#wifes who fight together (and help each other up) stay together

[lyjen]

Drowning

Summary: Evan’s wife is an Elementary school teacher, but when a shooter enters the school and starts shooting at teachers, (Y/n) is the first person to help. Evan gets worried as his wife doesn’t pick up her phone, but as soon as the shooting reaches the news Evan is desperate to find out where she is.

Request by: anonymous - The request

9-1-1 masterlist

Taglist: @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley

______

“So I want you to both be thinking about it. Put those two brains together, I want you to solve it and be able to explain how you solved it” (Y/n) finished her math instruction. “I’m going to give you two minutes to try and solve this question, you’re ready?” Her voice sounded through the classroom as she clicked on start on the timer which was displayed on the screen.

(Y/n) was an elementary school teacher, she teaches the fifth grade to be specific. She has her own classroom, a teacher assistant intern, and a really good bond with her students. She loves her job, she really does. There’s nothing in the world she’d rather be doing than working with children. Her husband, on the other hand, loved being a firefighter. It was his life, and in his words: he wouldn’t know where he’d be if he never started the fire academy.

When one of the kids asked her if she had a boyfriend, she told them she was married to a firefighter. The students were so enthusiastic and full of questions, so she decided to take the kids to the firehouse one day, to teach them about firefighters, dispatch and everything Bobby had to tell.

“Okay, so some of you came up with an answer and a solution.” She speaks to the group as she holds up her hand, motioning to the kids who were ready to throw their answer to her head, to hold up their hands. “Do we have a volunteer to tell us what answer they got and how they got it?” multiple hands had gone up into the air, but those hands quickly were put down when loud screams sounded through the hallways.

But it was the gunshot that went off after that which caught her attention the most. Her eyes shot towards her teacher assistant Katy, who was sitting at the desk grading some homework as she immediately dropped the pen. Katy’s eyes went wide when she realized what was happening while multiple gasps from the students filled the silence in the room.The gunshot sent a shiver down (Y/n)’s whole body, as she remembered the three words: Run, hide, fight.

That was the protocol. Run if you can, hide if you can not evacuate safely and fight if your life is in danger.

“Everyone. Hide underneath your desks” She said softly as she tried to stay as calm as she possibly could.

The students all get off their seats and follow their teachers instructions as Katy runs off to the windows and closes the blinds. Meanwhile (Y/n) gets the remote for the screen and quickly shuts it off and runs towards the lightswitch to turn it off.

“Katy, help me move this” she says as she tries to push a mid-high bookcase in front of the door to barricade it. Katy quickly moves towards (Y/n) and helps her move the cabinet, so no one would be able to get in or out of the classroom.

When the cabinet was on the right spot, (Y/n) made her way towards the kids to make sure they were okay.

“You’re okay, we’re going to be fine” (Y/n) whispered softly to one of the students who was having a breakdown. She took place on the ground and folded her legs over each other, and she rubbed her hands over the kid’s upper arm, as a sign that she was there. They were not alone.

She let her fingers wipe away the tears of the girl’s cheeks and tried to hush her. She didn’t want to draw any attention. The girl almost started hyperventilating because she was that scared. “Amelia I need you to take slow deep breaths” (Y/n) whispered almost inaudibly. The girl nodded her head as she tried to copy her teacher’s breathing pattern. “Good, through your nose and out through the mouth” (Y/n) complimented her.

Huddled up with some kids to her side, (Y/n) tried her best to calm down the kids who were having a hard time to deal with the situation. Students around her were silently crying, while they were comforting themselves and each other.

There was an ear deafening silence floating through the classroom. They could practically hear the clock on the wall, ticking after each minute that had gone by.

With every footstep she heard on the hallway outside of the classroom, (Y/n)’s heart would skip a beat. There could be children running for their lives, other teachers or the shooter choosing their next victim.

After minutes, maybe even an hour of sitting in silence, a high pitched yelp sounds through the walls of her classroom. But that scream gets cut off by a sudden gunshot. More gasps and sobs sound softly through the classroom. With wide eyes (Y/n) tries to focus on the sound of the hallway.

“No. No, what are you going to do?!” Katy’s voice whispered desperately as (Y/n) crouched down and made her way towards the door of her classroom. The assistant crawled her way towards (Y/n), who was down at the door. Looking through the little gap between the window of the door and the bookcase.

(Y/n) glances through the window and spots a fellow teacher, down on the ground while a puddle of blood is being created underneath her. “Don’t be a hero” Katy says as softly as she possibly could.

She turned her head at Katy, “She’s hurt and needs help, I can’t just leave her to..” she shrugged her shoulders, she couldn’t say die. Not with her kids around, not when they were already traumatized enough by the sounds “You know..” she continued as she shrugged her shoulders.

She couldn’t do nothing. That was not who she was.

“But the shooter is still out there.” Katy says as she desperately starts to look around her. “That’s why I need you to stay here and keep them safe” (Y/n) whispered as she pointed out at her class. Katy shook her head with a frightened look in her eyes “No.. I can’t do that” Katy sighed as she looked at the kids.

“It wasn’t a question Katy, stay here and keep them safe. Close the door behind me” She repeated one more time as she looked at her over the shoulder.

With both her hands she moved the bookcase on one end a little backwards so she was able to squeeze through the gap of the door. Her hand reached for the lever of the door, as she as silently as possible pulled the lever down and squeezed her body through the door. (Y/n) could hear the door close behind her.

Still crouching, she made her way towards her colleague and let her knees drop to the ground when she reached her. “You’re gonna be okay” she said, barely inaudible as she made eye contact with her. The teacher had lost a lot of blood, the puddle was becoming bigger with the second.

The female teacher had been shot in the chest. (Y/n) went with her first instinct, putting pressure on the wound. Without thinking, she pressed her bare hands onto the chest of the woman. The woman winced and hissed at the pain that was being pushed onto her gunshot wound. “I know it hurts, but you have to stay with me okay?” (Y/n) said as her eyes wandered from the wound to the woman’s eyes.

She was on the edge of passing out. (Y/n) could tell. The woman was blinking so fast, and she looked exhausted. “Shit” (Y/n) cursed as the eyes of the woman rolled to the back of her head. Quickly she pressed two fingers of her right hand into the skin of the neck to see if she had a pulse.

Her heart was still beating, which meant she just had to put pressure onto the wound. So the heart would have enough blood to pump around.

But then the feeling of a cold metal getting pressed onto her skin spreads a shiver down her entire body. Her mouth suddenly went dry and her heart was pounding in her chest, as if it was trying to break free from her chest.

(Y/n) was frozen in her position, hovering over the woman. Putting pressure to the wound which was still trying to bleed through the small gaps between her fingers..

“Let go” the sound of a low male voice said.

She swallowed, as she felt the metal being pushed, deeper into her skin. She slightly shook her head, “You don’t have to do this” she slowly said as she kept as still as possible. “I do, everyone in this building has to pay for what they did for me.”

A click sounded. He reloaded his gun. Just one click away from a bullet inside of her head.

“I get it.” her voice said as she felt her breathing become faster because of the adrenaline. “When they don’t see you. And no one is there to help.” She squeezed her eyes closed at the pressure of the gun that was being pushed into the side of her forehead.

“Shut. Up.” His voice hissed at (Y/n).

Tears were falling down her face as she tried to keep enough pressure on the wound of the woman. “Struggling every single day of your life, trying to find a reason to be here”

“I said shut up!” he yelled as he fired a warning shot into the concrete walls of the hallway.

She flinched at the sudden gunshot. But she didn’t stop. She didn’t give up. She needed to try, and enter his mind. Try to talk him out of it, or buy herself more time. “The bucket will fill itself with more and more water everyday. And one day, that bucket will overflow.” She tried to remain strong as her voice became more trembling by every word she spoke.

The man pushes the gun once again into her skin, the muzzle still a little warm because of the bullet that popped out a few seconds ago. A click sounds as he reloads another bullet. “And you’ll realize that you’ve been drowning.. and if there’s no one to reach out their hand...” she squeezed her eyes shut as she remained silent for a second and another tear escaped the corner of her eye.

Multiple gunshots sounded through the hallway of the school as the gun, which the shooter was holding against her head fell down to the ground together with the body of the shooter.

A gasp left her mouth as the bullets whooshed along her ears. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the body of the shooter lying behind her on his back. Lifeless.

Everything that was happening was moving in slow motion. When she looked in front of her she could see multiple swat soldiers entering the hallway with their guns pointed towards the man behind her.

“Suspect is down” one of the soldiers said into their radio’s as they made their way towards (Y/n) and the shooter.

With two paramedics following the soldiers, the paramedics kneeled down next to the female teacher which (Y/n) tried to save her life. The paramedics put down their medic bags beside them and zipped the bag open as they grabbed some gauze.

“You can let go now. We’ve got her.” the male paramedic said as he tried to get her attention by putting his hand onto her shoulder. (Y/n) was still in shock. How did she survive this? Why didn’t he just shoot her when he had the chance? Why listen to her words?

“Sorry” she said as she got back to earth. She slowly retreated her hands back to her own body as the paramedic quickly pressed the gauze down onto the wound. (Y/n) slightly flinched as she felt a hand curling around her bicep, pulling her up to her feet and escorting her down the hall to the open world. She let them. She was too shaken up to try and fight or ask questions.

______

“Hi this is (Y/n)’s phone, please leave a message after the tone!” Her voice sounded through the speaker of Evan’s phone as he ended the call before the tone could ring into his ear.

A sigh leaves Evan’s mouth as he continues to send her a text, asking her to call him back when she can.

Hen walks into the kitchen when a frown morphed onto her face. “Hey you okay?” She asked when she noticed Evan’s slightly worried face that was focussed on his phone.

Evan clicks on the send button as he slips his phone back into his pocket, and he curls his fingers around the glass of water he had made.

“I’m fine..” he sighs as he leans with his forearms onto the kitchen counter. “I have just tried to call (Y/n) multiple times but she doesn’t answer. Normally she would’ve called me back by now”

They called everyday, especially when Evan was on shift. She would call him after school had come to an end and all kids had left the classroom.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Evan laughed at himself as he shook his head. He sounded like he was going insane. As if he couldn’t live without her. But it was a routine, so when that routine gets interrupted, it feels weird.

Normally Evan was the one to not pick up, when he was on a call. But he always called her back when they were back at the firehouse. Sometimes it could take hours, but it could also be minutes. It depended on the call of course.

“No not at all.. I’m sure she will call you back, maybe she’s talking to a parent or she’s just busy.” Hen touches Evan’s upper arm as she tries to reassure him that his wife is okay.

“Yeah, you’re right..” Evan pushed himself off the kitchen counter, he grabbed his glass and walked towards the sofas. “Maybe I’m being a little bit paranoid, she’s fine..” Evan glances at Hen who gives him a nod and a pat on his shoulder.

“Turn the volume up” Eddie says as Chimney grabs the remote and quickly turns up the volume by pressing down on the button.

“We just confirmed that about two hours ago, there has been a school shooting here in Los Angeles. The remarkable thing is that the school where this happened, was an elementary school”

“Jesus” Eddie sighs.

“The police have confirmed that after about an hour and a half after the shooter had fired the first bullet, they shot down the shooter. The name of the school where this happened is the Great Oak Elementary School. Parents are arriving at the school now to pick up their kids. There’s one wounded teacher and two casualties, both were working at the school.”

“That’s horrible. Imagine you see this on the news and you have to pick up your traumatized child.” Hen says as she continues to listen to the tv.

“Can’t imagine what that must feel like” Eddie’s voice sounds through the room.

Evan was intensely thinking. Why was that name so familiar? What was it about that school that made him think that he had a connection to it? He didn’t have any kids, at least not yet. “Wait what school did they say?” Evan double checked the name with his team, to see if he heard them correctly.

“I think it was Great Oak Elementary School” Chimney says as he focuses again onto the television screen.

Evan’s heart dropped in his chest. As soon as he heard that name fall off the lips of his colleague's mouth, it felt like all of the air he had in his lungs was getting pushed out. Everything's coming together now.

It was the school his wife worked for.

“But why even an elementary school, not that any school would’ve been any better or different. But we’re talking about ages 5 to 10 years old. Those children are going to be scarred for life” Eddie’s dull voice sounded over the loft into Evan’s ears.

No texts, no calls, nothing.

Evan’s hearing is dull, everything is still continuing on the back of his mind but his brain is working over hours now. Making up all different kinds of scenarios of what could’ve happened in that school. “Wow Buck, you alright?” Another dull voice rang through his ears.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, he flinched at the sudden touch and his eyes connected with Hen’s as he turned his head towards her. A frightened look was spread over his face as he tried to control his breathing.

He looked down to his feet, which were suddenly wet and cold. He realizes he had dropped his glass of water down to the ground. His boots are now soaking wet, with the water dripping down his pipes. But that was the last thing he was worried about right now.

His brain filled with all different kinds of scenarios were running through his mind. “(Y/n)” he mumbled through his panicked breaths as he tried to look at Hen, who was still pressing her hand onto his shoulder while her other hand was curled around his upper arm.

“Oh no..” Hen said as he puzzled the pieces together. Finally realizing what was happening and what Evan meant.

Bobby’s voice sounded through the space as he stepped onto the loft “What’s happening?”

“There has been a school shooting at Great Oaks Elementary. The school where Buck’s wife works” Hen quickly explained to Bobby as she held her grip onto Evan’s upper arm.

Evan’s eyes that were full of worry wandered towards his captain's eyes who was coming closer towards him every second. “She isn’t answering any of my calls or texts. And I’m not waiting for the hospital to call me and tell me that she’s..” Evan sighs at the worst case scenario that was in his mind.

“Please Bobby. I need to go. I need to see for myself if she’s okay.” Evan’s broken voice sounded.

“Look Buck, I get it. But you don’t have to do this on your own. We’re coming with you, whether you like it or not. (Y/n) is our family too.” Bobby says as he softly squeezed Evan’s shoulder. A small smile spread across Evan’s face as those words left Bobby’s mouth.

“Let’s go and find (Y/n)” Bobby says as he patted his hand onto Evan’s shoulder as a sign to go.

-

“What do you mean she isn’t here?” Evan says after Athena finished her conclusion. “I just told you, every teacher that was here on school grounds during the shooting has been checked by paramedics, and are now sitting in a room. They’re getting the information they need if they want help. But I’ve seen every teacher in that room, and she wasn’t there Buck, only her teaching assistant Katy.” Athena continues her explanation.

“Well, have you asked Katy if she knows anything about the whereabouts of my wife?” Evan asks, maybe a little annoyed. “No, not yet. I’m waiting for the professionals to finish their job. And after that, I’ll see if Katy is willing to talk” She calmly answers Evan’s question.

“How long is that gonna take?” Evan sighs as he puts his hands on his hips. He’s losing his patience. This is taking too long. “I’m sure they’re almost done, this should only take a few more minutes” Athena reassured him.

“I don’t have time for this.. what if Katy doesn’t know where she is? This might lead to a dead end.” Evan tries to stop himself from panicking, as he rushes a hand through his short curly hair. He had to do something. He couldn’t just stand there and wait on a teaching assistant who maybe doesn't have an answer to their questions.

Evan quickly turned around and slid his phone out of his pocket. He had to try it, at least one more time. He clicks on the green icon and clicks on her name, impatiently he presses the phone against his ear. Maybe she did have it with her.. right?

“Buck..” Evan could hear Bobby sigh as he was walking away from his team.

Evan listens to the sound of the phone beeping, trying to connect with the other phone. He was pacing through one of the hallways, silently listening to the beeps of the phone. Evan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he could hear a ringtone going off from a distance. Was that someone else’s phone or was that the phone he was trying to reach?

The ringtone stopped playing when Evan was being sent to voicemail. He quickly presses the red button, and decides to try and call the phone again.

Once more the same ringtone sounds through the hallway.

Evan follows the sound, making his way through the hallways until after multiple times of calling her phone, he reaches the door of a classroom. The tone sounded loudly through the space of the room.

Evan stepped into the classroom and walked towards the desk where the phone was buzzing. “There you are..” Evan whispered to himself as he grabbed the phone and frowned at the idea of his wife leaving her phone behind. She never leaves her phone behind.

He shoved his own phone into his pocket as he made his way back towards his team who were now talking with a young woman, probably Katy.

“Can we please ask you a few questions?” Evan could hear Athena ask the TA, who nodded at her question. “When was the last time you saw (Y/n)?” Athena continued to ask her. “During the shooting, we were all hiding inside the classroom just like protocol said. And she told me to watch the kids.. she went to help the lady who was shot outside of our classroom. I heard multiple gunshots, when I was alone with the kids. But I haven’t seen her since she told me to watch them.” Katy explains.

Evan could feel his knees trembling, like they were suddenly turning into Jell-o.

“That’s everything I know” Katy says as she shrugs her shoulders. “It’s okay, thank you Katy. If something pops into your mind, give me a call” Athena says as she gives Katy her card with her contact details and Katy walks away.

“Alright, there’s two things we can do. One, we go to the hospital and check if she may be in the ER. Or two, we go check the..-” Athena gets cut off by Evan’s voice.

“Morgue” Evan finished Athena’s sentence and shook his head. “We’re going to the ER of the nearest hospital, she’s not dead. She can’t be.” Evan continued. “Buck.” Bobby’s voice spoke up when Evan wiped his hand against his forehead, as if it helped him to get rid of the thought of his wife being dead. “I refuse to believe that she’s dead, I want to go to the hospital” Evan states as he could hear his own voice trembling.

Evan felt Bobby’s hand landing onto his shoulder. “It’s your decision to make Buck, if you want to go to the hospital, we go to the hospital” Bobby said as he looked into Evan’s eyes again. Evan nodded. He made his decision.

The drive towards the nearest hospital was silent, but when the truck pulled to a stop Evan’s hand reached for the door and he jumped out as fast as he could.

He had waited long enough. He needed his answers now.

Before the rest of his team got out of the truck, Evan had already gone through the glass doors. Evan came to a stop at the nurse station, using his hands as a brake by pressing it against the desk.

“Hi, I’m looking for (Y/n) Buckley” he panted as he focussed on the nurse who was scrolling through the documents of people who had gotten in.

“Evan?” her familiar voice sounds through his ears. His eyes went wide as he heard that voice he had hoped to hear through the phone the first time he called her. He pushed himself off the desk he was leaning on and followed her voice.

“(Y/n)?” he softly said as he looked around him. When his eyes connected with hers, his heart skipped a beat. She was alive. Just like he said.

“Evan” she sighed as she finally saw her husband's face. Evan basically sprinted towards (Y/n) as he heard her broken voice say his name. Her knees were trembling, and were on the edge of giving in. “Hey! Hey! I’m here!” Evan panted as he curled his arms around his wife and she collapsed into his arms.

She was sobbing as soon as she felt his arms curled around her body and she tightened her grip around his body, like he was the only thing to keep her from drowning. He was the hand she had to hold onto. “I’m here” Evan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding this entire time.

He let his hand cup the back of her head and he pressed his lips against her hair.

He slowly pulled back, but his arms remained around her body. He wasn’t letting her go. The hand he had pressed against the back of her head, wandered to her cheek as he wiped away her tears.

“W-what are you doing here? Are you hurt?” he stumbled as he quickly checked her on any wounds. She shook her head as she placed both of her hands down onto his chest. “No, I’m okay” she gasped through her tears.

When Evan’s eyes fell onto her hands, which were now placed on his chest, he noticed her hands which were still covered in dried blood.

He placed his hands over hers as he softly grabbed her hand and started inspecting it. “It isn’t mine” she sighed as she tried to reconnect her eyes with Evan’s, who was focussed on making sure his wife wasn’t hurt.

“Then whose blood is that?” Evan’s voice asked, concerned when his eyes remained on her hands. “T-the woman who had been shot..” she said as she tried to catch her breath. Evan’s eyes furrowed “I helped her..” in the middle of her sentence, she stopped talking. “I kept her alive, even with a gun pointed at my head” she continued.

She could hear the gunshots going off in the back of her mind, the explanation she had just given her husband brought her right back to that place. So much has happened in those few minutes, she barely had time to process everything that happened in such a short time.

Tears were streaming down her face as she was reminded of the incident. “He wanted to shoot me in the head”

“Oh baby..” a loud sigh left his lips as he pressed a kiss onto her forehead. “You did so good” he mumbled against her forehead as he pressed another kiss onto it and pulled his wife back into an embrace.

“I was so scared Evan, I really thought this is it.. that everything I did, was for the last time” (Y/n) sobbed as she locked her arms around his body once again and her head pressed against his broad chest. “But you fought like hell, like I knew you would. You fought for that woman, for the students, yourself and me. You fought your way back to me.” Evan said as he pulled away a little, so her head wouldn’t be touching his chest anymore and he could place both his hands onto her cheeks.

“You’re so much stronger than you think you are.”

______

A gasp fell off (Y/n)’s lips as a gunshot roared through the back of her mind. Her eyes were suddenly wide open and her entire body was drenched in sweat. She let her hands fall against her face as she sighed. It was just another dream, a nightmare to be more specific.

It had been weeks since the shooting on the Great Oak Elementary School, but what happened that day, was still haunting her until today.

Falling asleep was a problem at first, the first nights after the incident, she was all wrapped around Evan. Trying to get her to sleep like she was a baby that couldn’t find the right spot to sleep on.

Evan worked twenty four hour shifts, he couldn’t just go home in the middle of shift, in the middle of the night to help his wife to fall asleep at night. So sometimes, (Y/n) wouldn’t sleep at all at night, she would just wait until he came home and the second Evan was home she would doze off.

But now, it’s the constant nightmares she had. Every dream she had wasn’t the same, it’s not like she had the same nightmare over and over again on loop. No, she was having different kinds of scenario’s everytime she closed her eyes.

She let her hands fall down onto the mattress as she glanced at Evan who was peacefully asleep on his side of the bed. (Y/n) threw off the blanket and swung her feet over the side of the bed and grasped the first hoodie she saw lying down on the floor. The hoodie was a little oversized and fell over her bum.

(Y/n) stepped down the stairs of the loft and flicked on the kettle to make some tea. Maybe that would help her calm down. With her back towards the living room, she pressed her elbows down onto the flat surface of the kitchen counter.

She was tired, but couldn’t sleep. Not if she was having these nightmares, everytime she closed her eyes. (Y/n) let her head rest between her hands as she closes her eyes for a second, just to try and let the stress exit her body while the water was boiling.

Evan groaned as he turned around in bed and let his arm find the body of his wife. When his arm connected with the jumpy mattress, he pushed his head off the pillow as a confused frown was spread across his face. He wasn't expecting his arm to find the mattress, he was waiting for his arm to connect with (Y/n)’s body.

He lets his arm swipe along the mattress again to make sure she wasn’t somewhere else on the mattress. Evan turns his body and reaches out to turn on the night lamp on his nightstand. He squeezed his eyes as he tried to adjust his eyes to the bright light on his nightstand and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

Evan swung his legs over the side of the bed as he stood up to make his way downstairs, determined to find his wife. When he silently stepped down the stairs, he smiled at the way she was standing. A Los Angeles Fire Department hoodie to keep her comfortable, her eyes closed as she was leaning on her hands. While the kettle was releasing steam as it was finished boiling.

A groan left her lips as she felt a hand curled around her hip and his chin was leaning on her shoulder. Her hand reached behind her as she tried to find Evan’s arm. “Can’t sleep?” his sleepy voice asked, with his eyes still closed as he was still trying to wake up.

“Yeah” she whispered as she nodded at his question, and she placed her other hand down on his cheek as he was still leaning with his chin onto her shoulder.

“Still having those nightmares huh?” He asked her as he pressed a kiss on the palm of her hand that was resting on his face.

“Yeah, what’s new..” she sighed, she had the feeling those nightmares weren’t going away anytime soon anyways. She grabbed a cup from the upper cabinet, placed it onto the counter and started to pour water from the kettle into it.

When the cup was full enough, she placed the kettle back. “Evan?” Her soft voice sounded raspy.

“Hmm?” Evan hummed as he slightly opened his eyes to check on his wife. His arm was still wrapped around her, curved around her hip. She swallowed loudly.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this..” she whispered as she placed both of her hands flat against the counter as she stared right in front of her.

Evan’s hand started to come loose from her hip, as he let his lower back fall against the kitchen island, which was placed on the other side of the kitchen counter (Y/n) was making her tea on.

He folded his arms over each other as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets. “You mean the nightmares, right?” Evan needed a confirmation that he knew she was talking about.

She felt Evan leaving her side. But she couldn’t look at him without breaking down. So she remained standing with her back towards Evan. “No.. I meant, being a teacher.” She said as she started to make circles with her finger onto the kitchen counter.

“What? What do you mean? You love being a teacher” Evan said as he tried to make eye contact again. But she wouldn’t turn around.

She shook her head as she sighed, trying to keep her tears from falling down. “That was before this all happened. You know how exhausting it is to be wary of every single thing around you?” she sniffled as she turned her face towards the ceiling, trying everything in her power to not show her tears, or show her fear.

With her sleeves falling over her hands, she wiped the small tears away that had started rolling down her cheeks. “Every time before I even enter the school my throat goes dry, I start sweating and I can’t stop myself from shaking” she tried to say through her tears and sobs.

She turned her body, and let herself slide against the kitchen doors, dropping to the ground as she cried even harder. “I’m sick and tired of flinching at every sudden sound I hear. I can’t sleep, because any time when I close my eyes, even if it’s just for one silly second, I’m there again. With a gun against my head.” she confessed.

(Y/n) let the back of her head lean against the kitchen cabinet as she felt Evan coming closer, while she looked at the ceiling again. Trying to get rid of the tears that showed her biggest fears and weaknesses. “I can’t do this anymore Evan” she sobbed as she pressed her palms against her face. All she wanted to do was hide.

It feels like she’s drowning, drowning into her own fear and tears. The fear is over taking her like waves of the ocean, if no one would reach out that hand to help her.. she might drown.

“No.. you’re scared. And I get your reaction, but we don’t always make the best decisions when we’re operating out of fear” Evan spoke up as he curled his arm around her knee.

A sigh leaves Evan’s mouth as he tries to think of the right thing to say. “I know how hard it is to get over something so traumatizing, that you don’t know what you’re doing it for no more” he said as he tightened his arm around her knee. “But what happened could have happened anywhere. At the grocery store, in our own home, hell even at the fire station” Evan continued as he tried to get her attention, but she was too emotional to make eye contact.

She could hear every word he said, every breath he took, every moment of silence he needed, to think of what he was going to say next.

“So I need you to stop saying that you can’t do this. Because I know you can. You’re one of the strongest women I know. And I’m so proud to call you my wife. But right now, I need you to grab my hand and trust me when I say that we’ll figure this out.” tears were starting to well in Evan’s eyes as he quickly wiped his finger underneath his eyes to get rid of the tears he felt, as they were about to roll over his cheeks.

Evan loosened his grip around her knee as he reached out his hand, with his palm faced towards the ceiling. “We do this together, just like we did all the times I got hurt and didn’t know what to do” Evan said as he lowered his head, trying to get her eyes connected with him again.

Silence took over the space they were in.

Evan’s hand was still dangling between her knees as he waited for her attention and answer. “Together?” he asked one more time.

A soft smile made its way onto her face, as she nodded. “Together.” she said determined and placed her hand onto his as Evan sent her a small smile her way.

She had helped him countless times, now it was his turn to help her.

[gracie-eilish]

Heyyy I have a fic request. I know you said you're done with the baby fics but tbh you could never be done with them.(plus its not rlly a baby fic)

Reader is pregnant and she gets into a fight with billie about something and later reader needs help doing things but she's too afraid to ask billie. Luckily, billie knows her wife well. (VERY FLUFFY)

sweet baby💗

baby i could never NEVER be done with the baby fics. OF COURSE I’ll write another one!!!!! here ya go sweet thang!!☺️

HAHA this request is from the last time i said was done with the baby fics for the week lol!

The day had started off perfectly fine. A slow morning, Billie pressing lazy kisses along your shoulder as you stayed curled up together in bed, your hand resting over your growing belly while she traced absentminded patterns over your skin. She had murmured something about making you breakfast, and you had hummed in agreement, feeling warm and content.

And then later in the day, somehow, things went downhill.

You weren’t even sure how it started—just that one moment everything was fine, and the next, you and Billie were snapping at each other.

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, or maybe Billie was just being annoying (she was), but it had escalated fast.

“I don’t get why you’re making such a big deal about this,” Billie said, crossing her arms as she leaned against the kitchen counter.

You huffed, arms mirroring hers. “Because it is a big deal, Billie!”

She scoffed. “No, it’s really not.”

“To me it is!”

Billie groaned, running a hand through her hair. “Babe, you’re seriously mad over this?”

You glared at her. “You’re the one making it worse!”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “I’m making it worse?! You’re the one who—ugh! You know what? Forget it.” She threw up her hands, shaking her head. “I’m going to the studio.”

You scoffed. “Of course you are.”

She turned to leave but hesitated, glancing back at you. “You need anything before I go?”

The question was soft, almost like an olive branch, but you were still too irritated to take it.

“Nope.”

Billie pressed her lips together, exhaled through her nose, then nodded sharply. “Fine.”

And with that, she walked off, shutting the studio door behind her.

You stood there, arms still crossed, fuming.

It wasn’t even that big of a deal. Just a stupid argument over something trivial—maybe she had brushed off a concern of yours, or maybe you had snapped at her first. Either way, it left you feeling irritated and on edge, needing something to do to distract yourself.

So you decided to make dinner.

You pulled out ingredients, chopped vegetables, and set a pot of water to boil, throwing yourself into the motions to burn off the frustration still simmering under your skin. You were fine. You didn’t need Billie’s help.

Until you reached for the jar of marinara sauce.

You twisted the lid. It didn’t budge.

You tried again, using more force.

Nothing.

Your irritation flared. “Oh, come on.”

You adjusted your grip, twisting as hard as you could.

Still nothing.

“Are you kidding me?” you grumbled, your voice rising in frustration.

You tried once more, gritting your teeth.

The lid didn’t move an inch.

“For the love of—” You slammed the jar down onto the counter with a frustrated huff. “This is so stupid! I swear to God—”

From the other room, Billie’s voice drifted in. “You okay in there?”

You froze, debating whether to answer.

A second later, you heard the studio door creak open, followed by the sound of Billie’s footsteps approaching.

