you giggled and put a stop to it. “Dae-ho, I’m really tired. Is it alright if we go to bed.”

Dae-ho’s eyes lit up. He clearly didn’t want to admit that he needed to sleep, so you gladly took that burden off his shoulders. “Yeah, sure, if you’re tired.” He kissed you gently on the forehead, and leaned back on the recliner, “goodnight (y/n).”

“Goodnight Dae-ho.”

In 30 seconds he was asleep.

You were wrong. It didn’t take a long time to build a deep level of trust with someone. Dae-ho said I love you on your third date, and you did on your fifth. You were living together in four months, and he proposed in six. You decided to wait until you got married to sleep with him. You wanted to feel completely and utterly whole on your wedding day, and having two moments that you considered important life events in one of the most important days of your life felt so perfect.

Dae-ho had slept with a couple of girls before, but he didn’t mind waiting at all. In fact, when you told him the reason you wanted to wait, he smiled a big smile and kissed you, “that is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said!”

Meeting his parents shortly after your engagement was the most difficult part of your relationship so far. His father was a quiet man. He sat cross legged on the low table you were sitting at, silently staring at you and Dae-ho while his mother brought out countless dishes one by one. You had met all of his sisters very early on in your relationship, so this was a dinner with just the four of you.

“So, I see you and Dae-ho are going to get married.” It was a statement of fact. You were quickly learning that Dae-ho’s father took everything seriously. 

“Yes sir.” Dae-ho addressed his father. You knew they had a very strained relationship. Dae-ho always felt overwhelmed by his father’s militaristic personality and masculine persona, but never confronted him about it to try and avoid dragging his mother into whatever argument would ensue.

However, you weren’t expecting him to call his father sir. The same title he called all his superiors in the army.

“You will have the wedding in the church down the street.” Again, no question. Dae-ho fidgeted on the floor, a tell-tale sign he was uncomfortable. You squeezed his hand.

“We were actually looking at a few venues. There was one in a botanical garden that Dae-ho was especially…” Your sentence trailed off. Both men stared at you intensely. Dae-ho’s father like he was offended you were speaking, and Dae-ho with an increasingly uncomfortable look.

It was his turn to squeeze your hand. “The church is really nice. We can get married there.” He said quietly. He didn’t want to get married in the church. He wanted to get married in the botanical garden. But you could tell this was not an issue he wanted to approach with his father, so you let it be.

You plastered on a fake smile, “church it is!”

His mother came into the living room, with a smile the exact same as Dae-ho’s on her face. “Alright, the food is ready!”

His father immediately started grabbing food, not hesitating for a moment. “This is too salty.” He said the moment he took a bite.

Her face fell, “oh, I’m sorry.”

You reached for the same dish he had rejected, and put some on your plate before taking a large bite. “Mm, this is delicious Mrs. Kang.”

Her face lit up, “thank you so much!” Dae-ho’s father scowled at her, and her smile depleted. “I appreciate you being kind about it.” 

Their family dynamics were playing out in front of your eyes. Dae-ho’s father was the boss. And everyone else had to obey him. The rest of the dinner played out in similar fashion, whenever anyone expressed an opinion differing from the family’s patriarch’s, it would get very quiet. Then, finally, he would start the conversation up again. You were the one who spoke ‘out of line’ the most. Dae-ho and his mother were far more practiced at deferring to him. After a delicious dinner, Dae-ho’s father stood up, “I think the men should go talk, the women can stay here and clean up.” Your stomach turned. You were liking this man less and less each time he opened his mouth.

Dae-ho was quiet, and followed his dad out of the room, into what you assumed was his dad’s ‘man cave.’

The second they left, his mother’s personality did a complete 180. A smile you hadn’t seen since she first entered the room spread across her face, and she asked a flurry of questions. “How old are you? Where are you from? How did you and my Dae-ho meet?” You quickly saw that Dae-ho took after his mother. Not only were they a splitting image of each other due to their enthusiastic smiles, but their bubbly personalities matched. You answered every question that she asked enthusiastically, and asked many of your own in return. As the conversation went on you finished packing away all the food and washing the dishes, and moved to sit at the table with a hot cup of tea that she had made from herbs in the garden.

She got quiet, and looked at you, “You know, my Dae-ho, he’s not like a lot of boys. He’s a marine, of course and he’s very strong, but…” She paused, taking a sip of her tea, “he’s soft. Not- not in a bad way, at least I don’t think so. But, he needs to be taken care of.’

“Not in the way I take care of my husband, with the chores and children,” she laughed, but it lacked enthusiasm , “But, more, in the way a man takes care of a woman.”

You knew exactly what she meant. You didn’t agree with the phrasing. It was clearly the mentality of the older generation, one that her father and husband likely drilled into her, but you understood. Dae-ho needed someone to treat him gently, the way he treated you. The way couples were supposed to treat each other. 

She was saying that he was not like her husband, and that your relationship should not be like hers.

You reached for her hand and squeezed it, “I know. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of eachother.”

She smiled, and then the men came back in. Dae-ho’s father was acting like his usual self, and Dae-ho looked even more uncomfortable than he did before, if that was possible.

His father slapped him on the back, and said “we’ll do this again.”

You turned back to his mother, and you saw that a little bit of her spark had left when her husband came back into the room. You left quickly, without lingering in the apartment, and walked into the warm air of the summer night.

Dae-ho was quiet as you walked to your car. Once he stepped into the driver's seat (something you didn’t expect as you usually drove), he slumped over. 

“Dae-ho, what’s wrong? Did your father say something to you?” You rubbed your hand over his back and felt his shoulders shake.

He sat up, and you could see tears running down his face, “I’m not going to be like him. I swear to you. You and our children will never have the same life as me and my mother.”

His face was red, and he was wetting his t-shirt with tears that had already dripped off his face, “Dae-ho, what happened?” 

You reached towards his face and ran your thumb on his cheek, doing your best to wipe away his tears. He reached his hand up and gently held your wrist, not moving your hand away from his face.

“He- he told me I needed to learn how to be the man in the relationship. That I was weak, and that I- I-” You wiped away another tear, “I needed to put you in your place.”

Your heart broke. You had ideas of what had happened in Dae-ho’s childhood. Scars that you knew didn’t come from the Marines. Times when he took a long time in the shower, where you could hear cries just barely over the sound of the water. 

He reached up and gently held onto your face, staring in your eyes as he cried “I swear to you, I will always keep you safe. We are going to be happy, and I will never let anyone hurt you or the family we’re going to have. I promise”

You nodded, and stroked his cheek again, “I know Dae-ho, you are nothing like him.”

He leaned in and kissed you, lightly, as tears streamed out of his eyes.

You got married in the church, on a cold day almost exactly a year from when you got trapped in the store in a snowstorm. Your wedding was huge, and while it wasn’t exactly what you had wanted, it was still a wonderful day. Although more than half the guests were his father’s friends and colleagues, more than enough of your friends came to celebrate the both of you.

During your engagement you had planned more than just a wedding, you planned out the next 10 or so years. You had been an obsessive planner since you were younger. It relieved your anxiety to have a path to walk on. If you saved for the next year and a half you could afford a small house on the outskirts of Seoul, it was in a military housing neighborhood for Veterans and active duty service members who had served 10 or more years. Dae-ho entered the military when he was 18, so he only had three years left until his second five-year contract expired, when he would be discharged.

After you moved into your house you would start trying to have a baby. You spent long nights talking to each other about your future. When you first seriously talked about kids Dae-ho’s whole face lit up.

“You really want to have kids. Little babies that are half you and half me.” You were laying on your back on the bed, with your head slightly propped up by a pillow, and Dae-ho was laying on his stomach, resting his head on your chest between your boobs.

“Yes Dae-ho, I thought we had already talked about this!” You giggled, twirling a short piece of hair around your finger. He grew his hair out a little bit, it was still short, but it wasn’t buzzed anymore. “Of course I want to have kids with you.”

“I just thought- I kind of thought that you weren’t sure, and were just agreeing to make me happy.” He said quietly into your chest.

“Dae-ho, that’s crazy. You know I wouldn’t lie to you, especially about something as important as that.” 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I think I just pushed the anxiety of the thought that you were lying deep down so I didn’t have to deal with it. I was just scared. Because of…” He took a deep breath against your t-shirt, breathing in your smell to comfort himself, “after you met my dad I was scared you wouldn’t want to have kids with me. I know- I know you said I was nothing like him, but I was still nervous.”

You ran your fingers through his hair and gently tilted his head back to make eye contact, “Dae-ho, I need you to listen to me. I want to have a family with you, because I love you. When I look at you I don’t see your father’s son, I see you. I see Kang Dae-ho, the man I love, the man I choose to be with because I know how kind and gentle and loving he is.”

Dae-ho smiled, and a tear tracked down his cheek. You whispered, “so, of course I want to have a bunch of mini-yous running around.”

You hadn’t decided how many kids you wanted, knowing that no matter what you decided on now would likely change once you had a couple of little ones running around. You decided to have at least two, a boy and a girl. Even though you knew the genders weren’t something you could control at all.

Your wedding day was fantastic. Although his father only smiled when there was a camera in his face, and two of Dae-ho’s sisters’ kids threw up, it was wonderful.

And your wedding night was exactly what you had been dreaming about too. Dae-ho was kind, and soft, and gentle. You had still been scared, so much pressure was put on the moment to be perfect. And, it  was as close to perfect as it could be. It was romantic, and you felt closer to another human being than you had ever before. 

There were several bouts of laughter whenever Dae-ho would make a joke to relieve the tension. Dae-ho started crying at one point, and it made you cry too. There was so much love in this moment that it overflowed and formed tears from the both of you.

You had almost saved up enough money to buy a house when Dae-ho got a call. It had taken you longer than you had expected to save up money. You were desperately looking for a job in your field, and while you were looking you got fired from the convenience store. Your boss’ son had gotten to the age where he started working, and they needed to save money. Although you weren’t happy about it, there was nothing you could do.

After spending a month applying to any and every position you could find, nothing worked out. So, you had to go back to working at another small corner store, unfortunately, this time with less pay. It had been two years since your wedding, when Dae-ho came home excited. He was going on a trip to the countryside with his company, helping train new conscripts.

He left the next week, kissing your forehead before rushing out the door. You giggled, he acted like he was going on vacation, instead of going to a work event.

The first half of the week was normal. Dae-ho called every evening, and he dropped his voice several octaves each time. You could tell that members of his squad were always around him whenever talked louder and acted more macho on the phone.

It was late on Thursday night when you heard someone knocking at your door. You were confused as to what it could be, maybe one of your neighbors needed help with something? 

You looked through the peephole, surprised to see a man standing in a formal military uniform in the hallway. You opened it quickly, not bothering to fix your disheveled appearance.

“Are you Mrs. Kang?”

You rubbed your eyes with your hand, confused. “Yes. What is it?” “I’m here to inform you there’s been an incident involving your husband. We’ll need you to come with us.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, “what incident? What happened?” Dae-ho was at a training camp. He was supposed to be safe. What was happening.

“There was a shooting incident at the base, he is injured, but in stable condition. We will take you to the hospital as soon as possible. It’s best for him to have a family member with him at this time.”

“Okay, let me go change really quick.” You paused, looking up at the soldier, “Do you want to come in?” He shook his head, “No thank you ma’am.” You were still in shock. You weren’t fully conscious of what your body was doing as you changed and grabbed the necessities, a toothbrush, change of clothes, and all of you and Dae-ho’s medical information.

The car ride to the airport felt fuzzy, the soldier sitting next to you not saying anything as another man drove. The airplane was more surreal. You didn’t fly very often, travelling outside of Korea was a luxury you couldn’t afford. And whenever you travelled within Korea the train’s cheaper price point far outweighed the longer time it took to travel.

It started to sink in that something very bad had happened to your husband, and the thought itself felt like your heart was being squeezed in a vice grip.

The world still felt blurry until you finally arrived at the hospital. There was a vivid sunrise in the sky over the hospital, and you could hear birds singing.

The haze only completely stopped when you were guided to his hall, and a doctor approached you. “Hello, are you Mr. Kang Dae-ho’s wife.”

“Yes, yes I am.” You snapped into focus, a complete 180 from the past couple of hours. “Your husband is alright. There was a shooting on the base and in the chaos your husband was pushed down the stairs and fell onto a table.”

You let out a sigh of relief. In the back of your mind there had been a fear that your husband was critically injured, even though the soldier had informed you that he was stable. “He received injuries to his leg, back, and groin area. We don’t perceive any long term damage, however we will be monitoring him for the next couple of days.” “Can I see my husband?” The doctor had said all you needed him to say. Whatever else happened, the only person you wanted to hear it from was Dae-ho. You needed to be there by his side, to take care of him the way you had promised his mother you would.

“Yes, of course.”

The doctor led you down the hall, and opened Dae-ho’s door. He was awake and staring out the window from his hospital bed.

“Dae-ho!” You rushed towards him.

The look on his face confused you. He almost looked guilty. “What’s wrong?”

He chuckled, the laugh sounding forced, “I fell down the stairs, I’m gonna look a little weird for a while.” He smiled at you, but you didn’t believe it’s genuinity for a second. 

You backed away from him to close the door, and then walked back to sit at his bedside. “Dae-ho, please don’t lie to me. Tell me what happened.” He looked away, and sniffled, wiping his hand under his nose to brush over it, “it’s nothing, really.”

You grabbed the other hand and squeezed it, “okay. Then tell me what it is about this ‘nothing’ that’s making you upset. I promise, no matter what it is, I’ll be here for you.”

He got quiet, and whispered, “I couldn’t help.” He sniffled again. “I woke up to the sound of gunshots, and I was running towards them. For once in my life I wasn’t being a coward. But when I reached the stairs to help, someone brushed my arm, and I fell. The person ran past me and out the door, away from the gunshots. I- I couldn’t do anything.”

You squeezed his hand again, “it was dark, and all I could hear was the sounds of bullets. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do anything. I thought they would come and shoot me. The one time I try to do something right, the one time I try to be a real man, I fail. I failed those people, and all I could think was that I was going to die. I wanted to run, I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t move. My legs would probably work, but I was just too scared. I’m a coward”

He was crying, tears ran down his face, “Dae-ho, that wasn’t your fault. You were scared, you did what anyone else in your situation would do, no matter who they are.” You reached forward, and wiped some of the tears off his cheek.

“In the dark, I feel- I feel the same way I did. When they closed the curtains earlier today to let me sleep I was terrified. I heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and I wanted to run. And then the shame for wanting to run came. But I was scared. I couldn’t make myself sleep. I was so scared (y/n), I’m so sorry, I was scared, I was sca-”

You interrupted him, “Dae-ho, please don’t do this to yourself.”

He sighed, “I know, I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You leaned in, and laid on his chest the way he usually lays on you, “Dae-ho, please don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll tell you what, I’ll lay right here, and I’ll wake you up if I need any help. I promise you, nothing bad will happen while you sleep. ”

He nodded, even though you could still hear sniffling. It took him longer than usual to get to sleep. Usually within a minute it was lights out, but you could still hear the sound of quiet sobs for at least half an hour after you rested on his chest. You didn’t say anything, you knew that all he needed right now was presence, and to rest.

The next year was difficult. You decided to place your plans on hold to help Dae-ho heal. Nights were especially hard, you would wrap yourselves around one another for comfort. Dae-ho got quieter, and it was hard for him to be out in public. Everything was too loud. 

You realized very quickly that the two things he found most difficult were the dark, and loud noises. After his company briefly tried to put him back into the position he had before, they discovered that he was incapable of doing it. The first time there was a shooting drill Dae-ho panicked and ran away. They found him in a closet crying. He had come home guilty, and you held him as he cried because of the fear and shame that you couldn’t take away no matter how hard you tried

His superiors switched him to a desk job. Although Dae-ho felt ashamed, you had to admit that it suited him better. 

You moved into your new house after Dae-ho was officially discharged. He got a job at a small office run by another Marine veteran, and his hiring bonus was just enough for the down payment.

Although a lot of things had gone wrong in the last year, you settled into a life of normalcy. You got a job working for a fruit vendor at a local market, and were able to walk to and from work every day. The pay was just as terrible as before, but the hours allowed both you and Dae-ho to be home by 5 every day.

“Honey, I’m home!” Dae-ho said in English. ever since you had watched several 90s sitcoms, Dae-ho became obsessed with the cheesy line and said it every time he came home from work.

“I’m in the kitchen!” You called out, stirring a pot of soup you had made.

“Wow, it smells fantastic.” He said, walking up to you and kissing your cheek as he looked down at the pot. “You really didn’t have to do this, I know you must be exhausted.”

“I know, I just thought we should have an extra nice meal tonight.” Dae-ho raised an eyebrow, “why tonight specifically?”

You looked down at your feet, nervous, “well, I was thinking…” You looked back up at him, “I think it’s time to start trying for a baby.”

There was silence in the room for a moment. You knew Dae-ho wanted kids, but growing anxiety brewed in your stomach that maybe he wasn’t ready, or maybe the incident had changed his mind.

All that doubt was squashed when Dae-ho’s face erupted into the largest smile you had ever seen. He picked you up in both of his arms and started shouting “Yes, yes, yes! I’ve been waiting for this!”

He peppered kisses all over your face, and laughed heartily, “what do you mean you’ve been waiting for me?” You giggled, realizing that there wasn’t a hesitant bone in his body.

“Well, I mean that it���s your body. I didn’t want to pressure you. I figured that you would ask when you were ready.” The sentiment warmed your heart, and even though you didn’t think it was possible, made you even more sure you wanted this man to be the father of your child.

You kissed his forehead, “that might have been the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.” Dae-ho kissed you on the lips, and started walking towards the bedroom with you still in his arms. “Dae-ho! My soup.”

He pouted, but put you down. “After dinner.” You said, giggling.

“After a delicious dinner, I’ll have an even tastier treat.” You laughed, hitting him on the arm.

“Dae-ho, your mind is so dirty!” He laughed in response.

Your dinner was as delicious as you knew it would be, and your night was even better.

Planning was your strong suit. You had researched everything that would increase your chances at having a baby. You knew what you could, and couldn’t afford. Your budget fit raising kids, but there was no way you could afford IVF or any expensive medication anytime soon. You got a bunch of vitamins for the both of you, strictly tracked your ovulation cycle, and made a list of things you and Dae-ho couldn’t do to increase your chances of conceiving. No drinking, no eating certain foods, and an hour of exercise every day. You begrudged the lists. You only did all the things to increase your chances, but Dae-ho did everything enthusiastically. He was excited to take all the vitamins and eat all the special foods, and go on the nightly runs you had decided to do together after dinner. To him, it was another part of the exciting process of having a baby. To you, it was the torture you had to endure to get the greatest reward.

A lot of couples got pregnant quickly after trying. The year anniversary of the day you started trying, you started to get nervous. A year was abnormal

“Dae-ho, do you think something is wrong?” You asked him as you laid in bed one night.

“No, these things happen. It just takes longer for some people than others.” He kissed your shoulder as you spooned, and quickly went back to sleep. You stayed up longer, fearful about the possibility that something could be wrong.

A year and a half is when Dae-ho started to get anxious too. He did his best to hide it from you, but there were moments where you could feel his worry lingering in the air. Dae-ho’s sleep had gotten better. He would have nightmares, but he never had any trouble falling asleep. That changed when he started to worry about why you weren’t pregnant yet. He would hold you tight to his chest in the middle of the night, and you could hear his steady breathing for a much longer time than usual while you tried to fall asleep.

After two years, you made an appointment with a fertility doctor. It was expensive, so you wanted to postpone spending a lot of money on doctors as long as possible, but it became unavoidable. Whenever you had dinner with Dae-ho’s family you would both stare sadly at all of the nieces and nephews running around. 

Both of his parents would poke and prod and ask you when you were having kids. His mother in a kind, empathetic way, asking you dozens of probing details in her excitement of being a grandma again. As soon as you started trying for a baby, Dae-ho called her. He was giddy and excited on the phone, and they were both deeply enthusiastic. 

His father was different, and he got worse the longer it had been since you had started trying. He blamed Dae-ho for the fact that you didn’t have kids yet. He would always demand to know if you were pregnant yet. And Dae-ho would be forced to say that no, you weren’t. He would then call Dae-ho weak and tell him that he needed to “do better,” even though you being pregnant or not wasn’t something either of you had any control over once you had started doing everything you needed to to increase your chances..

But the biggest reason for you going to the fertility doctor, was that you both just really wanted to have kids. You would rub your belly absentmindedly during the day, and Dae-ho would quickly glance away each time you caught him looking. Your house was the same as it always had been, but with each negative pregnancy test it felt emptier. Quiet with the lack of pitter-patters from children’s little feet on the wooden floors.

You made an appointment early in the morning on Monday, before either of your shifts started. Dae-ho rested his hand on your thigh as you sat in the waiting room, his knee bouncing up and down at a rapid pace. “Dae-ho, it’s going to be okay.” You said, trying to convince yourself as well.

He smiled back at you, but you could see that you both had the same anxiety, “I know.”

They called your name, and you went into a middle-aged doctor’s office. “Hello, my name is Dr. Kim. Can I get a complete history from both of you.”

She had your medical files in front of her, and asked a dozen other questions to fill in any gaps. How often you had sex, what vitamins you were taking, what your diet was. 

“Well, you’re doing what you're supposed to, the next step is to do some tests to see if there are any medical reasons you haven’t successfully conceived yet.” She confirmed what you already knew, you were doing everything right. In the back of your mind you had hoped that you had missed something. You were taking the wrong vitamins, or eating the wrong foods. “And how long have you said you’ve been trying to get pregnant?” “Two years.” You said quietly.

She continued to tap on her keyboard, “it is possible that you’ve just been unlucky, and that there is nothing unusual medically. However, two years of trying without conceiving is abnormal, so these tests will be necessary to give us a comprehensive view of any factors contributing to your unsuccessful attempts at conception.’