And then she was there, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, one brow raised. “Are you losing a fight with a jar of sauce?”

You scowled. “I got it.”

Billie smirked, strolling over casually. “Oh yeah? ‘Cause it sounded like you were about to throw hands with it.”

You huffed, gripping the jar again and twisting with all your might.

It still didn’t move.

Billie snorted. “Babe.”

You ignored her.

She took another step forward. “Come on, let me help.”

You hesitated, still feeling stubborn.

“I got it,” you muttered, trying one last time.

The lid remained firmly shut.

Billie sighed, reaching out. “Baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You clenched your jaw but relented, handing over the jar without meeting her eyes.

With one swift motion, Billie popped the lid open effortlessly.

You gaped at her. “Are you serious?”

She wiggled her fingers. “Strong hands, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching for the jar, but Billie didn’t let go just yet. Instead, she looked at you carefully, her teasing smile fading into something softer.

“You know you can ask me for help, right?” she said gently.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling silly. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Billie frowned. “Bother me? Babe, you never bother me.” She tilted her head. “Is this about our argument?”

You hesitated, then let out a slow breath. “I just… we both needed space, and I didn’t wanna—I don’t know, break the truce?”

Billie’s face softened. “Baby,” she murmured, setting the jar down before wrapping her arms around you. “There’s no truce to break. Just because we got a little irritated with each other doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop taking care of you.”

Your body melted against hers, the fight fully fading now.

“I hate arguing with you,” you admitted quietly.

Billie pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “Me too.”

You sighed against her, your fingers gripping the fabric of her hoodie. “I’m sorry.”

She pulled back slightly, her eyes warm. “I’m sorry, too.”

She nudged her nose against yours, smiling. “Truce?”

You nodded, looping your arms around her neck. “Truce.”

Billie grinned, swaying you slightly. “Wanna finish dinner together?”

You exhaled, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah.”

So you did.

Billie stayed close, helping you stir the sauce, sneaking little kisses to your cheek whenever you weren’t looking. Every so often, she whispered something dumb just to make you laugh, and by the time you sat down to eat, it was like the fight had never happened.

And when Billie reached across the table to lace her fingers with yours, her thumb gently rubbing over your skin, you knew that no matter how many little arguments you might have, you’d always come back to this—to each other.

[maxinehufflepuffprincess]

Mother

BangChan x fem! reader. 9th member.

(Sorry if this is at all cringy or stupid or whatever. After the last fic I made for these guys, I thought about making this. After seeing how well received my other fic was, I decided to go ahead with making this. I'm kind of enjoying this whole Motherly 9th member thing that I'm doing. Thank you for enjoying my stories.)

Taglist. Masterlist. Progress Update. MamaBear Collection.

Summary: You're the mother of the group, and the boys have no problem playing into the role.

You have been a part of Stray Kids since the beginning. You were Chan's right-hand woman and second in command. Your dynamic was very Husband and Wife. Father and Mother. You were quickly deemed the ‘Mother’ of the group. Due to how nurturing you were and how sweet you were with the boys. Stay was quick to pick up on how you and Chan worked so well together, especially when it came to taking care of your seven boys. 

With your motherly role, it was only natural for your Skzoo to be a bear, that despite her having an actual name, she and you were both dubbed ‘Mama Bear’. And much like you, your Skzoo was often seen being motherly to the rest of the Skzoos. She could be seen cheering on Puppym when he danced and always giving BbokAri hugs, or breaking up fights between Leebit and Jiniret.

Of course, the boys themselves all played into this whenever they pleased. Felix and I.N. were the two who played into it the most. They had you wrapped around their fingers, and they knew it. They got away with more than they should. But they were your babies, so it was okay. You loved all the boys. You always made sure to be there when they needed you. All nine men were your world. So you always wanted to show them that and to show how much you loved and appreciated them. You were incredibly proud of each and every one of them.

—------------

Chan let out a small sigh as he sat down. You were all in the middle of dance practice. For now, though, you were all having a ten-minute break. Chan's eyes watched you as you grabbed some water bottles, handing them to the boys sprawled out on the floor and couches. 

You turned to look at Chan, who quickly opened his arms for you. You made your way over to him and sat down next to him, letting him wrap his arms around you. You handed him his water before opening your own and drinking some of your water. The room was quiet for a moment. The only sounds were panting, groaning, and water bottles opening. Everyone had worked really hard.

“Ah! I think I'm dying.” Hyunjin groaned out as he draped himself across I.N.'s lap. Innie was quick to push Hyunjin off of him.

“Die over there.” I.N. let out a small huff as he watched Hyunjin place a hand on his heart, acting wounded.

Changbin got up and walked over to Hyunjin and pulled his body close to him. “I'll save you! Mouth to mouth will help.” Changbin puckered his lips and slowly moved closer to Hyunjin’s face. 

Hyunjin slapped a hand on Changbin's face and pushed him away. “Yah, no.” He backed away, but Changbin followed. 

“I'll make it better. Let me love you!” Binnie's voice was getting louder. 

Hyunjin jumped up and ran to the opposite side of the room. Changbin wasn't far behind as he ran after the taller male, arms open. “Come back! We're married!” 

Hyunjin took cover behind Felix and Han. Which then sent Changbin into a full game of trying to catch at least one of the three. Soon enough, all seven boys were playing. I.N. got dragged into the game by Felix. Seungmin got dragged in by I.N. Han used Minho as a shield, only to have the tables turn when Binnie caught Minho, who in turn immediately caught Han. Everyone was laughing, shouting and having fun. Hyunjin let out a scream whenever he was almost caught.

You and Chan watched the boys with smiles on your faces. 

“They're yours when they're this loud.” Chan told you with a small shrug of his shoulders as he turned to look at you.

You grinned. “No. They get their loudness from you. They get their fun side from me, though.” 

Chan let out a gasp. “I'll have you know, I'm the fun parent.” 

You let out a laugh. “Mmhm, sure you are.” You gently bumped your shoulder against him. “I think bossy suits you better.”

Chan's eyes went wide. “Yah! Take that back.” He said as he moved closer to you.

“Nope.” You wiggled out of his arms and jumped up. 

Chan got up and took a step towards you. You turned and ran off. Chan quickly chased after you. And so the nine of you all chased each other. The thought of practice quickly escapes you all. Chan would have caught you if it wasn’t for Binnie accidentally running into him whilst he was chasing Seungmin. 

Ten minutes passed of pure fun, of everyone trying to grab each other and tripping over one another. Chan did manage to catch you, peppering your face in kisses after he did so. Eventually, though, it was time to work again. 

Chan clapped his hands together. “Alright! Let’s get back to work!” He called out loudly to get everyone’s attention. 

The boys all stopped but complained. They were just having too much fun. 

“Don’t make me have to ask for the AMV.” He told the groups. 

Han frowned in confusion. “The AMV?”

Chan gestured towards you. “Angry Mother Voice.” That was enough to get the boys into their starting positions. 

Chan walked past you, and your hands connected in a high five. “Works every time.” You told him happily.

He kissed your cheek and nodded in agreement. “They hate making their mother raise her voice.” He winked and walked over to the music. Soon enough, the nine of you were dancing in sync. 

—------------

It was Mother’s Day. A day meant for celebrating mothers. The boys all had plans to call their mothers that day. You were on tour, so spending the day with their mothers sadly wasn’t an option. So, FaceTime was the next best thing. Thankfully, though, they were all able to make plans for when you all returned home. 

You blinked awake. You took a moment before rolling over. Chan had an arm wrapped around you. His free hand ran through your hair. You looked up at him, his eyes meeting yours. 

“Morning, baby.” He spoke quietly.

“Morning, my love.” You replied to him with a soft smile on your face. You stretched and slowly sat up. 

“I don’t want to get up.” He told you with a small whine. 

You let out a soft giggle. “I know. But I would love to get breakfast.”

The moment you said those words, the door to your bedroom opened and in piled the other seven members of the group. Leeknow stood in front with a tray full of food. Hyunjin was holding your favourite flowers. Whilst Felix had a big gift in his hands for you. 

“What’s all this?” You asked in confusion. 

Minho set the tray on your lap. “Can’t we do something nice for you?” He asked you in an almost offended tone.

“Of course you can.” You said softly as Hyunjin and Han got to work putting a vase and the flowers on your desk.

“Thank you, boys.” You looked at the food to see all your favourites. There was even some of Felix’s brownies on a separate plate.

Chan sat up and reached over to grab a strawberry, only for Minho to slap his hand away. “Yah! That’s not for you.” 

Chan looked at you. “Geez, nice to know who the favourite is.” You laughed and gave him a strawberry. 

You happily ate the food as the boys all lounged around your room, doing as they pleased. You all talked about the upcoming day. They were all excited for the concert. You may have been a little sneaky. You knew the boys were upset about not getting to spend Mother’s Day with their mums. So you organised everything and were able to fly their parents out for the show.

The boys didn’t know. Well, Chan knew what the surprise was. He only found out because he walked in on you whilst you were calling his mother to talk about it all. So he had decided to help you plan everything. He even split the costs with you, saying he wanted to help. The parents were going all be together, in the perfect place, so they could sit down, so that the boys could spot them.

You finished eating your food and thanked the boys once again. 

“Here, open this.” Felix excitedly said as he held up the present. 

Minho took the tray from you and set it to the side so that Felix could put the present on your lap. You carefully opened it, only to be greeted by a beautiful painting. It was one of the nine of you. A painting of one of your favourite pictures. You were all at the beach. You and Chan were sitting on a blanket, watching the sun set as you shared strawberries. Leeknow and Han were sitting on the sand making a sandcastle with I.N., who was sipping on his favourite drink. Seungmin was being chased by Changbin. Finally, Felix and Hyunjin were both in the water, not to deep but enough to have fun. 

“Hyunjin painted it. But it was Seungmin’s idea. Ayen and I found the picture for Jinnie to recreate.” Changbin said with a smile on his face.

“I love it. Thank you so much. Jinnie, this must have taken ages. Thank you.” You were proud of his art skills. “I think I’ll put it above the bed.” You said with a soft nod, panning to put it up later. 

Chan opened the top drawer of his bedside table and pulled out another present. You once again opened it. There in your hand is a pretty, velvet red box. You then opened the box and smiled. Inside was a necklace with all eight boys' names on it and what you assumed were their birthstones. Plus your birthstone in the centre. 

“It was Han and Felix’s idea for this one. But Minho and I went to get it done.” Chan told you with a small nod of his head. 

“Chan,” You spoke softly. It hadn’t clicked in your mind yet why they were doing this. “You do know it’s not my birthday, right. I appreciate the gifts. Thank you.” 

Chan shrugged. “We know. We just wanted to show you how important you are to us.” He said, taking your hand in his. He gently kissed your knuckles. 

After hugging each of the guys, you eventually had to get up. You showered, happily humming to yourself. When you made it back to your room, the painting was already above your bed. You got changed, and soon you were all off to start the day.

========

It was later that night. The concert was in full swing. You were about halfway through. Your outfit suited you perfectly, and you felt comfortable. You had on the necklace that Chan had given you that morning. By this point, the boys had all spotted their parents.

There you all stood in the middle of the stage. Chan waved to everyone as I.N. and Changbin sneaked off backstage. You didn’t notice as Leeknow was distracting you with jokes. 

“Everyone knows what day it is today. So from all of us, we want to say Happy Mother’s Day to all the mums out there.” Chan spoke into his microphone. “Especially to our mums who are thankfully here watching us today, all thanks to one very special lady.” He turned to look at you. 

You blinked up at him and lightly smacked his chest. “Yah! I told you not to tell them it was me.” You whined it as you bounced lightly on the spot.

Chan chuckled and shook his head. “We also wanted to celebrate said special lady, for stepping in as a mother for the boys whilst they're away from their mum’s.” 

Han placed his hands on your shoulders and shook you lightly. 

You let out a shocked laugh. “But, today is about mum’s. I’m not an actual mum. I just pretend to be.” You told the boys in confusion. 

“We know and we want to show you how much we appreciate your efforts. You’ve been looking after these boys since day one. You’ve been parenting them alongside me, watching them grow. I know you’re not their mum. But you’re the next best thing, Sweetheart.” Chan took your hand in his gently. 

Tears filled your eyes. “Chan. You’re gonna make me cry.” Your bottom lip trembled. 

Minho couldn’t help but smile. “You’re always making sure I’m fed whilst I’m busy feeding everyone else. You always get excited to listen to me talk about my cats. You always make sure I’m taking breaks when I’m focused on dancing. You always make time to listen to my worries,” He gently patted your back.

Changbin and I.N. made their way over to a spot on the stage. They placed a small table down and placed a cake on top of it. They then made their way over to you. Binnie took Leeknow’s spot and hugged you tight.

“You helped teach me to cook. It took a while, but I’m getting there. You’re always encouraging me at the gym. Even if you don’t like working out, you’ll do it because it means spending time with me in a place that’s second nature to me.” Binnie pulled away from the hug and wiped away some of the tears that had begun to fall. 

Hyunjin then came to your other side. “I know you send my mum clips of me dancing when we’re in rehearsal. I know you have a group chat with all of our moms to keep them updated about us, so they don’t miss out on anything. Thank you. You spoil me rotten, and I don’t think I’ve ever really told you how much I appreciate it. You keep buying me all these amazing art supplies. You’re always making sure I’m not too hard on myself when I can’t get a step right. You always play into my dramatics and let me get away with acting like a complete fool.” He held your hands in his and squeezed them gently. 

“How do you know about that?” You asked him as you squeezed his hands back. 

“Ayen’s mum told him. He said that she told him she was happy he had so many people taking care of him. That you were filling a role in his life that he needed in person. They can’t always be here; you can. So you fill the role we need from you. Friend, Sister, Mother, Mentor, Cheerleader. You don’t even realise you’re doing it.” You quickly hugged Hyunjin and smiled up at him through your watery eyes. 

“You boys are the sweetest.” You told him with a small giggle. 

“We’re about to get sweeter,” Han said from behind you. He moved and hip bumped Minho out of the way. Minho immediately hip bumped him back. 

Han gripped onto you to keep his balance. “Anyway. You’re one of the best pillows I’ve ever had. You’re always so gentle when you wake me up. You never want to startle me awake. I’m grateful for that. I know you always put extra food on my plate when I’m not looking. You’re always there when my anxiety takes over or when I have a panic attack. Thank you.” He then gave you a tight side hug. 

Hyunjin stepped to the side as Felix came bouncing over to you. He immediately wrapped you in a hug. “I love you.” He said with a smile as he pulled away from the hug. His own eyes filled with tears. 

“You always let me hug you. It doesn’t matter if we’re in the middle of practice, or cooking in the kitchen or if I’m crawling into bed with you. You’re always there with open arms for me. You’ll let me cuddle up to you like a baby, and a part of me loves it. You’re always giving me massages whilst I do it for everyone else. You bake with me, and it always feels like a good bonding moment with you. You let me play with your hair, and you always help me when I want to dye mine. You always make sure I have enough food and that I’m comfortable. So, thank you for that.” He then hugged you again. The two of you cried into each other for a little bit before Felix was gently pulled away by Chan. 

Seungmin took Felix’s place and placed a hand on your shoulder. “You give me confidence. Whenever I get nervous about doing something without the group, you always make me feel better about it, more confident. You let me tease you like there's no tomorrow. I get away with more than I probably should. But even when I’m cheating in a game, you're still always there, cheering me on and praising me for my creative thinking. You’re someone I can go to when I need to talk. You never judge. But you always listen.”  The male then kissed your cheek softly before letting I.N. take his place.

I.N. stood in front of you with a smile. “You’re always saving me from the Hyungs. You always have my favourite coffee ready in the morning. You always put a blanket on me when I fall asleep. You’re always willing to listen to me ramble about whatever I want. Whenever I want something, you never hesitate to get it for me, even when you don’t need to. You do it because you enjoy buying things for the people you love. You always seem to know when I’m ready for a hug or when I’m not feeling physical touch. You always know. You always encourage me when I’m singing or dancing.” He wrapped up in a quick hug before pulling away. 

By now, you were crying. Most of the boys were as well. 

Chan walked to your side and placed a hand on your hip. “You make an impact even when you don’t realise it. Which is why the boys wanted to celebrate you.” He wiped your tears away. “One, two, three.”

“Happy Mother’s Day!!” The boys all cheered in perfect unison. The eight men all surrounded you in a tight hug. You stayed like that for a while before Changbin pulled away. “We got you a cake.” He said. He took your hand and walked you over to the table. There it was. A pretty cake, your favourite colour and flavour. It was perfect.

“I love you guys so much.” You told them as you let out a sob. You turned to face their parents. “Thank you for trusting me to look after your boys. I know it mustn’t have been easy at the start. To trust a random girl with looking after your sons. Making sure they go to school, sleep and practice. Making sure they’re happy and healthy, and safe. So, thank you for trusting me to be that for them.” You bowed to them before the boys pulled you back into a tight hug. Chan placed a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“We love you, too.” He whispered to you.

—------------

You stood in the kitchen with Minho and Chan. The three of you were cooking for everyone. The nine of you were recording a SkZ Code episode, and having lost rock, paper, scissors, the three of you were left with doing the cooking. Which wasn't different to usual. The three of you often found yourselves cooking. Seungmin had found his way into the kitchen, having been bored. He didn’t do much cooking-wise, but he did set the table after you asked him to. 

The food was now ready to be served. “Puppy, can you call the others in, please?” You asked him, a sweetness in your voice. 

Seugmin nodded and immediately went off to find the others. Whilst he did that, Minho and Chan put the food on the table. You made drinks for everyone. 

Seungmin walked in with Felix following behind him. 

“Where are the others?” You asked curiously. 

Seugmin shrugged. “Yongbok was the only one who listened.”

“You four, sit down. I’ll go get those ignorent sods.” You left the room and made your way outside, where the others were. Han and I.N. were playing catch, Hyunjin was relaxing, and Binnie looked like he was asleep.  “Yah!” You shouted, quickly getting their attention. “Want to tell me why we’re all out here and not inside? Seungmin came out to get you all. So tell me why, Felix was the only one to come inside?” You crossed your arms over your chest and frowned at them.

“We um…” No one had an answer.

“Inside now. One of you wake Changbin up. If the four of you are not at the table within the next minute, you’ll be going to bed without dessert and without food. And I want you all to apologise to Seungmin for ignoring him.” It was an empty threat for the most part. You’d never deprive the boys of food. You’d only deprive them of dessert. 

Hyunjin quickly shook Changbin awake. The four boys made their way inside and to the table. You stepped inside and closed the back door. You made it to the table in time to hear the apology. You sat down in your seat between Chan and Leeknow, across from Changbin.

“Alright. Let’s eat.” And they did. You fed Leeknow and put food on Chan and Felix's plates as Minho took care of giving the others extra food. The nine of you began sharing the food and happily eating. You enjoyed the days you all got to sit like this and eat, like a family. It could be a home-cooked meal at one of the dorms. Or it could be something you ordered whilst at the studio whilst you all practised. Or room service whilst you all chill in one of the hotel rooms whilst on tour. Either way, family dinners were your favourite. Everyone always laughed and had something to say. It always turned fun and made you all laugh. Good food and even better company. 

—------------

Hyunjin looked through the paints in front of him. There were so many choices, and he was struggling to decide which set to get. He picked up two palettes and sighed. He turned to face you. 

“What do you think? Water paints or oil?” He asked you curiously. 

You shrugged. “We’ll i’ve been enjoying your water paintings recently. But you seem really into the oil paintings at the moment, so maybe the oils?” You suggested. 

Hyunjjin bit his bottom lip and nodded lightly. “Maybe. They are both pretty.” 

You let out a soft sigh and took the two palettes from him. “How about this, I’ll buy you both.” You told him. “You get the brushes you wanted, and I’ll get you these.” 

Hyunjin shook his head and held a hand out to you. “You don’t have to do that. I can get them myself.” He told you. Whilst he was one of the ones who tended to just shrug when you offered to pay for him, he still always liked to push back. Even just a little. Because the reality was that you didn't have to buy him things. You didn’t have to spoil him like he was your son, and it was her birthday or Christmas. So he always liked to make sure. He never wanted you to think you had to buy him anything. 

You never did feel pressure or anything of the sort when it came to buying things for any of the guys. It was one of your love languages. 

“Jinnie, I know. But I’ll get these for you this time, okay? You focus on picking the perfect brushes you want.” You then went to the counter and paid. You made your way back to Hyunjin and helped him pick the brushes he wanted. Once he was done, he paid for the brushes and the two of you left the store. 

“Thank you for these, seriously. You didn’t have to.” You just smiled up at him. 

“I know I didn’t. But I wanted to.” You placed a hand on his arm and gently squeezed it to reassure him. “Now, come on. Binnie is waiting for us so we can go to lunch.”

Hyunjin grabbed your hand and the two of you walked outside with all your bags, and there were a lot of bags. Binnie helped the two of you carry everything to the car once he saw the two of you. 

The three of you piled into the car before driving off towards your favourite lunch spot. All the while, Hyunjin played music whilst you and Binnie bikered over who was playing for lunch this time. You had paid last time, so he thought it was only fair if he got to spoil you this time, because whilst you spoiled everyone else, the boys took it in turns to spoil you in return.

—------------

Han shifted in his seat. The nine of you were in the middle of the interview, answering questions. Han was the next person to answer a question. He leant forward and picked up a piece of paper. 

"What is the person on your right's contact name in your phone?” Han turned to look at you, who was on his right. The two of you smiled at each other.

“Oh, I have her down as Mumsy. We all have something Mother-related for her contact name in our phone.” He nodded with a smile on his face.

Seungmin nodded from his place beside Chan. “Felix started it.” He said simply.

Felix frowned in confusion as his head quickly turned to look at Seungmin. “Me? How did I start it?”

“Because she called you when we were out at lunch, and the contact name came up as ‘Mummy Bear’. So I.N. changed it in his phone from ‘Noona’ to ‘Mama Bear’, and I changed mine for her from ‘Chan’s wife’ to ‘Mother Bear’ because you said it just fit her perfectly and that we should all match. We all even have the same bear emoji at the end.” Seungmin said with a shrug. 

Hyunjin grinned. “I have her down as Sugar Mama.” His face and tone told you all how proud he was of that. He was practically preening.

“Why Sugar Mama?” You asked in confusion as you turned to face him. 

Hyunjin frowned at you. “Because you're always buying us stuff. Whenever we go somewhere or order food, you just hand us your card and tell us you'll pay. We all have your card saved on our phones. Well, except Chan.”

Minho nodded. “Some of us don't use your card, though. Unlike Hyunjin.” 

Hyunjin scoffed. “She said I could.” 

“You could have bought those shoes on your own.” Han added. 

“Like how you could have bought those new headphones on your own.” Hyunjin shot back. 

“Yah! That's enough.” You clapped your hands together once. The boys all looked at you. “I wanna know what the rest of you have me as in your phones.” 

Leeknow grinned. “I have you down as Soonie, Doongie and Dori's Grandma.” He nodded his head with the toothiest grin. 

“Grandma? I'm not old enough to be a grandma.” 

“And yet, as your eldest son, I have three sons. Therefore, you are a grandma.” Leeknow told you as Chan rubbed your shoulder. “Sorry. It's time you accept your old lady now.” 

That made you both giggle and pout. It was sweet, though. You turned to look at Changbin. 

The male grinned. “Milf.” The guys gasped in dramatic horror. 

You placed a hand on your chest. “You think I'm a milf? Oh Binnie, that's so sweet.” You fanned your face with your hands. “He thinks I'm a milf. Seven children and I still look good.” 

Han reached over to Changbin and slapped his knee. “Yah! How could you say that about our mother?”

“I blame Chan.” I.N. spoke up with a smile on his face.

Chan had a puzzled look on his face. “Me? I didn't do anything. I have her as ‘Mother of my kids’ in my phone.”

I.N. nodded. “Exactly. You made her a mother. So you need to take responsibility.” 

Chan pulled a face before turning to look at you. “What do you have us as in your phone?” He asked, shifting the attention off of himself and back onto you. 

You smiled brightly. “Well, I have Chan as ‘Father of my kids’ with a kiss emoji. In brackets, it says Hubby. Minho is ‘Maniac Chief Son’ with a cat emoji. Then, in brackets, it says Cat Daddy. Um, Binnie's is ‘Strong Cute Son’ with an emoji of the guy lifting weights. Hyunjin's contact name is ‘Artistic Princely Son’. It has the art palette emoji thingy. In brackets, it says Drama Queen. I have Han as ‘Sleepy First Born Son’. With the Squirrel emoji. Lixie is ‘Cuddly Angelic Son’. He has the light blue heart emoji. In brackets, it says Baby Boy. Minnie is ‘Adorable Menace Son’. Dog emoji, obviously and in brackets it says Puppy. Because, obviously, it does. Last but not least, Innie is ‘Smiley Baby Son.’ With a fox emoji. So yeah, mine all have the word son in there. Well, except for Channie.” 

The interviewer looked at you, puzzled. “If Leeknow is the eldest of the rest of the boys. Why is Han your firstborn?” She asked. 

You couldn’t help but grin. “Ah, so technically it’s because Han was the first Stray Kids that Chan chose. However, we made up some lore for it to make sense differently. It’s like Skz family but in an alternate universe. So, how it works is that Changbin is Chan’s child. Leeknow and Hyunjin are mine. In the world, Chan and I meet and eventually are married. Our children get along. Then the twins came alone. Han is the firstborn child that Chan and I had together. Lixie is Han’s twin, but being a day apart was difficult. We don’t speak of their birth. Then we had Seungmin and then Ayen.”

Leeknow slowly nodded. “I kept telling her she could have picked a better husband, but she never listened to me.” Hyunjin let out a cackle and clapped his hands as he leaned on Changbin to stabilise himself. 

Chan looked over at Leeknow in betrayal and shock. “I’m a great father and husband. Thank you very much.”

Leeknow shrugged. “My mother deserves the best. You are not the best.”

Seungmin nodded. “You’re too old.” 

Hyunjin nodded in agreement after calming himself. “Only the best for our beautiful mother!” 

—------------

You were all spending the next week and weekend on Jeju Island. Everyone had gone off to their rooms to shower and change. You were already snuggled in your bed, having showered and gotten into your preferred pyjamas. Chan was in the shower. So in the meantime, you had the TV on, looking for something to watch on Netflix. 

A light knock came from the bedroom door. Then the door opened, and a mop of blonde hair was seen. His bright smile made you smile. He slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. The male then made his way over to you and slipped under the covers beside you. 

“You okay, Angel?” You asked him curiously.

Felix nodded. " I wanted to show you some TikToks I think you'd like.” He handed you his phone with the first video ready to play. 

“That's sweet of you.” You said and placed a kiss on his temple. 

Felix quickly snuggled into you. His head lay on your chest, his arms wrapped around you as he cuddled into your right side. Your right hand came up and stroked through his hair as you played the video with your left hand. 

Felix had always found it easy to snuggle with you. He enjoyed that you just let him. That you welcome him with open arms. He felt safe in your arms, plus in his opinion, you gave some of the best hugs. Plus, you were easy to fall asleep on, which was a bonus in Felix’s eyes. He always found himself falling asleep easily to the sound of your heartbeat and your fingers running through his hair. 

“Did you enjoy the beach today, Sunshine?” You asked him softly as you scrolled to the next video.

Felix nodded as he snuggled closer to you. The sound of your heartbeat was making him completely relax. It was something he had found that helped him a lot in the early years of the group being formed. You didn't mind; you always welcomed him with open arms. 

“Yeah, it was a lot of fun. Minho Hyung did well in the water this time.” He said with a sleepy smile on his face. “Had fun burying Changbin with Jinnie and Han.”

You placed a soft kiss on his forehead as you continued to stroke his blonde hair. “I'm glad you had fun, baby.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, laughing at TikTok videos that Felix had found for you to watch. Felix had slowly begun nodding off just before the bathroom door opened. Chan stepped into the room. He was at first surprised to see Felix in the bed, but the surprise quickly faded. Chan grabbed his phone and took a quick photo of the two of you. You later found out that Chan uses it now as Felix's contact photo in his phone. You have the picture on your private Instagram account. 

Chan then climbed into bed beside you. He took the phone from you and placed it on charge beside yours and his. He then turned the TV off and placed the remote on the bedside table before lying on his side and placing an arm around your stomach. He placed a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away. “When did Lix get here?” He asked curiously, his voice quiet. 

“Just after you went into the bathroom.” You told him with a soft smile. Your fingers are still stroking Felix’s hair. “Our baby just climbed into bed and started cuddling. We’ve been watching TikTok.”

Chan couldn’t help but smile as he watched the two of you. His heart swelled with pride. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.” He told you. He knew it. You were his future. You had both talked about the future you wanted together. Chan was adamant that you were going to be the perfect mother after the practice you’ve had with your seven basically adapted at this point sons. 

“She already is.” Felix’s sleepy, quiet voice filled the air before he finally drifted off to sleep.

That had your eyes filling with happy tears. Chan wiped away a tear that began to fall. “He’s right. You’re already a good mum.” 

“Thank you.” You spoke quietly. 

Felix snuggled closer to you as he slept. Chan held you close. “Sweet dream, my love.” He whispered to you.

“Sweet dream, my heart.” With one final kiss, the two of you slowly began to fall asleep. 

—------------

It was always fun when you got to share the stage with the Skzoos. The moment you saw Mama Bear, you happily skipped over to her and hugged her tightly. She, of course, hugged you back. You pulled away and watched the boys for a moment. It was going to be a fun day, that much you were sure about. 

The boys and Stay all agreed that you and Mama Bear were the perfect mirror image of each other, personality-wise. That was proven right tonight as you walked down the stage holding Chan’s hand. Behind you both was Mama Bear and Wolf Chan doing the exact same thing. The next day, you found pictures and videos of the moment captioned as ‘Just parents on a double date’.

Eventually, you and Mama bear made your way away from the Chan and his Wolf. The two of you danced a bit before spotting Felix and BbokAri. You made your way over to the two. You wrapped your arms around BbokAri from behind. Mama Bear copied your actions, hugging Felix. BbokAri looked around and turned around in your arms, causing you to giggle. She then gave you a big hug once she was facing you. You looked over to see Felix doing the same thing. You and Mama Bear then switched. Felix happily sank into your hug. 

“How are you doing?” You asked him curiously. 

Felix just smiled. “I’m good. We’re having fun.” You nodded softly. 

“Good, I’m glad.” 

You and Mama Bear then made your way over to I.N. and FoxI.Ny. The four of you found yourselves holding hands and jumping in circles together. After spending time with your two foxes, you and Mama Bear found yourselves stroking Han Quakka to help smooth out her face, as Hyunjin, Leeknow and Seungmin had previously been messing around stroking up as they always did. Quakka gave you a big hug as a thank you. 

You ended up watching proudly as Mama Bear stepped in between Leebit and Jiniret to stop them from fighting. Of course, it was all fun and games. Changbin had fun effortlessly picking you up and passing you to Dwaekki. You even danced alongside PuppyM, who was going all out as usual. 

Sadly, though, soon enough it was time for the Skzoos to go. Whilst the others all left with a wave and kisses, PuppyM was desperately trying to get one more dance in. You being you, didn’t like seeing any of the Skzoos upset. 

You raised your microphone to your lips and spoke. “Wait!” The boys looked at you in confusion as you jogged over to PuppyM. 

“How about this? You can do one more dance, Pup. Then Mama Bear will walk with you to join the others. How does that sound?” You asked. PuppyM nodded, and the crowd cheered. 

“Alright. Boys. Sing for PuppyM.” So they did. The boys sang whilst PuppyM danced. You stood to the side, cheering PuppyM on with the crowd. Once the song was over, you smiled. 

“Let’s give PuppyM a big round of applause.” You clapped happily before taking PuppyM’s hand and walking him over to where Mamabear and some of the staff were waiting. Puppy gave a few more waves before taking Mamabear’s hand and walking off the stage. 

“You’re such a good grandmother!” That had your eyes going wide as you turned to face the boys. 

“Excuse you?” You asked in shock.

Leeknow let out a laugh. “You’re a good grandmother.” He repeated like it was common knowledge.

You placed a hand on your chest. “We’ve been over this. I’m not old enough to be a grandmother. You take that back, you gremlin!” You stepped towards the male. 

“He’s right. I mean, no matter how you look at it, the Skzoo’s are your grandchildren. Their either the children of your children-” I.N. pointed to himself, Felix, Seugmin, Hyunjin, Han, Leeknow and Changbin. “Or they are the children of MamaBear, who is also your child, and Wolf Chan, who is Chan’s child. So either way, you're a grandmother. He’s a granddad.” 

Chan let out an exaggerated sigh.

You stood frozen for a moment and licked your bottom lip. You let out a sarcastic laugh. You walked over to Felix and wrapped him in a hug. 

“Congratulations, my Angel. You have been promoted to my only favourite human child. My sweet baby.” 

Felix let out a squeal of excitement. “Yes!!” He pulled away to do a little dance before hugging you again. 

I.N. pouted as the other boys laughed. “He can’t be your only favourite. I’m also your baby. Me, Felix and MamaBear. We’ve got you wrapped around our fingers. He can’t be the only favourite out of the two of us.”

Felix stuck his tongue out at I.N. “Tough luck, Buttercup. Shouldn’t have called her a grandma.” 

Han then stepped forward with a question. “So, as a granny, does that mean that BbokAri is your favourite grandchild or is your favourite PuppyM?” It was a genuine question. He was curious. 

You looked over at Leeknow. “You have my permission to spank him into next week.” That ended up with Leeknow chasing Han around the stage until Chan picked him up, allowing Leeknow to get revenge for you.

—------------

You had decided to spend the day in the studio with Chan, Binnie and Han. Today, everyone was recording their lines. Han had just finished his lines and was currently napping on the couch with his head on your lap. He had the eyemask you brought for him on, so the lights didn't wake him up. You were currently sewing up a part of the blanket you kept in the studio, as it had somehow gotten ripped.

“Who's next after, Minnie?” You asked softly. Though you knew Han could sleep through all the noise in the world, you were still cautious about being too loud.

“Ayen is next, he will be here soon to record his lines,” Chan spoke as he turned to look at you. He couldn't help but smile at you. You smiled back at him. 

Chan turned back around in his chair as he prepared to continue working. He placed a hand on the red button that would allow Seungmin to hear him. 

“Alright, Seungmin. Let's try it one more time.” He said. 

Seungmin nodded. He hadn't been happy with himself today, so he kept retrying his lines. The male adjusted his headset as the music played. He then began to sing.

The moment he began to sing, you could feel it. You didn't just hear the words, you felt them. To say you were proud was an understatement. You always thought that Seungmin's voice was utterly angelic. It was moments like these that proved you right. 

Chan played it back for Seungmin to hear. He then turned to you. “What do you think?” He asked, pushing the button for Seungmin to hear you.

“I think that's the one. You can hear the sadness in his voice. He felt it that time. Plus, that little riff he did scratched my brain in the right way. You did perfectly, sweetheart.” You said as you finished up with the blanket. You passed it to Changbin, who placed the blanket in its usual spot.

Seungmin grinned. “That's the one.” He said in agreement.

Chan nodded in agreement. “You're done for the day, Min.” He told him with happiness in his voice.

Seungmin grabbed his stuff after taking off his headset. He left the booth and came to sit on the couch. He had decided he would be waiting for I.N., as the two had plans for after Innie's session. 

“You did great, Puppy.” You told him as you gently stroked Han's hair. 

Seungmin nodded softly and smiled at you. “Thank you.” 

The studio door opened, and in came a pouty I.N. 

The male quickly turned to you. “You're here. Minho Hyung said you were here.” He said, relief filling him.

“Yeah, I'm here.” You nodded in confusion. Has he been looking for you?

I.N. pulled out his hoodie from his bag. “It ripped. Could you please fix it? Please, Mama bear?” 

Of course, how could you possibly say no to I.N., your youngest? Your Makenae. One of your babies? He had those big, sweet eyes that made you utterly melt. He was very good at making it hard for you to say no to him. It was something that he, Felix and Seungmin had perfected over the years.

“Of course, my lovely. Pass it here and I'll sew it whilst you do your lines.” You said holding out a hand to take the hoodie from him. Thankfully, you hadn't put your sewing kit away yet.

Innie greeted everyone before going to the booth. Whilst he recorded his lines, you sat there sewing up his hoodie sleeve. You gave feedback here and there when your opinion was asked for. Han was still fast asleep, his head on your lap. Chan was working well with I.N., explaining everything in a way that I.N. instantly understood, allowing the male to easily record his lines. Binnie sat beside Chan, gushing over how cute I.N. was. Meanwhile, Seungmin was on his phone, playing a game, just enjoying the atmosphere. 

Innie finally left the booth just as you finished with his hoodie. He happily took it from you and kissed your cheek. “Thank you, you're a lifesaver.” He said before putting the hoodie on.

Seungmin got up and grabbed his stuff. 

“Where are you boys heading?” You asked them curiously. 

Seungmin smiled. “We're getting dinner at that new place that opened up.” He said happily, having wanted to try it since he heard about it.

You nodded and grabbed your phone. You pulled out your bank card from your phone case pocket and held it out to the two youngest members of the group. 

“Use my card. Call it a treat for doing so well today. I'm proud of you both.” They had both learnt by now that arguing against using your card would never work. So Seungmin gently took it from you and placed it in his wallet. 

“Thank you, Mother bear.” He said before hugging you. He quickly turned to Chan, a mischievous smile on his face. “This is why she’s our favourite parent. Take notes.” He then nodded and walked towards the door. “See you all later.” He waved.

I.N. also hugged you. “Thank you, Mama Bear.” The two boys waved at everyone.

“Have fun.” And with that, the two boys left. Changbin got up and grabbed your sewing kit, and placed it in your bag so you wouldn't have to move and disturb Han. You thanked him happily with a soft smile. The male then headed toward the booth.

Chan turned to you. “You spoil them too much.”

You scoffed playfully. “As if you don't.” You said with a raised eyebrow  

The two of you shared a smile before Chan turned back to work. You gently shook Han's shoulder. 

“You gotta wake up, hun. We need your help with recording Binnie's lines. You can sleep again once he's done.” And you kept that promise. Because the moment Changbin was finished, Han found his way back to you and fell asleep within minutes.

—------------

Everything Taglist: Thank you for supporting me. @thecheshireprincess @potato-vagina @spanish-delulu-23 @deliciousmagazinequeen @myblovedjyh @alex--awesome--22

SKZ Taglist: Thank you for supporting me. @jinnie-ret

[shadowybananabread]

The idea of Sieun and Suho becoming more codependent and obsessive than ever now that Suho woke up from his coma.

Suho reading Sieun's messages and being moved to tears. Thinking of Sieun's loyalty and heart. How it would have been easier for Sieun to forget him and move on, but that he chose to wait for him, to cry for him all those years.

"Yeon Sieun... you are mine for life, and I am yours. Who else if not you?"

Sieun helping to take care of Suho at the hospital, knowing his medication list and routines by heart. Deciding to share their locations with each other. Calling each other to ask what they're doing, even if their answers are mundane, just to make sure they're safe.

Suho and Sieun each privately speaking to the Eunjang guys on separate occasions, asking them to look after the other when they're unable to do so themselves. Baku, Gotak, and Juntae are stunned, and can't help but wonder if the two were married in a past life. The guys teasing Sieun about how clingy they are. Suho jokingly referring to Sieun as his wife whenever they all go out together.

Sieun insisting Suho not get involved with his continued strain with Union members. Suho showing up to help fight them anyway after he's recovered. Sieun getting upset with him but trying to hold back his emotions. Suho explaining that he wasn't going to let Sieun push him away, that he wasn't going to leave him alone anymore, and that didn't they promise not to hide anything from each other from now on? Sieun easily forgiving him because staying mad at Suho is impossible.

Suho and Sieun gradually becoming even more overprotective of the other to the point where people fear them. Suho showing up to school to pick him up and take him home. Sieun insisting Suho call him as soon as he returns to his own safely. Practically going insane with worry over the other. Because the thought of what happened in the past happening again is enough to drive them crazy.

[seospicybin]

TILL DEATH DO US PART.

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Synopsis: You and Minho head to a cabin for a weekend getaway but beneath the seemingly normal relationship, both harbor dark secrets and hidden desires to end the marriage by any means necessary. (13,1k words)

Author's note: Happy birthday to the poster boy to my spooky Halloween fics, Lee Know 🦇

Content warning: Violence, graphic imagery, blood, toxic romance. Readers discretion is advised!

Minho wants to kill you.

He’s reached the point where he can no longer tolerate you. You've crossed the line of things you shouldn’t do and checked off every item that finally leads him to this decision: he wants to kill you. He carefully crafts a plan, asking himself all the basic questions.

What? A plan to kill you.

Minho has been holding back his rage, but it keeps mounting and mounting. He believes that ending your life will release it all, finally bringing him peace. He thinks of it as a purge, sending you to your demise to purify his soul.

Who? It’s you.

You'll be the victim of his plan. His wife, the one he no longer wants to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish. But the ‘till death do us part’—he’ll gladly do that himself, with his own bare hands.

And it’s him who's going to kill you.

Minho considered hiring a contract killer—it would’ve been easy, and he could have kept his hands clean. But the little compassion he has left for you tells him this needs to be done personally, and in private. No one has to know the terrible things you've done to make him want to kill you.

As a husband, the least he can do is protect your dignity as his wife.

And as a killer, he’ll try to make it quick and painless.

When? This weekend.

Last night, before bed, he told you he wanted to spend the weekend together. You didn’t ask why, just agreed right away. You needed time away to memorize and practice your lines for the short film you’ll be starring in at the end of the month.

Minho has barely begun but his plan is already in motion.

-

Minho sees you lugging a duffel bag in one hand and your purse in the other. Without hesitation, he strides over to help.

“Let me take that,” he offers, snatching the duffel from your hand.

You flash him a smile and plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, honey.”

While you settle into the car, Minho places your duffel in the trunk next to his own bag. He unzips his bag briefly to double-check the contents: all the tools he needs for the weekend—sharp, heavy, and metallic—gleam in the sunlight as it hits them. He zips it up and slams the trunk shut, ready for the three-hour drive ahead.

You, already comfortable in the passenger seat, put on your sunglasses and prop your feet against the dashboard. Flipping through the script in your lap, you chew gum obnoxiously, popping bubbles every few minutes, each burst louder than the last.

“There are snacks in the backseat,” Minho says, hoping to distract you from the gum.

You turn just enough to see the stash of chips, drinks, and bottles of wine. Supplies he bought for the weekend in the cabin. Without much interest, you go back to reading.

“I bought your favorite,” he tries again.

“I concentrate better when I’m chewing gum,” you respond flatly, flipping the page.

Minho grits his teeth but stays silent. You hear the scoff he doesn’t manage to suppress.

Dropping your feet to the floor, you snap the script closed, marking your place with a finger. Turning toward him slightly, you say, “It’s scientifically proven that chewing gum improves concentration in visual memory tasks. Surprised you didn’t know that, being a doctor and all.”

Though you aren’t looking, he knows you're wearing that condescending smile, the one that implies you’re smarter than him. It’s a look he’s grown used to over the years, but today it grates more than ever.

Minho’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel. He fights the urge to jerk the wheel into a tree—just one hard turn would wipe that smug grin off your face. But no, that’s too messy and he’s not ready to blow his plan just yet.

He inhales deeply to steady his nerves. “What kind of movie are you working on this time?” he asks, pretending to show interest.

You raise a brow at his sudden curiosity but answer anyway. “It’s a thriller.”

“What’s it about?” Minho presses, not because he cares, but because he needs to keep you talking. Anything to shut you up about the gum.

“A girl gets kidnapped and held in a basement,” you explain briefly, scribbling notes in your script.

Minho forces himself to feign interest. "And what’s the catch?"

You plainly chuckle. "Like I’m going to spoil it for you."

"Because I probably won’t get to see it anyway," he retorts with a laugh, the irony not lost on him—after all, you won’t be around to finish it.

You sigh but eventually give in. "The girl tries to make her captor fall in love with her."

Minho holds back a laugh. He already knows it's going to be another bad movie. Lucky for you, he’ll be saving you from further embarrassment.

"Let me guess. You’re going to get naked again?" he asks, sneering.

Your deep, frustrated sigh is all the confirmation he needs. “So what if I am? It’s my body.”

He shrugs, eyes fixed on the road. “Sure, but haven’t you done it enough already? That’s like what… your fifth movie in a row?”

Your pencil scratches violently across the page. “Are you bored of my tits now?”

Minho stays silent, gripping the wheel tighter. Your next comment stings more than you know.

“Remember when you used to be obsessed with them? Oh, wait—when was the last time you even touched me?” You sneer, adding a little “tch” at the end of your sentence that makes his blood boil.

He once again pictures slamming on the brakes, imagining your pencil impaled your eye. But no. He breathes deeply and reminds himself that you’ll be gone soon enough.

“I need to pee,” you grumble, shifting in your seat.

“We’re almost there. Hold it,” he snaps, not caring about your discomfort.

“I'll pee in the car then,” you retort, already unbuttoning your jeans.

With an exasperated sigh, Minho jerks the car into a sudden U-turn, sending your head against the window. He pulls into a gas station, parking roughly by the entrance.

“Go ahead. Do your business.”

You storm out of the car, slamming the door behind you as you head inside. After a few minutes, Minho watches as you return from the restroom, only to stop and flirt with the cashier.

He taps the steering wheel impatiently, his eyes narrowing as he sees you and the cashier sharing a laugh. His patience runs thin, and before long, he exits the car, marching over to you.

"Let’s go," he growls, grabbing your hand.

You pull away, smirking. "Let him guess first."

"Guess what?"

The cashier laughs, clearly amused. "Trying to guess which movie I’ve seen her in," he explains.

You lean against the counter, offering the man a flirty smile. "I’ll give you a hint. It has something to do with the color blue."

Minho’s eyes darken, his anger bubbling beneath the surface, he knows exactly that you’re doing this just to annoy him.

The man’s face lights up as he gets the answer, "Blue Daisy!"

You clap softly and smile brightly, "That’s right! What did you think of my tits in that movie?"

The cashier falters, his smile faltering as he glances nervously at Minho. "Pardon?"

"Oh, come on. There's a scene where I take off my bathrobe," you tease, toying with the lighters on the counter.

"They’re... nice," the man replies and then looks away, clearly uncomfortable.

You sigh dramatically, glancing at Minho as you say, "Apparently, my husband doesn’t think so."

The cashier looks at Minho in disbelief. "You’re married?"

"Unfortunately, yes," you answer with a fake, sad smile.

Minho takes a deep breath, trying to keep his composure, he grabs you hand tighter and asks, "Are you done?"

You yank your hand away and brush past him, your shoulder grazing his as you head back to the car.

Just a few more hours, he reminds himself. Soon, it’ll all be over.

-

Now that you've known the who, the what and the when. The next question is where?

The cabin looms in the distance, nestled deep within the woods by the lake. As he gets out the car, Minho takes in the familiar sight—the water reflecting the afternoon sun, the towering trees surrounding the cabin, the peace and quiet. It’s secluded, far from the rest of the world.

You get out of the car and head straight for the trunk to collect your things.

"I’ll take the bags inside," Minho says, rushing over before you can lift the trunk lid, "Just grab the groceries from the backseat "

Shrugging, you open the back door and gather the bags of groceries, holding them against your chest. You don’t ask questions, not when you’ve been here so many times before. You punch in the code to retrieve the key from the safety box, opening the cabin door with ease.

Minho stands by the car for a moment, breathing in the last of the summer air before the season shifts. He pauses, scanning the quiet surroundings, appreciating how isolated it all feels.

No neighbors. No signal. Just the lake, the trees, and the silence.

It’s perfect.

-

Minho drags all of your things and his inside, then drops them in the living room. He’s greeted by the musty air of a cabin that hasn’t been lived in for over a month, and the dusty framed photos on top of the fireplace—his family, his parents, a childhood snapshot, and one of the two of you spending a week here for an extra honeymoon.

He remembers taking the picture with his phone, the two of you looking so happy lying in the hammock together, your heads resting against each other. Your hair was still its natural color back then, before you bleached it for the movie role.

What he doesn’t remember is how in love he was—why he decided to marry you. His eyes, once filled with affection, now only see hatred and resentment, two black orbs filled with void.

The sound of rustling plastic snaps him out of his thoughts, and his gaze shifts to your figure in the kitchen, tossing expired food into a trash bag.

Before you can notice, Minho silently takes the small duffel bag into the basement, placing it next to the cupboard where the hunting rifles are stored.

When he returns, you’re still in the kitchen, unpacking groceries. He gathers the remaining bags to take upstairs, but as his foot lands on the first step, you call for him.

“Are you going to cook dinner?” you ask, filling a pitcher with tap water.

“Yes. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he replies without looking.

Minho drops everything in the corner of the bedroom, noticing your makeup bag already by the sink in the bathroom. He changes his clothes quickly before heading back downstairs to cook, just like he promised. He starts preparing dinner, laying out the ingredients on the counter. While seasoning the tenderloins with salt and pepper, he watches you chop vegetables at the other end.

“You have to cut them thinner,” he says.

“What difference does it make?” you mutter, ignoring him.

Minho carefully lays the tenderloins on the hot pan, the meat sizzling as it hits the metal. “Watch the meat,” he says, swapping tasks with you and taking over the vegetable chopping.

He notices you eye roll as you reluctantly take his place by the stove. After a while, you attempt to flip the steaks and he quickly stops you.

“It’s not ready yet!” he snaps.

You immediately throw your hands up in defeat while still holding the wooden spatula in one, “You know what? I’ll just wait at the table, drinking wine,” you say, this time making no effort to hide your eye roll.

Since the sun hasn’t fully set yet, you suggest dining on the back patio, where the sunset offers its best view, even though the air is getting cooler.

It’s always been like this—sitting far apart, the space between you thick with dead air. You both eat in silence, sipping your wine.

Minho remembers that tonight possibly will be your last so he decides to start a conversation.

“How’s the script going?” he asks, wiping the sauce off his plate with the last piece of meat.

“Going well,” you reply curtly, licking your lips.

Minho leans back in his chair. “Who’s that guy… the one helping with your acting?”

You pull your jacket tighter against the cool wind. “Ryan?”

“Yeah, him,” Minho says, taking a sip of his wine. “You’re not working with him for your next role?”

“He’s busy with other things,” you answer, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Minho stabs a piece of carrot with his fork. “So, you’re not the only one he’s… working with?”

You stop eating abruptly and look at him, “Pardon?”

“He’s working with other actors too, right?”

“Well, yeah, it’s his job,” you reply, more casually this time.

As the last rays of sunlight hit you, casting a golden glow like a halo, Minho feels a pang of something. Sadness, maybe. He’s certain it’ll be the last time he sees you on this light so he takes it all in.

Soon, you catch him staring. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” he simply answers with a cryptic smile.

Your eyes meet for a moment and Minho searches for something in your gaze, some lingering emotion, but the gaze doesn't last long enough for him to know for sure as you look away.

After dinner, you both sit in the living room, playing a quiet game of chess. The ticking of the old clock fills the silence as Minho watches you fall into the trap he’s set. It’s ironically fitting, like you’re handing him your life, allowing him to end it with a simple move of the black knight.

“I won,” he says, a faint smile of triumph on his lips.

You don’t respond but instead, draining your wine in one gulp. “I’m tired,” you sigh.

As Minho packs away the chess pieces, he throws a smug comment your way. “You always get tired when you lose.”

You ignore him, heading to the kitchen to leave your glass in the sink and head upstairs.

Once you're out of sight, Minho makes another trip to the basement, unlocking the cupboard with the hidden key. Inside, he finds the hunting rifle. It’s been a while, but he still remembers how to use it.

Loading two shells into the chamber, he clicks it shut and for a second, he feels tempted to fire a shot just for the thrill, but that would ruin the surprise so he tucks the rifle back into the cupboard and turns off the lights as he heads upstairs.

When he gets to the bedroom, the bed is empty. He hears the water running—you're probably halfway through your skincare routine. He changes into sleepwear and lies down, charging his phone even though the reception is useless here.

The rustling of leaves outside is the only sound he's hearing until Minho begins to drift off. Just then, he feels a kiss on his cheek.

His eyes flutter open, and he finds you leaning over him, your lips brushing against his. The kiss is long and lingering, your hand gently cradling his face.

When you pull back, you smile softly. “Goodnight, honey.”

For a moment, Minho says nothing, watching as you turn and lie down, your back to him. A strange feeling twists in his chest—a hesitation he hasn’t felt in a long time. The kiss... something about it felt different.

He shifts slightly, his brow furrowing as suspicion creeps in. Was it genuine, or was it part of your own plan? For a second, he wavers, doubt gnawing at the edges of his resolve. Could you really be so oblivious to what’s coming? Or are you hiding something, just like him? He clenches his jaw, forcing the thought away.

It’s too late for second-guessing now. Still, as he stares at your back, he can’t shake the lingering sense that maybe, just maybe, you're not as unsuspecting as you seem.

-

The next day, the cabin is flooded with golden rays as the sun rises high in the sky. Minho stands by the kitchen window, washing the breakfast dishes, his eyes following you as you sway gently in the hammock, engrossed in your script.

He finishes quickly and heads to the back door, pausing in the doorway as he calls your name.

You turn your head slightly. “What?”

“I’m going for a walk around the lake. You coming?” he asks, though he already knows the answer. It’s just for show, a part of the performance, to keep suspicion at bay.

“No, thank you,” you reply, turning your attention back to the script.

Perfect. It’s exactly the answer he wanted. Everything is going according to plan.

As he steps outside, Minho's eyes dart back toward the hammock, checking to see if you’re watching. From a distance, he can still see the top of your head peeking over the edge, unmoving. Satisfied, he walks toward the shed, retrieving a small bag before starting his trek around the lake.

As he jogs along the edge of the water, he scans the ground for the right kind of rock—one heavy enough for what he needs. He finds it near the water’s edge, half-covered in moss. It’s heavier than he expected, and he has to flip it over with his foot before using both hands to hoist it into the bag.

His eyes drift back to the cabin, paranoid that you might somehow be following him. But no, you’re still in the hammock, or at least it seems that way.

He drags the bag back to the shed and hides it behind a stack of old tires. Everything is in place. Just one more thing to prepare—but he realizes he forgot his car keys.

The whole morning slips by as he meticulously works on his plan and by the time he returns to the house, the hammock is empty, swaying lightly in the breeze. Your script book is left behind, pages fluttering in the wind.

Minho’s chest tightens with unease. He steps cautiously toward the front door, his senses heightened. “Honey?” he calls out, but there’s no reply.

He steps inside, the air thick with tension. “Honey?” he repeats, louder this time, his voice echoing in the silence.

In the kitchen, he spots you standing behind the island, your back to him.

“Honey?” he says again, his tone more uncertain now.

You turn slowly, and that’s when he sees it—the gleam of a knife in your hand. The blade catches the light, sending a sharp reflection into his eyes.

A jolt of panic surges through him. His plan was flawless. But somehow, he hadn’t accounted for this—the possibility that you knew. And if you knew, he was already doomed.

He swallows hard, trying to think of something to say. “What are you doing?”

Without a word, you turn back to the counter, your hands moving in a way he can’t fully see. He takes a cautious step back, bracing himself for a sudden attack.

But instead, you turn around holding a head of lettuce. “I’m making sandwiches for lunch,” you say innocently, setting the vegetable down on the chopping board with a loud thud.

Relief floods through him, and he lets out a low breath, clearing his throat to mask his moment of weakness. “Sounds good,” he comments, though his voice lacks conviction.

You calmly slice the lettuce, your knife moving with unsettling precision. “Were you looking for me?”

The question jolts him, reminding him of his real purpose. “Uh… yeah, I was looking for my car keys,” he says quickly, scrambling for an excuse. “I left my charger in the glove box.”

You glance up from the chopping board, still holding the knife in one hand. “You can use mine. It’s upstairs by the bedside table.”

There’s something in your smile—a strange, almost sinister edge that makes his skin crawl. Like you know something he doesn’t.

“No, I’ll use mine. It’s more convenient,” he says, forcing a polite smile, though inside, every instinct tells him to leave. Now.

You hold his gaze for a moment too long before turning to the fridge. “It’s on the hook next to the boat keys,” you reply, slicing open a pack of bacon with a swift flick of the knife.

“Thanks,” he mutters, backing away.

He doesn’t waste another second. Grabbing the car keys, he heads for the door, but then you call his name, stopping him in his tracks. He turns, his heart thudding in his chest. You stand in the middle of the room, a strange smile playing on your lips.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice tight.

“Lunch will be ready soon,” you say, still smiling that unsettling smile.

Minho nods, trying to shake off the eerie feeling that lingers. He hasn’t seen you smile this much in a long time, and it’s not even noon yet. It’s unnerving, like you’re doing it to make him feel guilty. Like you’re daring him to go through with his plan.

-

Minho decides to proceed with caution.

The little smile you gave him earlier is enough to put him on edge, so he takes a seat on the stool, eyes fixed on you as you meticulously prepare his sandwich. You slice it in half and place it in front of him. He doesn’t hesitate to eat it, knowing that he hasn’t taken his eyes off the process. This way, he’s sure you haven’t tampered with his lunch.

"Good?" you ask, watching him closely.

He chews, waiting for any signs of something off in his body, but nothing happens.

"It’s good," he replies, nodding.

You smile, then sip your orange juice, making a little gasp of satisfaction. "Orange juice?" you offer, holding up the pitcher.

"Sure," he says.

You get a clean glass from the cabinet, which checks off another one of his worries. He saw you drink from the same juice, and the glass is fresh. No reason to suspect anything, right? Maybe you’re still unaware, and things are still going according to his plan.

"You’re not eating?" he asks, testing the waters.

You finish your glass and shake your head. "I’m still full from the smoothie I had earlier."

You walk over, placing a hand on his shoulder, then gliding it to the back of his neck, massaging gently. "I’m going to take a long bath," you say, smiling down at him.

"Okay," he mutters, looking up.

You lean down, brushing your lips against his in a brief kiss. "Enjoy your lunch."

This is the perfect opportunity.

Minho only manages to finish half of the sandwich before draining his glass of orange juice, feeling a bit parched from all the work he’s been doing since the morning. He heads down to the basement, ripping open a bag full of tools. He picks the hammer, gripping it tightly in his right hand.

As he makes his way upstairs, he marvels at how smoothly everything is going. If he manages to bash your head in the bathroom, he doesn't need to worry about the mess. The only challenge is getting your body downstairs, but that’s a problem for after.

Right now, all he has to do is get in there and deliver the fatal blow.

But as he climbs the final stairs, his vision blurs, and his limbs grow heavy. He tries to shake it off, widening his eyes and slapping his cheek to wake himself up. It must be the adrenaline, right? That’s why he feels so lightheaded.

He reaches the bathroom, hearing the water running and your soft humming. The door is left ajar, steam wafting out. Minho peeks in and sees you sitting on the edge of the tub, still in your bathrobe, one side slipping off your shoulder.

Slowly, he pushes the door open just enough to slip inside. The sink is cluttered with your things—makeup, a toothbrush, and what he assumes is some spilled powder from your makeup routine.

Confident you can’t see him through the fogged mirror, he raises the hammer above his head, ready to strike. Suddenly, his legs give out, and he stumbles backward, the hammer slipping from his grasp, then clatters to the floor.

You whip your head around, startled, and see him crumpling against the bathroom wall. Squatting down in front of him, you say softly, "Honey?"

Minho fights to open his eyes, but his body is shutting down against his will. "I’m—I…" he stammers.

You lean in, your forehead resting gently against his as you sigh. "Shh… it’s okay," you murmur, stroking his hair.

With one hand cupping his face, you look into his eyes, a sinister glint now replacing the warmth. "Just go to sleep," you say softly, your voice almost soothing.

Minho’s vision starts to fade, but he sees it in your eyes. You did this. "You—"

Before he can finish, everything goes black.

-

The sound of a knife scraping against the surface of a plate jolts Minho awake in the worst possible way.

Disoriented, he squints his eyes and realizes he's downstairs, seated at the dining table. You're sitting across from him, chewing on a piece of meat with a soft groan.

"I think I flipped it too early again," you mumble, dabbing your mouth with a napkin.

You look up from your food and gasp when you notice he's awake, "Honey!"

Grabbing the bottle of wine, you pour it into his glass, the intoxicating scent of it filling the room. "I'm sorry I started dinner without you."