“Mr. Kang, we will need you to give a sperm sample. A sperm sample is the only test needed to rule out male infertility. Mrs. Kang, there are several tests we need to do to see if there is anything on your part preventing you from getting pregnant. Today we will get a blood sample, and schedule other tests today for later if neither of your results have any abnormalities.”

You nodded. The entire situation was deeply uncomfortable. You didn’t want this to be part of your journey to parenthood, you wanted to be like everyone else. Romantic, and in a warmly lit bedroom instead of in a white doctor’s office. 

“What do I need to do for a sperm sample?” 

The doctor looked slightly confused, “well, we have a special room with some… material… to help you ejaculate into a cup. Then we send the sample to our lab to run tests, like sperm count and sperm quality.”

Dae-ho tilted his head like a confused puppy, “what do you mean by material?”

She looked incredibly uncomfortable, but you could tell that Dae-ho was truly confused and not trying to put the doctor in an awkward position. You grasped his arm, “she means porn, Honey.”

Dae-ho’s jaw dropped and he shook his head “Oh no, I don’t need any porn, I have my wife.”

The doctor quickly interjected, “sir, your wife cannot come with you.”

Dae-ho blushed, “oh yeah, of course sorry.”

The whole situation was almost amusing. The doctor’s panicked face and Dae-ho’s embarrassed expression. But you didn’t have the energy to find it funny, you were too scared. 

Dae-ho left for his tests, but stopped to kiss you before he left. “Goodluck, I love you.” You smiled, “You’ve got this Dae-ho, I love you too.”

The week after your doctor’s appointment was normal . You went to work, came home, then ate dinner together and fell asleep in bed next to one another. But there was anxiety under the surface. There were more silent pauses where both of you were too preoccupied with your thoughts to say anything, and you both stayed awake long after you turned off the lights in bed. Dae-ho slept with his hand on your stomach, and his hand was clammy with the same fear you were feeling.

You got a call on Friday afternoon, “Mr. and Mrs. Kang, could we schedule a meeting next week to go over your test results?” “Yes, the doctor said we should schedule some more tests, can I do that now?”

There was a pause on the other line, “Dr. Kim doesn’t think that is necessary at this time.”

Your heart dropped. They had found something wrong. You knew it. That was the only reason they didn’t need to test anything else. They had already found the problem.

Dae-ho came home half an hour later, and you were laying in bed on your side with the curtains drawn, crying. “Honey, I’m home!”

You couldn’t call out to him. You knew the statistics, it was almost always the woman’s. You were too ashamed to face him, knowing that you were the reason you and Dae-ho couldn’t have the one thing you wanted more than anything else in the world- a family.

 “(Y/n)! Where are you?”

Dae-ho rushed through your small house, desperately looking for you everywhere. You heard the footsteps stop when he reached the bedroom. He was standing in the doorway when he saw your figure laying in bed. “(Y/n), what’s wrong.” He quietly approached you, walking around the bed to kneel down in front of you, reaching up to gently wipe your tears away. 

“I- I got a call from the doctor. They got the results back and wanted to set up an appointment.” His face looked concerned, but he stayed quiet as he waited for you to continue, “I think- I think somethings wrong with me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I failed you.”

The tears started to come stronger. You felt like you couldn’t do anything right. You couldn’t get a job, couldn’t fix your husband’s trauma, and now you couldn’t do the thing you were made for as a woman.

“(Y/n), look at me,” he stroked your hair out of your eyes, “this is not your fault. We don’t know yet, and even if there is something about your body that makes it hard to have a baby, it isn’t your fault. It’s not something you have any control over. It’ll be okay, I promise. I love you.”

He kissed you gently on your forehead. You could tell that he was also hurt by the reality that there was likely something stopping you from being able to get pregnant, but instead he focused on you. It was so sweet, and so very Dae-ho.

He made you dinner, and you ate in bed before going to sleep with your arms wrapped around one another.

Your appointment was at the same time as the one last week. You were glad they could fit you in so early, as the anticipation was killing you. You nervously entered into Dr. Kim’s office, where she was sitting with papers in front of her that you could only assume were test results. 

There was no beating around the bush. Once you sat down, Dr. Kim began to talk. “I’m glad that you were available so soon. I have looked over both of your results.”

You and Dae-ho squeezed each other's hands, hoping and praying for good news.

“Mrs. Kang, I have looked over your results and I’ve found nothing abnormal with your bloodwork.” You let out a sigh of relief.

She turned to look at Dae-ho, “I looked over your past medical history, Mr. Kang, and I noticed that 3 years ago you sustained an injury to your groin while you were in the military.” You Dae-ho’s hand gripped yours tighter, and your breath sped up. “Your sperm count was very low, and I believe that your past injury may have caused or contributed to that.”

You listened intently to the doctor, but Dae-ho was completely unaware of anything else she was saying. He was solely focusing on how it was his fault, and that he was the reason your dreams couldn’t come true.

“Of course we’ll need to do some testing, but this is the most likely conclusion considering that you have had a normal sex life and no other symptoms. I’ll write a referral to the urologist, and I suggest you go in for a consultation.” She wrote on a slip of a paper, and handed you a physical copy of the referral.

“Thank you, Dr. Kim.” You didn’t know what else to say. Dae-ho wasn’t responding, he was staring off into the distance, and you had to lead him out of the room.

Before you exited the room, Dr. Kim spoke up, “Mr and Mrs Kang?”

Dae-ho stayed facing forward, but you turned to face the doctor, “I truly am sorry, and I wish you the best.”

You nodded, and left, leading Dae-ho out beside you. Dae-ho didn’t respond during the ride home. You didn’t talk to him. Nothing you could say would make him feel better, you just needed to get home and then maybe you would be able to comfort each other.

Dae-ho walked to the bathroom as soon as you got home. You didn’t stop him, and sat down on the couch staring into space.

You heard crashing from the bathroom, and ran in to see Dae-ho throwing the vitamin bottles on the ground. “It’s bullshit, it’s all bullshit!” 

The next bottle he threw down was glass, and it shattered into a million little pieces on the ground, “Dae-ho, stop!” You grabbed his arm to stop him from throwing another bottle. That seemed to snap him out of his daze. 

He started crying, and you pulled his head down to nuzzle into your chest. You wrapped your arms around him, and started stroking his back. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault.” You quietly shushed him, and ran your fingers through his hair. “Shh, Shh, it’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” he sobbed, “I was the one who couldn’t do anything, I’m a fucking marine and I got pushed down the stairs and laid there like a coward. I’m the one whose fault it is that we can't have a baby.”

“Dae-ho, we don’t know anything for sure. We’ll go to the urologist and see if they can help us.” You gently pulled his head back to look into his eyes, the same way he did when you thought it was your body causing your infertility, “but even if we can’t have kids, I want you to know that this isn’t on you. Everything you said to me, about how it isn’t my fault and how no matter what it’ll be okay, is true.”

The sad look in his eyes showed that he didn’t believe you. You sighed, “let’s get out of here, you should go lay in bed and I’ll make us something to eat. Be careful when you step, I’ll clean up the glass in a second.” Dae-ho pulled away, “no, I failed as a father, I will not fail as a husband. I’ll take care of it.” You grabbed his shoulders when he tried to move away, “listen to me. The only difference between us is the name “husband” versus the name “wife.” Our job is to take care of each other. When I need you, you take care of me. And now, it’s my turn to return the favor.”

He nodded apprehensively. You could tell that he had some hold-ups, but he didn’t argue with you. You both knew this about your marriage, but everything his father had told him was hard to deprogram.

You made a stew, and cleaned up the glass while it was simmering. Before you entered your bedroom, you heard Dae-ho talking. You stopped outside the door.

“I promise you, it will all be okay. Your daddy is going to make sure you will get to see this whole beautiful world.” Concerned, you opened the door. Dae-ho was sitting in the bed holding a onesie that his mother had given him after you told her you had started trying.

“Hey.” You said, walking towards him and handing him the bowl.

“Hey.”

He ate a spoonful of the soup and then took a deep breath, “I’m so sorry that I messed up our plans.”

“Dae-ho-” You interrupted, but he held up his hand to signify that he wanted to finish his thought.

“I know you don’t blame me. But I can’t help the way I feel. I know- I know everything you’re going to say and everything you’re thinking, and I’m sorry but I- I just can’t believe you right now. I’ll only be able to when we have everything figured out. I’m sorry, that's just- that’s just what I need.”

Your heart broke, but you knew his words to be true. There was nothing you could say to change how he felt. “Okay. But if you know what I’m thinking, then you know that I mean it when I tell you that everything is going to be alright. I promise you I would never lie to you Dae-ho.”

He smiled at you, with tears still glimmering in his eyes, “okay, I believe you.”

Dae-ho scheduled an appointment in the afternoon later in the week. It was in the middle of the work day, but it was either that or waiting over a month. “I’ll take off work to go with you.”

“(Y/n), it’s fine. I promise.” 

You objected again, talking with your mouthful as you ate a bite of oatmeal, “Dae-ho really, it’s okay.”

He paused, and looked at you, “to be honest, I want to do this by myself. I just- I don’t think I can take it if there’s something seriously wrong and you’re there. I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I got bad news and had to look at you, I think it would kill me.”

You were silent, “okay, but if you need me, please, please just call.”

He reached over and squeezed your hand, “of course. You trust me, right?”

You squeezed his hand back, completely sure of what you were about to say, “always.”

Dae-ho didn’t call you during the day, but you called him several times. You were beginning to get worried, and told your boss that you had to leave early. She understood, and the second she said you could go, you ran towards your house.

You weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe an empty house, maybe an emptied liquor cabinet if there was bad news. What you weren’t expecting was for Dae-ho to be sitting cross legged on the ground in front of your table, with papers completely covering the wood.

“Dae-ho what’s going on? I was terrified!” You plunked your bag down on the ground.

He looked up at you, surprised to see you, “(Y/n), what’re you doing home?” “I’m only home an hour early. Did you not see my calls? I’ve been trying to reach you all day!” You said, exasperated but relieved to see he was okay.

He reached down to look at his phone, and then looked back up at you guiltily. He said quietly, “oh, sorry. I’ve been so focused I didn’t realize.”

You sat down next to him, looking over the papers to try and make sense of what they were.

Before you could understand, he grabbed your shoulders to turn you to face him. “I did all the tests, and- and it’s a lot of news.” You were concerned, he didn’t usually react like when he found out important things. And he certainly didn’t react like after your last visit to the fertility doctor. “They can fix it. We can have a baby!” 

Your eyes lit up, and without realizing it happy tears began to leak out of your eyes. Before you could fully celebrate you had to stop yourself. “But then, what is this?”

“It’s expensive, it’s really expensive. But I- I did all the math and I think- I think we can do it.”

There were so many emotions swirling around in your head. Fear of the cost, fear of the future, but Dae-ho brought you back down to earth. “I know, I know. But (Y/n), it’ll be okay.” 

You believed him, you would always believe him.

He smiled a big smile you hadn’t seen in a long smile, and he quickly pulled you into a hug. He pressed kisses all over your head, and finally, finally you allowed yourself to feel completely hopeful again.

You did another set of tests to make sure that you didn’t have any conditions yourself that would affect your fertility. Sure enough, all of your results came back squeaky clean.

Dae-ho’s treatment was going to cost a lot. The initial appointments you two had scheduled had cost over a thousand dollars.

Dae-ho’s surgery was over 10 thousand dollars. Your mortgage was high, and since it was still the early years of owning your house you wanted to pay as much as possible before interest tripled the original cost of your house. The conclusion that you reached was that you could afford the surgery in two years. 

It was a bittersweet feeling, on one hand you were heartbroken that you had to wait longer, but a finish line made the pain easier. Finally, there was certainty. You circled the day when you would schedule the surgery for, and every morning you would look at the calendar to remind yourself what you were working so hard for.

Your house didn’t feel so empty anymore. The silence was still hard to deal with sometimes, but you and Dae-ho busied yourselves with buying baby clothes, and picking out things for the nursery. Both of you were happier, even though you could tell that Dae-ho still had a lingering guilt because of his condition.

In the week before the surgery you felt yourself buzzing with excitement. It felt like you were walking on air. Dae-ho was so enthusiastic that every day when he came home he would run to you, swoop you up in his arms and laugh as he kissed your face. It became the highlight of your day.

Most of the time people were nervous on the morning of a surgery. But not you and Dae-ho. The drive to the clinic was filled with laughter and loud music. Everything was finally going according to plan.

Right before Dae-ho went into surgery pulled you into a hug and whispered into your ear, “this is it, the rest of our life starts now.” 

You squeezed him in the hug and smiled, and he waved goodbye as he walked into the room where he would get prepped for surgery. The longer he was in the operating room, the more nervous you got. You knew that the surgery would probably take an hour or an hour and a half, but as the time approached and passed that mark your anxiety grew. Finally, after two hours, the doctor came back.

You stood up excitedly, ready to hear the good news.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Kang, the damage was more extensive than we initially thought. We weren’t able to perform the surgery.” Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t handle this. You had kept it in for so long, had done everything right, had waited patiently only to have it end with even more bad news. 

You couldn’t stop yourself. You ran over to the trash can and threw up your breakfast, overwhelmed with the grief of your hopes and dreams yet again being crushed.

Sitting in the waiting room, you felt broken. Your cheeks were wet and all you could do was stare straight ahead as you waited for them to bring Dae-ho out of surgery. It was an outpatient surgery, which meant that he would go home after. You were glad at first, because it would save money, but now you were dreading having to go back to the empty house together. You didn’t want him to see your pain and think for even a second that you blamed him.

Dae-ho was wheeled out, and you felt another piece of your heart break off when you saw the look on his face. “Dae-ho.”

He looked up at you with his big puppy-dog eyes, “Let’s go home. Can we please just go home.”

You were growing accustomed to heartbroken silent drives. Dae-ho made to leave the car when you got home, but you locked the door. You couldn’t deal with either of you having a breakdown once you were inside your house.

“Can we talk, please?” You begged.

“I’m sorry. I just- I had so much hope that this nightmare would be over, but it just keeps going.”

You looked over at him. “It’s not over. We’re not done. Please don’t give up. Please. It’ll be okay, I promise.” You pleaded.

Dae-ho finally looked back over to you, “okay. Okay.” He took a deep shaky breath, “we’ll keep trying. The Kangs aren’t quitters.” He said with a light chuckle, bringing a smile to your face.

The next week you went back to your doctor. “Unfortunately it looks like our only alternative is to do sperm removal followed by IVF.” He paused, looking at a list of personal information, “your financial situation would make this procedure very difficult, I hate to say this, but have you considered adoption?” Your heartbeat spiked, “yes, my husband is a Marine Corps veteran diagnosed with PTSD, we aren’t considered candidates.” You had been through all of this years ago. Early on you had looked into adoption. Before you had even tried to get pregnant naturally. Both you and Dae-ho wanted to help a child without a home and add them to your little family of Kangs. You were shocked to find out that because of Dae-ho’s PTSD you couldn’t adopt. He had nightmares and was afraid of loud noises and the dark, but there was nothing about his PTSD that would make him a bad father. But, for some reason a little note on his discharge papers crossed out one of your options.

“Okay, well the procedure will be expensive, but IVF for healthy women under the age of 35 has an over 50% success rate.”

Once you got home Dae-ho pulled you into a hug the second you crossed the threshold. “We’ll make this happen, I promise you.”

You burrowed your head into his chest and mumbled, “I know, I know. I believe you.”

And so the cycle started again. It was another two years before you saved up enough money.

You both had surgery on the same day, and watched with delight as the doctor showed you the embryos after they had medically joined your egg and Dae-ho’s sperm. Tears streamed down your face as you saw what would become your baby on the screen. You never knew you could feel so attached to a couple of small dots, but here you were. The doctor gave you a print out, something they didn’t usually do but Dae-ho begged for, and went home. Your appointment was scheduled for the next week, it was the happiest week you had in years. You and Dae-ho went on long walks every night, you got dinner with his sisters and your friends. It was fantastic, and the night before the implantation you stayed up late and talked about baby names for hours.

Everything finally went to plan. The implantation went smoothly, and three weeks later when you and Dae-ho were sitting in the bathroom together, there were so many emotions buzzing in the air it felt electric.

“I’m going to turn it over.”

“Okay.” Dae-ho was pressing his hands together and praying, something he almost never did.

You screamed, “oh my God!” 

Dae-ho jumped up and grabbed the stick out of your hand. A pink plus sign. 

Dae-ho shouted out in joy and wrapped his arms around you and started jumping up and down. Dae-ho then paused and sunk down to his knees, pressing his head against your belly.

You stilled as he pulled your shirt up and put his forehead against your stomach. You could feel wet tears on your belly. “Hello baby.” He whispered, “this is your daddy, me and your mommy love you so much and we are going to take such good care of you, I promise.”

Your heart felt full. Finally, you and your husband had a family. You were a mother, and Dae-ho was a father. The next six months were the happiest of your life. Dae-ho completely assimilated into his role as a father. He painted your baby’s room a pale yellow, and him and his mother picked out more baby clothes than your child could possibly wear.

He had a copy of every ultrasound photo in his wallet, in chronological order. There were so many of them that the wallet started to bulge with all the extra paper.

You were just as ecstatic as him. When you and Dae-ho were cuddling, he would reach around from his spot as the big spoon to rest his hand on your belly. You would draw circles next to it, and whisper to your baby, “it’s your mom. You know, before you and your dad were in my life I felt lost. And now, I’m happy about every step I’ve taken. It led me right here. Thank you little baby, mom loves you.” It was too early in your pregnancy for the baby to hear you, so you giggled to yourself before drifting off to sleep.

The only time you had ever seen Dae-ho’s father proud was when Dae-ho excitedly shouted, “we’re pregnant!” Three minutes after entering their house, unable to hold in his excitement for a moment longer. 

Although you did hear his dad mutter “took you long enough” under his breath, his mother’s unapologetic excitement made up for it. Before you knew it you had five knitted baby hats and five knitted baby socks in the top drawer of your dresser.

Dae-ho would excitedly shout “we’re pregnant!” Whenever anyone would so much as glance at your baby bump. Most of the time it annoyed you to no end when fathers would say, “we’re pregnant,” while their wives were the only ones actually doing any work. But in Dae-ho’s case you think he earned it. He did all of the chores, prepared dinner for the next day the night before, and treated you like a queen. Besides, he looked so cute every time he said it.

Your pregnancy was easier than you could have ever imagined, even in your wildest dreams. You had no morning sickness, very little fatigue, and your baby hit all of their milestones early. You decided not to figure out if it was a boy or girl until they were born, and so your baby was affectionately nicknamed “little Dae” during your pregnancy.

Truly, you had never been happier.

Dae-ho came home with take-out at the usual time. You liked to eat healthy, but it was Friday night and you agreed to have a little treat at the start of every weekend.

“Honey, I’m home!” Dae-ho called out. No response.

“(Y/n), where are you?” You had to be at home, either you or your boss would have called him if you had to stay late.

He walked through the house, finally stopping in front of the bathroom door. Dae-ho shakily opened it, and upon seeing the scene inside, immediately rushed to you.

You were laying on the floor of the bathroom, unconscious and surrounded by blood. He rushed into action, he had run scenarios of every possible nightmare scenario that could happen the second you got pregnant but it didn’t even come close to preparing him for this.

He picked you up and ran to the car. Dae-ho didn’t remember the drive to the hospital. Every other second he would glance at you lying unconscious in the passenger seat as he sped through the streets of Seoul.

The hospital parking lot was full so Dae-ho parked illegally. He picked you up in both arms and rushed you into the ER, not bothering to turn off the ignition.

The staff jumped up the second they saw you, and quickly tore you out of his hands. A doctor quickly noticed your baby bump and asked you if you had any previous pregnancy complications. He shook his head, and before he could react they were rushing you away from him. He tried to race after you, but two orderlies held him back. Once he couldn’t see you anymore, he collapsed to his feet sobbing.

Dae-ho was hyper aware of everything going on around him. Every beep, every footstep, everything. A doctor came out and questioned him on your medical history. He had it memorized.

It felt like forever before the doctor came out. 

“Mr. Kang?”

Dae-ho immediately stood up and nodded, “your wife experienced something called placental abruption. It’s when the placenta detaches from the uterus. Due to the severity, we performed an emergency C-section.”

“Emergency C-section?” Dae-ho blurted out, “no, it’s too early.”

The doctor sighed, “Yes, 25 weeks is very early, however it was our best option.”

“How are they?” The doctor was talking too slowly, Dae-ho needed answers now.

“Your wife’s placental abruption was very severe, and there were significant complications. She’s very weak, and will have to stay in the ICU. She will need further surgery to try and fix the damage, but due to the amount of blood loss we couldn’t continue the surgery longer.” Dae-ho felt like there was a weight crushing his chest. He couldn’t breathe, “and- and the baby.” He was scared to ask. He didn’t know if he could live if his child died, and he knew he couldn’t if you left him.

“He’s in the NICU, I’m going to be honest with you, premies this size struggle, but we will do everything we can and if he begins to improve, his outlook is very good.” 

His son. His son. He had a little baby somewhere in the hospital, all alone and by himself, without his mother to take care of him. Completely new to the world. “Can I- can I-” The words didn’t come out, but the doctor seemed to understand.

“Yes, of course. Due to disease risk you can’t visit for long and will have to wear sterile clothing, but you can visit briefly.” 

Dae-ho didn’t have to decide which of you to see first. He had to see his son. He knew you, and he knew that you loved your baby more than anything. You wouldn’t want him to be alone right now. A nurse put a set of scrubs on Dae-ho, and then he was ready to enter the room. He had a face mask, a cap, and gloves on, and there were booties on his feet.

As soon as the automatic door slid open, time stopped. There were several babies in the room, but Dae-ho’s eyes quickly found the one that said “Baby Kang.” His feet moved without realizing it, and before he knew it was standing in front of the incubator.