Minho tries to move his hands but can't. He glances down to find them tied to the chair.

"Ah! Let me help you with that," you say, standing beside him as you unfold a napkin and spread it over his lap. You kiss him on the cheek, wiping away the lipstick mark with your thumb after.

"How was your nap?" You ask once you're settled back to your seat.

Minho glares, his nostrils flaring with the rage boiling inside him. He curses himself for letting his guard down, for believing things were going his way when they never did. Shaking the fog from his head, he focuses on you.

"Sleeping pills, huh?" His voice drips with disdain, realizing too late that the white powder he'd seen earlier wasn’t makeup—it was the remnants of crushed sleeping pills.

You don't answer, just sip your wine with a satisfied smile.

Minho scoffs, tossing his head back. "How clever!"

Refilling your glass, you raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"It wasn't the sandwich, not the juice..." He lets out a bitter laugh. "It was the glass."

You clink your wine glass against his with a smirk. "Almost got caught there, didn’t I?"

"So, you know," he mutters.

You set your glass down and rest your hands on the table, an innocent grin spreading across your face. "Know what?"

Minho’s dark eyes remain fixed on you, simmering with fury.

"I'll let you have your dinner later," you say, pushing his untouched plate to the side, clearing the center of the table.

You retrieve something from the chair beside you—a hammer. The same hammer he’d planned to use on you. You place it on the table between you both.

"Are you asking if I knew you were going to use this to smash my head in?"

Minho’s gaze flickers between the hammer and you.

You chuckle mockingly, hand pressed against your chest. "Thank God the pills kicked in just in time!"

Though not surprised, Minho wonders if you’ve uncovered his entire plan. As if reading his mind, you bend down and drag a duffel bag onto the table with a loud thud.

"Or are you asking if I knew about this?" you ask, emptying the contents—rope, duct tape, a blade, a wrench, a saw, and an axe—spreading them across the table like hardware on display.

Sitting back down, you examine the tools with a smile. "You’re thorough, I’ll give you that."

"You know I never do things half-heartedly," he replies, voice laced with sarcasm.

Your laughter echoes around the room. "And look what I found," you say, lifting his hunting rifle, pointing it directly at him with your finger hovers dangerously close to the trigger. "It’s loaded."

Minho’s calm exterior falters. He knows all too well that he loaded that rifle himself. How fitting it would be for him to die by his own hand.

"BANG!" You shout, trying to startle him, but he doesn't flinch.

Your laughter fades as you lower the rifle, setting it aside. You cross your arms, eyes studying him intently and he can sense the curiosity swirling in your mind.

"Go ahead," he taunts, leaning forward as much as he can. "Ask your question."

You trace the rim of your wine glass with your finger. "So, that's the plan? To kill me?"

He tilts his head, eyes burning with intensity. "Yes."

"Let's say you manage to knock me out with the hammer..." You cut a piece of meat and continue eating. "What happens next?"

Minho stays silent, watching as you play this little guessing game.

You raise a hand before he can speak. "Wait, wait, wait, let me guess."

You chew faster, sipping your wine between thoughts and begin guessing his whole plan. "You wouldn’t kill me with the hammer—too messy. Too much work. And definitely not upstairs. It would be a hassle dragging my body down."

You glance at the ropes on the table and continue, "You’d tie me up once I was unconscious. Then, once secured, you’d get to work."

Your hand hovers over the tools spread on the table. "As for the weapon of choice..." You pick up the blade, testing its sharp edge with a playful gasp. "Ouch. This would’ve made it fun for you."

Minho’s lips twitch into a small, sinister smile.

"But no," you continue, setting the blade down and then you point at the rifle. "You’d use this. Quick. Easy."

"Exactly," he admits, slightly impressed by how well you know him.

Your eyes drift toward the saw next as you continue talking. "And the saws... well, those would be for afterward. To dismember me, right? You’d chop me into little pieces and dump me in the lake."

Minho raises an eyebrow, impressed. You got most of it right. The how.

"Did I guess correctly?" you ask, tilting your head.

He nods slowly in approval. "I’d applaud, but..." he glances at his tied hands.

You clink your glass with his. "See? I’ve learned a lot in our marriage."

As you sip your wine, he asks the one question still lingering in the space between. "Aren’t you going to ask why?"

You pause mid-sip, placing your glass down before pulling a handgun from your bag.

Minho’s breath catches in his throat. You want him dead just as much as he wants you gone.

"Because we hate each other enough to kill," you say, placing the gun next to your plate. But you rummage in your bag again and pull out a letter—divorce papers. Sliding them toward him, you add, "Or, we could avoid the drama. Sign this, and I’m gone. Forever."

Without hesitation, Minho shakes his head. Strongly refuses to do it any other way.

"Why not?" you ask, brows furrowed.

"I need to kill you," he says, voice unwavering.

You burst out laughing. "You hold that many grudges, huh?"

He doesn’t answer. His silence speaks volumes.

Sighing, you try to reason again. "I’ll disappear. You won’t even know I exist."

Minho leans forward, his voice a low growl. "I have to be the one to do it."

You shiver despite yourself. His intensity is chilling, but you remind yourself that he’s tied up, unable to do anything.

"You're a doctor, Minho. You know you're supposed to save life not—"

"I have to kill you," he cuts you off, nostrils flaring, eyes burning with determination.

Realizing there's no convincing him, you slide the gun back into your bag and put it on your lap. "I don't care if you sign the papers or not."

You take your wedding ring off and put it on top of the papers, making a bold statement. You stand, walking to his chair and then leaning close to plant a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Good luck with everything," you whisper, knowing those words will provoke him further.

As you head for the door, bag slung over your shoulder, he calls after you. His voice echoing against the eerie silence.

"I’ll find you... and I’ll kill you," he screams as he fights his way out of the bind. "Do you fucking hear me?"

As you set one foot out of the door, Minho screams one last time, "IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU, NO ONE CAN!"

You break into a run toward the car and with your heart pounding, you shove the key into the ignition and twist it, the car sputtering to life. Relief floods your body for a moment as the engine hums beneath you, and you slam your foot on the gas.

The car lurches forward, gravel crunching under the tires as you speed away from the cabin. But the relief is short-lived.

After just a few yards, the engine sputters and dies. Panic grips you as the car slows to a stop, and your hands tremble as you frantically try to restart it. You twist the key over and over, forcing the ignition, but the engine won’t turn over.

“Come on… come on!” you mutter desperately, glancing into the rearview mirror, afraid that Minho somehow break away and chase after you.

You continue to restart the car engine but it still won't turn on, you slam your hands on the steering wheel out of frustration and reorganize your breath to let your brain able to work.

With your brain is well oxygenated, you start checking the car and that's when you see the gas gauge and the needle points to the E. Fuck! Minho must have drained the tank empty.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" You continuously scream in dread now but the real dread is glancing through rearview mirror and see the cabin door is open.

That’s when you see him.

Minho is storming out of the cabin, rifle in hand, his face a mask of cold determination. Your blood turns to ice. He’s coming for you, and you have no time.

"Shit!" you curse under your breath, your breath quickening. Abandoning the car, you fling the door open and bolt into the woods, legs trembling as you stumble over roots and uneven ground.

The sound of the rifle cracks through the air. You gasp, ducking as the bullet strikes a tree near you, splintering bark and sending shrapnel flying. Your heart nearly stops.

You pick up the pace, adrenaline coursing through your veins, but the forest floor is unforgiving. Your foot catches on something—a root, a rock, you don't know—and you crash to the ground with a hard thud, pain shooting through your body.

Before you can scramble back to your feet, Minho is already there. His heavy footsteps pound against the earth as he catches up, his presence looming over you. You try to crawl away, your muscles screaming, but his hands grab you from behind, yanking you around with brutal force.

“Got you,” he growls, his voice cold and menacing.

You barely have time to scream before his hands are wrapped around your neck, squeezing with a vicious intent. Your hands fly to his wrists, clawing and yanking at them, but he's too strong.

"Don’t worry, honey. I'm not going to kill you just yet."

He tightens his grip, cutting off your air supply. Panic floods your body as your vision begins to blur, your strength draining away with each passing second.

"I'm just going to stop the blood flow to the brain through constriction of the carotid arteries and..."

You kick, aimlessly hitting him, your movements growing weaker as the world around you starts to fade.

Minho’s face is the last thing you see before the darkness consumes you entirely.

-

A gasp escapes your lips as you regain consciousness, immediately followed by a coughing fit.

Disoriented and lightheaded, you try to sit up, only to realize your hands and feet are bound to the bed. The ropes burn against your skin as you thrash in place, but you’re held fast. Helplessly stuck, you let out a loud scream, frustration boiling over as your cries for help go unanswered.

"Is that the best you can do?"

Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide, to see Minho leering at you from across the room.

He’s rummaging through a duffel bag, calm as ever, his dark eyes glinting with malice. You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and only a rough cough escapes your lips.

Minho pulls something from his bag—a small, rectangular box. It looks like a jewelry box, but the careful way he places it beside your body tells you it contains something far from precious.

He stands at the foot of the bed, staring down at you with a mocking grin. "Comfortable?"

Your fury flares. You swallow hard, forcing your voice to work. "You should have told me you were into bondage," you sneer, eyes narrowing.

His laugh is deep, amused by your defiance. Without warning, he climbs onto the bed and sits between your open legs, his gaze locked with yours, making it impossible to escape his predatory stare. "Let’s make you even more comfortable," he says, a sinister smile creeping across his face.

With deliberate slowness, he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a pair of scissors. He places them on the bed next to the mysterious box, letting you get a good look, as if daring you to figure out his next move.

A slow sigh escapes his lips as his hand reaches for your face, fingers slipping into your hair. For a moment, you think he’s going to cut it, but instead, he brushes your damp hair to the side and he also wipes the sweat from your neck with the back of his hand.

"It’s hot, yeah?" he murmurs.

"Isn’t that why you married me? Because I’m hot," you bite back, glaring at him with all the hatred you can muster.

Minho laughs again, this time brushing more strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead. "A part of it, yeah," he shamelessly admits.

"What about the rest of it?" you ask, surprising yourself with your curiosity. You’ve never asked him that before; romance was never a part of your relationship.

Nothing about your marriage was romantic, not even from the start. One day, he asked you to marry him, and you said yes. No questions, no love stories. Just a quiet agreement. But over time, things soured, leading to this moment of bitter hostility.

"Do you really want to know?" Minho asks, his face hovering dangerously close to yours, his hand resting beside your head on the mattress.

"You’re going to kill me anyway, so why not?" you reply, a daring smile playing on your lips.

For a long moment, he simply stares at you, his knuckle lightly tracing the curve of your face. His eyes darken, as if he’s about to reveal something, but then he pulls away abruptly.

"You always make me forget what I’m about to do," he says, picking up the scissors again.

Your heart rate slows as he holds the scissors, doing nothing but staring at them, lost in thought. His eyes flicker to you, then to your chest, where he presses the flat edge of the scissors. You can feel the cold metal through your clothes, making the weight of the moment unbearable.

You believe his final weapon of choice is inside the box so the sight of the scissors doesn’t scare you. You suspect he’s just toying with you, testing your fear.

Suddenly, Minho drags the scissors up your chest until they reach the base of your throat. The metal’s coldness makes you instinctively gulp, your breath hitching in your throat. But you refuse to break. Your gaze meets his, unwavering, even though you know exactly what he intends to do.

Unexpectedly, Minho laughs again, pulling the scissors away from your throat. "This is why I married you," he says, placing a hand on your chest, feeling the steady beat of your heart.

"You’re so calm," he muses, dragging the scissors lower, stopping at your thigh. He slides the hem of your dress between the blades. "Way too calm."

In one swift motion, he cuts through the fabric of your dress, the blades slicing up to your chest in one clean stroke. You stop breathing for a second, the fear catching up to you, but you don’t let it show.

"And for a while, I was grateful to have you as a wife," he says coldly.

He moves the scissors to the side, cutting through the sleeves of your dress, leaving you in nothing but your damp underwear. You can’t tell if the sweat is from the stifling heat or the tension building inside you.

"But nothing good lasts, right?" he says, tossing the scissors and the torn dress to the floor.

Your heart skips a beat as his fingers ghost over your bare stomach, barely touching, but sending a shiver through your body.

"I’ll give you a chance to admit it yourself," he whispers, squeezing your hip.

You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you refuse to give in. You won’t hand him that satisfaction. "I have nothing to say to you."

Minho expected that response. He’s always loved your rebellious streak. With a shrug, he turns to the mysterious box beside you. He picks it up, opens it, and without showing you the contents, he says, "Maybe this will help carve the truth out of you."

Your heart races with anticipation, both curious and terrified. His eyes sparkle as he pulls the object from the box like a prized possession.

It’s a scalpel.

Not just any scalpel—a tool Minho is all too familiar with. He’s been using it for years in his line of work as a doctor, his hand accustomed to it, it's technically a part of his hand.

You let out a dark, low laugh, impressed by his choice of weapon. Not letting the fear take over you and give him the satisfaction.

"You think this is funny?" He asks, his voice low and dangerous, the scalpel gleaming in the dim light. His eyes narrow as he watches you closely, waiting for a reaction.

You suppress another laugh, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you. "I guess I always knew you'd find a way to cut me out of your life, but this is a little dramatic, don't you think?" You flash a bitter smile, masking the terror rising in your throat.

Minho’s lips curl into a slow, sinister smile. "Oh, this isn’t about cutting you out. Not yet, at least." He leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin as the scalpel hovers near your collarbone. The cold metal grazes your skin, a teasing pressure that sends a shiver down your spine.

You pull at the ropes again, frustration and helplessness bubbling to the surface. Your skin stings from the friction, but you know it’s useless. He tied the knots too well. Still, you refuse to show fear.

"You really think this will make me tell you what you want to hear?" Your voice is hoarse, but there’s defiance in your tone.

Minho chuckles darkly, sliding the scalpel down the center of your chest, just grazing your skin enough to leave a faint trail without cutting. His eyes follow the path of the blade with eerie calmness.

"You’re tougher than I expected. I like that." His gaze locks onto yours again, and there’s a chilling coldness in his eyes that makes your blood run cold. "But everyone has their breaking point."

He drags the scalpel lower, letting it dance across your stomach, teasing the edge of your hip. You can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the blade comes dangerously close to cutting through your skin. Every muscle in your body tenses, waiting for the inevitable pain.

"You’re hiding something," he says, his voice a near-whisper now, filled with a quiet intensity. "You’ve always been so calm, so composed. It made me wonder, what are you hiding beneath that exterior? What is it you think I don’t know?"

He pauses, his fingers tracing the path of the scalpel with a feather-light touch, as if he’s savoring this moment. His eyes glitter with amusement as he watches your face, waiting for the fear to slip through your mask.

"You don’t scare me," you say, though the waver in your voice betrays you.

Minho’s grin widens, and he brings the scalpel up to your throat, just pressing the flat of the blade against your skin, reminding you of how sharp it is. "Maybe not yet," he replies. "But that will change."

His hand moves slowly, deliberately, the scalpel brushing your skin as he leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I’m going to carve out every lie you’ve ever told me, every secret you’ve hidden."

The scalpel flicks across your skin, leaving a shallow scratch, just enough to sting. "Let’s start with why you tried to run," he says, his voice a dangerous whisper.

The blade trails down your chest again, teasing but not yet cutting deep enough to cause real pain. "You’ve been planning this, haven’t you? Just waiting for the right moment to escape."

Your mind races, trying to stay ahead of him, but his control over the situation is suffocating. "What makes you think I’ve been planning anything?" you manage to ask, though the tremble in your voice betrays the fear creeping into your chest.

Minho smirks, enjoying the game. "Because I know you," he murmurs. "I’ve watched you. You think I didn’t notice the way you’ve been distancing yourself? The way you look at me like you’re just waiting for me to make a mistake."

He presses the scalpel a little harder against your skin, and you wince. "I’m not going to let you slip away so easily," he says, his voice dripping with menace. "So why don’t you save us both some time and tell me what you’ve been hiding?"

You grit your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a confession. "I have nothing to hide from you," you say, though every instinct in your body is screaming that he’s already too close to the truth.

Minho’s expression darkens. He moves the scalpel down again, this time slicing through the thin fabric of your underwear. You flinch as the cold air hits your bare skin, but you refuse to give him the reaction he’s looking for.

"Last chance," he warns, the scalpel glinting in the dim light. "Why Ryan?"

So this is the why.

Your heart stutters, your body stiffening at the mention of the name. Of course, he knows. He’s always known. But now, it’s out in the open, and there's nowhere to hide. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stay composed even as the truth hangs dangerously between you.

Minho shifts, bringing the scalpel up to your throat again, applying just enough pressure for you to feel it, the sharp edge threatening to break skin.

"You really thought I wouldn’t find out, didn’t you?" His tone is calm, but the anger simmering beneath the surface is palpable. "You thought you could sneak around, play your little games with him, and I’d be none the wiser."

Your throat tightens, and you struggle to breathe through the panic rising in your chest.

He presses the blade down, just enough to make your pulse quicken. "Why him?" Minho asks again, his voice quieter, almost a whisper now. "Why Ryan?"

"I—" you start, but your voice cracks, your throat dry. You don’t even know what to say, how to explain something that’s so tangled in layers of resentment, anger, and escape. Instead, you try to hold on to the composure you’ve managed to keep for this long. "It wasn’t—"

Minho cuts you off with a bitter laugh, pulling the scalpel back but keeping it poised, ready. "Don’t bother lying," he says, his eyes dark with fury. "I already know everything. I just want to hear it from you."

He sits back slightly, still straddling you, his eyes locked on yours with a kind of chilling intensity. The blade dances over your skin, teasing but not yet cutting.

"Why?" he asks again, softer this time. "What did you think Ryan could give you that I couldn’t?"

Your mind races, heart pounding. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of your truth, but there’s no way out. His patience is wearing thin, and you can see it in the way his grip tightens on the scalpel, his jaw clenching as he waits for your answer.

"It wasn’t about him," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You don’t know if this will calm him or enrage him further, but it’s all you can offer. "It was never about him."

He tilts his head, watching you closely. "Then what was it about, huh?" His voice sharpens, cutting through the air like the blade in his hand.

You flinch at the venom in his words, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. "You don’t understand," you say quietly, tears prickling at the edges of your eyes despite your best efforts to stay strong.

Minho’s face hardens, and he slides the scalpel down your body, stopping just above your abdomen, his fingers tracing the line of your skin with a maddening slowness. "Then make me understand." His voice is dangerous, low and threatening.

His grip on your throat tightens, and the blade slides down to your chest again, this time pressing harder, enough to draw a thin line of blood. You gasp, the sting sharp and sudden.

Minho watches the blood bead up, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "I said make me understand why you betrayed me."

Before you can utter a word, the door to the cabin bursts open. Ryan stands in the doorway, his face a mix of shock and fury as he takes in the scene—the scalpel pressed dangerously close to your throat, Minho’s body straddling yours, and the faint line of blood on your chest.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Ryan’s voice echoes through the cabin, and in a blur, he charges at Minho.

Minho barely has time to react before Ryan slams into him, knocking him off of you. The scalpel clatters to the floor as Minho is thrown back, struggling to regain his balance. Ryan swings a hard punch, landing square on Minho’s jaw, sending him stumbling backward. You scramble up from the floor, gasping for air, as the two men break into a full-on fight.

Ryan manages another punch, harder this time, knocking Minho to the ground. Minho’s body slumps for a moment, and Ryan quickly grabs the scissors lying on the bed, cutting the ropes free from your hands and feet. He helps you get up and grabs your arm, pulling you toward the stairs.

“Come on,” he urges, his voice low and frantic. “We have to go—now.”

You follow him downstairs, still in shock, the adrenaline pumping through your veins as he grabs his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

“I came as fast as I could when I got your message,” he says, his eyes scanning your face, full of concern. “Are you okay? Did he—”

But before he can finish, there’s a sound behind you—a violent thud. You both turn just in time to see Minho launching himself at Ryan from the top of the stairs.

Minho slams into him with terrifying force, sending the two men crashing to the floor in a violent heap. They grapple, fists flying, legs kicking, as they roll across the floor, locked in a brutal fight for dominance.

Ryan struggles beneath Minho’s weight, his eyes locking on the rifle resting against the wall near the sofa. He looks at you, desperation in his gaze, and subtly gestures toward it.

"The gun," he pants between blows. "Shoot him. Now!"

Your heart pounds in your chest as you rush to grab the rifle. Your hands shake as you lift it, your finger sliding onto the trigger. The weight of the weapon feels surreal in your hands, the cold steel pressing against your skin as you aim it at Minho, who is now pinning Ryan to the ground. The two men are still wrestling, but you have a clear shot.

“Do it!” Ryan yells, gasping for breath as Minho’s hands tighten around his throat.

Tears blur your vision, your breath coming in ragged sobs as you hold the rifle steady. Minho’s eyes catch yours, wild and unrelenting, and in that split second, everything seems to freeze. Your finger starts to push down on the trigger, your mind spinning with the weight of the decision.

“Why?” you scream at Minho, your voice breaking with emotion. "Why did you ever doubt me? Why couldn’t you trust that I loved you?"

Minho’s gaze softens for a fraction of a second, his grip loosening ever so slightly on Ryan’s throat. “You call this love?” he spits back, his voice hoarse but filled with pain.

Your finger trembles, hovering on the trigger, and you’re on the verge of pulling it—when something inside you snaps. In one swift motion, you shift your aim, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

The gun goes off.

The shot rings out, echoing through the cabin as the bullet rips through the air—and buries itself in Ryan’s skull, right between his eyes. His body goes limp instantly, his hands falling away from Minho as he collapses to the floor, lifeless.

You drop the rifle, your whole body trembling, tears streaming down your face. You can’t stop sobbing, can’t even catch your breath as you take a shaky step toward him and ask, “Is that enough to show how much I love you?”

-

The silence that follows is deafening.

Minho looks at you, his chest heaving, covered in Ryan’s blood, shock registering in his eyes. After a moment, he gets up from the floor, calm and composed, as if the violent act that just transpired hadn't fazed him at all. He walks over to you without a word, his footsteps barely audible in the heavy silence.

From the dining table, he picks up a napkin, its soft fabric starkly contrasting with the blood staining your trembling hands. Gently, he wipes the blood droplets away, his touch careful, almost delicate.

“I cheated on you because—” your voice breaks as the words leave your lips, trembling under the weight of your sobs. “Because I wanted to know if you still care.”

Minho doesn’t respond, but his silence speaks volumes. You watch as he moves across the room, grabbing a jacket from the coat rack. He replaces Ryan’s jacket—the one draped loosely over your shoulders—with his own. His movements are methodical, yet somehow tender, like he’s dressing you for something far more intimate than this horrific moment. You stand frozen, the tears streaming down your face, helpless in your grief and confusion.

“I thought you didn’t love me anymore,” you choke out, your voice barely above a whisper, the sobs making your chest heave.

Minho zips up the jacket, making sure it fits snugly around you, before pulling you close. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, his lips meet yours in a tender kiss, one that reminds you of the warmth you used to find in him. Even with his blood-streaked face, you can see that familiar, intense gaze—the warmth you had longed for finally returning to his eyes.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his hand cradling your face with a kind of reverence, “and if I can’t have you, no one can.”

His lips crash against yours again, this time harder, deeper, and with a hunger that ignites something dangerous inside you. His voice, dripping with possessiveness, makes your heart pound in a way that both terrifies and excites you.

“You’re mine,” he says, the words claiming you with an unyielding finality.

And it’s that very possessiveness that pulls you deeper into him. It’s why you married him in the first place—because Minho doesn’t just love; he consumes. His love is fierce, intense, teetering on the edge of madness, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. You crave it, need it, and right now, it feels like it’s the only thing grounding you in this twisted reality.

“I’m yours,” you whisper, nodding as if you’re sealing your fate with those words.

The two of you kiss again, and this time, it feels like everything is falling back into place, like the chaotic balance of your marriage has been restored. The blood, the violence, the madness—it all shifts back to where it belongs, the perfect equilibrium of your dark, twisted love.

For a moment, the chaos of what you’ve done slips away, and you both stand in eerie stillness, as if nothing happened.

However, the sight of the body lying lifeless on the floor snaps you back to reality.

Minho silently moves to pick up Ryan’s jacket, using it to cover the gaping wound on his head, though the blood has already soaked into the rug. Without a word, he starts dragging the body onto the rug, and you, numb and dazed, help him. Together, you roll the body into it, cocooning Ryan in the bloodstained fabric.

"Go get the body bag from the basement," Minho tells you, his voice cold and devoid of any emotion.

Your legs feel heavy as you make your way down to the basement, retrieving the thick, black bag. The two of you struggle to maneuver Ryan’s body into it, your hands slipping on the slick fabric as you zip it up.

The weight of what you’ve done sinks in deeper with each passing second, but you push it aside, focusing on the task at hand. Together, you drag the body outside into the dark night. The only sounds are the rhythmic scrape of the bag against the ground and the low rustle of wind in the trees.

Minho busies himself with the boat, the mechanical hum of the engine cutting through the stillness. You clamber onto the boat, watching him as he grabs the large rock he collected earlier—the weight that will ensure the body stays submerged beneath the water, lost to the lake’s depths.

Once everything is set, he starts the boat, and it moves silently over the water, cutting through the eerie calm of the night. You sit in the cold air, the distant shore shrinking as he drives far enough from land.

Finally, he stops, and you both work in grim silence to lift the heavy body bag over the edge. The splash echoes in the darkness as it hits the water, and for a brief moment, the sound lingers, unsettling and hollow.

You and Minho stay there, eyes locked on the spot where the bag submerged, waiting, watching. The bubbles rise to the surface, swirling for a few moments before fading away into the night. The water smooths out, becoming calm once more, its surface reflecting the endless stretch of the night sky above.

Nothing comes back up. Only silence, only stillness.

-

With the body gone, there’s no time to waste.

Minho doesn’t say a word as he moves toward Ryan’s car, his movements swift and calculated. You watch as he wipes the door handles, steering wheel, and gear shift clean of fingerprints before driving it to the edge of the river.

The car slowly inches forward, and as it begins to roll into the water, you stand at a distance, watching the lake swallow it whole, the final glint of metal disappearing beneath the surface. The water ripples for a moment before settling back into silence, leaving no trace of the vehicle behind.

You head back to the cabin to tackle your part. The living room feels eerily quiet, haunted by the chaos that took place just hours ago. You move quickly, gathering the objects that were stained with Ryan’s blood: the napkin, the rug, anything he touched.

With methodical precision, you scrub the floor clean, the sound of the rag scraping against the wood filling the room. You make sure to use bleach, wiping down every surface, making sure no bloodstains or lingering scent remains. The stinging smell of bleach replaces the coppery odor of blood, and you inhale deeply, feeling the chemical burn in your lungs.

When the room looks spotless, you gather the last of the evidence: your clothes, Minho’s bloodstained clothes, and the tools he brought. All of it goes into a large bag—anything that could tie either of you to what happened. Together, you make your way into the woods, where the night feels darker, heavier, as if nature itself is holding its breath.

Minho starts the fire, the flames flickering to life and casting a soft, orange glow over the trees. The bag is heavy as you both throw it onto the growing blaze, the crackling of burning fabric and wood filling the air. You watch as the fire consumes everything, turning it into ash and smoke. The smell of burning evidence—your clothes, Ryan’s blood, every trace of him—rises with the heat, drifting into the night sky.

Minho grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. There’s a quiet intimacy in the way you stand there, side by side, watching as the fire devours the last remnants of the crime. The warmth of his hand grounds you as the flames burn higher, until all that’s left are glowing embers and ash, scattering into the wind.

There’s nothing left now. No evidence. No trace. Just the two of you and the darkened woods.

-

The sun is slowly rising on the horizon when you walk back to the cabin

The final task is washing away the evidence from your bodies. You and Minho share the shower, alternating turns under the warm water as it washes off the blood and dirt clinging to your skin. At times, you help each other scrub, his hands trailing over the places where bruises and cuts mar your flesh.

There’s a quiet intimacy in the way you tend to each other, rinsing away the aftermath of the night before.

Once you're out of the shower and standing in front of the mirror, you notice the injuries. There’s a bruise blooming around your neck from where Minho had choked you, a thin cut across your chest from his scalpel, rope bruns on both wrists and ankles, and scrapes on your knees from tripping in the woods. The marks are raw, reminders of the violence that had passed between you.

“Come, sit.” Minho’s voice cuts through your thoughts. You turn to see him sitting on the bed, first aid kit in hand, his eyes already fixed on your wounds.

You obey, sitting beside him as he opens the kit. His fingers graze your skin as he pulls the robe open, exposing the cut on your chest. The light touch sends a shiver down your spine.

Minho leans in, studying the wound with careful attention before smoothing ointment onto it. You wince as it stings, and he immediately blows cool air on it to soothe the burn.

He moves to your knees next, his hands gentle as he applies more ointment and covers the scrapes with band-aids. His gaze lingers longer on the bruise around your neck, his fingers softly pressing against the swollen skin.

“Does it hurt?” His voice is softer now, a hint of worry in his tone.

“Not really,” you lie, and then it's your turn to ask about the bruise blooming on his jaw from Ryan’s punch, "How about it?"

He catches your hand and kisses it. "I'm okay."

Satisfied with your answer, he puts the first aid kit aside. His hair is damp, tousled as he pushes it back, and when his eyes meet yours again, there’s something dangerous and tender in his gaze.

“Aren’t you going to kiss it better?” you ask with a sly smile, teasing him.

His lips curl into a smile, and before you know it, his hands are on your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You straddle him, feeling the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of your robe.

“Want me to kiss it better?” he murmurs, his voice low, his brown eyes fiery as they lock on yours.

“Yes,” you whisper, your hands resting on his shoulders, needing his touch.

Minho leans in, placing a slow, deliberate kiss on the bandaged cut on your chest. His lips linger, and you feel the heat of the kiss searing into your skin. He doesn’t stop there, parting the robe further to press fluttering kisses along your collarbone, down to your breasts.

His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer as he buries his face between your breasts. He’s kissing, licking, and sucking your skin, his tongue leaving a wet trail in its wake. He takes his time with you, his fingers joining in, rolling and rubbing your nipples between them until they harden under his touch.

You tug at his hair, watching him, entranced by the way his mouth worships your flesh. His lips part with a soft pop as he releases your nipple, leaving it wet with his saliva.

“I’m obsessed,” he mutters, his lips brushing against your sternum. “I’ll always be obsessed with your body.”

He doesn’t need to say it—you can feel it in every touch, every kiss. His admiration for your body is palpable, his gaze lingering on your skin as though he can’t get enough. Your heart races, your desire growing hotter with each second that passes.

“Want you, Minho,” you moan breathlessly, your hands tightening on his shoulders. “I want you so much.”

Minho needs no further encouragement. He lays you back on the same bed where he tortured you earlier, his body moving over yours with a desperate hunger.

When he enters you, the intensity of his thrusts takes your breath away. His eyes flicker between watching his cock slide in and out of you and studying your face, seeking your reactions with every movement.

He slows down suddenly, leaning down to kiss you deeply, pulling away only when you’re gasping for air. He presses his forehead against yours, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

“Are you mine?” His voice is rough, commanding.

You nod quickly, barely able to speak.

His fingers graze your lips. “Words.”

“I am yours,” you say, your voice trembling with need.

A dark grin spreads across his face, and he kisses you again, more urgently this time. “That’s right. You’re mine.”

Minho resumes his thrusts, picking up the pace. One hand moves to wrap around your neck, squeezing slowly, cutting off just enough air to blur the line between pleasure and pain. His thrusts don’t falter as his grip tightens, his voice a dark whisper in your ear.

“You’re mine. All mine. Only mine.”

Your vision swims, the pressure on your windpipe mixing with the waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You look into his eyes, and what you see there—lust, love, madness—sends you over the edge.

Both of you reach your peak together, bodies trembling as the release washes over you in shuddering waves.

When it’s over, Minho collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. He places a soft, lingering kiss on your lips that makes your heart stutter.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your skin. His hand rests over your chest, right where your heart beats wildly.

Then, his voice drops, a dark promise in his words. “I want to cut you open and climb inside, so we can become one—forever.”

Anyone else would think it was madness, but to you, it’s just Minho. It’s the way he loves you—raw, obsessive, and unrelenting. And you love him for it, for every twisted piece of him that’s unlike any man you’ve ever known.

“And I would die for you,” you whisper back, your heart swelling with the weight of it. “Kill for you. I love you.”

It has always been your wish to be loved to the point of madness and Minho made that come true for you.

-

You wake to sunlight spilling through the cracks in the curtains, the warmth coaxing you from the comfort of sleep. The bed feels impossibly soft, but the familiar ache in your muscles reminds you of everything that happened the night before. Slowly, you stretch, your body protesting as you roll onto your side, blinking into the brightness.

The cabin is silent, save for the soft rustling of leaves outside and the occasional chirp of birds. You glance at the clock on the bedside table—it’s already late morning. You sit up, pulling the robe tightly around your body as you swing your legs over the side of the bed.

Your eyes fall on the small bandages Minho placed on your wounds last night. They’re a stark contrast to the serene morning around you, a reminder of the intensity that’s always lurking beneath the surface. But that’s how it is with Minho—love and danger, pleasure and pain, always intertwined.

The smell of food drifts up from downstairs, making your stomach growl. Minho must be downstairs.

You pad softly down the stairs, your bare feet making no sound on the wooden floor. As you step into the kitchen, you find Minho at the stove, the light from the window framing him in a soft glow. He’s already dressed in a white shirt that accentuate his broad shoulders and there’s a calmness in the way he moves as he plates food.

He turns, a warm smile spreading across his face when he sees you.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says, his voice smooth and gentle, as if the events of last night were a distant memory.

“Morning,” you reply, still groggy as you walk toward him.

You wrap your arms around his waist, leaning your head against his chest, breathing him in. His arms immediately encircle you, pulling you close as his lips press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You slept in,” he teases, one hand coming up to brush your hair away from your face.

“I needed it,” you murmur, tilting your head up to look at him.

His gaze is tender, and there’s something disarming about the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. He leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss, slow and sweet.

The world outside feels far away, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you—wrapped in each other, the chaos of your love quiet for once.

Minho pulls back, his thumb lightly tracing your lower lip. “I made lunch. Thought you’d be hungry.”

You smile, your heart swelling with affection. “I'm famished.”

He cups your face, kissing you again, this time deeper, more lingering. You melt into him, your hands finding their way into his hair, tugging gently as his lips claim yours. It’s moments like this that make you feel utterly consumed by him.

When you finally break apart, both of you slightly breathless, Minho rests his forehead against yours. His hands slide down to your waist, holding you close.

“How about we go for a ride on the boat today?” he suggests, his voice low. “It’s a beautiful day.”

You look up at him, your mind still foggy from the kiss. “A boat ride?”

He nods, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. “Yeah. The lake’s calm, the sun’s out. We could use some fresh air.”

The thought of spending the day out on the water with Minho, with nothing but the peacefulness of the lake around you, sounds perfect. You can already imagine the cool breeze against your skin, the way the sunlight will dance across the surface of the water.

“I’d love that,” you say softly, leaning into his touch.

Minho’s eyes glint with satisfaction, and he presses one last kiss to your lips before stepping back to finish preparing lunch. “But first, finish your food.”

As you sit down to the table, Minho places a plate in front of you, the meal simple but delicious. You eat in comfortable silence, occasionally exchanging soft smiles and touches, your hands brushing across the table as if neither of you can stand to be apart for long.

For the first time, the two of you are connected in a whole new level that it feels like nothing can tear you and Minho apart anymore.

-

The boat glides across the tranquil waters, the rhythmic sound of the oars slicing through the lake the only disturbance in the otherwise still air. The sun hangs high above, casting a shimmering path of light across the surface, making it look like a trail of gold leading them deeper into the heart of the lake.

You sit facing Minho, watching the muscles in his arms flex and contract as he rows, his gaze fixed on the water, intense and focused. There’s something serene about this moment, a rare softness between the two of you. It feels almost surreal, considering what happened just last night.

Last night, when this very lake was a silent witness to the horror you both created. Now, it feels like a different place—calm, almost idyllic. But the memory is still there, just beneath the surface, lingering like a dark shadow that no amount of sunlight can chase away.

Minho slows the boat as you reach the middle of the lake, his eyes shifting to meet yours. There’s a glint of something unreadable in them, a darkness that always simmers just beneath his surface. It’s the very same darkness that pulled you in, binding you to him in ways that go beyond love. It’s obsession, need, and something far more dangerous.

He lets go of the oars and shifts closer, his knees brushing against yours as he reaches out, his hand sliding into his pocket. You tilt your head, watching curiously as he pulls out something small and shiny.

Your breath catches when you realize what it is. Your wedding ring.

Minho holds it up between his fingers, the gold band catching the sunlight. You stare at it, your heart pounding as memories of your vows come flooding back. The promises you made to each other, promises that were shattered and reforged into something far more twisted and unbreakable.

“I believe this belongs to you,” Minho murmurs, his voice low and soft.

There’s a tenderness in his gaze that disarms you, makes you feel as if he’s peeling back every layer of yourself and looking straight into your soul.

He takes your left hand, his touch featherlight as he slides the ring back onto your finger. You shiver at the sensation, your eyes locked onto his as he recites the very vow you spoke on your wedding day.

“In sickness and in health…” he begins, his voice barely a whisper but strong, his gaze unwavering. “For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer…”

You swallow hard, your heart hammering against your ribcage. There’s an odd sense of finality in his tone, as if he’s sealing not just a promise but something darker—a pact, a blood oath that binds you together not just in love, but in sin.

“...Till death do us part,” he finishes, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, where the ring now rests again, a symbol of everything you are to each other.

You draw in a shaky breath, the words catching in your throat. “Till death do us part,” you repeat, your voice just as soft, but the weight of the vow feels heavier now, burdened by all the blood and secrets you share.

Minho’s eyes light up at your response, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the still air.

“We’re bound again,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks. “In life, in death, in everything. You’re mine.”

“And you’re mine,” you whisper back, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. There’s a fierceness in your words, a possessiveness that matches his own. Because you are each other’s, wholly and completely, in ways that no one else could ever understand.

Minho cups your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he kisses you—soft at first, almost reverent. But then it deepens, turning into something desperate and consuming. You can feel the intensity in every press of his lips, every brush of his tongue against yours.

It’s not just love; it’s hunger, an insatiable need to claim and be claimed.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless. Minho rests his forehead against yours again, his fingers threading through your hair.

“With you, I’m never alone,” he whispers, his voice raw and honest in a way that sends shivers down your spine. “You’re the only one who understands me, the only one who’ll stay.”

“And I will,” you reply, your fingers tightening around his, “Always.”

Minho’s smile is small but genuine, and for a moment, he looks almost boyish, the hard edges of his face softened by the sunlight filtering through the trees around the lake. He brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes dark and intense as they lock onto yours.

“We’re more than just lovers now,” he murmurs, his voice low.

Your gaze shifts to the water surrounding the boat, to the spot where Ryan’s body lies hidden beneath the surface. A chill runs down your spine, but it’s not fear—it’s the thrill of what you’ve become together. Bound by love, by blood, by the darkness that twists through both of your souls.

You softly nod in agreement as you turn back to him and with that, the two of you are bound once more—not just by the ring now resting on your finger, but by the weight of the secret that lies at the bottom of the lake. It’s your bond, your burden, and in a twisted way, it’s also your triumph.

Because what you have with Minho isn’t normal, and it isn’t sane. It’s dark and consuming and entirely your own. It’s a love that defies all reason, a connection that can’t be broken, no matter how much blood is spilled.

After all, when love is not madness it is not love.

-

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[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

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Summary: After the death of your brother and his wife. You find yourself adjusting to a new role in your life. A single parent to your teenage nephew. How do you help him heal? How do you help yourself heal? You're not sure. You don't think you can, until an annoying basketball coach enters your life and turns everything around.

Pairing: Basketball Coach Yoongi x Single Aunt F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Strangers to Lovers,

Warnings: Death Of Parents / Brother/ Family, Car Accident (Cause), Swearing, Explicit Sex, Arguments, Physical Fighting, Past Abusive Relationship, Talks Of Domestic Violence,

A/N: Do we pretend that morning breath doesn't exist? Anyway, for anyone who celebrates Easter, Happy Easter 🐰 🐣

“Sunshine? Coach?” Nicky's startled voice has you popping your eyes open in surprise.

The first thing that you notice is how bright it is in your bedroom. The second thing you notice is the arm that is currently stiff as a board slung over your waist. Shit. You shouldn't have let him stay the night. Clutching your blanket to your chest, you sit up quickly, looking at your doorway. Not only was Nicky standing there gaping at you, but your brother and Elly stood with him equally in shock. No one says anything as you all stare awkwardly at each other.

“Um,” you say, but nothing else came out. You can't really lie your way out of this situation.

“Nicks, why don't you take care of your things,” Elly says, gently pushing him out of the doorway. She looks back at you all embarrassed. “I messaged you. I guess you didn't get it.”

“Can you guys…” you trail off and point to the hallway.

The two of them close the door, giving you and Yoongi some privacy. Looking over at the man beside you, he seems to be equally at a loss of what to do as he stares back at you with an unreadable expression. Grabbing the throw blanket at the end of your bed, you wrap it around yourself, shielding your nakedness from the man beside you as if he wasn't inside of you the night before. Sliding off the bed, you grab Yoongi's clothes for him, tossing them his way blindly.

“Should we talk about this?” He asks, sounding uncertain as he throws his white shirt over his head.

“Do we have to?” You ask back, grabbing your own clothes from your dresser and quickly dressing. “Last Night was…”

“Probably the best sex I ever had,” he tells you as he finishes getting dressed, cutting you off. “Aaaand, based on your reaction during….I think you feel the same.”

“Do you always think so highly of yourself?” You ask, avoiding the truth in his statement.

“When I know I'm right, yes,” he answers. “This doesn't have to be weird. We're adults… we slept together…and I wouldn't mind if it happens again.”

“No,” you tell him, shaking your head. “You even said that we shouldn't be doing this.”

“I did,” he confirms. “And you were right. It is in the handbook. It's just worded a bit more professionally. Page 13, under conflict of interest. Coachs are to avoid personal relationships with parents to avoid favoritism amongst the players.”

“Well, there you go,” you say, turning to walk to your door, but his hand on your elbow stops you.

“We could just keep it quiet then…” he starts, but you don't let him finish.

“I won't be your dirty little secret,” you tell him. “I'll admit, the sex was good, but maybe that's all it should be. Leave it as a one-time thing.”

“What are you so scared of?” He asks.

“I'm not scared of anything,” you snap. “I have to protect Nicky. I can't bring random men around him and get him confused.”

“I'm not some random guy who sends you dick pics while his girlfriend is waiting for him,” he snaps back, making you glare at him. “I'm sorry, but I'm not some random guy.”

“HURRY UP!” Your brother shouts from the living room.

“It just won't work,” you tell him, staring at the floor.

“How do you know?” He asks softly. “Are you really going to deny that you don't feel it between us?”

"It's probably heartburn,” you sass. “You should probably take a Rolaid. Look, I'm not the type of woman who gets happy endings. Find something better.”

With that, you leave your bedroom to find your brother and Elly standing in the living room. He looks quite amused, twirling Yoongi's hat from the night before around his finger. Elly at least looks embarrassed and sorry at the same time. You feel Yoongi right behind you as you move forward. Snatching his hat from your brother, you hand it back to its rightful owner.

“So….what did you two do last night?” Your brother asks with a smirk.

“Shut up,” you say and point to the door.

“I'm so sorry,” Elly says quickly before pushing Chris toward the door and opening it. “This will stay between us.”

You nod your head, giving her a tight smile before she closes the door, and you turn back to Yoongi. He adjusts the hat now on his head as he studies you. His dark eyes look as if he has a million questions to throw at you, but he doesn't ask any of them.

“Listen, you don't have to worry about me being a problem,” you tell him quietly, not knowing where Nicky was at the moment. “I'll play by your rules…”

“Who said I want you to?” He asks with a tilt of his head. “I find it kind of….endearing.”

“You're odd,” you comment.

Yoongi laughs. It's a deep chuckle from deep within his throat, and you find yourself liking it. His eyes take a quick moment to sweep the room before claiming your mouth with his. Your hands go to his shoulder in surprise before giving in with a quiet moan. You think you could find yourself getting addicted to his kisses. Clearly, from the night before, you knew that he could use his tongue. The memory alone has you squirming until suddenly, he is gone.

“I'll see you Monday,” he says before walking away and out your front door.

You stand there gaping like an idiot staring in the direction that he just left. You felt something stir inside your body. Something that you thought had died long ago. Something that you buried so deep and locked away in the most secure fortress. It was a spark, a connection. It was the feeling of hopefulness and excitement in your heart. Something you told yourself that you would never feel again.

“I'm guessing that I shouldn't say anything about what I saw?” Nicky asks, popping up behind you, making you jump.

“Don't sneak up on people,” you scold, placing your hand over your heart. “You have to stop doing that.”

“Is he going to be my uncle now?” He asks with a straight face before laughing at the glare you send his way.

“Stop it,” you say. “No, no one can know about this. Not grandma, not anyone on the team. Pretend that you didn't see that.”

“Were you at least safe because we don't need any babies running around here at the moment?” Your eyes widen at his question. “I know all about the birds and the bees, don't worry. Dad gave me that talk last year.”

“I don't know what to say to you right now,” you admit.

The two of you stare at each other before he shrugs his shoulders and walks back to his room. You shake your head in disbelief. You could have avoided this whole mess had you kicked Yoongi out last night. You never let them stay. It was a mistake on your part that you will make sure it never happens again.

“RUN, RUN, RUN,” Yoongi yells at the boys as they run back and forth the gymnasium floor. “PASS THE BALL AND KEEP RUNNING.”

Your foot bounces against the bleachers as you try to glare a hole into Yoongi's back. The day before, he had texted you to make sure that you would show up to practice and not run away. Nothing more, nothing else. You would be lying if you said that it didn't disappoint you, but you couldn't blame him. You did tell him to find something better as you basically rejected him, and now you are positive he is punishing you for it. As soon as you stepped foot into the gym, you noticed your once lovely sanctuary was pushed into the wall as the boys' belongings were scattered about the floor. He gave you an innocent smile and gestured for you to sit behind him with the other parents. You gave him a very tight smile as your finger had itched to show him how you really felt. However, you refrained. After all, you did promise him to play by the rules.

Whistles blow.

Finally.

“Okay, parents,” he pauses for a moment, quickly looking at you before continuing. “Our first game is Saturday. Have them here by 12:15 in their blue jerseys with no wrinkles. We will spend the time before the game stretching and going over the plays once more. They will not have practice on Friday, so make sure they rest and get a good night's sleep. Let's get this win.”

You and the other parents make your way down the bleachers and head for the doors, but Yoongi stops you. With two fingers, he motions you to follow him. Walking behind him, the two of you walk in silence as he leads you to what you believe is a closed kitchen window in the cafeteria. You look at him confused as he smirks at you.

“This will be your concession stand,” He tells you, as he knocks on the metal counter before leaning against it.

“Wait, I really have to do this? Didn't sleeping with you get me a free pass or something?” You whine.

“No,” he answers very blandly before continuing on. “I'll have a key and a money bag for you when you get here. You can set up however you want.”

“Can I at least collect tips?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I wouldn't expect a lot, though.”

“Well….how low cut of a top can I wear?” You ask, placing your hands on your hips.

Yoongi looks around quickly before backing you up against the wall. Your back hits flat against the cold wall as he leans in close to you, bracing himself with one hand against the hard surface by your head. You don't want him to know you were affected, but you're sure your flamed cheeks give you away. You want to smack yourself for reacting this way.

This wasn't you.

“As enjoyable as that sight would be. I don't want any of the dads looking at you like a piece of meat,” he informs you. His face hovers close, but he doesn't try to move all the way in as he carefully studies you.

“What are you doing?” You ask, trying to steady your voice.

“I’m trying not to scare you away,” he says. “Are you free for dinner tonight? I can pick the three of us up some food. I think I owe you for the pizza anyway.”

“I don't…” you start, but the gym's doors open loudly, causing Yoongi to step away from you like everything was normal.

“Perfect. I'll meet you at your place in an hour and a half,” he informs you and walks away before you can object.

“What's wrong?” Nicky asks, approaching you.

“Nothing,” you answer, clearing your throat. “We need to get home and clean real fast. I guess we are having company for dinner.”

“Really? I wonder who that could be?” He asks sarcastically.

You groan and ruffle his hair playfully before throwing your arm around his shoulders, guiding him out of the building. The annoying little burning spark deep inside you comes alive once more. Unfortunately, you don't think it will go out anytime soon. You're not even sure if you want it to, and that scares the hell out of you.

He showed up on time with Chinese in hand. You love Chinese. Nicky loves Chinese. The three of you sit around your table, containers spread all about, empty plates and stomachs full. It felt way easier compared to the tension you felt the first time he came over. He and Nicky fell into a comfortable conversation about basketball stats and players who should receive more recognition. It was a playful argument that you didn't care about. Instead, you just turned to your phone, mindlessly scrolling through your social media.

“Sunshine can't even name one basketball player,” Nicky teases, making you look up from your phone and glare at him.

“I know who that Ronaldo guy is,” you say, defending yourself.

“That's soccer,” Yoongi corrects you, causing your nephew to laugh. “You really don't know anything about sports, do you? Have you ever been to a game before? Even when you were in school?”

“Oh, I went to games in school. I was just under the belchers the whole time,” you say with a smirk.

“Why would you be under the bleachers?” Nicky asks, all confused while Yoongi raises his eyebrow at you.

“I…um…. don't you have homework?” You ask, trying to change the subject, but he is much wiser than you give him credit for.

“Does this whole dinner tonight mean you don't think that coach is dick anymore?” He asks, smiling innocently at you.

“Excuse me?” Yoongi asks, shocked by the words he just heard. “I'm a what?”

“Go,” you say, pointing down the hall to his room. He doesn't argue at all before he gets up from the table and grabs his backpack. Once he disappears, you give Yoongi a tight smile. “Kids,” you say, shrugging your shoulders, trying to play off the conversation.

“Yeah, I don't think so,” he counters. “Why would you tell him that?”

“Because you were,” you say, defending yourself. “You were on my ass all the time.”

“You kept breaking all my rules,” he says, but you couldn't argue with his logic. “See you even know it's true.”

“Rules are meant to be broken,” you say, standing up, busying yourself clearing the table. “I think you know that more than anymore. I think you have broken two rules for me now.”

Yoongi stands, helping you clean off the table, taking the trash to your kitchen. Standing next to him, he takes the things from your hands, throwing them away. Quickly, he turns, pinning you against the counter and molding your mouth with his. His hands go to your hips, squeezing them firmly as his tongue rolls against yours. You want to push him away. You don't want to get used to this, but damn it, you dont want it to stop.

“Is this too much?” He asks, looking down at you as he pulls back from your lips.

“Not sure,” you answer. “Maybe you should try again.”

Yoongi smirks at you and leans back down, attaching your lips once more. Your fingers dip into the waistband of his pants, pulling him completely flush against your body. His hand goes into your hair, tilting your head back, deepening the kiss.

“We should stop,” he mumbles against your lips and backs away from you to continue cleaning.

“You don't play fair,” you accuse as you hoist yourself on top of your counter. Standing, you reach up and over the top edge of your cupboards to retrieve a bottle of wine that was hidden out of sight. “Drink?” You ask.

“Sure,” he answers, giving you a perplexed look as he looks up at you. Handing him the bottle, you grab two wine glasses on a top shelf and place them down on the counter next to you. Yoongi quickly grabs your hips, helping steady you as you lower into a sitting position before you jump down. “I have so many questions.” He tells you.

You smile and hold out the wine glasses for him to fill. Once he pours the sweet liquid, you lead him out to the living room, where you take a seat on your couch and prop your feet up on the coffee table in front of you. Yoongi sits next to you, leaning back with his arm thrown around the back of the couch behind your head.

“Ask away,” you say, taking a drink trying to act like you were not nervous about what he wanted to know.

“Should I start with the wine?” He asks. “I don't get the feeling that Nicky is trying to steal it. Why do you hide it?”

“If my mom sees it, she will pitch a fit,” you say. “I don't need her on my ass for one bottle of wine. She will probably accuse me of being alcoholic so I try not to drink around her. Even if it's just one glass of wine.”

“So, your parents are alive?” He asks, his fingers play with a thick section of your hair.

“Yes,” you nod, watching as his brows furrowed in thought. “You want to know why I have him?” Slowly, he nods. You look down at your wine glass and swirl the liquor around and around. “After…. you know, our family met with their lawyer who pulled out paperwork that they had drawn up naming me guardian should something happen to them. I didn't know about it, and my parents clearly didn't know about it based on my moms reaction. His other grandparents were never really in his life. Anyway, he had been staying with my parents right after the accident and right up until the meeting. I was given an option to follow through with their wishes or pass, and Nicky would go with my parents.”

“You decided to take him in,” he nods as he drinks.

“Yeah, and if you can't tell, I don't know what the hell I'm doing. My mom looks for any misstep so she can challenge my guardianship and take him from me. My dad is pretty good at stopping her but….who knows,” you explain, leaning your head back into his touch. His fingers magically massage your scalp, causing you to close your eyes in satisfaction. “They moved me out of my crappy studio apartment and into here. One of my moms rentals, that they let me stay in for free. I had to quit my bartending job to work at my dad's company, where a position magically came out of nowhere. If I mess up…. it will all be gone. I'm pretty proud, and I hate asking for help, but I can't do this alone.”

“Is that why you're scared of me?” He asks, looking at you seriously. “Are you afraid that I'm going to mess this up for you?”

“I'm not scared of you,” you say, denying his words, but you know that's not true. “My track record with men hasn't been the best. In fact, it's been pretty…toxic. I don't know how to have a healthy relationship because I've never had one. My mom never lets me forget that. She doesn't trust my judgment, and honestly, I don't blame her.”

“Hey,” you look over at him, and he moves to lean over you. “I'm not like that. Whatever they did to you…I'm not like that.”

“Why are you so interested in me?” You ask, looking up at him. “I'm kind of broken, taking care of a teenager, and my charming personality will wear off eventually. You don't want my baggage. I'm sure you have better options out there.”

“I think you're giving me too much credit,” he laughs lightly, taking a drink.

“Bullshit,” you say, shaking your head. “You know you're good looking, and you probably have a nice stable job.You should hear how the moms giggle when you come into the gym.”

“God, don't remind me. I've been ignoring that shit for years,” he groans. “My job is boring as hell, but you're right it gives me a nice stable life. I'm a database administrator.”

“See, you're smart too. Too smart for me. Run while you can,” you jokingly warn. “The only thing I got going for me is my skills in the bedroom.”

“You know. I kind of thought that you were flirting with me when you were giving me a hard time, but you weren't, were you?” He asks, tilting his head in wonder.

“Not in the beginning,” you tell him. “Maybe a little bit after you had dinner with us that first time.”

“Good thing I didn't approach you earlier then,” he comments, taking another drink. "I probably would have embarrassed myself."

“You don't have like a single mom kink, do you?” You jokingly ask.

“No,” he answers, still hovering over you, laughing. “I just want to get to know you. There's no ulterior motive. I mean, we already had sex, and I'm still here. Just give me a chance.”

“I'm kind of difficult,” you warn.

“I've noticed,” he nods his head in agreement.

“I don't give second chances,” he smirks at your words.

“I won't need it,” he promises.

Leaning down, he presses his lips to yours. Closing your eyes, you run your finger through his hair, accepting his gesture. Against your better judgment, you're going to believe him and let those tight chains around your heart loosen. You just hope that it doesn't come back to bite you on the ass.

《Chapter 7》

Tagged Readers

@busanbby-jjk , @meelismee @jajabro, @wicked-game-black-butler

@wobblewobble822 , @damn-u-min-yoongi @mintedagustd , @Granataepfelchen

@yoongiiuu93, @jimeg629 @jincapableoflove , @minghaosimp

@redragdoll, @ot72025 @seoullove96 @our-cool-jenny @kam9404 , @momma1

@amarawayne , @militrybarbi @haileyborig, @bettytta @mar-lo-pap , @lattejimin

[filthyjoelslvr]

The Other Woman (3)

part 1 | part 2 | part 4

Content: jackson!tommy x reader; jackson!joel x reader (previous chapter)

Synop: Tommy isn't the same after you told him about you and Joel. His heads hung low, his smile falters, his eyes scream of the pain he feels. You keep running into him and each time breaks you a little more than the last.

Then, Joel tells his ex wife of the affair. And the whole town knows. They stare, they whisper, and Tommy can barely stand it.

Warnings: pinv, fingering, tommy spits in your mouth, tells reader i hate you during sex?, sad tommy, guilty joel, physical fighting (mentions blood), very small mention of SA (past), death of mother, prob forgetting some

Word Count: 10K!

(dividers by: @cafekitsune)

a/n: guys i hope you like this one!! i was in such a stump and then got a random burst of inspiration so i hope i did a good job blending it all together. i literally wanna turn this whole series into a chapter book!!! but i made this so long so another part is coming soon im so sorry yall, ik ik i need to chill. but..... should you have tommy's babies ???? AHH DONT COME FOR ME IM INTO THAT

It had been twenty-three days since you last spoke to Tommy.

Not that you were counting, but every night bled into the next without him, and each morning you woke up hoping the ache would be duller than the day before. It wasn’t.

The last time you saw him — really saw him — was the night everything fell apart. The night he looked at you like he didn’t know who you were. Technically, he never asked you to be his girlfriend, not in those exact words, but you didn’t need him to. You knew it. Felt it in every look, every late-night visit, every time he held you like the world might end before morning. You were his. And he was yours.

But now… now you were nothing.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen the way it did. You never meant to hurt him, never wanted to be the cause of that devastation you saw in his eyes that day. The memory of it still clawed at your insides.

You heard the footsteps before the knock — heavy, sure, familiar in a way that made your throat tighten.

When you opened the door, there he was. Tommy. Sunburned cheeks, wind-worn jacket, smile so big it made your chest ache. “Told you I’d be back, didn’t I?”

You had launched into his arms. Laughed. Let him spin you like a girl who hadn’t done the unthinkable. You buried yourself in him because you didn’t know how to be anywhere else. Because you were scared.

You tried to tell him. Tried to say the words. But he kissed you — kissed you like nothing had changed. And you let him. You let him love you, worship you, fall deeper when you knew the truth would tear him apart.

And when he finally said I love you, you broke. You couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Tommy, I slept with Joel.”

You watched him come undone in real time. Disbelief. Rage. Pain. That gut-wrenching, final line: "Stay the fuck away from me. We're done."

And then the door slammed, and you felt yourself unravel.

Now, three weeks later, you saw him again for the first time.

You hadn’t planned to be in town, but someone had asked for help dropping off supplies. Just some cloth and thread. It was supposed to be a quiet errand — quick. Anonymous.

But then you saw him.

Tommy walked through the square, not ten feet from you. And the sight of him made your stomach flip and your eyes sting.

He looked terrible.

Not rugged or tired. Wrecked. Hair messy. Eyes hollow. Posture slumped like the world weighed heavier than usual. Tommy, who used to light up Jackson just by passing through, didn’t look at anyone. Didn’t speak. He just walked — silent and angry and broken.

Then he looked up. Just for a second.

Your eyes locked.

It was like being struck. His face flickered — just barely — before he looked away again, fast. Like you were something painful to behold. Like remembering you hurt worse than forgetting.

You didn’t move. Didn’t follow. You couldn’t.

You’d seen the damage. You saw what you did. How far he’d fallen from the man who used to dance with you in the kitchen just to hear you laugh.

You broke him.

So you let him go. Again.

You turned away, heart hammering, eyes blurry, breath shallow.

You wanted to run after him. To explain. To beg. But that wasn’t love — not anymore. Love, real love, was giving someone what they needed. And right now? Tommy needed space. Distance. Time.

Even if it killed you to give it. Even if he never let you close again.

Because if he needed time to hate you before he could begin to understand you, then that’s what you’d give him.

Even if it meant losing him forever.

The first time you ran into Tommy again after that morning in the square, it was by accident. You turned a corner near the stables, arms full of fabric bundles, and nearly collided with him.

He stopped. Looked at you.

Just for a second.

And then he walked around you like you weren’t even there.