His son was so small. He was tiny. There were wires everywhere and his skin was bright red. But even then Dae-ho could still see his tiny chest rise and fall slowly. Dae-ho started crying and it was one of the only times in his life where he felt no shame for breaking down. The tiny infant in front of him was perfect.

“Sir, you can reach your hand in to gently touch his arm.”

Shaking, Dae-ho reached his hand into the incubator. A wave of emotions passed over him when the baby grabbed onto his finger. The tiny baby held on for dear life.

Dae-ho waited as long as he could, standing, staring at his baby boy until the nurse told him he needed to leave before the risk of viral infection became too high.

The nurse led him to your room. You were laying in a hospital bed with a million tubes attached to your body. You were unconscious with a tube pushed down your throat, with tape over your eyes to prevent them from getting dry.

He reached towards your hands, and took your gloved ones in his.

“(Y/n). He’s perfect. He’s so perfect, and I can just- I can just tell he’s a fighter. He’s so strong, just like his mommy. He- he loves you, and we- we need you to hold on.” He was crying, wetting the mask over his nose, “I’m so proud of you, of both of you. I need you so much, please I just-” 

He started sobbing. There were no words able to express everything he felt, and everything he wanted to say. All he could do was cry.

For the second time that day, he was kicked out of a hospital room. “Can I- can I stay?” He pleaded to the nurse.

She sighed, “you can stay in the NICU waiting room overnight. But, I recommend you go home first.” She motioned to the plain scrubs he had been given to change out of his blood-soaked ones. “If you have any baby things collected yet, you should get them. Also, bring any insurance information and medical records for your wife, and some comfort items for both of you if she wakes up.” The word if stabbed him in the heart, but he nodded. 

Dae-ho didn’t want to leave either of your sides, but he had no choice. His parents were visiting one of his sisters in the countryside, and the majority of your friend group were at a wedding in Jeju that you couldn’t go to due to saving money for the baby.

Dae-ho was determined to get from home to back as quickly as possible. Once he got to the parking lot, he clicked his car keys several times. He didn’t remember where he parked, he was in too much of a rush to get inside when he arrived at the hospital. Dae-ho walked around the entire parking lot looking for the car, before going back inside to check with the front-desk woman.

“Hello, ma’am, I came in with my wife and I- I can’t find my car.” He said, his tone of voice exactly reflecting his feelings.

The woman looked up, “okay, we have cameras in the parking lot, what is the make and model?” 

He gave the information to her, and when she came back from a room he assumed held the security cameras, she had visibly paled.

“I’m so sorry sir, I checked the cameras. It appears as if you left the car door open and the vehicle was stolen. I can call the police and we can see what they can do.” She said apologetically.

“No, I can- let’s just do that later okay.” Dae-ho turned around and walked out the front door. He had no energy left. 

Dae-ho walked to a subway station next to the hospital, and jumped over the turnstile. He knew his way around the subway station. In his early 20s he didn’t have a car, and had familiarized himself with the city’s subway stations. If anyone confronted him about not paying, he knew they would quickly back down once they heard why.

Dae-ho sat down on a bench in front of the train that would take him home, and put his head in his hands.

“Excuse me sir, would you like to play a game?” Dae-ho looked up to see a tall man in a well-pressed suit staring down at him. “No.” Dae-ho snapped, looking back down at the floor.

The man sat down next to him. “Do you know how to play Ddakji?”

Dae-ho scooted slightly away from the man, determined to ignore him. 

“If you play with me I will let you in on a-”

“Listen here sir, I don’t know you and I do not want to play a game. Please leave me alone.” Dae-ho said, looking the man in the eye, trying to deter him. The man let out a slight chuckle, “not even for 100,000 won?”

Dae-ho wanted to say no, but he couldn’t. The thought of the cost of all your medical treatments was something he hadn’t thought about yet. It was so far less than his fear for both of your lives that the thought of paying medical bills hadn’t come close to entering his thoughts before now. He had heard stories of friends-of-friends dying or going bankrupt because of hospital bills. He was horrified of the same thing happening to you or the baby. He would do whatever it took to save you, borrow millions of dollars from loan sharks, work 20 hours a day, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. It was a potential he couldn’t confront. He wouldn’t let you die, but what would he do even if he could get the money? You would be destitute, and his child growing up in poverty was a thought that horrified him. As much as he hated it, a short game with a crazy man would be worth it if it could help prevent that possibility. 

“What’s the catch?” Dae-ho was desperate, not stupid.

“Well, if I win, I give you 100,000 won. If you win, you give me the same, simple as that.” The man responded, his smile not quite reaching his eyes..

“I don’t have 100,000 won.” Dae-ho didn’t care about embarrassing himself in front of strangers on the subway, he had much bigger things to worry about.

The man sighed, “okay, you can pay with your body instead if you’d like,” Dae-ho raised an eyebrow and turned back away from the man with a scoff. The man chuckled again, “no no, not like that. Let’s just say, I take off 100,000 won for every loss. Sound fair?”

Dae-ho felt humiliated. But he couldn’t fail you. He couldn’t fail you over something as stupid as a slap in a children’s game. So he nodded.

The man opened up his briefcase and held out the two pieces, “blue or red?”

By his fourth attempt Dae-ho’s face was red and hurting. With every round he got more and more frustrated, shouting out obscenities after every slap. On the fifth attempt he finally won. Dae-ho shouted out, and with his victory the man handed him two 50,000 won notes.

Dae-ho was ready to walk away and forget the strange event that just happened, when the man spoke. “Kang Dae-ho.”

He turned around, “how the fuck do you know my name?” Dae-ho didn’t consider himself a violent man, but he turned around and walked to stand directly in front of his face.

The man chuckled, “you are 34 years old. You’ve been married for 9 years and you and your wife have been trying to have a baby for 6 of them. Yesterday, your wife went to the hospital at 25 weeks with an emergency C-section.”

“Fuck you,” Dae-ho threw a punch at the man, who caught it.

“If your child and wife receive all the treatment they need to survive, you will have to pay about  750 million won.” The man smiled, “which is far more than you can afford. You will be destitute if you can get the money. And if not- well… then I guess we know what’ll happen.”

“Why the fuck are you saying this to me?” Tears burned behind Dae-ho’s eyes, threatening to break free.

The man handed Dae-ho a business card with three shapes on it. “Call this number, my organization could help you.”

Just at that moment Dae-ho’s train came, and the man let his arm go to let Dae-ho stumble away. As he sat down on the subway Dae-ho pulled out his wallet. He took out the first ultrasound photo. The first image he ever saw of his baby. You both started bawling once you saw the tiny baby on the screen, and heard the quiet steady beat of your baby’s heartbeat over the monitor.

Dae-ho started crying in his seat on the train. He had dreamed for his entire life about what it would be like to be happy. Truly happy, away from his father’s judgement, away from the military, away from all the pain in his life. And finally, finally it had happened.

His life was beyond his wildest fantasies. He was married to the most wonderful woman in the world, and was going to be a father. You and his son were the greatest things on the planet. You were lovely and kind, and your baby had to be just as lovely and kind as you. And the two of you were somehow his, somehow his family. And then everything fell apart. He had to save you, had to fulfill the promise he had given you so long ago. That it’ll be okay.

“I promise you, daddy is going to take care of you. I’ll see you soon and then you, me and mommy will be okay.” Dae-ho kissed the ultrasound photo, then pulled out his phone and dialed the number on the card.

This took so long I don't think you understand 😭. I'm not sure how regular I will be able to write, my second semester started halfway through writing this fic and I am so crazy busy that I have almost no free time. My writing has a lot of medical stuff in general because that is my other interest besides writing (#womeninstem lol) I think I'm starting to really find my voice in writing, and it a pretty raw and realistic style. Have a good day, drink water and get sleep :)

[sweetestberryofthebunch]

Scars On My Mind (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Ever heard of the Daughters of Liberty? When Agatha appears at your doorstep covered in blood with a knitting needle peeking out of her elbow, you certainly wish you hadn’t. Here’s how it went.

Content/Warnings: WitchKiller!Agatha, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Injury, So Much Blood, Open Wound, Angst, Mild Mentions of NSFW Content, no beta we die like the Daughters of Liberty

This fic is a gift for @marril96 who made a gifset for me in return! Ily, let's swap again! It was so so so much fun to dive a little deeper into Agatha’s Witch Killer days with this, and make her a little vulnerable for once!

The rain started on Thursday night and hadn’t stopped since. A continuous drumming against your window, the world outside tainted a muddy grey. It was the earliest hours of Saturday now, Friday had passed silently without you noticing, the continuous waterfalls of raindrops on the windows not letting up to let the days pass either. The vinyl player kept playing as Friday had slipped into Saturday too, the kettle kept simmering as you prepared a boiling cup of Agatha‘s favourite tea blend. Even as the days drifted away, the world kept going. Boiling hot water turned into lukewarm turned into cold, the vinyl finished playing, spinning to a halt. The rain kept thrumming.

You sighed, leaning back on the couch, eyes fluttering shut. Agatha was late, like, even later than usually. And you were tired, sleep tugging at your bones with gradually more and more urgency.

But it was useless to go to bed, no matter how often she insisted you shan’t wait for her. You wouldn’t find much sleep anyway. Not on nights like this. When Agatha was out with other witches, when she set out to … feed? Kill? Siphon?

Well, it was hard to find any rest while she was out there like that.

She may have laughed when you’d admitted to that, throwing her leather jacket over her shoulders before pulling you into a quick kiss by your neck.

„There’s nothing to worry about, darling. I do this all the time.“

But still, as the front door to your little nyc apartment swung open and she sauntered out, chirping a „See you tonight, honey!“, over her shoulder at you, the pit in your stomach remained. The ghost of her palm on the back of your neck remained.

You sighed, taking a sip of the cold tea you’d prepared. If she wasn’t coming home in time, you certainly wouldn’t let the water go to waste.

They’d just raised the prizes for utilities on you. And while Agatha had just laughed and mentioned some inactive bank account she had in Germany that she‘d simply pull from, you couldn’t help but stress about it.

It wasn’t that you didn‘t trust her, so far every time she’d mentioned some savings from one of her many, many lives it had always been true. But just because she was an undying, centuries old witch who didn’t have to concern herself with mundane things like paying bills didn’t mean you could just shake those things off the same.

You had no magick, but you did have your name on a lease. But so far, she’d always made it work somehow, whether that be with her old account of when she lived right beside the Berlin Wall ten years ago or by selling a quick spell or curse to some unassuming person desperate enough to pay for one. You weren’t even sure if she actually performed real spells all of the time. Your Agatha was a scam artist through and through, but you wouldn’t have her any other way.

You took another sip of tea, watching the rain pour down the window. Sometimes, you wondered how many more of you there had been. Agatha was good at dodging those questions, but one night, when you wouldn’t let off even after she’d made you come undone multiple times on the couch, she’d handed you a little cardboard box.

„I try not to be traceable and I can’t exactly show you baby pictures, but some stuff just sticks.“

The contents of the box were fragile, some paper so frail you barely wanted to touch it. Little notes, handwritten poems, a few pages torn out of books. A pencil sketch of the bunny that lived in a cage beside your bed, that she always made sure to drape a blanket over before going down on you. An ink sketch of her, without the worry lines on her forehead or the little wrinkles around her eyes. But, as always, with the amulet she never took off her body.

A few photographs. Black and white on flimsy film paper, Agatha in a flapper dress, feather in her hair and a cigarillo between her lips, legs spread as she leaned back on a barstool. Agatha in the same dress, smiling over her shoulder at the camera, a dark skinned woman in a matching dress sitting beside her, raising her champagne flute at the camera.

Jenny Kale, you knew from her stories, the most brilliant potions maker Agatha had ever met. And the most annoying one. They‘d fallen off, you assumed it had something to do with Agatha‘s habit of power grabbing.

But, there was also a Polaroid.

A Polaroid that lay on the coffee table in front of you now.

A Polaroid that had not left your mind since you’d found it.

Agatha with a wild, unkempt perm and uneven bangs, black liner smudged around her eyes, in a black tank top, arm stretched out to take the picture. But, what actually caught your eye was the arm wrapped around her waist, tight enough to bunch up the fabric of her shirt, revealing a thin line of pale skin of her lower stomach. The person hugging her was out of frame, all you could see was an arm, and a shoulder pressed into Agatha‘s, and the way the witch seemed to hold back a laugh. The handwriting under the picture was messy, and the black marker had faded over the years.

For my love A.H. 1982 - We can be heroes forever and ever

And then what you‘d assumed was once a heart, but got smudged by someone touching the ink before it had dried.

It was exactly what you‘d been looking for. Proof that there had been people before you. That you weren’t her first lover in the 350 long years of her life. Of course you weren’t, that’d be foolish to assume!

But still, the find had punched a hole into your stomach that had only hollowed out the more you thought about it.

How many other people had she taken a liking to, how many non magickal people had she moved in with, let them sign leases and contracts for her as she ran off to suck the magic out of the local witch community of wherever she found herself? How long had this been going on? How long until she’d move on?

Sure, you were young now, but other than her, the clock was ticking for you. Would you just wake up one day and find her gone? And would she bother to keep your picture? And, even if all of this was nothing, why would she hide it from you? She‘d told you about Jennifer Kale, but she‘d never ever mentioned living with someone during her time in Berlin, or any era before that.

You bit your bottom lip, hissing when you tasted the metallic tinge of your own blood.

Did you want to be just another picture in her little box of memories? Did she even deem you worth remembering?

It was stupid to think like that, and you knew that, but it was harder not to let the uncertainty consume you.

But, you were smart enough never to ask her about it directly. Your wild, fierce, unapologetic witch. You loved her, you had realised that the moment her eyes met yours for the first time, and you loved everything about the chaos and the magick and the passion that she brought into your life. Maybe that was why the potential answer scared you so much. Better to keep holding onto your belief than to risk knowing you didn’t mean as much to her as she did to you. Better to live in the harmony of what you had built with her.

You wish you‘d never asked her about her prior life, had never opened the paper box. Now that you had the Polaroid in hand, it was impossible to put down.

A sound ripped you from your self deprecating thoughts. A faint scratch, just loud enough that you were sure you hadn’t imagined it. Another one. Like a dog scratching at a locked front door … or a key that kept missing the hole it belonged into, and instead kept hitting the rough wood of your door.

You sat up. „Agatha?“

No answer. Fuck.

You knew Agatha had her enemies, it was impossible to live that long without them. Hell, there was a whole coven formed of the daughters of her prior victims, a piece of information you preferred to not think about too much. After all, you saw what she was capable of, saw her cast runes around the entire apartment to keep out evil spirits, the way she glowed after siphoning, the daily use of telekinesis and the occasional prodding your mind - which she swore was to remind you to keep up the mental wards she‘d taught you, and totally not because she enjoyed the image of her that danced around your thoughts since the day you met.

Wards you made sure you had up and intakt now as you grabbed a candelabra on your way towards the front door - the first weapon you‘d spontaneously found.

Another scratch at the door, then a grunt, and a little thud, like something was falling into the wooden frame.

„Agatha?“, you asked again, louder.

Panting, whoever was on the other side of the door was breathing heavily.

Here goes nothing. You bit down on your lower lip, fingers tightening around the candelabra. Twisting the doorknob, you held your weapon high, ready to strike. The wooden door flew open, you held your breath … only to immediately let it go in a loud shriek.

In front of you was in fact Agatha, however, this was not how you had expected her to return. Her shirt was torn and ripped apart, shreds of fabric barely clinging onto her. if you hadn’t known, you would have never guessed it used to be white fabric, for it was covered in mud and dirt and … a worrying amount of blood. There was so much blood. On her clothes, her face, her head. Like someone had dumped a bucket of red over her head. Agatha herself was shaking, her body leaning against the wooden doorframe, the key she was holding in her right hand quivering with every rattling breath she took. Her left arm … your stomach twisted. Her left arm was completely bare, the sleeve ripped away at the seam, and her skin was covered in dark red crusts of dried and fresh blood. It hung useless at her side, and as she shifted from one foot to her other, you saw a single, long piece of hard plastic sticking right out of her elbow.

Your stomach twisted at the sight, and you instinctively had to reach for the wall, not trusting your knees to support your weight right now.

Agatha’s eyes were open wide, blue piercing at you as she panted, a now dried drop of blood had run right between her eyes and down her nose. She looked insane. You felt insane.

And yet, she had the nerve to cock her brows at you. „The candlestick? Seriously? Do you have any idea how much that thing is worth these days?“

Slowly, you dropped your arm, the makeshift weapon sliding out of your grip and tumbling to the floor.

Agatha winced, like that was what really caused her pain right now.

„Agatha!“, you gasped, swallowing hard.

The witch bit her bottom lip, hard, before heaving her own body closer towards the entryway, pushing for you to let her in.

„I got ambushed“, she exclaimed, even though that didn’t explain anything at all, „This little bunch was smarter than they seemed. In theory at least“, she laughed, but it only made her grit her teeth, „All the spells and curses in the world, and they stab me with a fucking knitting needle!“

You gulped. So that was the thing peeking out of her elbow.

Glassy blue eyes found you, her glare bewildered, almost panicked. „Are you done now? I would love it if we could at least move this out of the hallway, before we wake the neighbors!“

Finally, you snapped back into reality. Agatha was injured, badly, and she was also leaving stains of red on your doorframe and the „Welcome Home“ doormat in the hallway. But those were problems for later.

Right now, you needed to get her to safety. You surged forwards, grabbing her by her uninjured shoulder, pulling her right arm around your neck.

„Lean onto me“, you instructed, kicking the candelabra out of your way as you slowly guided her into the apartment.

She was cold to the touch, too cold for your liking, but she still managed to tut at you anyway. „What would you say if i kicked your hairdryer around like that?“

You let the front door fall shut behind you, other arm wrapping around her waist to support her further.

“I would say Thank You Honey for not letting me bleed out on the doormat! but you can practice that later.“

That made her snort, and you felt her entire body wince in pain.

„Stop being funny“, she hissed, her right hand digging into your shoulder as you slowly guided her towards the couch, step by step, „It hurts.“

You finally reached the plush sofa and carefully sat her down. Agatha‘s body collapsed against the cushions with a groan, her head rolling back.

„Hey!“, you snapped your fingers right in front of her face, „Sit up! Don’t you dare faint on me!“

Her eyes fluttered, and you felt panic rise in your chest. Your palms found her cheeks, cupping her face gently as you pulled her head back up, forcing her to look at you. Blue eyes blinked up at you, pupils dilating when they closed in on your face.

„Agatha“, you said, taking a deep breath more to calm yourself than her, „I‘m gonna go grab the first aid kit, but I need you to stay with me, okay? No fainting. Can you curl your fingers for me?“

Her right hand curled into a weak fist with no issues, while her left hand laid beside her uselessly. You swallowed. „Okay, keep doing that. Clench, and unclench, exactly. I‘ll be back in a second.“

She blinked twice, and a small smile found her blood covered, cracked lips. „You’re worried about me“, she drawled deliriously, healthy hand coming up to poke your side. The touch was a lot weaker than you‘d like. „That’s hot.“

You bit down on your tongue. „You’re unbelievable“, you shook your head, making sure her own head was supported by the cushions behind her before letting go, „Keep clenching your fists!“

To your relief, the first aid kit was right under the sink in the bathroom, fully stocked and ready for you. On your way back out, you grabbed a towel as well.

Agatha was still sitting up when you came back, already digging through the first aid kit as you walked, pulling out bandages, alcohol wipes, and the little bottle of superglue you kept in the kit. You sucked your cheeks in, thumb running over the little tag on it. The next fifteen minutes were going to suck.

Glassy blue eyes watched you as you spread out your new findings on the coffee table. Her breath came in heaves, but at least they were even and her chest didn’t quiver with every gush of air that surged through her lungs anymore.

„How are you feeling?“, you asked, needing her to stay awake, stay with you at any costs.

Luckily, she had it back in her to let out a humourless chuckle. „Like shit. Those bitches betrayed me like I didn‘t teach them everything they knew.“

Even as you cut open the plastic baggy holding a bandaid, you had to give her a long look over your shoulder.

„Betraying the witch that was gonna betray them? How dare they.“

Agatha opened her mouth in protest, but then you sat back up on the couch next to her, the cushions she was resting her injured arm on shifting, and instead a high, pained whimper left her throat. The sound rang through your head and you pressed your lips together, carefully positioning her arm so the needle stuck in it was facing you.

„I‘m sorry“, you took a deep breath, „You‘re not gonna like me for the next few minutes, but I need you to stay still for me, okay?“ Your eyes found hers, and you gave her a firm little nod.

„What?“, Agatha's voice was weak, brows creased in confusion, her eyes barely focusing on you. You gave her a soft smile, hand closing around the knitting needle slow and firm. „Look out the window babe“, you softly hummed and Agatha‘s head rolled to the other side, lashes fluttering.

„Don’t turn around“, you said. But of course, she immediately turned back.

“The window Agatha!“, you sighed exasperated, not waiting for her to listen this time.

„Okay, one, two…“ Before you could say the next number, you gritted your teeth. With one firm tug, the knitting needle slid right out of her open wound.

Agatha screamed, flinching under your firm grip, head thrown back against the couch.

The needle made a wet sound as you pulled it out that made your stomach turn. Thick, red liquid was stuck to the plastic as well as fresh blood immediately pooling out of the wound at her elbow.

You quickly pressed the towel onto it, gripping Agatha’s arm tight so she couldn’t pull away, even as she screamed. The whimpers leaving her throat echoed through your bones, and you had to bite down on your cheek harder.

„I‘m sorry baby“, you pressed out, glancing over at her face. Fresh, salty tears ran down her face, parting the dried crusts of blood on her cheeks. She was biting down on her tongue, hard enough to draw blood, holding back her sobs as best as she could.

„Fuck you“, she sobbed weakly, eyes closed shut and you had to chuckle.