It knocked the breath from your lungs. You stood there, holding that stupid cloth to your chest like it might keep you from falling apart.

After that, it kept happening.

At the gate post. By the greenhouse. Outside the mess hall. Always unplanned. Always painful.

And always the same.

He’d glance at you, just once — eyes heavy with something that looked like grief — and then look away, jaw clenched, chest rising a little faster. Sometimes he’d adjust his jacket, or rub at his mouth like he could scrub the memory of you off his lips.

Each time you saw him, he looked a little worse.

Like he was unraveling slowly. Skin paler. Beard uneven. His usual spark — gone. Tommy had always been a light in Jackson. He made people laugh. Made things feel easier just by being around.

But now? Now he barely spoke. He avoided crowds. Didn’t show up to half the community meetings he used to help run. And when he did, he’d sit in the back with a far-off look in his eyes like his body was present, but nothing else was.

It was like he couldn’t stand to be in a world where you also existed.

And still, you said nothing.

You wanted to run to him. To beg. To explain it all again. But you stayed quiet. You gave him the distance he so clearly needed, even when it felt like it was killing you a little more each day.

Sometimes you’d go to the trade stalls to stay busy. Sort items. Help with repairs. Anything to get out of your own head.

That’s where you’d see Joel.

Not often. Just enough to notice.

He never stayed long — always stopping by for parts or ammo, sometimes to drop off gear from a patrol. When he saw you, he’d nod once. Give you a polite hey or mornin'.

Nothing else.

No private talks. No apologies. No pressure.

He had stopped coming to see you, just like you asked.

And the silence between the two of you felt like a second kind of punishment. A colder one. Because even though Joel had been the cause of it all, he wasn’t the one looking at you like you’d destroyed him.

That was Tommy.

And somehow, seeing the pain still written across his face every time he caught your presence — like your shadow alone was enough to make him sick — it hurt worse than anything you could have imagined.

Because you were the one who did that to him.

And you didn’t know if you’d ever get the chance to make it right.

The silence didn’t get easier.

If anything, the more time passed, the heavier it got. It filled the corners of your house like smoke. Settled into your sheets. Clung to your skin.

Some nights, it felt unbearable. So you started writing.

Not because you expected him to read it. Not because you thought it would fix anything. But because keeping it all inside was rotting you from the inside out.

The first letter was messy — half tears, half ink. You didn’t even bother starting it with his name. Just dove straight in. I think about you all the time. I keep seeing you in crowds. Sometimes I think I hear your laugh and then remember you haven’t laughed in weeks.

You didn’t mean to keep going, but you did. The words kept spilling out. Page after page. You wrote about the little things — how you still caught yourself reaching for his favorite mug when you made tea. How you didn’t listen to music anymore because everything reminded you of that night he danced with you at the town square. How you couldn’t stop replaying the sound of his voice when he said, Stay the fuck away from me.

You folded that one and tucked it into your dresser drawer. Told yourself you’d burn it later.

But you didn’t.

You kept writing.

A second letter. A third. A tenth.

Some were long, aching pages of apology. Others were just fragments. You looked tired today. I saw you touch your ribs — did you get hurt? You smiled at someone. I was both relieved and sick over it.

You never sent them. Never would.

But writing them was the only way to keep yourself from going to him.

Because the truth was, every time you saw Tommy — every time he looked at you and then looked away — it felt like losing him all over again. The glances were killing you more than outright silence ever could. Like he still felt something, but it hurt too much to let it show.

You knew that look. You wore the same one when you were begging for Joel's love.

So you wrote. Because writing didn’t cost him anything.

You gave him his space, his time, his absence. Even though it made you ache. Even though you missed him so much it sometimes felt like you couldn’t breathe.

And still, he didn’t speak to you.

Which meant you were alone. So you wrote. Even if the only one who would ever read the letters was you.

The bell above the trade stalls door jingled, breaking the quiet rhythm of your work.

You didn’t even look up at first. Most people came in for standard barters — thread, blankets, maybe a new pair of gloves. But something in your chest tightened before you even saw Joel because you knew today you'd talk to him.

He hesitated in the doorway, like he was unsure if he should even step inside. Then, with that familiar heavy gait, he walked toward one of the side shelves, not looking at you.

You let a beat pass. Then another.

“…Hey,” you said, voice low but steady.

His head snapped up like you'd thrown a rock at him. “What?”

You stepped out from behind the counter slowly. “I was... wondering how you’ve been.”

He blinked at you, completely thrown. “You told me to stay the hell away from you.”

“I know,” you said softly, glancing down. “I meant it, at the time. But… I also meant what I said back then — that you needed to work on yourself.”

He frowned, jaw tight, arms crossing. “So what’s this? Curiosity check-in?”

You offered a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Maybe. Just figured if we were gonna keep running into each other, we didn’t have to pretend the other didn’t exist.”

Joel snorted under his breath, leaning a little against the shelf. “Didn’t think you’d be the one to start a damn conversation, I’ll tell you that much.”

You watched him carefully. “So… how have you been? Really?”

He scratched his beard, eyes narrowed like the question was somehow offensive. Then he exhaled, slower this time. “Better. Some days. Worse on others. But I’ve been tryin' to get my shit together.”

You tilted your head. “Yeah?”

Joel nodded, grumbling like the words hurt to say. “Ain’t drinkin’ as much. Talked to people about helpin’ out more on the patrol rotation. Saw a counselor a few times, if you can believe that.”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

He gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah. Didn’t talk much at first, but… I’m listenin’ now. Tryin’ to understand why I did the things I did. Why I kept goin’ back to pain like it was comfort.”

You studied his face, and for the first time since all this began, he looked almost… vulnerable. Not proud, not defensive — just tired and trying.

And it hit you, suddenly, how much further behind you were.

“I’m happy for you,” you said. “I really am.”

He tilted his head. “And you? You look like hell, no offense.”

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes even though they weren’t crying. “That obvious, huh?”

Joel’s face softened slightly. “How’re you holdin’ up?”

You hesitated, and when you answered, your voice was small. “I’m not. Not really. I miss Tommy so bad it makes me sick.”

His expression darkened slightly, but he didn’t speak, so you kept going.

“I told him. About everything. The night he came home. He told me he loved me and I—” your breath caught. “I told him what happened. With you.”

Joel’s face fell. “And?”

“He walked out. Said we were done. That he doesn't want to see me again.”

Joel looked away. “Yeah… I figured.”

You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean?”

He took a breath through his nose like he was bracing for something. “Tommy came to my house that night.”

You stared at him. “He what?”

“Stormed in like a damn fire. Said he wanted to look me in the eye before he broke my nose.”

Your breath caught.

Joel gave a dry, humorless laugh. “And he did. Couple times.”

“Joel…”

“I didn’t stop him,” he said simply. “Didn’t raise a hand. Just let him. Took everything he gave me.”

“Jesus…”

Joel nodded. “Threw me into a wall. Told me I broke the only good thing in his life. Asked me how long I’d been watchin’ him like a damn vulture, waitin’ for him to turn his back so I could crawl into bed with his girl.”

You felt like you might be sick.

“I tried to tell him it wasn’t like that,” Joel continued. “That it wasn’t planned. But he didn’t want to hear it. And truth is, he had every right not to.”

You pressed a hand to your stomach. “I didn’t know he— God, Joel."

Joel shrugged. “He said what he needed to with his fists. We haven’t talked since. Tommy is scary as hell when he wants to be.”

The silence hung thick between you, full of shame and pain and words neither of you could take back. You remembered that night you told the lie about the guy harassing you — how Tommy's expression turned unrecognizable. You know now Tommy meant it when he said he could find the guy.

Joel looked at you again, more carefully now. “You still care about him?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”

He nodded once, solemn. “He’s stubborn as hell, but he ain’t made of stone. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have shown up at my door.”

Your eyes welled, and this time, you didn’t stop the tears. “I think I already lost him.”

Joel shook his head. “I really am sorry."

You didn’t know what to say, so you just nodded. The two of you stood there for a while, surrounded by the quiet buzz of the shop, the weight of everything still hovering — but maybe just a little lighter than before.

Joel finally turned to leave, then paused at the door. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

“I’m trying,” you said softly.

He nodded once, then stepped out, the bell jingling behind him like punctuation on something that wasn’t quite closure — but maybe something close.

You didn’t want him.

Not in the aching, dizzy way that once made you forget what was right and wrong. Not in the sleepless, guilt-laced quiet after you let him crawl into your bed like a ghost begging to be remembered. That part of your story was over. Done. You weren’t his. Not anymore.

But watching Joel now — steady-voiced, clearer-eyed, softer somehow — still felt like swallowing glass.

Because he looked like someone learning to live. And you? You were still just surviving.

It wasn’t envy, not quite. Just a strange, heavy sorrow. Like watching a storm break over someone else’s house while you’re still knee-deep in floodwater.

You were proud of him. You were. Even if it felt like a betrayal to admit that out loud. Because Joel was trying. For once, he wasn’t running from the damage — he was naming it. Owning it. Carrying it like it was his to hold. And maybe that’s what made it harder: he was finally becoming the man he should’ve been before he met you.

But the part that hurt most didn’t live between you and him anymore.

It lived in the space between two brothers.

You hadn’t meant to tear them apart. You didn’t want that. God, you never wanted that. But when Joel told you — quietly, without flinching — about the fight, your stomach dropped so fast you thought you’d be sick.

Tommy had come to his door with all the fury a broken heart could hold. No words. No warning. Just fists.

And Joel had let him. Didn’t block, didn’t swing, didn’t shout.

He just took it.

Because he knew what he did. What you both did.

But knowing it doesn’t make it easier to live with. It doesn’t unmake the silence that now stretches between them like a scar across the years they’d built.

You’d already lost Tommy.

But knowing you might’ve helped him lose Joel too — that settled differently. A dull, throbbing grief you couldn’t outrun. You had touched something sacred, and you hadn’t been careful. And now they both carried that weight in their own quiet ways.

Joel with his guilt.

Tommy with his silence.

And you… with both.

You watched the wind roll through the trees above you, aching in your chest like you’d been hollowed out.

You didn’t want Joel. You never would again. But you wanted them to find each other. Somehow. Someday.

Even if it meant you never stood between them again.

Tommy,

I saw you again yesterday.

You didn’t say anything. You never do. Just that same half-second glance before your eyes drop like you’re afraid of catching something from me. Like I’m the infection now. And maybe I am.

I wish I could tell you that I’m sorry in a way that mattered. I wish I could hand you my heart in pieces and let you see how much of it still belongs to you. Even now. Especially now.

You looked tired. Not just the kind of tired that sleep can fix, but the kind that lives in your bones. I used to know how to make you laugh. Now I can’t even make you look at me without flinching.

It guts me, Tommy. Not just what I did. But what it did to you.

And about Joel.

I never meant for you two to stop speaking. I never meant to wedge myself between blood. I didn’t think. I didn’t protect you. I didn’t protect either of you.

And the worst part? You were both trying to love me in your own broken ways.

I still can’t breathe when I think about that night. You holding me like I was something soft. Something yours. And I was. God, I was. Even if I didn’t know how to show it right. Even if I let the wrong person tell me who I was and who I didn’t deserve.

You told me you loved me. I never said it back.

Not because I didn’t mean it.

Because I meant it too much.

And now you won’t even let me get close enough to say your name.

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. I don’t even know if I’ll ever have the courage to hand it to you.

But I had to write it.

Because pretending I don’t miss you isn’t working anymore.

Love always

Thanksgiving in Jackson wasn’t about turkey or cranberry sauce — not really. Not anymore.

There hadn’t been a turkey in years. Probably never would be again. The food had changed, stripped down to what the community could grow, trade, or salvage. Beans, rabbit, maybe dried cornbread if they were lucky. But it wasn’t about tradition — it was about normalcy. Or the illusion of it. About carving out a moment that felt familiar before the world lost its shape.

The whole town pitched in — tables made from repurposed wood dragged into the square, covered with mismatched cloths and cracked ceramic dishes. A makeshift fire pit burned low in the center, its scent curling into the air, a poor man’s incense for the ghosts of better holidays.

You almost didn’t come.

You’d stood by the door for a long time with your coat half on, debating. But in the end, the thought of free food — and a few hours outside of your own damn thoughts — pushed you out the door. You told yourself you’d stay thirty minutes. Just enough to show your face, eat something, maybe even smile like your bones weren’t aching with guilt.

But the second you stepped into the crowd, you knew something was wrong.

The air was wrong.

Too still. Too sharp. The way it gets before a thunderstorm or a fight.

People were looking at you. Not glancing — staring. Some subtly. Others, not at all. A few whispered to each other, heads bowed close like conspirators at a wake. Their eyes flicked up every few seconds, straight at you, as if you’d grown horns or started bleeding from the mouth.

You tried to convince yourself it was in your head. You hadn’t been around this many people in weeks. Of course it felt overwhelming. Of course everything felt too much.

But then it kept happening.

Someone who normally smiled at you — a woman you’d traded flour with two weeks ago — turned her head sharply when you passed. Wouldn’t even meet your eyes.

A man you used to laugh with at the greenhouse suddenly got real interested in a plate of carrots.

By the time you reached the food table, your chest felt like it had been filled with wet cement. Your hands were shaking. Your skin hot and cold all at once. The walls of the square seemed to close in, every table too close, every whisper sharpened like glass.

“…heard it was Joel…”

“…Tommy’s girl, wasn’t she?”

“…no wonder he looks like hell…”

You weren’t sure if you were going to faint or vomit.

And just as you turned to leave — just as you told yourself forget it, just go home — a hand gripped your arm and tugged you sideways into the alley behind the mess tent.

You barely had time to react before your back was against the cool stone of a wall and Joel Miller was standing in front of you, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

His voice was low, urgent. “You okay?”

You blinked at him, disoriented. “What—? What are you doing?”

“Could ask you the same damn thing,” he muttered, eyes scanning your face. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You swallowed hard. “People are… looking at me. Talking. Joel, what’s going on?”

He shifted, jaw working. You could see it — that hesitance. That frustration.

“I told her,” he said finally. “My ex-wife. ’Bout us.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I told her. Sat down and told her the truth. ’Bout me and you. About what I did.”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came.

Joel continued, voice rough, like gravel dragged over pavement. “Didn’t expect her to forgive me. Sure as hell didn’t think she’d tell the whole damn town. But… she fuckin’ did.”

The words crashed over you like cold water.

Everyone knows.

The whispers. The stares.

You pressed a hand to your mouth, feeling sick. “God.”

“She said people had a right to know,” Joel muttered. “Don’t know why she thinks it’s their business but it’s not like I could’ve stopped her. Didn’t know she was gonna do that.”

You backed against the wall, head swimming. “She’s not wrong. She— she has every right to be angry.”

Joel nodded slowly. “Yeah. She does.”

You were quiet for a beat.

Then you whispered, “But if they’re looking at me like this… then what about Tommy?”

Joel’s expression tensed.

Your eyes burned. “He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t do anything wrong, and now he’s being looked at like he’s broken, like he’s the idiot who got played—”

“Hey.” Joel took a step closer, softer now. “I know. Believe me. I know.”

And just as you were about to say something else — to ask what Joel had seen, if Tommy had said anything — someone stumbled into the alley behind you.

Fast. Breathing hard. Gasping like he’d run the whole town.

You turned sharply. And there he was.

Tommy.

He didn’t see you at first. His hands were on top of his head, fingers laced as he paced two frantic steps forward, then back, trying to slow the breath rattling out of his lungs.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, voice low and wrecked. “What the fuck. Fuck." He put his hand across his heart as if to slow its beat. He looked like he was having a panic attack.

You froze. Joel did too.

He looked like panic made flesh — red-faced, eyes wide, shoulders shaking. His clothes were damp with sweat despite the chill, curls stuck to his forehead, his chest rising and falling like he’d outrun his own thoughts.

And then — he turned.

His eyes landed on Joel first. Then you.

His whole body went still. And the silence that followed was sharper than any scream.

At first, he just stared. Then — he laughed.

But it wasn’t the kind of laugh you remembered. Not the soft, throaty one he used when he was teasing you in the garden, or that boyish chuckle when you surprised him with a joke. This laugh was sharp, broken at the edges. It didn’t sound like relief. It sounded like something inside him finally cracked.

He kept laughing — once, then again, a breathless huff that collapsed into a sniffle. Like he was going crazy. He dragged a hand across his face, but his eyes never left the two of you.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ joking,” he said, voice hoarse.

He took a shaky step closer. His eyes were bloodshot, wide and dark like they were drowning in everything unsaid.

“Back here?” His voice trembled, then rose. “Hidin' back here, together, while the whole goddamn town is whisperin' about us?”

“Tommy—” you stepped forward, but he flinched.

“Don’t.” He pointed at you, then Joel. “Don’t do that thing where you act like it’s nothin'.”

His chest rose and fell in ragged bursts. “You two back here doin' — what? Fuckin' again? Thought you’d sneak off for another round while they’re out there lookin’ at me like I’m a fuckin’ stray dog that got kicked in the ribs?”

Joel stepped forward too, hands half-raised in surrender. “It’s not like that, Tommy. We were just talkin’, I swear—”

“Yeah?” Tommy barked. “Just talkin’? Like last time? Or the time before that?”

“It’s not what you think—” you tried again.

“It’s exactly what I think!” he shouted, voice cracking. “’Cause I know what it looks like. I know what people are sayin’. Do you have any idea how many people came up to me today, eyes all soft and sorry, like I just got left at the fuckin’ altar?”

You felt it then — a deep twist of guilt in your gut. His pain wasn’t subtle. It was all over him, in the way his arms stayed stiff at his sides, in the way his mouth kept twitching like he was trying not to break right there in front of you.

“They’re lookin’ at me like I’m pathetic,” he spat. “Like I’m too stupid to know what’s good for me. And you two—” his voice caught, and he finally blinked away the first tear that slipped free, “—you’re just back here. Hidin'. Doin' whatever the fuck this is.”

“We didn’t do anything,” Joel said, voice low.

Tommy’s eyes flicked to him. “You’re the last person I want to hear from.”

Joel fell silent.

You stepped forward again, slower this time, heart in your throat. “Tommy, please. Just listen. I didn’t know she was gonna tell anyone. I didn’t want this—”

“You did it though,” he said, barely above a whisper. “And now the whole town knows. And I get to be the fuckin’ punchline.”

His face crumpled, a fresh wave of hurt surfacing just beneath the surface — but he swallowed it back down. Didn’t let it rise. He didn’t yell again. Didn’t cry. He just looked at you like you were someone he didn’t recognize anymore.

And then he turned.

You reached for him without thinking. “Tommy—”

But he stepped out of your grasp. “Don’t,” he said, not angry anymore — just tired. “Just… don’t.”

And he walked away.

Not fast. Not storming. Just… left.

And it hurt worse than if he’d screamed.

You stood frozen for a moment after Tommy disappeared into the crowd — like if you stayed still enough, maybe time would reverse itself, maybe he’d come back. But he didn’t.

The silence that followed felt suffocating. Even the wind seemed to hush around you, like the whole world had heard what just happened.

Joel exhaled slowly beside you, his arms hanging limp, eyes downcast. “Well,” he muttered, voice rough and low, “that went to hell real fuckin’ fast.”

You didn’t answer.

Your heart was pounding so hard it echoed in your ears. You could still see the look in Tommy’s eyes — disbelief, betrayal, something splintered and sharp, like it physically hurt him to look at you. You hated it. Hated knowing you put that expression on his face.

“I shouldn’t’ve said anything to her,” Joel added, more to himself than you. “I knew she’d be pissed, but I didn’t think she’d… tell the whole goddamn town.”

“She had a right to be angry,” you murmured. “We hurt her, too.”

“Yeah, well,” Joel scoffed, dragging a hand through his hair, “I was ready to deal with her bein’ angry. Not every fuckin’ person in this settlement looking at us like we pissed in the water supply.”

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable. “You alright?”

You shook your head. “No.”

And for once, he didn’t press. Didn’t try to smooth it over. He just nodded.

“I know you said you were working on yourself,” you said, your voice quiet and thick. “And I believe that. But I’m not… I’m not okay, Joel. I haven’t been okay since that night. Since I lost him.”

He looked away. You could see the guilt set heavy on his shoulders.

“I'm lost,” you admitted, eyes stinging. “And now… now he thinks I’m still sneaking around with you, after everything. After I tried so hard to give him the space to heal.”

Joel exhaled hard through his nose, scowling at the dirt. “He’ll calm down.”

You frowned. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice dry. “I don’t.”

You both stood there in the quiet, the sounds of the Thanksgiving celebration still echoing faintly beyond the building — laughter, music, a child yelling for another piece of bread. It all felt miles away.

Joel finally spoke, gravel in his throat. “I didn’t wanna make things worse for you. I know what people are sayin’. I know what it looks like.”

You turned to him, heart aching. “I don’t care what it looks like for me. I care what it looks like for him. He didn’t do anything wrong, and now he’s the one people are whispering about. Staring at.”

Joel didn’t respond.

You crossed your arms over your chest, squeezing them tight. “He looked like he was about to fall apart. He was—he was running, Joel. From them. From all of it.”

Joel’s eyes closed for a beat. “I didn’t think he’d take it this hard.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “You should’ve. We both should’ve.”

Another long silence.

“I deserve it,” Joel said finally. “The looks. The talk. Whatever comes.”

You nodded, a bitter smile tugging at your mouth. “Maybe we both do.”

But even as you said it, your stomach twisted with something else — not guilt, exactly. Not shame. Something softer, sadder. Regret.

Because maybe you did deserve the judgment. But Tommy didn’t. He just loved someone he thought he could trust.

And now?

Now he was alone in it. And you didn’t know how to fix that.

Tommy,

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this.

Maybe I’ll leave it in a drawer with the others until the paper yellows. But I needed to write you — even if it’s only into the quiet.

I keep thinking about your hands. How they never reached for me in a rush. How they held me like I was something worth protecting — not because I was fragile, but because I was yours. You made me feel steady, even when the world was still shaking under my feet.

You loved me like I had never been broken.

And I think… I think that’s part of why I broke everything.

It doesn’t make sense, I know. But love like yours — it asks you to rise. And I didn’t know how to. Not then.

I was still mourning something I couldn’t name. The future I’d lost. The person I used to be. There was a storm in me I didn’t know how to quiet, and sometimes when Joel and I sat in that silence together, it felt like breathing underwater — wrong, but familiar. He knew the dark. I think I mistook that for safety.

But please believe me. I loved you.

Even when I was with him. Even when I chose wrong. Even now.

It wasn’t about choosing someone over you — it was about losing myself. And in the wreckage, I hurt the one person I never meant to. You didn’t deserve it. You never did.

I remember the way your voice softened when you said my name. The way you smiled when you thought I wasn’t looking. The way your fingers brushed the small of my back like you were memorizing me. God, Tommy — I loved you so quietly, I think you never realized how loud it lived in me.

And now I’ve stained it. I’ve stained us.

The worst part is knowing I can’t take it back. That no matter how many times I whisper your name in the dark, you won’t be there to answer it anymore.

I don’t expect anything. Not forgiveness. Not understanding.

But if there’s a part of you — even a splinter — that still remembers what we were when it was good… please hold onto that. Not for me. But for you. Because what we had was real, Tommy.

Even if I broke it.

I need you. Still. And always a little too late.

Love always

It had become a cruel joke at this point — how often you and Tommy ended up in the same room. Same roads. Same shops. Same town that felt smaller and smaller every time he looked through you like you were a stranger.

You hadn’t seen him at the counter when you walked into the diner — your mind too tired to scan for him, your stomach louder than your anxiety. But there he was, three seats down. Hunched over a half-eaten plate of food, nursing a cup of coffee like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Your throat tightened, but you didn’t leave. You couldn’t. The place was packed, and you were already late.

Tommy didn’t acknowledge you, but you saw it. The way his jaw tensed. The way his fork slowed down just slightly. He knew you were there. Of course he did. And the silence between you throbbed louder than the low hum of conversation around you.

You just wanted a quiet breakfast. Something warm. Something simple.

The man who sat down next to you smelled like sweat and old cigarettes. When he noticed you, he looked at you like you were a meal he’d already half-finished and didn’t particularly respect.

“Well, look who it is,” he muttered, loud enough for the next table to hear. “Didn’t think you’d show your face again.”

You didn’t look at him. “Not interested.”

“Bet that’s what you told Joel the first time, too. And Tommy. And who knows who else.”

The words hit you like ice water.

“Please leave me alone,” you said under your breath.

“Why?” he laughed. “Ain’t like your legs were closed before. You really gonna act shy now? After the whole town knows you were screwin’ around with both Miller brothers like it was your own little soap opera?”

You stiffened. People were starting to look over. The volume of his voice was rising, and so was your shame.

“Heard you like it rough. Heard you like to beg. How’d the Millers allow a little slut like you to ruin their family?”

You looked down, eyes stinging. The whispers were back, growing louder. You could feel them clinging to your skin.

"Ever think your mama died just so she wouldn’t have to watch her daughter turn into a whore?"

You felt it before you heard it — a sudden, unnatural stillness beside you.

The scrape of a stool. Then the sound of wood skittering against tile.

Tommy was on his feet.

Not rising — erupting.

His chair tipped backward, clattering to the ground, but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t look down. His eyes were locked onto the man beside you, and there was nothing soft left in them. Not anger. Not pain. Not grief.

Just something unhinged.

Something raw.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Tommy said, low and dangerous.

His voice didn’t sound like his own. It was quieter than you expected. Quieter than it should have been. But somehow, it carried through the room like a warning bell — low and deadly, the kind of tone that makes your stomach twist before your mind even catches up.

The man — greasy, smug, half-drunk — let out a laugh. He spread his arms like he was performing for the audience that was already starting to gather.

“Jesus, man, I’m just sayin’ what everyone else is thinkin’. You’re the one who got played. She—”

He didn’t finish.

Tommy’s fist hit his jaw so hard it made a crack like splitting bone.

The man reeled back into the counter with a grunt, clutching his mouth — but Tommy was already on him, fists flying with brutal, bone-breaking precision.

One. Two. Three.

You heard flesh meet flesh. Heard the man groan, then whimper, then go quiet as Tommy drove his fist into his face again and again — not just to hurt, but to erase him.

Curses spilled from Tommy’s mouth like venom. His breath ragged. His whole body shaking as he pressed forward, knuckles smeared red, eyes burning with something wild.

“Tommy!” you cried out, voice cracking.

But he didn’t hear you. He didn’t hear anything.

It was like watching someone drown from the inside out — a man unraveling, coming apart blow by blow.

The man had fallen to the floor now, barely conscious, one eye already swelling shut — but Tommy kept going. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and hauled him partway up just to drive another fist into his ribs. The sickening thud echoed like a gunshot.

Someone screamed. A chair scraped. Then another.

It took three grown men to finally drag Tommy off — his fists still swinging, legs kicking, his voice hoarse and cracked with rage. He struggled like an animal in a trap, teeth bared, his breath coming in ragged bursts that sounded more like gasps than anything human.

You stood frozen, rooted to the spot, hands trembling.

Tommy’s face was smeared with blood — some his, most not. His eyes darted around the room as they held him back, chest heaving, fists still clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white beneath the blood.

And then — it stopped. Like someone had pulled the plug.

No one spoke. No one moved.

The diner had gone completely still. Forks hovered mid-air. Half-eaten food sat forgotten. Every eye in the room was on him — on the blood, the wreckage, the man everyone thought they knew.

Tommy looked down at his hands, and something in him shifted.

Like he’d just realized where he was. What he’d done.

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing more blood across his cheek. His gaze found you — just for a second.

And in that second, he didn’t look furious anymore.

He looked shattered.

Then, without a word, he shrugged off the hands holding him, turned, and walked out the door. Leaving silence and blood in his wake.

And you sat there, tears brimming, your heart in your throat.

It wasn’t just the shame that burned — it was the truth.

He was still protecting you.

Even now. Even after everything. And it was killing him.

The cold hit you first. Bitter and sharp against your skin, the kind that makes your lungs ache. But you didn’t care. You just ran — out the diner, past the wooden porch, boots scraping against the icy gravel road as you tried to catch up to him.

“Tommy!” you called, breathless. “Tommy, please— just wait!”

He kept walking. Fast. Determined. Like if he didn’t stop, none of this could catch him. Like if he just moved fast enough, he wouldn’t feel it. Wouldn’t feel you.

But you weren’t giving up this time. You couldn’t.

“Tommy—!”

He spun around so fast you almost ran right into him. His eyes were wild, his chest heaving from more than just the fight. His voice, when it came, was fire and fury and grief all wrapped into one.

“What the fuck do you want?” he snapped, sharp enough to cut you in half.

You staggered a step back, breath catching in your throat. He looked like he could explode all over again — jaw clenched, hands curled at his sides like he didn’t know what else to do with them. You’d never seen him like this. Not even the night he left.

“Tommy, I— I needed to talk to you. I just needed to say—”

“I’m losing my fuckin' mind,” he cut you off, voice shaking now. “You think I wanna feel like this? You think I like that I can’t stop giving a shit even when I want to?”

He laughed then — a dark, miserable sound that cracked somewhere in the middle. “I feel so goddamn stupid, you know that? All this shit people are saying about me— whispers, stares, fuckin' sympathy— I should be brushing it off. I shouldn’t care. But I do.”

His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.

“And you know what that means?” he continued, stepping forward like the weight of it was too much to carry still. “It means I’m a fuckin' idiot. ‘Cause it proves I never got over you. That I thought I could, and I couldn’t. That maybe I never will.”

The words hit you hard, hollowing you out from the inside. But he wasn’t finished.

“I hate that I care about what they’re saying. But I hate it more when I hear them talkin' about you like that. Like you’re nothin' but some goddamn whore.” His voice cracked, his face twisting. “And after what that guy said in there…”

He looked down at his hands — still bloody, still trembling.

“I don’t even remember throwing the first punch,” he admitted, softer now. “I just saw red. Thought about everything. The whispers. The looks. Thanksgiving. You and Joel. I was already chokin' on all of it. And then that bastard had the nerve to bring up your mom and it just— snapped.”

He ran a hand through his hair, turning away. “And I lost it. I fuckin' lost it.”

You stood still, barely breathing. You could still feel the tension radiating off of him like heat. Still hear the echo of fists on skin, that sick, awful crack that had made your stomach twist.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, so quietly you barely heard it. “When I saw your face after, the way you looked at me…”

You stepped forward before he could finish. “I was scared,” you said honestly. “But not of you. I was scared because I didn’t know how much more either of us could take.”