„That’s okay. Let it out.“, you hummed, pressing the towel down onto the wound with one hand. The pale blue fabric was quickly soaking up red, and you had to act fast, worried she was going to lose too much blood.

With your free hand you reached for the superglue, the lid already off, clear, stale liquid at the tip.

„I have to do one more thing that you‘re not gonna like“, you said, keeping your grip on her arm tight as she tried to pull away.

„No! Stop! That’s enough!“, she yelped and it took everything in you to stay firm. The wound needed closing, no matter how much it would hurt.

„Agatha!“, you held her tight, giving her a firm stare that held no room for discussion. When you saw the way her bottom lip was quivering despite her pushed forward chin, your voice softened.

“I‘m trying to help you. Just one more thing and you‘re done, I promise.“

Agatha swallowed hard, leaning towards you.

You let her, gently pressing your forehead to hers.

„That was scary“, she murmured, „They were so smart about it. Didn’t blast me once. Instead…“, her shoulders twitched in an attempt to shrug, the sharp pain causing her to wince.

„Instead you came home with a knitting needle in your arm“, you nodded, craning your neck. Your lips brushed over her forehead, the bittersweet mix of mud and blood on your tongue as you pressed a gentle kiss right over the crease she always pulled when she was in pain, but trying to be brave about it.

„This was terrifying, but you’re being so strong“, you leaned back again, enough to look her in the eyes one more time, „Let me close the wound and then it‘ll be over, I promise.“

And she let you.

As you pulled the towel away to inspect the wound closer, Agatha looked the other way, her right hand coming up to her mouth as you pulled the skin together. As you dropped the clear glue down onto the gash, pulling it closed with one hand and handling the bottle of superglue with the other, she let out another blood curdling scream, muffled only by her teeth digging into her own hand. But, it worked. The moment the liquid began to thicken, the bleeding stopped.

It took all the alcohol wipes of the kit to get her arm cleaned up, working quickly and in silence, knowing well not to talk to Agatha as hot tears ran down her cheeks. You made sure to save a wipe for the bite mark on her right hand too, and then once you were positive all of her injuries were cleaned, you finally reached for the bandaids.

By the time she was all patched up and in clean clothes (you‘d thrown her bloody shirt and all towels it had taken to get the muck off her face into the bathtub, a problem for later), the two of your curled up underneath a blanket, her healthy shoulder squeezed up against yours, the sun was coming up.

Finally, it had stopped raining too.

The two of you had shared a can of microwaved ravioli, and slowly but surely, the color was returning to Agatha‘s cheeks. You wrapped your arm tighter around her, nose nuzzling into the crown of her head. Her hair still smelled of metal and cinder, but that didn’t bother you right now. What mattered was that she was still with you, that her body was warm against yours and her breathing even.

The blanket rustled as she shifted in your hold, right hand coming up to rest over yours.

„Now.“, Agatha took a long breath, thumb running over your knuckles as she held your hands in hers. Finally, she seemed fully back to consciousness.

„Tell me why you‘ve been pondering all night instead of sleeping like I told you to.“

„What?“, your brows furrowed, tilting your head to the side in confusion as you glanced down at her.

Agatha nodded towards the coffee table, blue eyes fixed on a specific object scattered between the leftovers of your once organised and stacked first aid kit. „I doubt you‘re using that as a bookmark.“

Between scissors and a piece of bandage you‘d cut off, there was still the Polaroid you‘d taken from the box of her private possessions. Now, there was a single drop of blood on it, right above the black marker writing.

„Oh my god!“, you quickly reached for it, „I‘m so sorry, I‘ll clean that off!“

Before your hand could reach the photo, Agatha‘s unharmed arm lunged forward, hand closing around your wrist. Despite how pale she still looked, she pulled you back to her with no trouble, wrapping the blanket around you two tighter. Injury or not, there was still magick power running through her veins.

„Darling“, her pale eyes found yours, „Look at me.“

You didn’t dare break the eye contact she established, even though it was the last thing you wanted to do right now, ears hot with embarrassment.

„Have you been thinking about that?“ she asked, and you knew exactly what she meant. Her long, long life before you, the nature of your relationship. The only thing on your mind for days now.

„I mean, it‘s stupid!“, you shook your head „It’s naive to think I‘m something special, you’ve had such a long life already,“ you poked her side, „Even though that‘s hard to believe right now.“

Agatha‘s hoarse chuckle made you smile despite everything weighing on your mind.

„I‘m going to stop you right there.“

With her healthy hand, she tried to push herself up, eyes fluttering shut as she groaned in pain. You instinctively reached for her shoulders, helping her sit up and lean against the sofa cushions.

Her hand found your cheek, palm gently cupping your cheek.

„You are something special“, her voice was low and you swallowed hard.

„Do you think I could do this with just anyone? I was just bleeding out on your couch.“ Her eyes found yours, giving you a firm little nod. „Have there been others? Of course. A witches lifespan depends on her powers, and I‘m not exactly the type other witches want around for long. It can get lonely.“ Her lips pursed into a little smirk, brows rising. „But thanks to you, it‘s not. And thanks to you, it won’t end just yet either.“ She chuckled, raising her bandaged elbow with a sharp inhale.

Your hold on her shoulders tightened just the smallest bit, holding her upwards. Her thumb ran over your cheek, and you couldn’t suppress your smile at the touch.

„What I am saying is yes, there have been lovers before you. But that does not diminish your presence in my life, and it does not make you any less special. To be quite honest, you‘re the first person to have pulled a knitting needle out of my elbow.“

She let out a little laugh and soon, you joined in. Agatha‘s hand tugged at the back of your neck, and you willingly let her pull you into a sweet, gentle kiss. Her lips brushed against yours with the familiarity of someone who had practiced plenty, pushing her chin forward into the kiss like she knew you loved her to do, and you let out a little laugh in return, teeth grazing over her bottom lip just the slightest bit. Exactly the way that made her groan, pull you in tighter, kiss you with more and more fervour, until you’d bite down on her plump lip for real.

But not right now. You pulled away before she could coax you into something more, giving the shoulder of her injured arm a gentle tap as you raised your brows at her.

„Not now Agatha! You literally almost died today.“

She let out an exasperated sigh, but then opted to wrap her healthy arm around your waist instead, pulling you closer. „But I didn’t, thanks to you.“

You gave her a warning glare but obliged as she pulled you into her lap, arm wrapped around you and your hands resting on her shoulders. She leaned forward, lips grazing over your neck just enough to make you gasp before nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck and shoulder, a spot she had found she fit perfectly into one time while napping and loved ever since. Your hands found her hair, fingers slowly running through the thick, dark waves falling down her back. She hummed against your neck at the feeling, and you felt your heart swell at the sound. Even if all of this was fleeting, at least right now, you could provide a safe space for her.

You pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head, inhaling the faint scent of the lavender oil she liked to brush through her hair.

Even if you were but a fleeting moment in her life, maybe in 10, 20 years she‘d think back to you and miss the way her nose perfectly nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“I love you, Agatha“, you whispered, so quiet, you could barely hear it yourself, „Try not to get killed while I‘m still around.“

If she heard you, she didn’t answer.

You pulled her even tighter.

[justagalwhowrites]

Undone

After a stressful week at the office, Joel knows just how to take care of his wife. AKA Joel Miller doms the stress out of you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: No Outbreak AU. Established relationship, husband and wife. Dom!Joel x Sub!Reader (light). Tiny little age gap (like 5 years? I'm picturing Joel at 44 and reader at 39?) Unprotected P in V sex. Oral sex, F receiving. Creampie. Overstimulation. Aftercare.

Length: 5.4k

A/N: This is totally self indulgent. It's also like... entirely smut. Sorry. But not really. OK love you bye!

Joel knew what you were after the minute you kicked the door closed. 

It was Friday and it had been a hell of a week for you. Joel had done his best to support you through it - he’d finished up one big job on Tuesday and didn’t start the next one until Monday - so he’d taken the lead on keeping the household running while you put in extra hours and came home frustrated and exhausted every night. 

He knew it wasn’t going to magically be better just because it was Friday, so he’d spent the day trying to make the end to your work week as good as he could. He went to the HEB and got your favorite snacks, picked out flowers for the kitchen table, even went by the liquor store on the way home to get everything you’d need to unwind at the end of your day. He started smoking ribs early that afternoon and was outside to sauce them when he heard the door slam behind you. 

Joel didn’t need to see what happened, he knew from the sound that you’d thrown the door open and then kicked it shut behind you. He’d bet the check from his next job that you’d be face down on the couch, your shoes and briefcase a little trail from the front door to the living room. He shook his head, taking a swig of Shiner before closing the smoker and heading inside to find his wife. 

You were exactly where he thought you’d be, taking up almost the entire length of the couch, flat on your stomach, blazer still on but your heels and bags scattered between you and the front door. 

“Aw baby,” he said sympathetically. “That great a day, hm?” 

You made a sound that was caught somewhere between a grunt and a groan. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

You made the sound again and Joel tried not to laugh at it. 

“Here,” he said, coming and adjusting your legs so he could sit beside you on the couch. You groaned as he did but he guided you from lying on your stomach to sitting up to leaning on him, your face in his chest. He put his arm around you and gave you a squeeze. “Tell me what melted down.” 

“We have our quarterly earnings release going out in less than two weeks,” you sighed. “And it’s a shit show. Legal’s been reviewing that shit for what feels like an eternity and I need to issue the goddamn release announcing the date of the full release but I can’t do that until I actually know that legal and financial are going to have stuff sorted in time and the CEO has emailed me twice a day about it the whole week because sure, the legal team definitely falls under my department…” 

Joel held the still mostly full bottle of beer in front of you and you took it from him, your fingers brushing his and you were quiet for a moment as you took a sip before handing it back. 

“Also, HR is going to be the death of me,” you continued, on a tear now. “I swear, it shouldn’t be that hard to find a qualified entry level candidate but here we are, still short staffed 10 weeks after I got the OK to hire. They’ve sent me two resumes, Joel. Two. I called them today to ask how many they’d received and they’ve had 226 candidates apply and they’ve sent me fucking two! I refuse to believe that just one percent of applicants were remotely qualified so I asked them to forward me all the applications since, apparently, recruiting can’t do their damn jobs so I’m going to have to do it for them…” 

Joel nodded along, handing you the beer periodically when he felt you getting too worked up. He found himself, not for the first time, awed by what you did for a living. He didn’t understand much of it, really, and he was thankful he didn’t need to. He wasn’t cut out for that kind of shit. You, on the other hand, had jumped in with both feet when you’d started at your company seven years ago when the two of you had just started dating, You’d risen up the ranks quickly and you now had a team of several dozen people reporting up to you. As gentle and sweet as Joel knew you to be at your core, he knew you were also unflinchingly driven at work. During the COVID shut down, he’d gotten a glimpse of it, listening to you take people - mostly men who seemed to think you weren’t as capable as you clearly were - to task and get things done. He was eternally grateful that, when the two of you fought, you didn’t take him down the way you did people who crossed you in the office. Though that stood in sharp contrast to how Joel heard you talk to the people who reported up to you, with you seemingly always happy to lend an ear or provide guidance or take the heat if they fucked something up that was going outside your department. 

Unfortunately, that meant you had weeks like this one, where plenty went wrong and you had no one to pass the buck to. And he knew as well as you did that you wouldn’t just let something fall apart, not if there was a damn thing you could do about it. Even if that meant working yourself into the ground. 

After a while you just deflated against him and he handed you the beer again. You took a long drink, emptying the bottle, and Joel took it from you to set on the side table. 

“Feelin’ better?” He asked, his nose brushing your hair. 

“Kind of,” you sighed, pressing yourself closer to him. 

“Somethin’ more I can do?” He asked, trying to make sure that he wasn’t nudging you in the direction he was hoping this would go. 

“Yeah,” you said, something shifting in your tone when you said it. No longer frustrated and fed up, instead needy and wanting. You sat up from him and looked at him through your eyelashes, practically pouting. “Turn my brain off for a bit?” 

Joel’s heart picked up, heat and tension already gathering low in him. 

“Aw, my baby need me to fuck her stupid?” He asked, reaching out to cup your face in his hand. His thumb traced along the arch of your cheekbone as his eyes locked on your blown pupils. “You need me to make that big brain of yours slow down for a while, that it?” 

“Yes please,” you breathed. He could feel your skin getting warmer below his touch. 

“Please what?” 

“Please sir,” you said, holding your hands up with your wrists together, like an offering. “Please fuck me stupid. Please sir.” 

He quirked his jaw before he smiled, dark and low.

“Good girl,” he growled. He got up and closed his large hands around your wrists before pulling you sharply to your feet, looking you up and down as he did. There was something that drove him wild, seeing you like this. Dressed in your armor of the business world, a place where lesser men had to go to you for permission to do a goddamn thing, and you came home to him, begging him to strip you down to something small and vulnerable and easily consumed. 

He wasn’t sure why you’d picked him of all people. When you’d met almost eight years earlier, his first thought was that you were way out of his fucking league. A friend of Tommy’s then girlfriend now wife, you were a few years younger than him but had clearly kept your life on the right fucking track the whole time instead of driving it into the ground for a while first. You’d gone to college, built a damn impressive career, had goals and dreams and plans for yourself. You were beautiful and smart and funny and kind and the first time he’d taken your clothes off he was still not entirely sure why you were letting him do it. 

He’d been even more surprised the first time you’d shared with him that you wanted him to take control in the way he was now. 

“I just have to make decisions all the time,” you’d said, folded into a corner of his couch with a glass of wine in your hands. “I just really want to have someone else take over for a while, you know? Not have to make any plans or take care of anybody else, just enjoy and be enjoyed.” 

That, Joel had thought, he could give you. 

It wasn’t something the two of you always indulged in but there were days like this one where you seemed to crave it. Maybe even a step beyond that - you needed it. You needed the safety of Joel’s guidance, the comfort of his control, the ease of his pleasure. He liked to give you those things. More than liked it, sometimes he lived for it. 

Today was one of those days. 

He led you to the bedroom and stood you at the foot of the bed, your wrists still firmly in his hands as his eyes searched yours. 

“You just want to be my little doll, is that it?” He asked, his thumbs brushing the inside of your wrists. Your pulse was heavy and hard. “Want me to take control so all you have to do is feel what I let you feel?” 

“Yes,” you breathed. 

“Yes what.” 

“Yes sir,” you were practically squirming. 

“What are your colors,” he said more than asked. 

“Green, yellow, red,” you answered quickly. 

“Where are you now?” 

“Green.” 

“Good girl,” he guided your hands so they hung at your sides. “Don’t move until I tell you.” 

He watched you resist the urge to nod and he slipped his hands below the lapels of your jacket, running his hands over your skin for a moment before shoving the sleeves down your arms and leaving the blazer in a pile on the floor. He watched you swallow, your throat working and he tried not to think about making you kneel and taking his cock into that pretty throat of yours. He knew just how good it would feel while you sucked him, how fucking good it would feel to come down your throat. 

Maybe later. Right now, he needed to take care of you. And that’s exactly what he was going to do. 

*** 

When Joel touched you like this, it was like something unspooled inside yourself. There had been a knot in your stomach for days at least - maybe longer - and nothing had worked to untangle it. Not crossing things off your to do list at the office, not the yoga class you’d skipped lunch to take, not the iced latte your assistant had ducked out to grab you that afternoon. But Joel’s hands on your skin as they slipped the slender straps of your satin top down your arms were better than anything else, especially when your mind wasn’t going a mile a minute thinking of ways to please him in return. You watched as he moved to undress you, his eyes heavy and hot and hungry as your top pooled around your hips. He reached around your body to unhook your bra, casting it aside before cupping your breasts in his large palms, groaning as he did. 

“You feel so good,” his thumbs brushed your nipples. “My soft, pretty fuckin’ girl.” 

“Joel,” you whimpered, clenching your hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch him. He’d told you to stay still and you had to obey. If you didn’t, you knew he’d drag out your first orgasm for what felt like an eternity, bringing you just to the edge of it but never letting you fall into your climax until you were a desperate, dripping, squirming mess. 

“What, baby?” He almost cooed at you, just a hint of a teasing edge to his tone. “What’s my baby need?” 

“More,” you whined. “I need more, please, I need…” 

He took his hands off you then and looked you in the eye and you almost reached for him before you caught yourself. 

“Who decides what you need right now,” he said. You moaned and he ignored you. “Who. Tell me, pretty girl.” 

“You,” you said. 

“That’s right,” he nodded. “And I’ll give you more when I decide you need more and I decide I’m done enjoyin’ the parts of you I’m enjoyin’ right now. So. You stand still like a good little doll and we’ll see when I’ll let you have more. Got it?” 

“Yes,” you said. 

He took your chin in his fingers, forcing you to look him in the eye. 

“Yes what.” 

“Yes sir.” 

His crooked smile dimpled his cheek. 

“Good girl.” 

He returned to touching you, running his large and callused hands over your shoulders to your chest, holding and massaging your breasts and you could tell he was taking his time less for himself and more because he knew what it was doing to you. That it was making you achy and desperate and the thoughts that had been weighing on you all day at the office were slipping out of your mind, drifting far away into the ether. 

“Think I remember you sayin’ something about more?” Joel said, his voice low and gravelly as his hand slipped over your stomach, below the bunched fabric of your shirt, below the waistband of your pants until his fingertips were brushing your bare mound inside your panties. You whimpered. “How about I give you some more, hm?” 

His index finger reached out and brushed the top of your clit, sending a shiver through you, all the heat you had inside yourself pooling low in your stomach. 

Joel chuckled. 

“Think she likes it.” 

He pressed a little lower, a little firmer, working your sensitive nub in slow, languid circles. 

“She like this too?” 

You nodded frantically. 

“Thought I told you not to move,” Joel said, stern. 

“But…” 

“No buts,” he cut you off. “You wanted to give me control so you give me control. Otherwise, you won’t get what you want. Got it?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“You’re lucky,” he said as he went to open your pants. “Got me all worked up, too. Too worked up to draw this out the way you deserve, squirmin’ the way you are.” 

He got on his knees in front of you and gathered the fabric of your shirt, pants and underwear in his hands and pulled them all down in one go, the sudden exposure of your skin to the air making you gasp and goosebumps scatter over you in sharp little pin pricks. 

“Fuck, there you are,” he groaned, his hands coming to grip the thick swell of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat of you as he pressed a kiss to your stomach just below your belly button. You moaned, wanting nothing more than to tangle your fingers in his curls. You clenched your fists tighter, nails digging into your palms, acutely aware of where he was touching you because of the absence of him everywhere else. 

He trailed his mouth down to your slit, his tongue dipping into you there, brushing against your clit, the heat of his mouth in sharp contrast to the cold air against your wetness. His hands slipped up your back, finding your waist before Joel stood, his still clothed body so close to your naked one. 

“Lie down for me,” he said, a little breathless. “Middle of the bed.” 

You rushed to obey and watched hungrily as Joel undressed himself, his black t-shirt coming up and over his head, his jeans opening to reveal his tight boxer briefs with his thick, hard cock straining the fabric. He took off everything before crawling up the bed over you and, for half a moment, you thought he really was going to give into you that quickly, give you exactly what you wanted that fast. But instead of settling between your thighs with his heavy length brushing against your slit and his mouth on yours, he fell to the side of you, the weight of him jostling the mattress. You turned your head to look at him, confused, and he laughed, dark and low. 

“You didn’t think you were gonna make me give in that fast, did you?” He asked. He slid one arm below your ribs, his hand coming up and around the back of you to hold your breast while his other hand teased a feather light path down from your throat, over your chest, your stomach to your slit. “No, not done with this yet.” 

“But…” 

“You just lie still and let me worship you,” he said, his palm cupping your mound, his middle finger settling between your lower lips as he put gentle pressure against your clit. The tip of his finger circled your dripping entrance but didn’t slip inside where you were aching and desperate for him. “Want to enjoy you for a while.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to protest, his mouth finding just the right spot on your throat at the same moment he added pressure to your clit, grinding his hand against your most tender place and making your back arch below his touch. 

Joel kissed and licked and sucked along your neck, your collarbone, your breast, his cock brushing against your thigh as he manipulated your body and you could feel his precome on your skin when it did and you were desperate to touch him there, to feel just how hard you’d made him, make him start to unravel the way he was doing to you. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, a finger sliding inside of you, making you groan. 

“But I want…” 

He pulled back from you to look in your eyes and you could tell from the glassy look on his face that you probably already looked like a fucked out mess. 

“You tryin’ to make me feel good or you want it for yourself?” He asked, brows raised. You tried to find the words but couldn’t. He nodded. “S’what I thought, you sit still like I fuckin’ told you. You try to touch me and I won’t let you come, got it? This is about you, not me so you’re gonna lay there and take it, understand?” 

“Yes sir,” you whimpered. 

He went back to working you over, adjusting so that he could fully kiss down your body until his head was between your thighs, two fingers buried inside of you as he looked up your body to your face. 

“New rules,” he said, pressing his lips to your clit for a moment and sucking it into his mouth before continuing. “Want you to come and I want you to come hard. You’re allowed to touch my head to put me where you need but you do anything else with those hands and we’re startin’ over. Understood?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

He practically dove into your pussy, his thumb working your clit, his tongue licking deep into your channel. The fire in your belly burned brighter and it was like you could feel all the blood in your body pulling into the center of you. Your hands flew to his head, the thick of his hair and the heat of his scalp almost sharp against your fingers after having felt nothing but your own palms for what felt like forever. You rocked your hips against his face as he ate at you, a finger slipping into you alongside his tongue, working the inside of you deftly so that you were never empty but never lacking the friction of him moving in you. His fingertip curled into the soft, sensitive place inside of you that he found so easily now, adding the perfect amount of pressure as his thumb and nose worked your clit and you felt your pussy get so tight and hot you worried, for half a second, that it would hurt him before every worry flew out of your head entirely, your entire body flooded with waves of pleasure as you came on his tongue. 

Joel worked you through your orgasm, never letting up as you moaned and panted, your grip on his hair easing as your body started to go limp. Your pussy was so sensitive when your climax eased but Joel didn’t pay your little whimpers any mind. He pulled his mouth from you but added another finger, fucking into you with his hand and adjusting so his palm was grinding against your clit as he did. 

“There you go,” he panted, wiping your slick from his mouth before taking his cock in his hand and working himself with it. “That what you needed, pretty girl?” 

“Yes sir,” you whimpered. 

“Good,” he said, his eyes ranging over you, dark and hot. “Because now it’s my turn.” 

He pulled his fingers from you and spread your thighs a little wider, lining his cock up with your still weakly grasping hole for half a moment before thrusting deep into you in one devastating go. You gasped at the stretch of him filling you like that, the inside of you still soft and tender from your orgasm. Your fingers scrambled at the blanket below you, your back arched and taut and you tried to hold onto something - anything - in your head beside how he was splitting you open. 

“I say you could use your hands like that?” He asked, his fingers finding your wrists and clamping around them. He pressed deep inside you and folded over you, bringing your hands with him, pressing your wrists down into the mattress over your head. “Didn’t think so. You’re my little doll right now, ain’t you? Mine to do what I want with and I want you to take it.” 

“Joel,” you whimpered. 

“That ain’t my name right now, is it?” 

“Sir,” you corrected, resisting the urge to rock your hips up against him. “Please!” 

“Please what?” 

You couldn’t put words to what you wanted to ask for and Joel just smirked before releasing your wrists and sitting up, looking down over your body to where he disappeared inside of it. 

“What I thought,” he said, his hands pressing your thighs wide before his thumb trailed over where you were split open on him to your clit, teasing you in a slow circle that made you jerk involuntarily below him. He took it away, his hand on the soft flesh of your thigh again. “You leave those hands there and take it. You can take it, pretty girl. Know you can.” 

With that, he pulled back, slow and aching, before fucking back into you, hard and fast with a forceful grunt. You watched him fuck you, his cock slamming into you with enough force that it jerked your body up and down the bed. You were lost in it, the way you could see his muscles flex, the way his eyes ranged over you - watching the place he was spreading you open and the way your tits bounced for him and up to your face to meet your eyes and back again. It was almost hypnotic, like there was nothing else in the world that existed outside of him. He was controlling you totally, fucking into you with enough force that you couldn’t even breathe out of sync with his thrusts, your body just something he could manipulate and pleasure and use however he saw fit. 

You weren’t sure how long he fucked you like that before his hands ran over your thighs to your core, his thumbs brushing along your clit, pressing into you there and working you in hard little circles as your channel started to tighten around him again. 

“There we go,” he panted. “Got another one right there don’t you? You’re gonna give it to me, aren’t you pretty girl. Gonna give me everything, ain’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you whined, your fingernails digging into your palms as you fought to keep your hands still. 

“Good girl,” he pressed himself deep as he worked your clit and returned to his same punishing rhythm, the head of him finding the place inside you he’d claimed for himself. He left one thumb on your clit, his other hand stretching up and over your stomach, fingers splaying wide on you until it was in the middle of your chest where you knew he could feel how your heart was pounding behind your ribs. The feel of him everywhere was overwhelming, the tight spool of pleasure that had never fully relaxed after your first orgasm already wound unbearably tight again. 

“Want you to come for me,” he said, voice needy. “Want you to be a good girl and come. Give it all to me, baby, want you to just let go and give it all to me, let it all go, c’mon and come for me, make me fuckin’ feel it…” 

You cried out as you obeyed, your channel fluttering over his cock as he kept fucking you deep and hard. You could feel your orgasm in the very center of you, in every muscle and every nerve, your climax taking hold of you so firmly that you felt a gush of liquid rush out of you. 

“Fuck, there you go,” he said, not letting up. “Fuck baby, love when you squirt for me, such a good fuckin’ girl…” 

The wet snap of his hips into you was obscene and, as your orgasm eased, your body was already drawing tight again. Your heart raced and you could feel everything, everything, so sharp and harsh and overwhelming. Your head swam, your skin prickled. 

“Love feeling you come for me,” Joel was still fucking into you, hard and bruising like he was trying to climb inside your skin and claim a place for himself there. “Love when you get all tight and desperate, love making you all needy…” 

You let out a fucked out little whimper, tears pricking at your eyes, not able to see straight through the haze of your already building orgasm. Joel leaned over you, his cock buried deep but going still. 

“You with me, pretty girl?” He asked, his hands sliding up your arms to find your wrists, holding you gently in place. You couldn’t seem to find the words to answer, too overstimulated to think of anything beyond how he was filling you and surrounding you. “Gimme a color, baby.” 

“Yellow,” you managed. 

 He took your limp wrists in his large palms and guided your hands to his skin, resting them on his broad shoulders. 

“That help?” He asked. “You can nod.” 

You nodded quickly, your breathing evening out, body still tight and strung out. 

“Color?” 

“Green,” you said, the tears that were in your eyes slipping down your cheeks but not being replaced by new ones. 

“Good,” he shifted inside you, pulling back a little before thrusting in again. “Because I ain’t done with you yet. You keep those hands right where I put ‘em and just focus on coming one more time for me, need you to milk me dry, baby.” 

But his pace eased, less frantic and more desperate, working you slow and firm from within. He buried his face into your neck, his mouth finding that place that sent shocks of pleasure through your whole body. His hands ranged over you, fingers hungry and grasping at your skin, his hips working against your clit as his cock found its home deep within you. 

“Know you’re close,” he said against your skin, lips still close enough to brush against you as he spoke. He kissed along your neck, nose teasing along your throat. “You got one more in you, baby, I know you do.” 

“Sir,” you whimpered, pleading, not sure if you wanted to come or wanted to just dissolve. 

“You can come,” he fucked you slow and deep. His public bone pressed against your clit and your back arched. “Want you to come, want to feel you come. Make me feel you, baby. Be a good girl and make me feel you.” 

You dared to let yourself move, just enough that you could rock your hips up against him, working yourself with his body as you felt him grow impossibly thicker and harder inside you. Or, maybe, you were just tightening further around him, body clinging to him in one last desperate push for closeness as your climax hit again. You cried out with it and you couldn’t just leave your hands on Joel’s shoulders, instead latching onto his hair and sliding down his back, pulling him flush against your body so the only thing left in the world was him and his skin and the thick of his cock as he started to pulse inside of you. 

Your orgasm almost hurt it was so intense. You could feel every inch of Joel’s cock in you, the heat and softness of his skin against you, every muscle in your body going rigid and tense for a moment before relaxing. Your vision went spotty and you got light headed and you lost track of time. 

The next thing you knew, you were in Joel’s arms, cradled against his chest, his fingers trailing a gentle path along the edge of your hairline and jaw, thumb brushing the plush of your lips. 

“There you are,” he said softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his large hand coming to rest against your cheek as you turned your head to look at him. His eyes were soft and warm and there was a gentle smile on his face. “How are you feelin’ love?” 

You took stock of your body for a moment, everything feeling light and airy. 

“I’m good,” you smiled a little. 

“Yeah?” He said, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Take a deep breath for me, OK?” 

You nodded a little and did as you were told, only realizing then just how little your lungs had been inflating before. 

“How’s that feelin’?” He asked. “Good?” 

You just nodded, still smiling. 

“How about this for the night,” he said, going back to tracing an easy trail over your skin with his fingertips. “In a few minutes, I get up and get you water and a cocktail while you put on that pretty little swimsuit of yours. You float in the water while I look at ya and finish those ribs in the smoker…” 

“You’re making me ribs?” You almost pouted, your brows going up. 

Joel chuckled. 

“Yeah, that OK?” 

“That’s my favorite,” you said, feeling like you might be about to cry. 

“I know it is, baby,” he said, kissing your temple again. “S’why I made ‘em. Got that potato salad you like, green beans, cornbread too. Even got that chocolate cake you like so much…” 

“The Oreo one?” You sniffed, tearing up. 

“The Oreo one,” he brushed your hair back. “You still with me there baby?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, crying a little. You weren’t entirely sure why, just every emotion you’d had over the past week seeming to bubble up at once. “I think so…” 

“You’re OK,” Joel said, pulling you closer, his lips gentle on your skin. “I’ve got you.” 

You just nodded against him and focused on how his skin felt on yours, his warmth and strength grounding while your mind was still swimming. 

“What about after dinner?” You sniffed. 

“We can watch one of those movies you like so much,” he said. “I know the ones that’ve been on your list, you don’t gotta pick unless you want to. Sound good?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “But… can we just stay here for a little while first? Please?” 

“Course baby,” he said. “Whatever you need. I’ll take care of you.” 

You nuzzled into his skin and breathed deep and you didn’t really know why you’d been so stressed when you got home to begin with. You just knew that you had Joel and that, as long as he was there, everything else would be OK.

[ashwhowrites]

Ahhhh I've been so excited since you mentioned Buffy universe, so obviously I NEED to make a request (i have too much ideas, but I'll try to calm down 😅)

I was thinking about human reader x Spike (my love ❤️). Spike is so madly in love with her that scooby gang has fun watching it, but it is kind of adorable even for them.

One day Spike heard about Angel's visit in town and since then he tries to keep reader far from scooby gang and Angel.

He's telling himself he's not scared of losing reader to Angel because their relationship is strong and mature (not like his previous one) but he's insecure that reader could choose broody handsome brunette because of this all good things he's done

And with happy end pretty please

(I'm so happy, somebody wants to write about buffyverse 🎉🎉🎉)

Thank you for your time 💜💜💜

I'm so in love with Spike so I get it!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. It feels very weird to write about a different character so I hope it feels like Spike. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Ugh, not Angel

"So does this mean Spike gets to help?" Y/N asked with glee. She knew many of her friends didn't enjoy it when her boyfriend was around but at times she didn't care.

"I say we can do it without the blood-sucking vampire," Xander said as he rolled his eyes. Y/N shot him a glare.

"Be nice, Xander," Willow reminded him.

"Even though I hate to say it, we need Spike's help," Buffy said with disappointment.

~

"The man of the hour has arrived!" Spike said as he walked into Buffy's house. Y/N walked in behind him and closed the door. Together they walked to Buffy's couch and took a seat.

Giles and Buffy explained the plan but Spike was far from listening. His girl was tucked under his arm; all he could focus on was her face. He watched as she listened intently, nodding to what she agreed.

"Spike!" Buffy snapped, clapping her hands. The vampire was quick to look over at her with a snarl. "Pay attention!"

"Oh Buffy, don't be jealous," Spike teased giving her a small amount of attention before he went back to Y/N.

"Listen," Y/N warned, nodding her head toward Buffy. He listened to her, as he always did.

"Weren't you like a terrifying vampire before you got pussy whipped?" Xander joked. Buffy smirked at the comment but made sure not to laugh.

"I can still tear your throat out," Spike growled, biting the air. "I'm not pussy whipped. I just happen to worship the ground my darling walks on."

Y/N tried not to blush at Spike's words. His accent always made her heart race.

"Yeah, Xander! Would it kill you to worship me like that?" Anya complained. Xander groaned as he knew a new fight would happen by the time he went home.

"Quiet!" Giles said, gaining everyone's attention.

~~~

Spike was watching TV in his crypt when he heard someone enter. He turned his head and groaned to himself as Buffy walked in.

"Oh great the slayer," he said, clicking off the TV.

"It looks different here," Buffy realized, looking around. There were candles near the bed, which were covered in fuzzy pillows. There were twinkle lights hung up, for once giving the dark crypt some light.

"What do you need?" Spike asked, ignoring her comments.

"Y/N has a nice touch," Buffy smirked. Spike shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but a sense of pride in his cold chest knowing she was displayed in his home.

"Get to the damn point, slayer."

"Angel's back," Buffy sighed.

Spike quickly flew out of his chair, an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

"Why?" Spike growled. Spike and Angel didn't get along too well. Both vampires but Angel was the better one in people's opinion. Spike didn't tend to care about the comparison but Y/N had never met Angel before and he wanted to keep it that way. "Actually I don't even care." He sassed. Buffy watched confused as he ran out.

~

Y/N was painting her toes when Spike let himself into her bedroom. She looked up with a smile as she smelled him.

"Hello, handsome,"

Spike smiled as she went back to focusing on her toes, moving to sit on the hard floor. He didn't say anything as he grabbed the polish from her hands and began to paint her toes.

She smiled as she let him take over. She adored moments like this with him. When he was doing human things with her. She reached down and ran her fingers through his blonde hair, messing up the perfection it always was. He'd bite off anyone's hand if they touched him like that but it was her so he didn't mind.

"I'm glad you stopped by. The gang is having a movie night, would you like to come?"

Spike took his time painting her toes. The truth was, he didn't want her to go. He was worried Angel would show up with his stupid dark hair, charming personality, and a face that apparently many girls liked.

"Spike?" She said as he sat in silence.

"Could we maybe have the night alone together?" He looked up at her and she was taken back from the insecurity in his eyes.

"Sure, baby. Let me give them a call," she said as she ruffled his hair.

~~~

Spike did his best to keep her away from Angel and tried to keep it secretive. Spike wasn't sure how long Angel would be around but it had been a week too long. Y/N loved Spike so spending all the time with him wasn't a bad thing, but she was worried.

Spike was always confident and loved being seen by others. Even though Y/N hated it, he enjoyed the looks he got from women. He didn't get along with many of her friends but he never was this distant with them. Y/N worried something was going on and she was left in the dark about it.

The couple sat in silence as they watched Passions, even after a year of being with Spike she didn't see the appeal in the show. It had been a week since she left Spike's side. Anytime she made a comment to leave he went into a panic and begged her to stay. Adding to the worry she was feeling.

"Spike," Y/N said, nudging her boyfriend in the arm. His eyes dashed over to her. "Is there something going on between you and my friends? And I know you love me, but there's a reason why you don't want me to leave your side and I want to know."

"Darling, I have to confess something," Spike sighed.

"If you cheated on me I will have Buffy here to kill your ass in a second," Y/N warned. Her eyes squinting into a glare that sent a shiver down Spike's spine.

"Never!" he exclaimed. "Do you remember the stories of Buffy's ex Angel?"

"A little," Y/N said shrugging.

"He's a vampire and pretty much everyone fell in love with him when he was around. Buffy, Willow, and well Xander hated him like he does me, but they saw something good in him. It didn't matter how well-behaved I was, they always picked him for help. Whenever he is around, I'm not needed. I was worried his charm would work on you."

Y/N was in awe of Spike feeling a variety of emotions. She didn't think he felt much other than love and lust.

"You were worried I'd fall for him?" Y/N asked, reaching out to cup Spike's face.

Spike tried to show no emotion, "Not quite what I said. I mean look at me, I am way more of a catch." Y/N laughed at his words, allowing him to feel what he needed.

"Well, if you were saying that I'd make sure to say that I love you. I don't think there is anyone dead or alive that would make me feel the way you do. No one will take me from you." She leaned in and pressed her forehead against his.

He closed his eyes and nudged his nose against hers. Her words sank in and took the weight off his body. He opened his eyes and smiled as she stared at him. He leaned in and pressed a kiss against his lips.

~

With a lot of convincing sex, Y/N got Spike out of his cave. Her hand was in his as they walked into Buffy's house. The gang all said hello and Y/N noticed the new face.

She turned her head as she checked him out, Spike standing taller as he squeezed her hand. She shook her head and turned to Spike, moving to whisper in his ear. "Not even close."

Spike smirked at her words, his confidence taking over. "Well, Angel. I wish I would say nice to see you but it's not."

Angel scoffed but walked over, his eyes landing on the girl next to him. "She's new," Angel smiled. "Prettier than the last one."

Spike stiffened at Angel's words and the mention of Drusilla. The images of her and Angel together in his head were the exact reason he feared for Y/N to see him.

"I'm Y/N, Spike's girlfriend."

Spike smiled at her. Maybe he didn't need to worry about this one.

[uniquexusposts]

This is embarrassing - M. Verstappen (2)

Summary: Y/n and Max meet again at the slopes. Part one Part three

And the next day was even busier on the slopes. The last time it was so extremely crowded at the ski lift... Three years ago. It almost looked like people were waiting for a Harry Styles concert. It was a beautiful day, but not a special day. Well, it was Christmas Day, but usually, it would be quiet on the slopes.

Y/n was watching the chaos from a distance. Her plan was to ski for an hour, but suddenly, she didn't look forward to it anymore. She removed her helm from her head and grabbed the skies from the ground. Time to go home. An annoyed feeling flowed through her veins. She hoped that she could some time on the slopes, just to relax - well, to empty her mind - and then to get ready for the evening. For a moment, she longed for a lockdown again; no people, no queues, not having to share the slopes with anyone. Y/n turned around and made her way to the exit, passing everyone complaining about the busyness.

Her eyes fell on someone who was struggling to remove his skies from his boots. Y/n walked towards them. "Do you need some help?"

"Oh, yes, please. I can't get those off."

Y/n explained to the person how to do it.

"I always feel so stupid when it doesn't work." The person put off the goggles and removed the helmet. A smile came on his face. "Hey, you, again."

A smile grew on her face. "We keep bumping into each other," she smirked.

Max noticed that the young woman was an easy talker and joked around. "It's almost getting too notable." He took a deep breath. "Thanks, for this. But, err, I really need to go to the restroom, so I'm gonna go."

"Yes, sure. I wont hold you up any longer." She grabbed her gear from the ground again and saw how Max walked in the opposite direction from the restrooms. "Hey!" Y/n stepped towards him. "It's the other direction," she said, pointing behind her.

"Yes, I know. But the queue is long. And I can hold it up for a bit longer."

"Oh, okay," she nodded.

Max walked away again. It was a good day to go out, and he wasn't the only one who thought about it like that. The entire village thought like that. Today was more about waiting than skiing. Max looked next to him, and the young woman was walking behind him. They made eye contact, and she shared an awkward smile. "It's busy out there," he said to her.

She nodded. "Unfortunately," she mentioned. "How many times did you manage to get up there?"

"Four times now, since this morning. You?"

"Zero." She sighed. "I was about to hit the slopes, but then I saw the queue and turned around."

"You're late."

"Yeah, I hoped that everyone would be too drunk because of the Après-ski and would get ready for their Christmas dinner," she honestly shared.

Max couldn't help it, but he laughed. "That's quite the strategy." He looked in front of them. "I feel like it's much busier than before."

"It's the same as before Covid, actually. But it looks busier."

"Ah, makes sense."

"And during Covid, when we were open, only the guests from the resort had access. And now everyone has access again."

He nodded. "Fully back to normal."

"Yep." Y/n struggled to carry her skies, which annoyed her more. "Where do you stay?"

"Other side of the village," he replied. "We're renting a house. It's called Maison de Neige."

"Ah, that's a lovely house. Far away, though."

He looked at her and noticed the somewhat judgy look. He knew it sounded stupid. Why go to your accommodation to go to the bathroom on the other side of the village when there's a restroom nearby? "I know, I know. But it was so busy."

"Yeah, I mean, I would do the same," she agreed. "You know what? I live there," she pointed at a house across the street. "If you want to, you can use the toilet. Saves you some time."

Max raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?" He scanned the houses in the street. He thought those were holiday accommodations since all of them looked huge.

Y/n nodded. "Yes. It's no problem."

For a moment, Max hesitated. Could he trust her? But on the other hand, she didn't look like a person who would take advantage of him. "What is your name, actually?"

"Oh, yes, right. My name is Y/n," she introduced herself.

"Nice to meet you, Y/n. I'm Max."

"I know," she whispered. "Nice to meet you, too." Y/n zipped her coat open and grabbed her keys. She opened the door that led to the garage.

Max followed her inside. He closed the door behind him and looked around. On the left side, one car was parked. On the other side, he saw a lot of ski gear. In the middle of the garage was a wooden bench to undress from the thick layers of ski gear. And that was what Y/n did. He followed her attitude.

"The relief when taking those boots off..." She got up and waited for him.

He put his helmet on the bench next to him and got up as well. "...heavenly," he dreamingly said and followed her upstairs. His eyes fell on the photos on the wall of the hall; a lot of family photos.

"Eh, here is the toilet," Y/n said and opened a door in the hall.

She left Max by going to the kitchen. Now she wasn't going to the slopes anymore, she wanted to treat herself to a glass of hot chocolate for the disappointment. Treat yourself. But now, did she need to ask Max if he also wanted a glass? She invited him over, but just for the use of the toilet. What if he thought this was weird? Y/n grabbed her hoodie that was hanging over the bar stool in the kitchen, put it on and stepped into her slippers. She leaned against the kitchen counter, debating her decision. If he says yes, give him hot chocolate. If he says no, nothing else will happen. It's not the end of the world.

"Thank you."

Y/n looked up and saw Max standing in the hall. She friendly smiled. "No problem," she said. "And, eh... This may sound weird, but I'm gonna make some hot chocolate. Do you want a glass too?" She was waiting for his reaction. "It's okay if you want to go back..." she quietly added.

"Can't say no to hot chocolate," he responded with a smile and entered the kitchen. "And it's not like it will be less busy now, on the slopes."

"Fair." Y/n heated some chocolate milk.

"No offence," Max broke the silence. He only had seen the kitchen, but the kitchen looked new and modern. And the size of the house was big; he assumed the entire property was one home. And the car in the garage was the new Volvo. "But what do you do for a living to live in a house like this?"

She looked at him and smirked. "It's my parents' house."

"Yeah, okay, I already thought so," he made the assumption. "But even then. They say it's expensive to live in this area."

"It is," she confirmed, pouring the hot chocolate into two cups. "Whipped cream?"

"Yes, please."

Y/n grabbed the whipped cream from the fridge and put it on the hot chocolate. "So, yeah. It's not like my dad is the mayor of the village, but he is in charge of the slopes; the maintenance, staff, etcetera. And my mum is the general manager of Blue."

"Blue?"