His eyes met yours, and in them you saw something flicker. Guilt. Sadness. Love that hadn’t gone anywhere — it had just been buried under the rubble.

“And I need you to know,” you continued, “what you saw at Thanksgiving? With Joel? We weren’t doing anything. He was just warning me… that his ex wife told people. That everyone knew. That’s it.”

Tommy looked away, jaw tight. “Didn’t feel like nothin'.”

“I know,” you said. “But it was. I swear it was.”

A long silence stretched between you, brittle and cold. You watched him breathe, eyes fixed on the horizon like it could offer him answers.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he muttered eventually. “You broke my heart. I don’t even know if I can forgive you yet.”

You nodded, your chest aching. “I’m not asking you to. I just… wanted you to know the truth. And I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything.”

He stared at you for a long time, the anger slowly bleeding from his features. Replaced by exhaustion. By wariness. By that familiar softness that hadn’t quite died, no matter how hard he tried to bury it.

“I don’t know what the hell we’re supposed to do now,” he admitted, voice rough.

“Me either,” you whispered. “But maybe we figure it out. Or maybe… we don’t. I just didn’t want you carrying all of this alone anymore. Let me explain everything with Joel. Please Tommy."

He stared, you could see him debating the offer in his mind. But then he nodded — once — and started walking away, indicating he wanted you to follow.

The morning air was thick with tension as you followed Tommy through the sleet covered streets, your footsteps echoing in the silence. He hadn't said a word since you left the diner, his posture rigid, his pace quickening with each step. You hesitated, unsure if you should speak, but the weight of the moment pressed on you.

Finally, you reached his doorstep. Tommy paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Without turning to face you, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "Don't mind the mess. Haven't really had it in me to clean lately."

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know."

He exhaled sharply, pushing the door open and stepping aside.

Inside, the house was eerily quiet. The usual warmth and comfort seemed absent, replaced by an unsettling stillness. You followed him into the living room, your eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. It was as if the walls themselves held secrets, memories of a time before everything had changed.

Tommy led you down a narrow hallway to the bathroom. The fluorescent light flickered overhead as he stood before the mirror, staring at his reflection. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for the sink, turning on the cold water and splashing it onto his face. The blood from the earlier altercation began to mix with the water, swirling down the drain.

Frustration etched deep lines into his forehead as he scrubbed harder, trying to erase the evidence of his actions. You watched him, your heart aching at the sight. This wasn't the man you knew — the gentle, kind-hearted soul who had shown you what love could be. This was someone else, someone broken.

You stepped forward, your hand gently resting on his shoulder. "Tommy," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Let me."

He stiffened under your touch but didn't pull away. Slowly, he sank onto the toilet seat, his head bowed, his hands clasped tightly together. You moved to the sink, wetting a washcloth with warm, soapy water. As you approached him, you hesitated for a moment before gently dabbing at the blood on his face.

The action was tender, soothing, a silent apology for the pain you had caused. As you cleaned him, your thoughts spilled out, raw and unfiltered.

"I've been with Joel for a while now— little over a year," you began, your voice trembling. "I knew he was married, but I thought... I thought I wanted him so badly. He made me feel things I hadn't felt in a long time. I thought he loved me."

Tommy's body tensed under your touch, his jaw clenching. You paused, meeting his gaze in the mirror. "I wasn't delusional. I knew he had a wife. But something about the way he made me feel... it made me think it was okay."

You continued, your hands moving carefully over his skin, wiping away the remnants of the morning's violence. "Over time, his love felt like hate. We were addicted to each other, but it was toxic. He never opened up to me, and I finally ended things."

His eyes softened, but the pain was still there, lurking beneath the surface.

"That's when I met you," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "At first, I was in a dark place. But you... you pulled me out of it. You showed me what love is supposed to feel like."

Tommy's breath hitched, his eyes closing as if to block out the flood of emotions.

"But then Joel came to me," you continued, your voice breaking. "He was jealous. He said he realized he truly loved me. He left his wife for me. And I... I didn't know what to do."

You paused, your heart heavy with the weight of your confession. "I wanted you, Tommy. That's why I spent so much time with you. I wanted to avoid Joel. And when you went on that supply run, I knew he would come. And he did. He made me feel like I wasn't good enough for you. Like I was a bad person."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you spoke. "He opened up about his past, and I was so confused. He said we belonged together. He manipulated me. And I believed him. I thought you deserved better. And that's why I did what I did."

Tommy's hand reached up, brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek. His touch was gentle, hesitant.

"I understand if you hate me," you whispered. "But I needed you to know the truth."

Silence enveloped the room, thick and suffocating. Tommy sat there, unmoving, processing your words. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted.

You nodded, understanding the complexity of the situation. "I don't expect forgiveness. I just wanted you to know everything."

The cloth had turned a deep rust color, blood clinging to the fibers no matter how many times you rinsed it. The water swirled pink in the sink, warm and steady, but your hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Tommy hadn’t said a word since you finished cleaning his face, finished dabbing at the streaks of blood with a gentle touch.

He looked so different now. Tired. Hollowed. Quiet in a way that didn’t suit him. Like joy had been scraped out of him with something sharp and careless. Like he’d been living on borrowed breath ever since.

You didn’t know why the words started pouring out.

Only that they’d lived too long in your chest. That this silence between you was wide enough to carry them.

“She wanted me to come,” you said, barely a whisper. “My mom. We were down to a single can of beans and a couple stale crackers. She said she’d feel better if we went together. That two pairs of eyes were better than one.”

Tommy looked up, slow and careful.

“But I was… I was scared,” you confessed, fingers tightening around the cloth. “It was getting dark. I didn’t want to be out there when the sun went down. I begged her to go without me. So she did.”

You let out a breath that trembled as it left you.

“She kissed my forehead, told me to bar the door behind her, and promised she’d be back before moonlight.”

You blinked hard.

“She came back with a broken lantern and a ripped jacket… and a bite.”

Your throat swelled shut at the memory, your voice a fragile thing breaking against the edges of your teeth.

“I believed — I still believe — that if I’d gone with her, she wouldn’t’ve been bit. Or I would’ve been. Or we would’ve both made it. I don’t know. I just know I didn’t go, and she died.”

A beat passed. Tommy's eyes filled with sorrow.

“When I saw the bite, I begged her to cut it off. I screamed until my voice broke. But it was already too late. Her hand was gray. The veins were turning. She knew.”

You stared at the cloth in your hands like it could wash the past clean too.

“She held me, told me she loved me, and then she made me promise to lock myself in the back room when it started. I tried. I did. I held the door shut and covered my ears. But I could still hear her.”

Your voice splintered.

“And when it stopped— when it went quiet— I waited for hours. And then I opened the door.”

You didn’t have to say what you saw. The image lived behind your eyes every time they closed.

“I used a fireplace poker,” you said, quieter now. “It took more than one hit.”

Tommy’s mouth parted, but no sound came. His eyes shimmered like they were carrying the weight for you.

“I didn’t cry until it was over. And then I couldn’t stop. I buried her behind that barn with my bare hands. No shovel. Just dirt under my nails and blood on my wrists.”

You sat back against the wall and laughed softly, bitter and aching.

“After that, I wandered. I ended up with this man who said he’d keep me safe. I didn’t know what safe was supposed to look like anymore, so I believed him. He was kind at first. Gave me food, taught me how to shoot. But it turned fast.”

You wiped your eyes, only for fresh tears to take their place.

“He got possessive. Controlling. Said I owed him for everything. And one night… he tried to take what I didn’t owe. I ran. I didn’t stop running. Left everything behind. Everything but the scars.”

You traced a faint mark on your forearm, barely visible now, like a ghost trying to fade.

“I didn’t trust anyone for a long time. I fought for scraps. Slept in trees or crumbled houses. Stayed feral. And then… I found Jackson.”

You looked over at Tommy then. Really looked at him.

“And for the first time, people didn’t look at me like I was a stray. They gave me a home. A job. A name that didn’t feel like it came with blood.”

You drew in a shaky breath, your voice cracking again.

“So when Joel started looking at me like I was worth something, I couldn’t help it. I mistook it for love. I didn’t know better. I was still learning what love’s supposed to feel like.”

Your chest felt too tight to hold the truth. But you said it anyway.

“Until you.”

The room was quiet except for the sound of your tears.

“I was already damaged by the time I met you,” you said. “But you… you made me feel like I wasn’t broken beyond repair. Like I could be something soft. Something whole again.”

You stood slowly, walking to the sink and rinsing the rag one more time. The last of the blood twisted down the drain, disappearing into the dark.

“But I ruined that,” you said, voice low. “And I’ll live with it for the rest of my life.”

You turned back to Tommy.

He hadn’t moved. Not really. But something in his face had shifted — not softened, but cracked. A splintering of something buried deep.

If he spoke, you’d let him. If he didn’t, you’d understand.

You had no right to expect anything anymore.

You just wanted him to know who you really were before you lost the chance to be known at all.

You collapsed before you even realized your knees had given out.

The sobs had clawed their way up your throat so violently, you weren’t sure if you were breathing anymore. They weren’t dainty, quiet cries — they were guttural, trembling things, born from the deepest pit of memory. From the moment her hand slid from yours. From the way you waited for hours by the door until she came back bitten. From the awful silence that followed after you had to do the unthinkable.

The fire poker. Her eyes, no longer hers. The smell of blood and burnt iron.

The first swing. The second. The third.

You curled into yourself on the cold bathroom floor as if that could somehow undo the memory, or at least contain it.

And then there were arms around you.

Tommy didn’t speak. He didn’t try to hush you or ask questions or pretend to understand. He just gathered you into him with a tenderness that broke something else inside you — something quieter. Something long-starved.

You buried your face in his chest and let yourself fall apart completely.

“I’ve never told anyone,” you gasped eventually, your throat raw. “No one knows. They knew my mom died but not— not how. I never wanted to say it out loud. I was so scared. I should’ve gone with her. If I had, maybe— maybe she wouldn’t have been bit.”

Tommy’s grip around you tightened, protective and grounding.

“You were a child,” he murmured, his voice hushed like a prayer. “You were scared. That doesn’t make it your fault.”

You shook your head fiercely. “I had to kill her, Tommy. With a fucking fire poker. It took more than one hit. She didn’t even look like her anymore. But I saw her face. I saw it in the way she flinched before I— I just wanted it to stop.”

You started sobbing again, harder now, and he guided you gently back against his chest, cradling your head, his palm rubbing soft circles into your spine.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “I’m so sorry for all of it. For Joel. For the way I left things. For hurting you.”

Tommy’s voice broke when he finally answered. “I’m sorry too. I should’ve listened. Should’ve let you explain. Maybe we wouldn’t’ve ended up in pieces.”

You lifted your head just enough to look at him — eyes red, cheeks blotchy. He reached up and brushed a tear from your cheek with a knuckle, like the gentlest thing he’d ever done.

“I ended things with Joel before you got back,” you whispered. “He told me he loved me and I couldn’t even say it back. I told him to leave. That it was over. I didn’t want him. Not anymore.”

Tommy swallowed, eyes searching yours. You could see the pain still there, beneath the surface. But you saw something else, too — that warm, quiet flicker that had always made you feel like home.

“I think about you every single day,” you said, voice trembling. “About what I lost. What I gave up. You made me feel like I wasn’t broken.”

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t look away.

“I missed you,” he said finally, like the words had been waiting behind his ribs for too long. “Even when I didn’t want to. Even when it hurt like hell.”

You reached up and took his hand in yours. “I love you, Tommy. I never stopped. Not even when I hated myself.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I love you too.”

And then he kissed you.

It was soft and slow, mouths trembling against each other, tasting of sorrow and healing and all the time you’d lost. You didn’t rush it. You just held on — fingers in his hair, heart splintering open in your chest like a window cracking to let the light in.

When you pulled back, your breath hitched. You didn’t want to let go. But some part of you still felt like you didn’t deserve to stay.

So you stood.

“I should go,” you murmured, voice quiet as you reached for the rag still clutched in your hand.

Tommy stayed on the floor, staring at the tile like it held the answers.

Then — softly, but with no hesitation — his hand reached out.

He caught your fingers in his, callused and warm, holding them like something sacred. Both of your eyes were still swollen. Both of your hearts still trembling. But the air between you had shifted — lighter now. Honest.

“Stay,” he said, voice low and aching. “Please stay.”

Your chest cracked. The ache, the guilt, the love — all of it swelled so fast it felt like it might knock you down again.

But you didn’t fall. “Okay.”

You knelt back down. Took his face in your hands. And kissed him once more.

This time, it wasn’t goodbye.

It was the beginning.

It started slow. Careful. Like the two of you were afraid of what you might find in each other’s mouths after so long. His lips trembled against yours like he didn’t trust the shape they made when they remembered your name. And you — you kissed him like someone starving for something you had no right to taste.

Tommy had every reason to push you away. Every reason to hate you. You cheated. You broke the one thing he gave you freely. His trust.

But he didn’t move. Didn’t recoil. He just held your face between his hands, like you were something fragile he hadn’t decided whether to keep or crush.

“I should hate you,” he said against your mouth, voice gravel-thick and shaking. “I want to. Jesus, I want to. But I don’t.”

The words cracked something inside you.

You’d cried before. At the diner. In the hallway. At night when no one could hear you. But now, in the quiet wreckage of his bathroom, with the moonlight cutting through the window like a witness, you shattered.

Your hands trembled where they rested on his chest, fingers fisting into the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing holding you to earth. His heartbeat was wild beneath your palm—chaotic and human and so, so full of pain.

“I don’t deserve this,” you whispered. “I don’t deserve you.”

Tommy pressed his forehead to yours, exhaling through his nose like it hurt to keep breathing.

“No,” he admitted, eyes shut tight. “You don’t.”

It would’ve hurt more if he’d lied.

“But I still fuckin' love you.”

That’s when the kiss deepened.

It turned desperate. Hungry. A kind of grief-driven hunger that came from needing to remember everything you were terrified you’d forgotten. His hands roamed — slow and reverent — across your ribs, your waist, your jaw. Yours mirrored his, like you were rediscovering a map your heart still knew by memory.

The bathroom floor was cold beneath you. His hands were still stained with blood, your cheeks streaked with salt. The air between you carried the heat of unspoken apologies, of regrets that couldn’t be undone.

Tommy’s breath caught as he kissed down the curve of your jaw, whispering things he probably shouldn’t say.

“I tried to forget you,” he rasped. “I thought if I hated you enough… if I stayed mad long enough… it’d go away. But it didn’t.”

You nodded, pressing your lips to the pulse in his throat.

“I didn’t mean to ruin us,” you choked. “I was so lost, and Joel— he twisted everything in my head. Made me believe I was too broken to be loved the way you loved me.”

Tommy flinched at his brother’s name but didn’t pull back.

“I still trusted you,” he said, voice like crushed glass. “Even when I shouldn’t have. Even when I saw you with him, part of me kept hopin' you’d look at me the way you used to. Like I was enough.”

“You were always enough,” you swore, the words barely breathing between you. “I just didn’t believe I was.”

Tommy’s eyes shimmered — red-rimmed and raw. He looked at you like he didn’t know whether to kiss you again or run. But instead, he touched your cheek with the back of his fingers, like you were a ghost he hadn’t dared reach for.

“I didn’t know how badly you had me wrapped around your fingers,” he whispered. “Not until you were gone.”

You curled into him, your tears soaking into his shoulder.

When he kissed you again, it was slower. More cautious. Like he was sealing a promise he didn’t know if he could keep.

Your thumbs traced the curve of his cheekbones and relearned the softness beneath the man hardened by grief.

He kissed you deeper, tongue slipping passed the curve of your teeth, exploring like the territory was new to him. He wasn’t going to stop this, not with the way your hands began to drift down his chest, his sternum — slipping underneath the fabric of his worn flannel, exploring his body all over again. Not with the way his fingers curled against your waist like he was terrified of letting go again.

And not with how long it had been since he last touched you like this — with worship and ache and hunger all braided together.

You kissed him back slower this time, deeper — like your lungs knew his breath better than your own. You felt the way his lips were cracked from the cold. The way his rough stubble scraped your skin like a memory you welcomed.

The tension, the grief, the time — it all burned through your veins as you rocked your hips against his, feeling the way his length was already bulging through the fabric of his jeans. It’s been too long since you felt the drag of his teeth against your jaw, leaving a trail of saliva along the way. Too long since you curled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging to keep yourself upright. Too long since your name slipped from his throat like a prayer, sounding like he was waiting for this day too.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice shaking. “You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

You didn’t respond. Just pressed closer until there was nothing between you but the restricting fabric. So close your knees dug painfully into the cold tile.

And when he groaned — low and guttural — you felt it in your spine.

He wrapped his arms around your back, laying you carefully on the hard floor — hips grinding into yours for any sense of relief, fingers brushing the stray hairs from your eyes. He was full of lust, full of hunger. Full of grief and devotion.

“I shouldn’t want this,” he muttered against your skin, mouth moving along you jaw, your neck, the hollow beneath your ear. “I should fuckin’ hate you.”

“I know.” You whispered.

“But I can’t.”

You didn’t realize you were crying again until he kissed your tears away.

“I tried to hate you,” he said, hands slipping beneath your shirt, rough palms mapping your ribs like he had to memorize every inch before sliding higher — grazing against the curve of your nipples already peaking. “God, I tried. But my heart was still reaching for you every time our paths crossed. I couldn’t scrub you outta me.”

You swallowed a sob, your body arching beneath his touch as he pushed your shirt above your chest — revealing your needy body underneath. His hands traveled all around the hills of your breasts, his head trailing kisses slowly down your body — hovering just over your curves. You instinctively arched up, trying to meet his mouth. His eyes flicked to yours, dark and hungry. He looked mad, yet his touch indicated otherwise.

“I still love you,” he confessed. You’re breath hitched, his lips trembled. “Even after everything you’ve done. Even after you ruined me. I still fuckin’ love you.”

Then his mouth was everywhere — desperate and sure — like he was reclaiming something sacred. And you let him. Let him bite at the soft flesh of your breasts, marking the skin no one else had touched in over a month. Your back screamed in pain against the bathroom tile, your fingers clung to him like a lifeline.

He was clumsy. Licking circles, flicking his tongue against your aching nubs. Taking your nipples between his teeth — sending electic shocks through your body — before sucking them into his mouth, tasting every part of you. His curls fell messily into his eyes when he pulled away with a loud pop. He’s never looked more unkept. But the way his eyes found yours underneath his curls had you squirming.

He trailed his fingers down to the clasp of your jeans, undoing the button and pushing them down to your ankles. You kicked them off, spreading your legs — ready and pleading. The soft cotton of your panties darkened in the center, proving how much you needed this — him.

His palm rubbed on the outside of the cotton — a soft whimper escaping your lips at his touch. He never broke his eye contact with you as his finger hooked, pulling your panties to the side and revealing your glistening pussy.

One of his fingers trailed achingly slow through your folds, collecting your juices and rubbing small circles when he came into contact with you swollen clit. He was killing you slowly, that was for sure. You spread your legs wider, begging for him to push his fingers through your entrance. But still, he trailed his fingers between you with that deadly eye contact you couldn’t stand anymore.

“Soaked.” Is all he said after a while. You didn’t know if he was trying to torture you. If maybe he was doing this to you as some sort of sick revenge plot. Have you ruined from his touch, begging and pleading for him, and then walk away without finishing what he started.

But finally, he pushed two fingers inside of you — sucking in a breath when he felt how ready you were for him. He started a slow pace, watching the way his fingers were soaked as he pulled out — just to push back in harder than before.

“Tommy…” You quivered. “Tommy please. I’m hurting— I.”

He leaned in close, lips hovering over yours. He rubbed your temple with his thumb, caressed your face.

“God, no one’s touched you in a while, have they?”

You shook your head harshly, mouth making a small O when his fingers started thrusting into you faster. A disgusting squelch filled the air.

His eyes had a fire behind them as he asked: “Was I the last person to touch you like this? The the last person to fill your pretty pussy with their fingers, huh?”

“Oh— god, yes Tommy. Just you.” You moaned. His fingers now curved inside of you, his thumb rubbing hard circles against your throbbing clit. He smirked, the fire fading out knowing that you’ve been waiting for him. Knowing you’ve been wanting him and only him.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispered. “Gonna take good care of my girl.”

My girl.

You know you probably shouldn’t take that as anything, that maybe it was a heat of the moment thing. But you couldn’t help the way you heart swelled. Couldn’t help the smile spreading across your mouth. 

You heard him throw his belt on the bathroom floor with a rough clank. Heard the fabric of his jeans being tugged down as he finally frees himself. You physically gulp, prepared and aching for him.

He rubs his tip over you clit, slapping it against it soflty — teasingly. Your nails dig into his arms. Pleading words escaping your lips.

Tommy grabbed you cheeks with his free hand, looking you dead in the eye as he pushed his cock between your walls. You clenched around the feeling — burning sensation shooting through your body as you attempt to stretch to his size.

“I fuckin’ hate you.” He mutters, pushing himself deeper when he knows that you can take it. Your body trembles, you deserve this. But then his hand is trailing through your hair, tugging slightly — forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“But god do I love you.” He says then. I love you. And he actually, genuinely smiles — a deep moan leaving his lips as he bottoms out. Your nails are scratching him now as you try to adjust to his size. But the burn is pleasurable at the same time. “Open your mouth.”

And you do, knowing that from then on you’ll always do whatever Tommy wants. That you’ll always love Tommy. A string of spit falls between his lips, right into your mouth. You don’t swallow — keeping it open so he can see the way his saliva hits your tongue, pools into your mouth.

"That's my girl," he chuckles lightly, quietly. He finally starts moving inside of you, slow at first. Until he’s going rough, skin slapping skin. “Fuck. Fuck, sweetheart, you can swallow now.”

And you watch the way his eyes blacken, the way he bites harshly at his bottom lip as you swallow his spit. Tasting the inside of his mouth. His hand traces your throat, watching it bob when you drink him.

Tommy sits up, ripping his shirt over his head and pulling your hips into him. His thumb circles your clit while he burries himself deep. Your back is arched off the bathroom floor, tears streaking you face from the pace.

A tight heat coils in the pit of your stomach and your legs shake uncontrollably. Walls clench around him and a groan from deep within leaves his mouth at the feeling.

“Tommy,” you moan, hands tightly wrapped around his wrists to keep yourself steady. “Tommy, come with me.”

“Shit. Yeah okay, babygirl.”

He lies back on top of you, one arm wrapping around your back, the other gripping your thigh as his pace quickens. Hitting you deeper and deeper every time. You’re screaming at this point, body convulsing. And when his thrusts finally falter, you come hard around him and he follows. White strands shooting inside of you. His cock twitches with every pulse.

He gives out, putting his entire weight on you — nothing but breath and bruised hearts, limbs tangled like roots desperate to hold — Tommy moved gently. Tender in a way that nearly broke you. He cleaned you up with warm hands, wiping the sweat and remnants of need from your skin like you were something sacred. Like this was something that mattered.

He helped you to your feet, still unsteady, still shaking from all the things that had been said and the things your bodies couldn’t help but confess. And without a word, he led you through the quiet house. Back to the place that once felt like home.

His room looked the same.

Maybe that’s what hurt the most.

The blankets were still slightly uneven, the corner of the rug still curled like always. His gun sat on the bedside table, unloaded but close. Your side of the bed — the left — was untouched. Like he'd never let himself forget.

He laid you down carefully, like you might shatter, and climbed in behind you without hesitation. You shifted instinctively, curling into him, your back pressed to his chest, his arm sliding around your waist like it had never left.

His warmth enveloped you — all muscle and tension and safety. He smelled like salt and sweat and sex. And still, somehow, it smelled like home.

“We probably shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered, voice hoarse and small, swallowed by the hush of the room. You weren’t sure if you meant it, but the weight of everything hung heavy between you.

You felt him breathe in deep behind you, chest rising slow and steady against your spine. Then, softly — so softly — he answered:

“Stay with me.”

Your breath caught.

No hesitation. No conditions. No more pretending.

You blinked hard against the sting in your eyes, your fingers curling gently around the arm he’d wrapped around you like a shield.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe that maybe love could survive this too.

Tag list: @looneyleo @emmaaas-posts @demo-bats @aphroditesblunt @staley83 @immyowndefender @magicxmiller @wow-life-love4 @thaliagracesgf @sugarminsss @keseqna @ijustrepost @cakesandtom @lovelyc @vampiredoggies-blog @hjzghi-blog

[lilacgaby]

‧₊˚ running out of time,

to make you love me. ₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩

THE PRINCE'S BALL was to be had on his 18th birthday. the week before, you realize the feelings you have harbored over the years for him. little did you know you were both fighting against the time restraint placed on him.

-☆pair. prince!katsuki x servant!reader. tags: fem!reader, cursing, romance, kissing, childhoodfriend!reader, insecurities, pet names(?), miscommunication trope, wingmen, angst to fluff. royal!au wc: 5k

-✩note. based off this drabble i did a long time ago.

“prince, please! just let me–” he shoved your hand that was moving to button up his shirt away, glaring at you. “no. i can do this by myself.”

he fumbled with the buttons, large hands trickly maneuvering them into their respective places. it was a definite struggle, as seen through the furrow in his brow, the snarl on his lips, the twitch of his brow.

oh, and the fact that the shirt was inside out with all the buttons in the wrong holes.

you sighed as you finally took his hands into yours, something that would result in a peasants hand getting cut off entirely. “prince,” you started, “this is my only responsibility. if you become good at this too i'll be out of a job.” you joked.

he scoffed, letting you pull his hand to his side as you unbuttoned his work. flipping the shirt around and working nimbly to get it on. “didn't even need y’r help anyways, i had it.” he muttered.

“of course you did, it's just– this is my job, your highness.” his eye twitched at the assertion of his rank. while it made him feel empowered by others, extras as he'd call them, it brought an odd feeling to have you of all people refer to him that way.

he’d grew up alongside you, the daughter of his very own mother’s handmaiden. you'd play around the castle together, sitting in for lessons with each other. to others it was an odd sight for you to be there, with clothes made of less refined material and hair unstyled and free.

he was raised the first twelve years of his life seeing you as his equal, viewing you almost as a royal all the same. until it was decided you'd be his personal servant. the nickname you had forgotten to time that you'd dubbed him all those years ago was now replaced by a formal ‘prince’. you'd bow to him and fetch him anything he needed. you'd stay by his side all day long, almost like you weren't allowed to leave.

because you weren't. because you were his, though not in the way he wanted.

“i already told you,” he whispered so lowly, if you weren't so close to him you wouldn't have heard it. “when it's just us it's katsuki. like it..

like it used to be.”

your hand paused, staying where it was fluffing up the collar of his button-up. your eyes widened and heart fastened, the pumping in your ears as a smile overtook your face. “..okay katsuki.”

an equally flushed look brushed over him, “tsk, whatever. we got a busy day today so, hurry up [name]..” you nodded, saluting mockfully as you hurried fixed his coat onto him, making sure his slacks were nicely pleated and shoes spotless before he head out to address the royals.

the royals who were visiting today in regards to his birthday bash in a week. the one where he'd have to choose a wife, one who'd hold the future of his kingdom in her hands alongside his.

you followed closely behind him as he made his way down to the main court, no words were shared between you but you understood the internal turmoil going through his head as best as you could.

mostly because you really didn't want him to get married either.

a longing glance went unnoticed by you as he looked at you, red eyes noticing the same feeling of anxiety in yours.

he balled his fist a little tighter at the sight, before slamming the doors of the court open, making everyone jump. you bowed deeply before following him, his hands deep in the silken slacks specially made for him.

katsuki hated how you weren't allowed to sit down almost as much as he hated this meeting entirely. dumbass kings and queens of other kingdoms looked at him, or more accurately the figurative seat he'd soon have as ruler, with fake practiced smiles on their faces. fake interest and fake emotions, fake everything.

he didn't fight the snarl on his face, the discontent in his posture as he rolled his eyes at their words, not sparing glances at the photos of their daughters or offers of money to him and his parents.

he truly didn't care, at least, not until they brought up you.

an older king, one with a smile that was more so with his eyes than his lips, joked to the king, “so, when your son gets married, can i have the servant? she's a looker.”

the rest of the royals laughed, hands covering their faces as katsuki felt disgusted for you, so much he just had to speak, “back off. why are you talking about her like that anyways? she's not for sale.” at least he managed not to curse.

a queen with a stupidly large fan in her hand made exaggeratedly big eyes, an ‘o’ on her lips as she spoke with a sickeningly sweet voice, “oh, don't you know future king? when the queen is assigned to this kingdom, your servant will be switched, considering she isn't a, well, he.” another joined in, red lipstick smothered over their lips, “no self respecting princess would ever let their betrothed have a servant of the opposite sex, what a scandal!”

laughs filled the room once more, though katsuki and his parents did not join in. he gripped the wood of his chair tightly, you swore you heard it crack under the weight of his anger. a vein was visible in his arms, a glare on his face. though he stayed silent. he glanced at you occasionally, and you'd give him a polite wave.

the rest of the conversation went about as smoothly as expected. the royals clashed with the kingdom’s generally ‘out of norm’ beliefs, a woman as the main advisor of the kingdom, and not to mention the queen holding majority power steady? but they barely voiced their discomfort since they wanted to stay on the queen and king’s good side. with a wave of the hand the queen gestured for katsuki to leave.

so katsuki left as soon as he was allowed to, almost jumping out of his seat. he left without a proper dismissal to the royals, something he'd get reprimanded for later. you right behind him. “where are we going prince? are you hungry?”

“no.” his voice was dry, no emotion seeping through as he continued walking throughout the halls. his face was hidden from your view. “okay, so where are we going?”

“the gardens.” your face scrunched up in confusion, you sped up your steps to try and catch him. “wait, the gardens? why?”

he stopped, making you bump into him as he finally looked into your eyes for the first time in a while. “because we need to talk, [name].” his eyes looked almost betrayed, sorrowful. your mouth opened to respond but you were cut off by your own need to keep up as he started up again.

through the halls and down a staircase, then turning to the left.

he stopped at the center of it all, almost to the entrance of the maze. stood in front of a grand waterfall built into the greenery, one you were very familiar with. the same one you'd played at as kids.