"The resort." She handed over the hot chocolate and sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

"Thanks." He sat down next to her.

Whenever Y/n would say that her parents were a big name in the village, she was scared that people would think that she would use that position for herself. She was proud of her parents, but... "So yeah, the daughter of."

"How is that like?" Max could perhaps fill in the answer, but he wanted to keep the conversation going. He ate some of the whipped cream.

"I would say lonely; they are barely home. We always have to postpone the holidays to moments when it's not busy. But on the other hand, my brother and I help them, so we always have something to do around here. And I really can't complain about where I live."

He nodded. "Yeah, I can imagine... It has its pros and cons?"

She nodded as well and carefully took a sip from her drink.

"I'm barely home as well."

"You know how it feels from the other side," she quietly mentioned and smirked to keep the conversation light. "But," Y/n started and smiled, "what will you be doing tonight?"

Today was Christmas. "We're staying at the Maison and making dinner on our own. We spend the evening at the restaurant yesterday. Yesterday we dressed up; today, we wear the ugliest Christmas jumper."

A smile grew on Y/n's face. "Sounds good."

"And you?"

"My parents said that they might be off for the evening. And if that isn't the case, my brother and I will relax, have a Christmas film marathon and eat too much food." Y/n stroked a piece of hair behind her ear. "It sounds like we don't have friends or other family, but they already have plans."

"I'm not judging you. Who am I to judge?"

You are Max Verstappen.

"Besides, I prefer lazy Christmas evenings over busy, formal, perfect-not-so-perfect Christmas diners where you can't be yourself," he added.

She pushed the corners of her mouth down and looked impressed. "You have a point there."

"See."

"I don't know, it sounds so pathetic. A 24-year-old celebrating Christmas on the couch."

"I think a lot of 24-year-olds are jealous of you. Secretly," Max comforted her and lightly shrugged. "But, now I am here with a knower of the slopes. When is it quiet on the slopes?"

Y/n took a sip of the hot chocolate and licked her lips when she could feel the whipped cream on them. "Tomorrow morning," she replied. "And the morning after New Year. When the slopes open at 8 o'clock, to 9 o'clock-ish. No one wants to be there in the morning after a holiday with a hangover or a lack of sleep," she chuckled.

"Will you be there?"

"Oh, absolutely," she replied without hesitation. "I can't say no to an almost empty slope during the peak days."

A laugh rolled over his lips. "I like how dedicated you are."

Y/n held up her shoulders and looked proud of her knowledge. "Quality over quantity," she playfully said.

"As you should."

"You can join me, if you want. We're going with the family."

He squinted and thought about it. An empty slope? Fantastic. But with a hangover or only a few hours of sleep? Meh. "Let me think about that."

"Of course, no stress. We're leaving at half past seven. I will see if you will be downstairs tomorrow." She took the last sip of the hot chocolate.

Max nodded, emptying his cup as well. "Thank you for the hot chocolate, it was good," he smiled. "I'm going back to the Maison, calling it a day."

"I'm glad it was."

They made their way to the garage below the house, and Max put on his gear again, ready to enter the cold again. Well, it wasn't that cold, but it also wasn't warm. A decent temperature, but on the colder side to ski.

"Thanks again," Max smiled and opened the backdoor that led to the street. He was holding his skies and helmet in his hands, really showing he would go to his own place.

Y/n crossed her arms in front of her chest when the cold circled around her body. She smiled. "No need to thank me. Merry Christmas, Max."

"Merry Christmas," he smiled. "And maybe I will see you tomorrow morning. Half past seven, right?"

She nodded. "On the dot," she playfully said.

A chuckle escaped his mouth, and he stepped away, turning his back to her. "We will see," he mentioned and threw his hand with helmet in the air.

The smile on Y/n's mouth became wider, and she shook her head. Meeting him was the last thing that she expected, let alone drinking hot chocolate with him. She closed the door and locked it again. Her eyes fell on her ski gear, she didn't tidy it up. A sigh left her mouth, and she picked up her skies, placing them in their holder on the wall. She grabbed her boots and put them on the side. When she grabbed her helmet from the bench, the backdoor opened.

"Hey, Y/n/n,” her brother's voice filled the garage. Theodore grinned when he looked at his sister. He was wearing his teacher's ski outfit, meaning he got back straight from the slopes.

Y/n raised her eyebrows, and an annoying look came on her face. She hated that nickname, and he knew that. "Piss off," she mumbled. "Close the door for the cold."

"Good..." The deep voice of her dad said. When he stepped in, he was looking at his watch. "...afternoon," he finished when he saw it was a few minutes before six o'clock. Her dad was dressed normally; trousers, leather boots, a trendy coat.

"Ah, how cosy," a female voice then filled the air. A woman entered the garage, wearing her work clothes, and closed the door, locking it. "When was the last time we all stood in the garage at the same time?" The mother was widely smiling.

A soft smile grew on Y/n's face. "Are we all home tonight?"

"Yes."

"Yup."

"Absolutely."

Something she never thought would happen. She hoped for it, knew it was unrealistic, but this... A Christmas present to the family. "Love it," Y/n smiled and grabbed her coat. She brought her helmet and coat upstairs and stored them in the closet. She got to the kitchen and put the two used cups in the dishwasher.

“Y/n/n,” mum said when entering the kitchen. "Shall we make dinner in an hour?"

"Yes, sure."

"Do I need to help with anything?" Dad put on the coffee machine and leaned against the counter while crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Mum took a deep breath. "Uh..." She looked around the kitchen. "Let's just relax for a bit. My brain is a sponge." She left the kitchen with a glass of water in her hand and a yawn that escaped her lips.

"What's on the menu?" Dad asked his daughter. "And do you want a cup of coffee?"

"A cappuccino, please," Y/n replied. "And we have carpaccio, salmon with veggies and tiramisu," she mentioned and opened the fridge. "But we have to make the tiramisu since it was sold out."

"Let's make the tiramisu, then we will set the table and do the rest," he replied. "Mum has an extremely busy time; let's give her some rest. I think we need tonight simple anyway. Dinner and then watch a movie. I'm exhausted, everyone is exhausted."

Theodore entered the kitchen. "Sounds like a plan. Honestly, I'm not even dressing up. I'm gonna shower and put on a Christmas jumper, and that is all I will give you tonight." He yawned. "I've seen so many people today, I am overcooked."

"Was your class fun?" Dad asked his son and made a coffee for Y/n. "Coffee?"

Theodore nodded at his last question. "Yes, please. And the class... I have this annoying child I have to deal with, but overall, it's fine. Glad we have nothing tomorrow."

"Are we still doing the ski trip at eight tomorrow?" Y/n then asked.

"I say yes, but only if I have the energy for it," Theodore breathed.

"I will go, it's the only time I can go," dad breathed.

Part three

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc @ironmaiden1313@blodwyn4u @sltwins @heart-trees

[mykoreanlove]

fighting with felix be like

“You’re being ridiculous, y/n.”

His words stung, adding onto the heavy pain you were already feeling. “Am I though? Your ex was with us right there tonight. Am I ridiculous for feeling jealous?” He halted abruptly and turned around. “That is what this is about? You were jealous because of my ex?”

Your eyes were glued to the floor. This was your first relationship, and you had no idea how to navigate tough situations like these. Felix’ gaze softened as he understood why you made his night a living hell.

He embraced you in his arms and kissed your forehead, whispering to you softly. “Sweetums, I had no idea you felt that way. I’m sorry. Please believe me that you have nothing to worry about. My ex is my ex for a reason. Okay?”

His loving eyes pierced through yours and you felt butterflies all over again. You felt stupid for acting like a bitch tonight. Shame flooded your system – you wanted to be a cool girl, not a pathetic one.

You thought about ways to make it up to him. As you fumbled with the zipper of his jeans you looked him deep in the eyes and mumbled your apology. “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widened in surprise – up to now you hadn’t done something like this before.

Felix was more experienced than you were, he definitely wasn’t timid in bed. But he respected you and gave you all the time you needed. You loved the kissing, licking, groping, or fingering but everything else had been new territory for you.

“Sweetums, are you sure?”

You nodded, biting your lip in anticipation. He sat down on the couch after you slid off his dark jeans. His tight boxers were fighting to contain his dick, the bulge was too prominent to ignore.

You had no idea how to do this. Should you have watched some porn before? Shit.

Your fingers grazed his thighs, leaving him shivering in anticipation. Felix’ noticed you tensing up, so he took your face into his hand and placed a sweet kiss on your lips. “Don’t overthink it, baby. Just let it happen naturally.”

You freed his cock out of his boxers. “Damn”, you admired him. “Lixie, your dick is gorgeous.” He laughed out loud. “Thank you sweetums. My dick thinks you’re gorgeous, too.” Now you laughed. You got on your knees and braided your hair into a ponytail, ready for action.

 “Well, let me introduce myself properly.”

You had been bopping your head on his dick for almost an hour, you couldn’t get enough. Felix was thick – filling you completely. You almost choked a couple times, but you didn’t care, taking him deep was so fulfilling. You felt dirty, like you were doing something wrong. Your tongue glided over his cock, veins popping out left and right. He was close so many times, twitching in your mouth relentlessly. His deep moans filled the whole room and you never felt prouder. “Sweetums, fuck. I’m about to faint, this feels so fucking good.”

You quickened your pace and sucked harder, covering him and yourself in spit. Felix groaned again and sat up straight, taking your ponytail in his hands, pulling tightly. “Look at me, baby. Look at me while you take me like a little slut.”

Oh, you felt your pussy twitch. Fuck, that was hot. Let me be your little slut, Lixie. I’d do anything for you. You held his gaze while you were sucking and massaging his balls.

His pupils dilated; he was loving this so much. You didn’t think it would be possible for him to get even harder, but it was. It was as if you were licking a rock. “Can I.. can I come in your pretty mouth?”

You squeezed his thighs. God yes, let me taste you. Felix understood and rocked his hips forward, his dick shooting right into the back of your throat, making your eyes water. “God, y/n, I…fuck!”

Felix cum tasted like nothing you had ever tasted before. A mixture of sweet and salty, just like he was. You sucked him dry, licking off every droplet of his salvation.

You had no idea if he was satisfied but you were proud of yourself. “Fuck, sweetums – what was that?” Felix smiled from ear to ear and pulled you to him on the couch. You were laying on his chest, very aware of his heavy breathing. “Was that.. okay?”

He looked at you amused. “Are you kidding? That was the best blowjob I ever got. I wasn’t kidding about fainting. That was intense!” He kissed you tenderly. “Thank you, y/n. I loved it.” You smiled back proudly. Felix hugged you even tighter now. “Did you really do that because of our fight?” You looked up at him, smiling shyly. “Yeah. I felt sorry for how I behaved and I.. I wanted to make it up to you.”

You played with his shirt, waiting for his reply. “Well, if that is the case then we should fight more often. Don’t you think?”

[ericshoney]

Quen's sister ~ Chris Sturniolo (Part two)

Summary: After meeting the Sturniolo triplets and getting Chris' number you've been texting non-stop, which your sister notices and makes a plan.

Warnings: possible swearing, nicknames, surprise date, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the past few weeks, you and Chris had been texting non-stop. It had been friendly but also kinda flirty. You had many jokes and sent many memes to each other. You were often found with your head in your phone, but now a massive smile was etched onto your face and soft laughter left your mouth.

Quen noticed this and knew it was Chris. Why? Only because Nick and Matt were experiencing the exact same thing. Chris was found buried in his phone, smiling and laughing as well.

So the three knew they had to make a plan. They had started simple, group hangout. You and Quen would go to their place, they would go to yours or you'd meet somewhere and do something.

As all this happened, your sister, Nick and Matt noticed how close and connected you and Chris were. They also saw how both of you liked each other but wouldn't dare admit it.

"We gotta get them on a date." Quen said.

Her, Nick and Matt were sat in a coffee shop thinking of another plan. Quen had said she went to meet Larray whilst Nick said he had a meeting for Space Camp and needed Matt to drive him. Neither you or Chris suspected a thing.

"What are we going to do, say we're going for dinner but actually only they show up?" Matt asked sarcastically.

"That's fucking genius!" Nick exclaimed.

"Yes! We can book the table and time but they arrive!" Quen shouted.

"I was joking." Matt muttered.

"It's a good idea, joke or not." Nick said, patting Matt's shoulder.

So the three made a plan. They booked a table at a nice restaurant under Chris' name. Quen messaged you to get ready for dinner at six, whilst Nick said the same to Chris and said they would meet you there, but in reality they would just go home.

~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, you took an Uber to the restaurant, thinking you were meeting for dinner. Not knowing you were about to have a date with Chris.

When you arrived and got out. You sent a message to Quen, but didn't get a reply. You waited a few minutes thinking she must be on her way, when you saw Chris walking over.

"Hey!" He greeted cheerfully.

"Hey, Chris." You responded.

He smiled and gave you a hug. You smiled, feeling the butterflies in your stomach. When he pulled away, you felt slightly cold.

"Are we early?" Chris then asked.

You checked the time and saw it was five fifty. You know the table was booked for six.

"Not really, maybe they are inside?" You suggested.

"Let's go see." He replied.

You both went inside and spoke to the waiter who led you to an empty table. You thanked the waiter and sat down, looking at the menu and texting your siblings you were at the table.

Ten minutes past and no responses from either Quen, Nick or Matt. They didn't show up either. You both ordered some drinks, still waiting for your siblings.

"So, how you been?" Chris asked.

"I've been good, I started posting on TikTok more." You answered.

"I saw." He replied, smiling.

"You follow my TikTok?" You asked.

"Of course! Love the prank ones." He said.

You smiled and continued chatting. You shared some stories of your past week and some funny videos you've both found. The night went on as you ordered food, totally ignoring the fact that Quen, Nick and Matt didn't show until it was time to leave.

Chris paid, which you were grateful for even though you said he didn't have too. He smiled as you went outside about to get an Uber.

"You know, it was fun, just us." Chris said.

"Yeah, I totally forgot it was supposed to be a group thing." You responded.

"Kinda like a date." Chris mumbled.

"Yeah." You whispered.

You looked up at Chris as he looked down at you. Both of you smiled at each other.

"I really like you." Chris blurted out.

"I really like you too." You replied.

"Wanna maybe go on another date?" He suggested.

"I'd love too!" You exclaimed, making him laugh.

"Okay, text you later, sweetheart." He responded, kissing your cheek as he got in an Uber.

You smiled and got in another Uber, heading home, a massive smile on your face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

@lgbtq-girl @mattsfavbigtitties @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

Like Lava.

18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

A/N: The idea for this fic was prompted by this post by the wonderful @twistedmelodies. This thought plagued my mind so much that I had to do something about it.

I suggest you listen to the song "My Name Is Human" by Highly Suspect while reading this.

Word count: 4.2K

Pairing: Jake x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ONLY, graphic sexual content, oral (m! and f! receiving), protected penetrative sex, use of restraints.

Summary: A terrible day at work takes an unexpected turn when you decide to go to a bar to get a drink.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The bar was still packed when you entered. Much to your dismay.

It was late and you were already overstimulated by the longest shift ever at work.

You thought that a hot shower could make you feel better but you clearly needed something stronger.

You needed a drink to help your brain finally relax and that place was the closest one to your house that could provide you one.

You didn't look anyone in the face there, you just made a beeline towards the bar and quickly got the attention of the bartender.

You asked for a whiskey neat and sat on a stool while you waited.

He placed the glass in front of you with a smile and turned to serve another customer.

You had just grabbed the drink and were ready to have a much needed gulp of liquor when a hand knocked against yours, making the drink spill over the bar top and the glass fall from your grasp.

The glass crashed onto the floor with a loud noise, sending shards everywhere and you shivered at the sound, feeling your anger flare.

You bit the inside of your cheek to try and make your anger subside but it didn't work.

You quickly turned around with your cheeks reddened and your nostrils flaring, ready to tell off whoever the culprit was, but those venomous words died on your tongue when you were met with sweet dark eyes and a heartstopping apologetic smile.

He started apologizing profusely, asking if you were hurt, if he had ruined your clothes and already flagging the bartender to buy you another drink.

“I'm so sorry, I'm very clumsy sometimes. I’m Jake, by the way” The stranger said, extending his hand for you to shake.

You introduced yourself too and took his hand in yours.

His skin was so soft and warm that you felt your icy demeanor starting to crack.

At that moment you finally took him in.

He was beautiful.

His hair was long and looked so soft you wanted to sink your hands in it. It was glowing beautifully in the low light of the room.

He was wearing a simple black shirt that was almost totally unbuttoned, and black jeans. Nothing too fancy, but what caught your eye the most were the antique-looking silver pendants he had around his neck and the many rings and bracelets on his fingers and wrists.

You were regretting coming to that place with every cell of your being before meeting his eyes.

But something told you to stay and let this handsome stranger buy you a drink.

~

An hour and two drinks later you were still chatting and laughing with him at the bar.

He was incredibly funny and smart and you chatted about anything and everything; time had flown in his company.

And on top of that, you would have listened to him talk to no end because his voice was so intense and warm that it made you melt every second more.

You told him everything that happened at work that day and he listened to you with interest.

Then he told you that he had a bad day too. He was a musician, a guitarist, and that day it seemed like he just couldn't focus on notes and riffs. He kept messing up to the point that his own bandmates had kicked him out of the studio and went on practicing without him. He was so irritated with himself that he had almost risked destroying his guitar against the wall.

A comfortable silence fell around you after a while, and you were slowly losing yourself into his eyes, when the bartender signaled to the customers still lingering around that the bar was closing soon.

You were a bit disconsolate that your time with him had eventually come to an end, but when your eyes met his again, you saw a glint there.

He cleared his throat and came closer to you.

“I'm going to be very direct, okay?” He said while trailing a knuckle down your cheek, with a featherlight touch that made your skin cover with goosebumps.

“If I'm overstepping just tell me and we can forget I even said a word. We can go back to being strangers and you won't see me again I promise. Or we can be friends and meet for another drink whenever you want” he whispered.

You felt his hot breath on your neck when he came even closer and a shiver ran down your spine.

“It's been a long day for us both, why don't we help each other unwind?” He whispered into your ear and your heart skipped a beat.

When his dark eyes met yours again, your mind went completely blank.

It was your heart talking when, a few seconds later, you answered him with a confidence you didn't know you possessed.

“Please, yes. Let's go to my place. It's ten minutes away from here” you said struggling to recognise your own voice.

The idea of having to wait ten minutes to feel him didn't really appeal to you but, thank God, he had a better solution.

“If you want, we could go to my place. It's just around the corner” he whispered onto your lips. His voice was like honey, so rich and voluptuous, that you felt drawn to him like a butterfly to the sweetest flower.

The need to feel him was increasing and your fingers were trembling when you grabbed your glass to finish your drink.

He closed his tab paying for your drinks too and then grasped your hand in his, leading you out of the bar.

Once outside, all you wanted to do was start running towards his house but he didn't immediately lead you there.

He stopped abruptly and turned around to face you.

His eyes bore holes into yours as he gently grasped your face between his warm hands.

You felt a tingle where his fingers were touching you and your cheeks heated immediately.

He leaned his forehead against yours and you felt his hot breath on your lips, before his voice graced your ears again.

“Do you really want this, love? I can walk you home if you don't.” He whispered gently, placing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Please, I do” you answered him in a sliver of voice.

“May I kiss you?” He whispered caressing your bottom lip with his thumb.

You nodded and his lips were on yours. A shiver ran down your spine at the softness of his mouth.

He sucked gently at your bottom lip and you moaned at the feeling. His lips tasted of the whisky he had been drinking all night.

When his tongue licked into your mouth, you felt dizzy, and you clawed onto his jacket, feeling the soft corduroy under your fingertips.

You needed him.

He broke the kiss and caressed your cheeks with a sweet smile on his plump lips.

There was a little wind that kept blowing strands of his hair in his eyes, but that couldn't hide the fire burning there.

“Let's go” He said, grasping your hand and leading you towards his house.

~

The moment you two entered, you ended up pressed against the cool wood of his door.

His lips were on your neck, sucking and biting the delicate skin while his hands gripped your hips.

Your hands sank in his hair and you moaned at the softness of it.

As he lost himself in your neck, biting, licking and sucking your skin, you took a look around his flat, despite struggling to keep your eyes open because of the pleasure coursing through your veins.

He lived in a cozy open space and, if he hadn't told you before that he was a guitarist, you would have guessed it the moment you entered.

There were many guitars hanging on the walls, one more beautiful than the other.

The place was in semi-darkness, the only light was coming from outside, casting a dim glow on everything.

Near a window there was a desk with papers scattered on top and under it. Many were crumpled and others just scribbled, effectively portraying the chaos plaguing his mind that had gotten him kicked out of band practice.

You tugged gently on his hair and guided his mouth to yours, moaning at the feeling of his warm tongue caressing yours.

He broke the kiss and turned you around by your hips so he was behind you and could guide you towards his bedroom.

There were a few more guitars there, two acoustics on their respective stands and an electric that was thrown on the floor without care.

It was still plugged into an amp and you suspected that was the one that had been almost destroyed against the wall because of Jake's temper.

The room was bathed in a soft golden glow provided by the vintage lava lamp on the nightstand. The orange bubbles rising and falling inside reverberated on the walls creating a cozy atmosphere.

The double bed was completely unmade, the white sheets were incredibly crumpled but looked so soft.

“Sorry for the general mess and for the unmade bed, angel, I didn't plan on having company tonight” he whispered onto your lips before sitting down on the bed with you.

You started kissing his neck and, when you nibbled at the tender skin right under his ear, a little moan escaped his lips.

That little sound elicited an uncontrollable fire in your heart. You wanted to hear more of those sounds, immediately.

He started fumbling with his phone and, a few seconds later, music started filtering into the room from a bluetooth speaker on a bookshelf full of trinkets of any kind.

There was a collection of ancient ships in bottles, a wooden model pirate ship, many little succulents and what looked like antique rings and pendants amongst tons of well-loved books.

His lips on your collarbone brought you back to the task at hand.

He stood and prompted you to do the same. He removed his jacket and you started fumbling with the zipper of yours.

When you finally removed it, he kissed you again and moaned into your mouth when your hand sank in his hair, tugging lightly.

Your lips slowly started their descent from his mouth to his neck and lower.

His almost totally unbuttoned shirt allowed you to reach his collarbone and chest easily. His skin was incredibly soft and hot to the touch. He smelled divine, too.

You made quick work of the two last buttons of his shirt and it fell on the floor, joining his jacket and yours.

When your lips skimmed over his left nipple, another little strangled whimpery sound left his throat and you knew exactly what to do.

You dropped to your knees in front of him and his eyes almost rolled back into his skull at the sight.

You reached for the button of his trousers and he whimpered your name when you successfully freed him.

He was left just in his boxers in front of you, but the item did a poor job at concealing how much the situation was affecting him.

The golden glow of the lava lamp looked delicious on his skin. And you wanted to see all of him.

“You don't have to” he whispered, caressing your cheek, gently.

“But I want to” you answered him in a whisper, right before reaching for the elastic band of his boxers while keeping your eyes on his.

“Please, angel” he begged you when your fingers dipped inside and tugged at the fabric just a little, letting it snap right back with a sharp sound.

You finally peeled the black cotton off his toned thighs and you gasped when his member sprang free and slapped against his soft tummy.

Your mouth watered in an instant.

He looked deliciously needy, so the more you admired him the more impatient he got.

He caressed your lower lip with his thumb and he bit his own hard when you grasped his wrist and opened your mouth to let his digit rest on your tongue, just to torture him a little more.

You stroked his member a few times while sucking at his thumb.

When, finally, your tongue licked at his tip, a loud growl left his lips and both his hands sank into your hair.

You let his tip rest on your tongue for a moment and then you wrapped your lips around it, sucking gently and reveling in the sight of his abdomen contracting and his eyes squeezing shut.

His eyes met yours again immediately when your hands covered his, on both sides of your head and you motioned for him to move his hips forward and then backwards.

He cursed at the first thrust, and moaned when you encouraged him to just go on and fuck your mouth.

He did it gently, ensuring that you were ok and checking up on you every few thrusts.

Your hands didn't stop exploring his body. You started caressing his strong thighs feeling powerful at the sight of goosebumps covering his skin because of your touch. He sighed when your thumbs pressed into the delicate skin of his inner thighs and moaned your name out loud when your hands ended up on his ass, kneading his soft supple skin and prompting him to go a little harder if he wanted.

The song sounding through the speaker made you want him even more and the more you felt and watched him thrusting and groaning, the more your mouth watered for him, enhancing his sensations.

He had a tight grip on your hair and he kept arching his back at the feeling of your mouth around his cock.

Suddenly, he pulled out of your mouth and yanked you up to stand before him.

Get up off your knees girl

Stand face to face with your God

His eyes bore holes into yours as he admired your disheveled state. Your lips and chin were shining with your saliva and his precum and your hair was a mess because of the tight grip of his hands.

Before you knew it, his mouth was on yours, licking, sucking and biting at your lips with intense hunger, tasting himself in the process.

He grasped the hem of your dress and removed it from your body at lightning speed, leaving you just in your bra, panties and dark sheer tights.

It was your turn to gasp this time when his kisses followed a slow path from your neck to your tummy as he sank down on his knees before you. You were about to beg him, but a strangled whimper left your lips instead, when he pinched the waist of your thighs between his teeth and tugged downwards.

He quickly removed them with your help and you shivered before his hungry eyes.

His fingers skimmed over the elastic band of your simple cotton panties and your skin covered in goosebumps.

“Y-you don't have to” you whispered, diverting your eyes from his burning gaze and feeling shy and self-conscious all of a sudden.

“You are right. I don't have to. I need to.” He whispered, squeezing your hips and leaning forward to gently press his nose against your mound.

“Please, take them off for me, love” he whispered and you let your panties fall on the floor at his request.

His hands slowly caressed down your legs and prompted you to spread them a little wider.

“Good girl” he praised you with that deliciously raspy voice of his that got you melting.

When his warm breath made contact with your skin, your knees almost buckled, but it was when his tongue licked a broad stripe over you that you really feared that your legs wouldn't hold you upright.

You sank your nails into his shoulders when he started making out with your cunt and you realized that you were much closer than you thought.

It was almost embarrassing.

Your hands tangled in his hair and he groaned when you tugged at it without realizing.

The vibrations of his groan had you almost screaming his name out loud as your hips pressed against his mouth.

Two of his fingers started caressing your labia, collecting your increasing wetness, while his tongue spoiled your clit expertly.

He slowly slid a finger inside you and your mouth fell open, but no word came out. You felt your walls fluttering and contracting around it and were ready to beg him to add another and move them when he spoke.

“You are so tight, love. I can't wait to feel you around my cock.” he said and you moaned, sounding a little desperate.

“But first, I need you to make a mess all over my face. C'mon baby, cum for me” he begged you and curled his fingers sharply over and over again, making your knees feel like jelly.

The moment he sucked your clit into his mouth was when you knew he was going to get what he wanted.

You let go then, moaning his name and clinging onto his hair and shoulders for dear life.

His fingers kept moving at a soft rhythm and his mouth didn't cease its onslaught on your clit until you forcefully dragged him away from you to stand up in front of you.

He looked disheveled too, now, and absolutely drunk on your pussy. His eyes told you that he would have gone on and on at eating you out till morning if you hadn't stopped him.

Get up off your knees boy

Stand face to face with your God.

You didn't even leave him the time to catch his breath before you crashed your mouth to his hungrily, tasting yourself onto his luscious lips.

He wrapped his arms around your body and unclasped your bra, before pushing you on the bed and climbing on top of you without breaking the kiss.

The sheets felt incredibly soft and cool under your flushed skin.

He crawled on top of you and stole your breath away with another kiss, before opening the drawer of his nightstand and retrieving a condom.

You helped him put it on and then you grasped his shoulders and arched your back when you felt him sliding his tip along your slit.

You spread your legs even further and whispered his name on his lips.

His hands on either side of your head cradled your face before his hips started pressing against yours, allowing him to enter you slowly.

I'm ready for love, I'm ready for war

But I'm ready for more.

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan and you felt yourself clenching around him harshly.

He whimpered at the feeling and his face contorted in a pained expression.

His hips stopped and his voice echoed faintly into the room, needy and strained.

“Love, relax for me, please. Fuck, you are so tight. If you keep squeezing me like this, I'm going to cum” he begged you and you tried your best to relax, feeling his thumbs caressing your cheeks gently.

“Yeah, baby, just like this. Good girl” he praised you smiling.

His body was already covered in a thin layer of sweat and when, finally, he was pressed inside of you to the hilt, goosebumps covered his skin.

You couldn't make a sound. The feeling of being finally full slowly registering into your brain had you completely forgetting how to breathe properly.

“Breathe, baby” He had to remind you, leaning his forehead against yours and kissing your lips.

The first thrust had your legs wrapping around his hips and a strangled moan of his name leaving your lips.

Soon, he set a steady rhythm, pressing you into the matress with his strong hips and, with every thrust, you started feeling lighter and lighter. You had completely forgotten about your shitty day and, by the blissful look in his eyes, you were almost sure he had too.

The song had faded away long ago and now your bodies were dancing only on the symphony of the sounds of the shared pleasure you were experiencing.

You were both panting heavily and sweat caused your bodies to stick together. Drops of it were slowly trickling down his neck and suddenly you found yourself licking them away from his skin.

The sounds leaving his lips increased in volume and pitch the more he approached his high and were heavenly. You mentally thanked every entity in the universe for letting you find a man that wasn't afraid of being vocal in bed.

Hs hair kept tickling your face as it swayed back and forth with the rhythm of his trusting and was completely disheveled.

His skin glowed in the low flickering light of the lava lamp and you reveled in the sight of his face, scrunched up in utmost pleasure. You trailed a finger over the wrinkled bridge of his nose and he moaned your name.

As you started sucking and biting at the tender skin of his neck again, he did something that left you without words.

He grasped your wrists and pressed them together above your head on the bed so quickly that you almost didn't see it happen.

“Are you ok with this?” He whispered into your ear and cursed when you quickly nodded your head.

Then he maneuvered the little hair tie you were wearing on your wrist around his fingers so that it bound your wrists together, trapping you.

You gasped at the unexpected gesture.

His pupils were blown wide as he quickened his pace even more, squeezing your wrists in his hand, basking in the feeling pulsing through his cock and slowly losing his mind.

You both couldn't take your eyes away from the other, admiring as pleasure took hold of your bodies and minds every second more.

Finally, the orgasm hit you like a strong wave and brought him with you a few seconds after.

The room filled with moans and whimpers while the glow of a car passing by in the street illuminated his face as it scrunched up in pleasure. It was the most breathtaking sight you had ever experienced.

His eyes were screwed shut and his teeth bared before his mouth went slack with a loud moan, while you kept moaning his name, digging your heels into his lower back.

Then the room turned silent and the only sound filling the space was the heavy panting coming from your chests.

He let go of your wrists then, and gently kissed your reddened skin there, before slumping down on top of you and hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

He slid out of you but didn't move away.

When you finally recovered, your eyes fixated onto the ceiling, mesmerized by the fluctuating glow of the lava lamp, while you caressed his hair.

After a while, he placed a kiss on your lips and then stood with a groan and went towards what you assumed was his bathroom.

You got up too and started looking around for your clothes.

When he came back and noticed what you were doing, he looked a little taken aback. He came closer to you and grasped your hands in his, looking you straight in the eyes before speaking.

"You can stay if you want. I'd love it if you stayed, honestly” he whispered onto your lips and a smile spread on your face at his invitation.

After a quick shared shower, you fell asleep almost immediately, but all of a sudden you woke up to a dark room.

It took you a while to understand where you were exactly but when you did, a little smile spread on your face.

You turned around ready to wrap yourself into Jake's arms only to discover that his side of the bed was empty and cold.

A fait glow was coming from outside the room and, after a while, you decided to see what it was.

You stood, fixed the t-shirt he gave you around your body and silently padded out of the bedroom.

There he was, sitting at his desk, slightly hunched and scribbling away on a piece of paper with an acoustic guitar in his lap illuminated by the low light of the lava lamp that he had moved from the bedroom.

You were about to approach him silently but he must have felt your presence because he turned around and smiled, motioning you to join him.

He placed the guitar on the floor and patted his lap.

The moment your skin made contact with his again you felt your heart flutter.

“What are you doing?” You whispered.

“Writing. You got me inspired. And I think I finally fixed that song” He said, caressing your hip.

“Well, I'm happy to have been of help” you said, chuckling and leaning your head against his.

“You deserve a reward for it” he said, grasping your hips and placing you in front of him on the table with a glint in his eyes that told you that he wasn't even remotely done with you yet.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

A/N: To those of you who need a visual reference of that moment...here it is 😉

Thank you for reading!

Taglist:

@gvfpal @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld

More in the comments.

[leclercss]

Paris, je t'aime (Charles Leclerc), Part 2

Masterlist

plot: it's almost three years since your tumultuous relationships with Lewis and Charles came crashing down. but you find your self in a new city with new beginnings and new ways to fuck up your love life. that's no thanks to a cheeky frenchman who's set you up on a double date with someone oh so familiar.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating, violence and some swearing

authors note: part deux, enjoy. sorry this took so much longer than anticipated to write. also, excuse the darker tone to this chapter, it'll get lighter from here xx

word count: 5.2k

taglist: @toppersjeep @janeholt3, @princess-siba, @nichmeddar, @tremendousandsonorouswords, @cmleitora, @victoriaholland, @amalialeclerc, @queensofshinigamis, @tempo-rary-fix, @starmanv, @happylittlereader, @trouble-sistar, @lightdragonrayne, @persephonemv1, @dreamingofautopia

If you couldn't read Charles' expression before, you most certainly couldn't now. For the first time this evening, it was Charles who was stumbling over his words.

"Wha... Wait... what?" was all he could muster up.

There weren't many times when you had been with Charles where he struggled to find his words. Even if he was angry, like the last time you saw him all those years ago, he still managed to say something. But tonight, he couldn't. He was speechless.

To relieve him from his pain, you repeated what you had said a few moments before. You too were struggling to string a few words together.

"Charles, I never went to New York".

Even by repeating yourself, Charles still couldn't find the words and it looks like the wheels inside of his head are trying to turn and make some sort of sense but everything is just breaking down and failing to work cohesively. And so, rather than having to respond, he looks out of the window of the taxi, taking in the Parisian sunset. His hand is no longer on your thigh but is now clawing at his facial hair.

The rest of the taxi ride is quiet, aside from the taxi driver's radio playing lowly in the background. But at one point you think you hear Charles whisper to himself, "Je ne comprends pas".

I don't understand.

The sound of Charles' keys rattling breaks the silence between you and Charles as he leads you upstairs to his apartment. He still hasn't said anything since the taxi, aside from thanking the driver. You haven't made much of an effort yourself to fill the silence because in all honesty, you're not really sure what to say or what Charles' reaction would be to whatever you did have to say. He was clearly stunned at your revelation that you in fact never went to New York and you were stunned yourself - by his question, his reaction, hell, this entire date. None of this made sense.

In the space of an hour, you went from being clueless about your blind date, to finding out that out of the +3 billion men in the world you just happened to be set up with your ex and to now, with Charles asking you to come to his apartment. Your mind was working overtime to catch up. Those two Aperol Spritz' were clearly not enough to numb whatever your brain was trying to process right now. You clearly needed something stronger.

You tried not to laugh but you couldn't help think about the fact that as much as Pierre poked fun at you for your messy love life, even this situation that you now found yourself in would even be too much for him to process.

The two of you quietly make your way into Charles’ apartment before staggering off. He muttered something about getting you a drink and so you take the opportunity to take in his apartment. Your heels are the only thing that is making a sound as you slowly walk around his living room. It’s a lot more sophisticated than his apartment in London that he shared with Joris and Riccardo. Gone are the Ferrari prints and in their place are pictures of modern art, strategically framed across the walls. It feels too classy to be a bachelor pad, if that was what Charles used it as. Your mind briefly lingers back to Pierre's comment about Charles needing to fuck a lot of girls to get over you.

With Charles still in the kitchen, you slowly make your way over to the large bay window and admire the Parisian streets outside as the sun slowly begins to set across the city. You let out a little sigh. It feels like no matter where you call home these days, chaos seems to follow you. Well, everywhere apart from Singapore, life felt so easy there. No expectation, the only pressure being your job. Was it too late to go back?

Your attention is finally pulled back to reality as Charles hands you a glass of white wine.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the glass from his hand. You can’t miss that his own glass of wine is practically shorty. Charles’ notices this and dryly chuckles.

“I drank it on the way, let me get some more”.

He’s flustered, his cheeks turning slightly pink out of embarrassment. He doesn’t make eye contact with you at all before he turns away and heads back to the kitchen. You can’t help but find it a little funny how you’re now the composed one, especially in comparison to Charles’ entrance during your date.

As Charles re-enters the living room, you take a seat on the edge of his sofa, you’re not too comfortable yet for you to treat it like a welcomed or returning guest. Charles follows suit, taking a seat on the arm chair across from you.

It’s still quiet between you both, neither of you know how to start this conversation. Whatever game plan Charles had previously has now gone straight out of the window while you never had an opportunity to even create a game plan, you were just thrown into the deep end without any arm bands.

You watch as Charles’ slowly runs his index finger along the rim of his wine glass while he stares at his own movements. Deciding to break the silence, because any conversation is better than this, you begin with some small talk to ease yourself into the conversation.

“Your apartment looks great,” you say politely as you look around the room once more.

“Thanks,” Charles mutters, his eyes still fixated on his wine glass.

“Did you decorate it yourself?”

Charles shakes his head.

You let out a little laugh. “Interior design was never your strong suit,” you joke, hoping to lighten the mood but it doesn’t anything but.

“A friend did it,” his words almost come out like a grunt.

Silence falls onto the room once more.

Something chaotic begins to brew inside of you. You know you’ve got nothing to lose, and out a stupid sense of curiosity, you carelessly throw out your next question, “Was it a girl that did it for you?”

Charles instantly tenses up at your question and you know you're playing with fire. You notice his jaw twitch in irritation. His shoulders now hunching forward and his hand is how clenched around his wine glass. And by the tension in his fingers, you’re amazed that it hasn’t cracked from the pressure.

He’s debating whether to say something or not. And he does, but not before taking a large gulp of his wine.

“Why don’t we just skip the small talk and get straight to fucking shall we?”

And as he says it, he’s finally looking into your eyes. The pendulum swings once more and it's your turn to be nervous again.

“Excuse me?”

He lets out a little chuckle but from the expression in his eyes he’s not joking around.

“Listen, [Y/N], I didn’t invite you back to my apartment so we could exchange interior design tips. So, let’s just skip to what we’re good at which is sex,” he continues with a condescending tone. “We can either do it on my sofa if you like, or by the big window so you can take in the Parisian skyline as I fuck you from behind. But my bed also works, your choice”.

You can’t help but scoff, “And that works for all the other girls you’ve taken here, right?”

You want to slap the smirk that Charles’ is giving you right off his face.

“No,” he responds sarcastically. “I let them finish their glass of wine, or two, maybe even play them a song on my piano before I ask them to take their clothes off”.

Oh, so I'm not even worthy of even getting through my wine? you think to yourself.

It's your turn to laugh but you know it’s hiding what you really feel. You’re confused but most importantly, you’re disappointed in the way that Charles is speaking to you. He had never spoken to you like this before.

“And what makes you think I’d want to fuck you anyway?” you retort, hoping that you sound assure in what you're saying, but you're not, your voice trembles. And Charles doesn't miss it.

And my God, he looks so arrogant as he looks you up and down. He’s so obvious with his gaze as his eyes become fixated on your boobs before making their way down to your thighs, which are now more exposed than before thanks to your dress riding up from sitting on the sofa.

“You’re wearing that dress aren’t you?” the smugness practically oozes from his tongue.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Well, if I’d of known that you were going to be my date then I definitely wouldn’t have wasted this dress on you”.

Charles throws his head back as his smile grows even bigger.

“It's such a shame that you’ve lost your sense of humour since I last saw you, amour”.

You scoff once more. His use of amour is no longer a term of endearment but a way to mock you. But you can't let him know that he's winning, so you somewhat fight back, "At least I’ve managed to grow up in the last three years. Unlike some”.

“And yet you’re still here”.

Your eyes meet his and you gulp. His piercing green eyes are glistening as he enjoys seeing you squirm. He’s been waiting for so long to see you again and he’s not going to let you forget how you made him feel. And he doesn’t care that he’s coming across as a dick when he’s doing so. You broke his heart, and he’s willing to be petty about it.

Despite your disgust in how he’s speaking to you since you arrived to his apartment, you know he’s right. Why are you still here? What sort of resolution are you going to get from this? And you remember how naive you were earlier to think that Charles had moved on when he was being nice to you. Oh how wrong you were.

“Well, now that we’ve established that you’re staying-“

“Who said I was staying?” you growl.

“Well, as I said before, you’re wearing that dress and I think it’s pretty obvious that you planned on getting fucked tonight, so I’m happy to cut to get to it,” Charles continues nonchalantly, “Pierre, as well intentioned as he is, did drop the bomb that you’ve been having a bit of a dry patch when it comes to your love life so I can’t blame you for getting your hopes up”.

You’re growing more irritated by his sarcasm and attitude by the second. Your jaw can’t help but twitch as he drops the truth bomb on your pathetic love life. And so you retaliate, unknowingly falling right into his trap.

“And Pierre was ever-so-kind to let me know that you’ve been so miserable and bitter that you’ve had to fuck anyone with a pulse to get over me”.

You see a flash of anger fall onto Charles’ face but it’s gone as quick as it came. You wouldn't be sure it even happened if he didn't respond the way he does next.

“Better than whatever pathetic shit it is you’ve been doing,” Charles responds. "Random hook ups, pathetic tinder conversations. Are you scared of commitment or something?"

You say nothing but you're breathing heavily. You're the one who is now gripping onto their wine glass for dear life, holding onto whatever composure you have left.

"There was one thing that Pierre didn't tell me though. How did you and Lewis end things, amour?"

What a little...

Who the fuck does he think he is?

This conversation has taken a dark turn and it’s enough for you to want to get out of here. Something you should have done before. You slam your wine glass onto the coffee table, before standing up to make your way towards the front door.

You hear Charles get out of his seat, closely following behind before he grabs onto your arm.

“What’s wrong, amour?” his voice is sickeningly sweet as he taunts you once more, pulling you back towards him.

“I’m not going to sit here and let you talk to me like this,” you spit. But your voice cracks as you can feel ears form in your eyes. This whole evening has been humiliating and now Charles is hanging your desperate love life in front of you, like it's a toy that can be poked and prodded at for entertainment.

And if you thought that by leaving that Charles would retreat, you were completely wrong.

“Sorry, baby, thought you were into men who treated you like shit”.

Slap!

You're not sure who's more surprised by the slap you've just given Charles, you've both been stunned into silence. The hand that he had on your arm immediately removes itself from you, now finding itself pressed against Charles' cheek. He winces at his own touch, the flesh that was met with your slap is beginning to sizzle.

One of your tears spills over as you make eye contact with Charles, your expressions matching one another. Horror. It takes you a few moments to realise what you've done. Unwilling and unable to accept the consequences of your actions, you decide to bolt for the exit. But as soon as you open the front door, it's been slammed shut. Panicking, you turn around to see that Charles has followed you, his hand is above your head holding the door closed.

You're not sure why you feel scared, but you press your back against the door. You're pressing into it so hard that you hope that it creates some sort of portal to take you somewhere far, far away from here. Anywhere but here.

But your dreams are cut short because Charles is standing in front of you, still holding the door closed while the other hand caresses his cheek, marked with your handprint.

"No, you don't get to just run away from me again," he barks as he hovers over you.

"What?" you ask in confusion.

"You've done it to me once before and I won't let you do it again," he replies. His breathing his heavy, chest rising and falling dramatically as he looks into your eyes. "You've left me once before without an explanation. You're not doing that to me this time".

His tone is much more gentle this time. The last few moments have made him feel vulnerable. His find flashes back to the last time he saw you and how he watched you walk out of his front door, never to be seen again until three years later. Despite his bitterness towards your break up, he wasn't going to make that mistake again. No, it was time for some answers. Ones he had been waiting for for three long years.

He removes the hand that's above your head on the door and places it back down by his side. "Can you just stay, please? I think you owe me that much".

You nod.

"Okay," your voice barely a whisper. "I'll stay but at least let me get a cold towel for your face".

It's Charles turn to nod.

He makes his way back to the sofa while he waits for you to return with a cold, damp cloth. When you return, his eyes never leave you as he watches you sit down beside him. He watches you as you gently places the damp cloth against his cheek. He hisses out your touch.

"I'm sorry," you whisper as you begin to dab his face gently, this time your touch hurts less.

Apart from your very brief apology, the two of you say nothing for a while. Charles' eyes are still on you as you take care of him. He gulps as you take your other hand and brush away a strand of hair that's fallen onto his cheek. His mind goes rushing back to all of the times that you touched him before. But now it's in such different circumstances and you both feel like strangers to one another now. He wants to touch you again, to see if it still feels the same. If your skin is still as soft as before. It always used to be so warm and silky, it felt like satin beneath his touch. But he's too scared to try, after all you did just slap him a not so long ago, because of shitty words that he said to you.

"Charles," you say before pausing. You look at him briefly as he nods, waiting for you to carry on. He's looking at you with such puppy dog eyes that you can't help but feel guilty as you see that he still has some redness on his cheek. But you carry on. "I'm sorry for hitting you. I... I shouldn't have done that".

Charles chuckles a little, "It's okay, amour".

"No, no, it's not okay. I shouldn't hit anyone," you protest, this time holding the cloth against his cheek.

Charles smiles at you, "Honestly, it's okay. I deserve it, I was being nasty."

You let out a little sigh.

"I really am sorry," you say as you look into his eyes.

"I know, amour".

It's all the two of you say for a few more minutes before you finally remove the cloth from Charles' cheek. The redness has calmed down, but he still feels a sting from your touch.

As you place the cloth on the table, you reach for your glass of wine, realising that it's been untouched. You take a sip before handing the glass to Charles. He smiles before taking it from your hand and taking a sip himself.

As your wait to find something to say, you begin to pull at the hem of your short dress. How do you carry on the conversation from here? The last time you tried to speak it went from being petty to nasty and to, in your case, being violent. But Charles' demeanor is different this time, he seems a lot calmer and he doesn't want to make your life a living hell any more. He watches you fiddling with the hem of your dress and pulling at a loose string. He places his hand on top of yours to stop you from pulling at the material any more.

"Hey, don't do that. Your dress is beautiful, I wouldn't want you to ruin it," his tone is so gentle. So much so that you tears begin to form in your eyes again. You can't even look at Charles as your eyes remain fixated on your lap. You hadn't realised your tears had spilled over until landed on the bottom of your dress, leaving the smallest of damp spots.

"Hey, hey, please don't cry," Charles whispers as he wipes your tear with his thumb. But by him telling you not to cry doesn't mean that you stop. If anything, feeling his hand on your face only makes it worse. "Please don't cry, [Y/N]".

Charles cups your face in his hands as he lifts it up so you're looking at him. "Charles," you begin but your breath catches in your throat. The evening is beginning to overwhelm you and you can't seem to be digesting anything that's happening in a reasonable way.

"Tell me, amour," Charles says as he wipes your tears once more.

Amour.

Fuck, even the way he's saying it now is so confusing. It's so gentle and so kind and you don't deserve any of this.

"Did you mean it earlier? When you said you only invited me back to have sex?"

Charles sighs as he shakes his head.

"No! No, I was being an asshole, okay," he tells you. "I didn't mean it."

You nod but you're not sure if you believe him. You wouldn't blame him if he fucked you and then left you because in Charles' eyes, that's what you did to him three years ago.

"Hey, hey, look at me," his voice is more commanding this time that you can't help but look at him. He hesitates for a moment, before he leans in to kiss your forehead. "I didn't mean it, amour. I was just angry, that's all".

You nod but you still feel overwhelmed with his touch and so you lean back on the sofa to give yourself a little bit of a break. Charles follows suit.

Silence falls on the room once more but this time, the two of you taking turns drinking the wine from your glass, hoping that the two of you find the courage to address the elephant in the room.

This time, it's Charles who breaks the silence.

"You... you said in the taxi that you never went to New York," he begins. The volume in his voice is much lower this time.

You nod slowly.

"What happened? Why did you change your mind?"

He nervously awaits your answer and he doesn't miss the little sigh that you let out.

"Charles, I... I was never going to New York. It was never the plan. Lewis kept asking but I always said no," you tell him.

Charles' scrunches his forehead at your confession.

"But you told me-"

"No, that day when I came to see you. I planned on telling you that everything was over between Lewis and I but I don't know what happened. I just couldn't get the words out, after everything that happened it should have been easy but it wasn't. Because I'd never been able to say out loud that my marriage was over. And when I told you that Lewis asked me to join him in New York, I didn't tell you because that's what was happening. I told you because I was scared and confused. You talked about moving in together and I panicked. For the first time in seven years he wasn't going to be in my life and I just didn't have time to process it," you tell him, "And so when you asked me if I was going, I just froze. I... I don't why I did. But by the time I got over my panic you thought that I had basically confirmed that I was going with Lewis but I never was. I don't blame you for reacting the way you did, hell, I would have had the same thoughts. But he was never an option any more, Charles, it was always you".

Charles stays silent as he lets all of your words sync in. He had been so wrong this whole time and he spent so many days and months hating you. Was he so wiling to believe that you were leaving him to stay with Lewis because he couldn't believe that it would finally be true? He'd always heard that the spouse never leaves their martial partner when it comes to having an affair. But you and Charles never had an affair. You had a relationship, and one that Lewis knew all about. So why had he gotten it all so wrong?

"When you told me to leave, I... I took the cowards way out. I don't blame you for not believing me. We were both tired and I gave up. I'm sorry that I gave up, Charles," you say. It's your turn to wipe the tear from Charles' cheeks.

"No, I pushed you away," he says quietly.

You shake your head. "No, you didn't. You did nothing wrong," you tell him.

The two of you take a few minutes to process your confession to Charles. The tears have now dried up for the both of you but the weight of the conversation rests heavy on your hearts.

"If you didn't go to New York, where did you go?" Charles asks.

You let out a little sigh. "I went for a job opportunity in Singapore. And I took it, so I moved about three months after things ended between us".

Charle lets out a light-hearted chuckle. "Singapore, that must have been nice," he says, "How did you manage in the heat?"

"I didn't," you laugh, "I basically lived a nocturnal lifestyle. But it was nice, I enjoyed my time there. I think I grew up a lot while I was there".

You pause for a moment, your smile falls a little as you carry on. "I do think about what would have happened if I'd stayed in London though..." Your sentence trails off as you begin to think about the what ifs.

"Well you know, London. Always busy and always expensive," Charles jokes. You smile at him softly.

"Kind of like Paris, right?" you say and he nods in response.

He takes a moment before asking his next question, "Do you regret going?"

Uncertainty takes over momentarily before you reply, "I don't know. I wish I kind of did things differently".

"Me too," Charles mutters.

Your eyes meet each others and this time it feels different. It feels like you're both longing for one another. You're not sure who initiated the first move as you both lean in for a gentle kiss which soon escalates as Charles pulls you onto his lap while you reach out to cup his face. The kiss deepens quickly as the two of your run your hands over any body part you can find on the other.

Charles' hands going from your hair on the back of your head to your waist. At some point, they end up on your ass which is now exposed due to the movements you've been making on his lap. Your hands too find themselves in his hair before making their way over his shoulders and down his clothed chest but you don't miss the tight muscles that sits below the thin material.

You hum as Charles' lips make their way to below your ear before making their way down your neck and finally to your chest.

"I wasn't joking when I mentioned this dress earlier," he says as he stares up at you, his eyes are full of hunger, "it was meant to taken off".

You can't help but squeal as he dramatically pulls your straps down to reveal your chest and it doesn't take long for him to wrap his mouth around one of your nipples. You moan as he begins to suck on the sensitive skin.

"Fuck," you let out as your hands grip onto his shoulders.

Tonight has been such a mind fuck that you feel dizzy at his touch. How the hell have you ended up in this situation where you've gone from slapping Charles for being an asshole to having him sucking on your tits. Maybe he was right and that you did like men that treated you like shit.

But that was baggage that you could unpack another day as you're suddenly brought back to your senses when you feel a flash of cold air on your vagina. You look down and see that Charles has pulled your panties to the side.

He looks up at you menacingly as his right hand makes its way down your body while the other holds your him in place. You can't help but yelp as his fingertips brush against your clit.

"Charles," you sigh in relief as he presses more pressure onto your sensitive bud.

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't imagined this image over the last three years," Charles teases as he slides his fingers between your folds. "Mmmm," is all you can say.

"I still have those photos you know and some of the videos that we took," he continues as he left hand makes it's way back up to your breast, missing the feeling of full flesh beneath his fingers.

"Charles," you whisper once more as you grip onto his hair.

"All you have to do is tell me how you want," he says and you're falling into his touch when he suddenly pushes two of his fingers inside of you.

"Shit!"

Charles takes your profanity as a sign to continue but this only sends you into overdrive. No, it's that dizzy feeling again and you suddenly feel light-headed. His fingers are moving in and out of you but all you want to do is push yourself off his chest and you do.

"Stop," you cry as you lift yourself of Charles' body.

Charles is stunned at your sudden change and becomes flustered, trying to understand why you're no longer wanting him to touch you.

"Amour, what's wrong?"

You're panting as you recover from the sensation of Charles while you're also trying to gather your thoughts at the same time.

"I don't think this is a good idea," you eventually say. You don't miss the look of disappointment on Charles' face. "It's not that I don't want to, I just think that... that we've gone through so much tonight. We haven't really processed anything and I don't want us to regret this".

Charles nods. He'd do anything to have you right now but deep down he knows you're right. The events of tonight have been chaotic, petty and at times toxic. This was the first time the two of you had addressed what happened and even then it was only a short conversation. He's only just gotten you back into his life and despite what his mouth was running with earlier, Charles didn't want to lose you again.

"You're right, I'm sorry," he says softly.

"Please don't be sorry. We both wanted it but it's not the best thing right now," you say. You want to break the tension in the air by cracking a joke, "If you want, we can both tell Pierre that we fucked to mess with his head".

Your joke works as Charles releases some tension by laughing before letting out a "Fucking Pierre".

At some point, you end up resting your head against Charles' chest as the two of you enjoy the silence for the first time this evening and for the final time, Charles interrupts a quiet moment between you two.

"Can you stay tonight? I... Nothing has to happen, I'd just like you to stay," he says quietly. You look up at him and nod.

The two of you eventually make your way to the bedroom and slowly undress each other as you get ready for bed, with Charles lending you one of his football jerseys.

And while he sleeps ever so soundly, his chest gently rising and falling as he lets out slow breaths, you find yourself not being able to sleep at all.

As the sun begins to rise on an early summer's morning in Paris, you find a pen and paper in Charles' kitchen before leaving him a note on his pillow:

' I promise I'm not running away this time, I just think that we both deserve the chance for a clear head in the morning.

I'm so grateful that I got the chance to see you again.

Amour xxx '

[shotmrmiller]

Needs must

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

WC: 2.1K

TW: prostitution, explicit fingering, and smut-ish.

ive got 4 other ideas for this goddamn escort au and one of em is MY BOY JOHNNY. oof i cant wait. im mad it took me this long to do this. I wrote this listening to rich sex by nicki minaj.

You had needs. No matter how magical, a toy can only do so much for you. You wanted the praise of another human being—the warm touch of their hands around your waist, your neck. God, you needed to get laid. But after the disaster that was your last relationship, how nasty it ended, you couldn’t even ring your ex-girlfriend up for a booty call. 

Sucking your teeth, you look at your phone. Noon. Well, maybe one of your friends you’re about to meet up with for a weekly Saturday brunch knew someone who would be interested in a no-strings-attached situationship.

—

Flipping the card in your hands,  you chewed on your bottom lip in deliberation and looked down at the business card— the color of bone with raised black lettering. Ghost, it read, with his number on the back. How you ended up with this in your hand made you almost regret having reprobates for friends. An escort. That’s what they had shamelessly suggested. You had almost choked on your eggs benedict when one of them pulled out a contact card from their wallet and placed it by your mimosa. I mean, really. Preparing to argue about their lack of sense, they brought up a great point. It was either this, someone who was there for what you needed whenever you needed it, or your toys which were in a pathetic state from constant use. Your ex called it quits because you simply couldn't find the time to maintain a proper relationship— your demanding job took up most of it. You couldn’t believe you were about to do this.

Ghost. What a name. But you suppose it didn’t matter what his name was, only that he could do his job, and with the way your friend gushed over him— he’d leave you walking side to side. You needed this. You worked too hard for too many hours to not spend your money on some self-care. 

Fuck it. Maybe he will be just a one-time thing, you thought, and sent his number a text. 

—

Closing the door of your car, you briskly walk towards the small cafe Ghost had sent the address to; A cute little quaint coffee shop. Coming to a stop, you straighten your office skirt and run a hand through your hair before opening the door. Breathing in the coffee aroma, you look around for who you’re looking for, spotting him sitting in the back. The click of your heels echoes inside the cafe, catching the attention of your awaiting companion. He looks up and rises to stand, and it takes you aback. It was like witnessing a grizzly standing on its hind legs. Jesus.

He was tall, so tall, and broad. Wearing a black beanie and covering the lower half of his face with a mask, he extends his arm out to shake your hand, and you internally scream at how shapely his arm alone looks over his long-sleeved shirt. 

“I’m Ghost. It’s a pleasure, love.” 

Choking back a moan at his accent, you put your hand in his and say, “No, I’m sure it’ll be all mine.” You can see his dark eyes crinkle at your quip. 

“If we get through this smoothly, the next time we meet I’ll make sure of it.” 

As you let out a playful laugh, Ghost reaches for the back of your chair, pulling it out with a chivalrous gesture. “And a gentleman? You definitely know how to sell yourself.” 

“No, love. This is just a common courtesy. I don’t need t’tell you that I’m good,” and in one smooth motion, he extracts a sleek, forest green matte folder from the leather business bag lying at his feet.

“I need this filled out, just the usual— hard and soft limits. Safewords, nicknames, allergies, and so on.” You pick up the folder and open it, skimming over the contents of the front page. 

“This really is your job.” You flick your eyes from the folder to him and he’s already looking at you, watchful and steady. 

“O’ course it is. I take my clients, and future clients, seriously. I enjoy wha’ I do but it will never be at the cost of another. I will not make you uncomfortable in any way, nor risk your health. I aim to please you, not the other way around. And I cannot do tha’ if I don’t know tha’ you’re allergic to latex or completely against something I might do.” 

He gives a slight cough, and you divert your attention from the paper and meet his gaze. “What’s a pretty thing like you seeking out someone who offers these types of services?” and a lighthearted chuckle escapes you.

“The same reason the one who gave me your card did— just looking for a good time, no commitment.” 

He raises his eyebrows at that but makes no further comment. Smart man. Glancing at your wrist, you check the time. “Right,” and lean forward to get up when Ghost shoots up from his chair to pull out yours. “I’ll have your folder ready for you by the weekend,” and turn your head to face him.

“Is that when you’ll want this, then?” and you give a casual shrug. 

“If you happen to be available.” He reaches out and gently grabs your hand to pull you in for a tight embrace. Softly, he whispers in your ear, “I’ll be seeing you then, love.”

You leave with a silly little grin on your face.

—

The weekend comes and you’re a puddle of nerves. You can’t remember the last time someone made you this anxious. The knock on your door startles you out of your inner ramblings. It’s time. Taking in a deep, calming breath, you open it. 

Ghost calmly walks in, and starts taking off his mask, and then leather jacket.

“I’ve one absolute limit I forgot to mention,” he says in a firm tone. “I do not kiss. It is not a negotiation.” 

Well, you couldn’t give a damn if he didn’t. Nonchalantly, you shrug and say, “And mine is that we always use a condom.” With a nod and a chuckle, he eagerly grabs the folder from your table and starts flipping through its pages.

“A’right, love. Go get on the bed f’me.” The smirk he gives you is positively wicked. “I saw tha’ you have like to be told wha’ to do.” He jerks his chin towards your room. “And take everything off.” With nervous excitement, you run off, haphazardly tossing your clothes on the floor.

—

Eyes covered with a blindfold, all you hear is your shaky breathing and his footsteps on your plush rug. Your nerves feel exposed, raw. As you lie on the bed, you suddenly feel a firm grip on the flesh of your thighs, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps. The room's cool air contrasts with the warm heat radiating from his touch, pulling a hiss from your lips as he pulls you toward the edge of the bed.

“Atta girl, love. Open your legs f’me, lemme see that pretty pussy.” The lack of eyesight helps you to focus on his touch alone, making you fearless, and your legs drop open without hesitation as you lie on your back.

“Look at tha’. Aren’t you just a dream? Hm?” he puts his hands on your knees, keeping your thighs open, wet cunt exposed. “And you waxed, too. Hope tha’ wasn’t f’me.” You feel a fingertip slide from your hood, down to your clit and hole, spreading your juices around the labia and back up. Your nerves are on fire, your pussy clenching around nothing, forcing juices to drip down to your arsehole.

“A’right, pretty. Touch yourself. Shove your tiny little fingers into your,” he pauses to suck the skin of your inner thigh, “cunt and show me how to make you feel good.” He then moves his mouth closer to where you need it most, and bites. Are you defying me? Did you suddenly become deaf as well, once I blindfolded you?” and you aggressively shake your head. 

“No! No, sir. I hear you, loud and clear.” With a tight squeeze to your thighs, he says, “Then do as I say.” Moaning, you slowly bring your hand down, starting from your chest. Your palms rub against your pebbled nipples, down to your soft stomach, until your fingertips meet your swollen nub, then move in soft, tight circles, mewling at the feeling. The groan that reaches your ears is so lewd, you could come from that alone. 

“Tha’s it, baby. You’re doing so well. Look at how wet you are, fuck, show me just how you like it.” And you do. A vulgar noise comes from your hole once you stuff yourself with one finger, slowly stretching, before adding another. It’s something, but not enough, not what you want. Not thick enough, long enough, and that thought makes you whimper in disappointment. 

“Aw, are your fingers not satisfying? I’ll help you, sweet, only because you look so delicious spread out f’me like this. So vulnerable, bare.” His breath fans over your cunt, over your clit, and it sends a jolt up your spine— but he doesn’t move, doesn’t touch. It feels like you’ve been waiting for hours until he finally, finally, pushes a thick finger into you, and curls it, rubbing against the right spot, over and over, and then pushes in a second, threatening to tip you over the peak. The feeling is intense —your walls clench around him firmly in your rising pleasure.

“Oh, g-god, Ghost pleasepleaseplease,” squealing as you fuck yourself on his hand, and when your hypersensitive nerves pick up on the sensation of his scorching mouth on your clit, with a pulsating suction, your muscles tighten and tremble, to the point of pain, until Ghost gives one hard suck, forcibly pushing you off the edge. The wail you let out is ear-splitting— as ecstasy slams into your body, like waves crashing at shore. Your thighs squeeze Ghost’s head irrationally tight, but he doesn’t care, just groaning into your core, lapping up your juices like a dehydrated man who’s found an oasis. Your body stings— prickles from the vicious high you’re riding—chest heaving with sobs from the sheer force of it, fingernails digging into Ghost’s scalp, yanking on his hair. As your soul melts back into your body, you absentmindedly thank all the bloody gods for having friends who really do look out for you. 

Whimpering pathetically, your limbs go limp, loose, heavy. Ghost easily picks your body up and moves you toward the center of the bed, vertically, the blindfold still robbing you of your vision. 

 With a grunt of effort, his hand firmly settles by your ribcage, sinking into the softness of the bed, and then he slips a folded pillow beneath your hipbones, expertly arching your spine into a delicious angle. His hand firmly connects with your rear, not just once but twice, feeling the exquisite sting of it. The room falls into silence, only to be interrupted by the clinking sound of his belt buckle. Your body tenses as you hear the unmistakable sound of plastic being torn open, and then you feel his thick and warm shaft teasing your entrance. A moan escapes your lips as he penetrates you, his movements slow and sensual, until his hipbones press against your backside. Taking his time, he slowly pulls back his length, dragging it against your slick walls, before pushing forward again, covering your body with his own. His right hand is flat on the bed by your right shoulder, while his left curls around your neck, gently forcing your head to tilt back onto him. The tip of his head grinds against the entrance of your womb. 

He moans softly into your ear, before quietly purring, “Let’s see how many more orgasms I can wring out of you, pet.” The tightening of his makeshift necklace around your throat is your first and last warning of what is to come.

—

He pulled four. Four gut-wrenching, shattering orgasms before finding his own release. He left you a drooling, sloppy, sweaty mess on your bed, completely languid and relaxed. Somewhere, you faintly hear your phone ping with a notification. Hissing as you get up, you limp to your living room, and see it on the sofa. Unlocking it, you see that it’s Ghost, sending you his Cash App information. Holding in a chickle, you send him his money and wait for his confirmation. 

It was a real pleasure, doll. Let me know when you need me again.

Cackling to yourself, you place your phone back on the table. 

Bastard. 

He knows you’ll definitely be seeing him again.