“katsuki.” you heaved. having to chase him through a flight of stairs was not for the weak, a.k.a you. you plopped right down on the bench next to him, ungraciously downing a water bottle as you closed your eyes. the sound of birds chirping, water running, and wind blowing through the garden filled your ears. a sense of serenity flooding over you two.

“when were you going to tell me?” katsuki’s voice cut through it all, a soft tone in his statement as he looked away from you. you jumped up at the sudden noise, but quickly asked, “tell you about what?”

he scoffed. “about what happens when i get married. how you're just going to leave? you're just going to leave me?” his eyes burrowed into your soul, accusatory words leaving his mouth as he stared at you.

“no, no i just– katsuki i didn't want to add another thing to stress about to you so quickly. i was going to tell you, but they told you first. i'm sorry.”

“you should be. i– i don't-,” his words got caught up in his mind. his mouth slightly hung open as he found himself unable to complete his sentence. his brain short circuited when you grabbed onto his hand, intertwining and bringing them onto your lap as you ask, “is everything okay?”

the words rushed out defensively. “yes, fuck. yes i'm okay. i don't like you hiding things from me so, don't pull that shit again.” he internally slapped himself on the head, his mind yelling a resounding no at his mouth.

he wanted to tell you how he needed you to stay, how he wanted you by his side for eternity. how he wished you were a royal, because he would've proposed just to the sight of you in the mornings. to the candid moments your two shared so often.

but he didn't.

you were undeterred by his harsh language, squeezing his hands before letting go and nodding. “ of course, prince.”

there it was again. the everlasting reminder of the differences between you, the boundaries that had never been dared crossed. though, as you guided him to the dining hall, he felt he might have to take that chance.

…

he finished dinner and changed, wanting to go to bed early that day. you bowed once more, before going to your own personal chambers just across from him.

you took a long, hot shower. the cascading of the water onto your body helping sooth the questions plaguing your mind. you washed your face, brushed your teeth and laid onto your bed, staring at the moonlit sky as you sigh.

you didn't want to leave katsuki. not at all. you didn't want him to get married, you didn't want him to kiss or be affectionate with someone else, you wanted him for you, like you two have always been. just for each other.

you wanted him to confide in you as equal again, you dreamt of being able to sit at the same tables and converse publicly. you wanted to hold his hand and not fear one day it'd be chopped off.

you wanted to be his. fully.

you let the sounds of the remaining water drip from the faucet rock you to sleep, impulsive thoughts striking your mind as you thought.. you might as well use these last days to show your feelings to him. you'll be gone next week anyways.

waking up with a renewed sense of vigor, you knew you now only had a couple days to show katsuki your feelings indirectly. well, as indirectly as you could think of.

starting this day, you snuck in more lingering touches than you thought possible, complimenting him whenever you were alone. being sweet to him, so sweet that he kept asking if you wanted something.

“prince, i brought some more of those chilis you like.”

instead of accepting them graciously, he only eyed you suspiciously. “the hell do you want?” he asked, staring at you accusedly as he bit down on one with no reaction.

“nothing! why do you keep saying that?” you pouted, “i should take the damn chilies back.”

“no way. these are mine, [name].” he snatched the basket out of your hands and stuffed one in his mouth. when he finally gulped it down, he adorned a lazy smirk, “thanks, [name].”

you hated how your heart reacted to him.

while your plan was underway of trying to get him to realize your feelings for you, he-

was trying to figure out how to keep you by his side. he used your only off day, mondays, as a way to get some advice. too bad he was friends with a bunch of bumbling idiots.

they were gathered around a place meant to practice their swordsmanship. his ‘friends’ who consisted of sons of dukes, duchesses, and advisors hung around. he kicked out a lot of them, leaving only three. sero, kirishima, and kaminari.

“hey bakugo, what's got you all crazy?” kaminari asked, trying to snipe an apple off of a nervous kirishima's head with a bow. “yeah, you've been giving us a death stare all day.” sero agreed, laughing at his repeated misses.

katsuki's back faced them.“i..,” he sucked in a breath. “ineedyourhelp.” he muttered quickly.

“what?” they all stopped, staring at him confused.

“ineedyourhelp.”

“slow down man-”

“i need your help.”

they all were jaw slack at the revelation, eyebrows raised as they stared at each other and back at him. they collectively chose not to make fun of him, almost feeling the urge to applaud his growth. “oh.. uh- what's up bro?”

katsuki breathed in, before averting his eyes and explaining. “my.. personal servant. found out she's gonna leave when i get married to some random princess, ill never see her again. but.. i don't want to lose her. i can't imagine my life without her.”

the three blinked, they'd never really seen bakugo this way. a look in his eyes that could only be described as, “love.” kaminari muttered, his hand supporting his chin as he diagnosed him. “you're in love man, congrats!”

he was now breathless as thoughts ran throughout his head, he found himself unable to respond. it was so obvious, his feelings for you were out of the ordinary, but he could never quite place the title of his symptoms til now.

the three shared a look at each other again, before sero pointed his finger in the air, “obviously, you want to marry her.”

katsuki sighed, a hand moving to support his head from head his neck. “so?”

“so,” kirishima started, “you marry her. easy.”

“not easy, isn't that like against the law?” kaminari cut in, picking up his bow once again.

“law or tradition, who knows? but maybe in those dusty old books we can find a law that like, lets him do this?” sero suggested.

kirishima snapped. “that's it!,” the arrow flew to pin the apple into the wall, “we just have to prove that he's allowed to marry a non-royal.”

“you idiots make it sound so easy.”

“cause it is. we can handle the research with help from your huge library!” kaminari pointed out, grabbing the staked apple and taking a bit out of it. “matter of fact. let's start now, we're going to need to plan out for your big day anyways.” kirishima held out a hand to bakugo.

a smirk came over katsuki’s face as he grabbed his hand, before nodding. “right.”

the rest of the day was spent knee deep in book upon books. the book keeper’s apprentice even helped them out, though they finally left at midnight with the ten books that would have the answers they need. they'd shoved the bulk of the books under his bed, high-fiving him sleepily as they hopped onto carriages, promising to be back tomorrow.

and back they were. the grind continued as they read page to page, finding clauses and conditions that could help katsuki. they each were assigned a book to look through, though they had to hide it from you. which was hard since looking after katsuki was your job.

“prince, is there anything you or your guests would like?” you asked, internally sobbing as you couldn't undergo your top tier plan with his friends around. what were they even doing? the entire day they spent holed up in his chambers, sat in a strange circle as they all read through the books.

“uh, we're okay-”

“actually servant,” kaminari cut in, a cheshire smile on his face, “we made a huge mess in the library yesterday. mind cleaning it for us?”

“o-oh. i don't mind, excuse me.” with that, and the tray of snacks you'd left behind, you were gone. sero and katsuki finished their books first, not finding anything of use. they started the next ones, when a couple hours in, kirishima suddenly jumped up, the cheese he was snacking on now discarded as he held the book into the air. “guys! i got something!” he was about to read it when an excited katsuki went and took it out of his hands, reading it in his mind.

‘clause 1.43.77, any king or queen who rules over their kingdom must choose a royal to accompany them by their side and produce an heir to the kingdom.

however, if a non-royal has proven their worthiness through devotion and loyalty to not only said king or queen, but the kingdom, they are an eligible bachelor as well.’

“this.. this can work then.” the four exchanged exhausted smiles, before collectively passing out. you came back to the sight of them all slumped over, you were tired yourself from putting away hundreds of law books. you grabbed pillows and blankets, placing them over the heirs to the kingdom, gently raising their heads and laying them onto the pillows.

you were upset at the day lost, katsuki had barely been sparing you a glance as of late. and that continued into the next day. you brought breakfast for all him and his guests, waking them up with a pull of a curtain. they all groaned collectively, trying to shield their eyes from the blinding sun. “what time even is it?” one of them grumbled. “too early.”

“it is noon, i let you all sleep in. you really should be getting up now.” you left the tray in front of them, being mindful of the books splayed open around them.

they got up, the red-haired one seemingly smelling the food in the air? odd. they all were really odd to say the least. they stared at you silently, making you tilt your head in confusion. all before katsuki raised a hand to you, mirroring his own mothers actions towards himself. “you're.. dismissed until the ball, [name].”

your eyes widened, mouth agape for a second before taking your leave. as the door closed behind you, a weird feeling of despair overtook you. you wobbled over to your room, locking the door behind as the feeling settled over you. you stared out the window, the cloudiness of the skies doing nothing to alleviate your mood.

meanwhile, katsuki was planning once again. there was now only two days left, two days to decide how he was going to plan out his bash.

two days to deal with the uncertainties that would arise from his crush on you. he could lose you, marry some other woman and imagine it was you laying next to him. imagine it was your lips and not hers, pretend she acted like you, all to save from the stresses of worrying about the problems to come.

no, he wanted you. he needed all of you, he needed to be all yours.

he sent his friends off, calling carriages for them

and reluctantly thanking them for their help. he walked around the gardens again, reminiscing on the years you two had spent, the many memories you'd made together.

he thought back to the way you'd play together, the causal touches and referring of each other something he'd taken for granted.

he closed his eyes, he never wanted his time with you to end, kingdom be damned. he wanted to memorialize your time together forever.

unknowingly, foiling your very own plans to make more with him. you didn't know what to do with yourself, you found yourself back at the servant’s quarters sniffling softly into the lap of the head servant, your mother. you knew he didn't upset you intentionally, right?

your mother listened as you explained what had happened, how you never had felt like such a failure. maybe it was those idiot friends of his, you didn't know.

your mother comforted you with a hand running along your hair, her embrace rocking you to sleep that night. her eyes looked into your sleeping ones, your face squished against her legs as wore a face of worry. your feelings were obvious, attending the bash and seeing him choose a bride would hurt you..

should she forbid you from attending?

…

katsuki was walking around his room aimlessly. his mind was running, purely on thoughts of you. he couldn't get you out his mind, he missed you deeply. but, he needed the space away from you to think. at least that's what he thought earlier.

he was basically codependent on your presence now, the day he'd spent away from you felt like an eternity.

he couldn't sleep. he'd laid in his bed dozens of times at this point, shutting his eyes, covering his ears, even trying to hum to himself. nothing worked.

he finally couldn't take it anymore, he found himself walking to your room. his hand hovered over the door, until he finally knocked. at no reply, he assumed you were asleep, though he heard the shuffling of feet inside. ‘this will make it easier.’ he thought, as he whispered and figured he'd pour his feelings out to you, response or not. his hand splayed against your door, palm pressed against the oak of the wood as he began.

“[name].” he heard the shuffling of feet stop. “i.. i have.. feelings for you. ones that i shouldn't have. i care for you deeply. and– i think i love you.” he was still as he waited for something, anything from you.

he let a small smile overtake his face, his hand falling from the door and going back into his pocket. “g’night, [name].” he went back into his room, finally able to rest now that he felt he got his feelings off his chest.

his heart was racing, he still didn't know if you felt the same. you said nothing, which was expected. he did drop a bomb on you all of a sudden. he finally drifted to bed.. not hearing the open and closing of your door. and not seeing that it was your mother who he had confessed to, not you who was currently asleep in her mother’s bed.

your mother pondered over his words, smiling at just how hopeless you two truly were. she caressed your hair once more, falling asleep beside you as she decided.

you'd have to go, and you'd be dressed like royalty in your own right.

your hair was ruined. you groaned as you caught an eye of yourself in one of the many mirrors in this part of the chambers, some of your friends laughing at the sight of you. this last day would be busy, too busy. it'd be your last day as katsuk’s servant, and you'd barely be able to see him.

you pouted, waltzing around the chambers mindlessly until your mother arrived behind you.

“[name], let's go. you have fittings for the bash tomorrow.” she grabbed you before you could voice your disapproval, taking you to your room. though she let go of you and walked into your room. you mindlessly went to katsuki’s room, wanting to be at his side at least once before tomorrow. at no reply to your knock, you excused yourself before walking in, only to be met by the sight of a messy room. empty. you cleaned his room up a little bit, making the task for his future servant a bit easier.

you left his room, laying on your bed before you saw gorgeous dresses that could probably buy your life two times over.

“mother, i don't even think i'll go tomorrow.”

“you have to, dear.” she grabbed your hand, “the prince would want you there alongside you. just like how you've been all his life.”

you looked to the floor, “but he sent me away..” your mother responded by nudging your head up. “he still cares for you. your absence is going to be odd for him, don't you think he was just trying to protect himself?”

you sighed and shrugged, “i guess i'll go then, if not, then to tie off loose ends.” you eyed the three dresses in front of you, and chose the one woven in silks and lace of your favorite color. “that one,” you pointed to it.

“i'll choose that one.”

…

funnily enough, as you walked into the bash and found yourself drinking punch, those were the words you'd felt the most fear of hearing. you fit right in alongside the princesses of other lands scattered across the hall, making lines to go speak to katsuki, who was absentmindedly staring at a wall. he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world, but as his eyes locked on to your moving form towards the balcony, he excused himself.

“[name].” he called out to you, making you turn around and smile softly. “katsuki.”

“you look.. amazing.” he complimented, moving closer to you. “thank you for.. uh.. coming.”

“of course, future king. i'll stay by your side 'til

the end of tonight.”

he nodded. “right.” he sighed once more, something he seemed to do a lot around you now. “[name], did you hear me the other night?” he asked, looking into the distant forests surrounding the castle. at the shaking of your head, he continued, “i.. i just really care for you. that's all i want you to know.” he didn't look at you, he didn't think he could handle it right now. even from the vision of his peripherals, the glistening of your skin in the sun that slowly departed, the dress that matched you both in personality and in beauty, the smile that overcame your lips. it was a vision that would live in his dreams eternally.

“i care for you too katsuki.”

he finally turned to face you, he smiled, before opening his mouth to speak. only to be cut off by the sound of an obnoxious trumpet. he was to make his choice. “go.” you said, pushing him inside. your eyes burned as realization set into you, you'd ran out of time.

he was pushed to the center of the hall, all the princesses facing him with practiced smiles. courtesy's and bows that made him feel odd. the crown on his head had never felt so heavy, so burdened as now.

he looked over to you, the words everyone spoke pushed to the back of his mind as you sent an encouraging thumbs up his way. he knew you though, the look on your face was one of underlying sorrow.

even in this room full of people, even in the whole world large and vast, he'd always choose you.

so, when the room was silent and awaiting his answer? he pointed to you, making your breath hitch and eyes go wide.

you pointed to yourself, looking around before mouthing, ‘me?’ to which he mouthed, 'yes, idiot.’

you made your way towards him, eyes wide as everyone gasped. you weren't a royal, evident by the lack of jewelry adorning you.

“[name], it's always only been you. will you rule beside me?”

your eyes grew impossibly wider, pupils dilated to the max as a blush overtook your face. “..you're serious?”

“yes, i am.”

“i– is this even allowed?”

“my parents,” he gestured over to them, who sent polite smiles towards her. “they know about it, i sat down with them yesterday. i'm serious about this. i'm serious about you.”

“but what abou–”

“fuck everything else. this is about you and me.”

“do you accept, ms. [name]?” the bard asked, all eyes on you as, though you only looked into katsuki’s.

“if he'd have me, i'd be honored.”

he wordlessly asked you, and with a tilt of your head you prompted him to kiss you. though it was belated, the hall filled with cheers for the two of you.

“well,” the queen beckoned you two to her side, your hands intertwined as you stood in front of her. “this is surely a first, however.. it is undoubted that ms. [name] and her family have proved their loyalty and dedication to the kingdom.

therefore, we have no objection. masaru?”

“yes mitski.”

they both got up, the king wielding a sword as he stood next to you. katsuki helped guide you to the floor, he was on one knee as he was sworn in.

sworn in as king by your side.

the sword tapped his shoulders gently, a crown being brought out on a pillow and placed upon his head as you looked in awe, as an equally gorgeous one was placed unto yours.

“katsuki, i entrust our kingdom to you. with all of our people in the hands of you, and of course, your trusted wife.”

“i understand.” he said, bowing his head down to his father.

“[name].” the queen called to you, filling you with a sense of urgency. “yes my queen?”

she laughed, before taking a moment to whisper in your ear. “mitski is fine.” she cleared her throat, before continuing. “you will be a dedicated servant any longer, tomorrow you will wake up as the queen of our kingdom my dear. please, do your best to guide our king, and set the kingdom onto a path of prosperity.”

“thank you my– mitski. i will.” you bowed deeply, before you were helped up by katsuki once again.

you walked out the hall with katsuki at your side, the weight of the crown a shared experience between you two.

“‘suki.” the nickname lost to time finds itself back on your lips as you're led to his room, though this was the first time in years that it was out of familiarity, not work.

“[name].”

“thank you.”

“for what?”

“risking it all.. doing all that. it was.. indescribable.”

“.. it was worth it for you. i'd– i'd do anything for you. now we can make up for lost time. i really

missed you these last days.”

“i did too, god i was a wreck without you.”

“you wouldn't believe how bad i was without you.”

it seemed practiced, as if you'd done it a million times when he gestured for you to follow him to his bed. the way you melted into each other was unimaginable, not even the discomfort of your corset getting in the way of how he made you feel, though you'd gotten up to change.

now wearing house wear, clothes you'd never imagine you'd be wearing in his quarters, you laid next to him, the same moon shining brightly upon the two of you as he held you.

his head was on top of yours as you shared this wordless embrace, one that spoke thousands of words you'd need not to speak.

a kiss, one you'd both never though you'd get to share, especially not in his very own bed, was all that left the two of you as you settled into each other for the night.

you'd begun a servant and ended as queen, ranks though meant nothing to you, for your only wish was to stay eternally by his side.

a wish you both fought for.

tags: @gold24fish @nemisimp

[magicalqueennightmare]

Two Soldiers?

Bucky Barnes x Reader x John Walker

You want them, they want you. You all needed a push

Blame @desimarie12

Warnings: Sexual happenings with 3 people in the mix

You weren’t an idiot. You’d known for a while that you’d somehow managed to catch the eye of not one but two super soldiers. It started with Bucky. You worked closely with Sam, because way back when Steve and Nat were on the run they’d gone to him and he’d pulled you in. After the blip you came back to ruins, Steve was gone and Nat was dead. 

Sam knew you had no family left so he kind of helped to keep an eye on you while you, like him and so many others, started to rebuild your life. You stayed in New York, close to Bucky while Sam went home to Louisiana. That was also around the time he gave up the shield and the good ol United States government decided they wanted to place someone as Captain America.

You didn’t react quite as severely as Bucky and Sam did to John Walker. You researched the man. He was qualified. He had the military background and by far the training to carry that mantle. 

The day you first met him, you were standing behind Sam and Bucky after the fight against the Flag Smashers. He’d eyed you “Aren’t you Lilith?” you smirked “That particular moniker is thanks to Tony Stark but yeah” he extended a hand and despite you feeling both Bucky and Sam tense you placed yours in his as he introduced himself “John Walker ma’am” you nodded “I know who you are, government snatches that shield out of a museum I try to see whose hands it’s going into” “And what do you think?” he asked, you shook your head “I’ve yet to form an opinion one way or another about you John Walker”

The following weeks were hell, from the constant globe hopping with Zemo of all people to fighting the Doja Milaje to having a front row seat and being helpless to do anything when Lemar, John’s friend and partner was killed. You tried to show sympathy for him but where did the line get drawn? Where do you stop the line between justice and vengeance? That was why you’d walked away from your team before, why Clint had been forced to chase you down when the accords were slapped onto the table.

When it was all said and done, the mantle of Captain America was stripped from John, along with any title he’d earned in the military. You hadn’t agreed with that decision. No he didn’t deserve the mantle of Cap but he’d earned those medals and his retirement. 

Bucky ended up going into politics, you worked with Sam and Joaquin when needed and besides that everyone was kind of in the wind for the most part. Or you were until a few years passed and you found yourself getting a text from Bucky. It had coordinates and three words Get here NOW

Those coordinates? When you got there? You were met with Bucky and he had Yelena Belova, Ava Starr, Alexei Shostakiv and god help you John Walker tied up. Apparently there was something big coming and Bucky needed your help wrangling the rag tag team he’d pulled together. Your eyes held John’s as his head barely dipped as a form of greeting “Lilith” “Walker” you replied then looked back at Bucky “Fuck it, I’m in”

Now? You were on the damn team. Thunderbolts, the new avengers…whatever the hell you were. All of you were now living in the watchtower (formerly the avengers tower so you knew your way around it fairly well even after renovations) and worked as a team. 

The only issue? You had developed some sort of feelings for both John and Bucky. Bucky, you’d formed a bond with back when Steve would send you to Wakanda to check on his healing then once both of you were leaving just a block or two away from each other you’d grown close. Too many nights where neither of you could find sleep if you weren’t together. 

As for John? He’d crept up on you. His wife had divorced him after everything and taken his son. The man had hit rock bottom and was trying to be better and god help you despite knowing how horrible he’d been, seeing how arrogant he still was at times…you found yourself falling for him too.

“You know they both want you right?” Yelena pointed out as you and her were training one day. It took you off guard enough she flipped you across the gym, your back slamming into the mat hard enough your body bounced. “Christ Belova, give a woman a warning!”

She laughed, hopping up and walked over to offer you her hand “Sorry but it’s true. They both follow you like whipped puppies. They get mad when the other gets assigned to a mission with you and why do you think Ava and I always sit on either side of you? It’s so you don’t have to get stuck between them. You would overheat” you felt your face warm “They’re super soldiers Yelena. Not collector items. I can’t just put them both on the shelf above my bed”

She raised an eyebrow “Why? You want to just take them down when you’re wanting to play with them?” you busted out laughing “LENA!” and she shrugged “Just… if I show you, will you believe me then?” you shrugged “Sure” she grabbed your hand “Ok, come on”

She didn’t let you go until the two of you were in the kitchen where Bucky was currently pulling his arm out of the dishwasher. That damn tank top he was wearing had you drooling the moment you stepped in. “Good morning” she greeted him and he raised an eyebrow, looking at you “Is she planning to kill me?” you sighed “Probably not?” he laughed “Well enough. Good morning Yelena. What do you want?” “Can Lilith paint your nails?” your eyes widened “What?”

Bucky was already looking at you, a smirk on his face “Well I don’t know if any paint would stick to my left arm but you’re welcome to the right” she grinned at you and nodded “I’m going to grab Bob and Ava. I’ll meet you two in the tv room”

Bucky couldn’t believe how fast he agreed to letting you paint his nails but the smile on your face when he agreed was worth anything. Once Yelena disappeared from the room you whispered softly “You don’t have to” and he took a step towards you, raising his left hand to gently brush the few strands that had fallen free from your braid back from your face “I want to doll. If you want to” you nodded and took his hand “Ok then”

You drug him behind you into the tv room and as the two of you made it in, Yelena laughed from where she was sitting, painting Ava’s toenails “Now Bucky. You do know that she can’t paint other people’s nails right?”

He looked from her to you “What do you mean?” Ava laughed “She’s good at painting her nails but when she painted mine for that last gala Valentina made us attend, she had to sit in my lap to do so. It made it the same angle as her own nails” you felt your face warm because you were just going to try to paint Bucky’s normally.

He grinned at you “I’m still up for it” and walked over to the couch. He sat down and stretched his legs out, patting one thick thigh “Come on sweetheart” you cut your eyes at Ava and Yelena, both of them shooting you smirks while Bob tried to hide his laughter. 

You grabbed the black polish and walked over. You turned to crawl into Bucky’s lap with your back to him, straddling him as you got comfortable. “Good?” you asked as his left arm slipped around your waist “Perfect” you felt your stomach jump, core throbbing at how close he was but your friends were at your feet and you were doing something as innocent as painting his nails, right?

John had no idea what the hell Yelena wanted when she texted him Come to the tv room who even called it the tv room? He rolled his eyes, walking through the long hallways. He wasn’t sure where you were. You’d been training with her earlier in the day or that was what the schedule was. 

When he got to the doorway of the entertainment room however he froze. Yelena, Ava and Bob were sitting on cushions in a corner. He wasn’t sure what they were doing or what was playing on the tv. His attention was solely on the fact that you were sitting in Bucky’s lap. The other man had his left arm wrapped around your waist as you painted the nails on his right hand black. You were wearing those damn biker shorts you liked to train in, had thrown a -shirt on over your sports bra but that was it.  Just the tip of your tongue slipped between your teeth as you concentrated on the task at hand and as for Bucky? The smug bastard looked up the moment he heard John’s footsteps. A smirk playing at his lips before he finally spoke “Hey John”

Your eyes flew up at Bucky’s words. John was standing in the doorway, staring at you. His hands were balled up in fists at his side, chest heaving slightly. Those damn grey sweatpants he wore hid little to the imagination and the white t-shirt hugged him beautifully. “Hey” you greeted and he smiled “Hey Honey, what ya doing?” you gripped Bucky’s hand and held it up to show off your handy work “Making Bucky’s right nails match the left” Bucky laughed lightly at your joke, his breath teasing your neck as he said “Looks almost as pretty as you” and you felt your heart flip.

John cleared his throat and held up his hands “Well I got ten nails you can paint. Wanna have a go?” you grinned brightly “You, John Walker are gonna walk around with painted nails?” he shrugged “If you’re the one painting them, gladly” you turned to look at Bucky and he was glaring at John but his face quickly softened when he looked at you “Ok sweetheart, let me get up” you crawled out of his lap and saw something pass between him and John as John walked over and sat on the couch where Bucky had been. You turned towards him, leaning down to pick up your bag of polish “I have black like I did Bucky’s or different colors” 

His larger hand covered yours, thumb teasing across your knuckle as his eyes met yours. “I like the shade of green you’re wearing darlin” you smiled, face warming “You wanna match me?” he nodded “If that’s ok with you” you laughed “Oh course” and grabbed the shade before motioning to him to lean back so you could sit on his lap like you’d been on Bucky’s.

Once you were straddling John you grabbed his left hand first and started painting his nails. You were focused on the task at hand and fighting the urge to lean into his warm body, press closer to him. You missed the looks him and Bucky were passing or the plan Ava and Yelena was forming.

“I tell you, she was over the moon daddy” Yelena was talking to Alexei in the kitchen. The two of them were getting coffee right next to where John was cooking breakfast. She’d roped Alexei into her idea and he’d been more than happy to “Help Lil get her soldiers” 

John tried to act as if he wasn’t listening but he was a little curious. Alexei, ever the dramatic one, gasped “Do you think she will be moving out of the tower? I will miss her! Lilith is like another daughter to me”  John’s mouth moved without his brain being able to catch up “How’s that?” Yelena shot her father a look, knowing they had this one. “She’s been seeing two guys. They treat her well and it seems like it’s getting serious” 

“She’s seeing two guys?” he asked and Yelena nodded, testing the waters “Why, are you judging her?” John shook his head quickly “No! Of course not, just..I never knew she had one boyfriend. They’re ok with each other?” he was curious and jealous and well pissed. “Of course. They both love her, they’ve actually learned to care for each other because of her” Yelena told him and he nodded slowly “If she’s happy that’s what matters” he tried to act like he wasn’t breaking at the seams but the spatula snapping in half told otherwise. “Shit” he muttered, eyeing it “Um, Alexei..finish the eggs?” he asked and Alexei nodded “Ok”

“Bob, you don’t think anyone will judge her for it do you?”  Ava asked Bob, the two of them purposely having this conversation in front of Bucky. Her and Bob were both on treadmills while Bucky was using one of the reinforced punching bags. “Judge her for loving two people? Why?” Bob asked and Bucky grabbed the bag with his left hand. “Who are we gossipping about?”

Ava smirked at Bob before saying “Lilith, she’s got two boyfriends” Bucky raised an eyebrow, he didn’t know you were dating. He’d been flirting his ass off with you..hell so had Walker but he didn’t know two other someones already had you. “Oh yeah?” he asked and Bob nodded “If something doesn’t change she may leave the team for them” “That right?” Bucky muttered more to himself than anything. Like hell. He needed to talk to Walker, now.

John and Bucky smacked into each other in the hallway “Did you know she had boyfriends?” “Those bastards are trying to get her to leave the team” they spoke over each other. Bucky took a deep breath “I care about her outside of wanting to fuck her. Do you?” John nodded “Of course, she’s the only person who gives a damn about me. She’s amazing” 

Bucky nodded, staring John down “Do you think you’re gonna change your mind about her anytime soon? I haven’t in over six years” John shook his head “I haven’t felt like this about anyone in a long time”  

“If we let her know she’s got other options besides whatever two assholes are trying to make her walk away from this team, do you think she’ll stay?” Bucky offered, crossing his arms. John unconsciously mimicked his posture “What are you saying Barnes? Loud and clear” 

“You want her, I want her.  If she’s already got two fellas she’s not opposed to it. Let's offer her the better option” Bucky laid it out and John nodded slowly “Can we do this without killing each other?” Bucky shrugged “Do you want to think about her in someone else’s arms or be in the same bed with her while she’s in mine and her still be touching you?” that sold it for John. He held his hand out and Bucky shook it “Let’s go get her”

You were in your room, laid backwards across your bed when the sound of two fists pounding on your door hard enough the frame vibrated made you jump. You stormed across the room, snatching it open to see both John and Bucky standing there “What the hell? I nearly grabbed a damn gun! You two could have broke my door hitting it at the same time” 

They gave no explanation, they both just pushed into your room. John closed the door behind them. You took a step back, crossing your arms over your chest and were suddenly acutely aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a lot. You had on a tight camisole that held your breasts in place and a pair of boxers, that was it.

Their eyes flickered across your body and your face warmed. “Speak, one of you” you ordered and Bucky smirked “I like when you’re bossy, even if you’re so damn short we nearly have to kneel to be face to face with you” you gasped “What the fuck Barnes?” John laughed “Well he has a point, not that either of us would downright mind being on our knees for you” your head whipped towards John fast enough you damn near ended up with whiplash “Excuse me Walker?”

They both took a step forward, Bucky stepping wide while John walked straight towards you. You realized half a second too late they were boxing you in. You looked between both of them when they were close enough you could feel the heat pouring off their bodies “What the fuck are you two doing?” Bucky’s hand came up, flesh fingers lightly tracing across your exposed shoulders “Are you leaving?” you swallowed hard “What?”

John’s fingers were next and that asshole dipped down to let his digits tease across the soft flesh of your thighs “Answer Bucky baby. Are you leaving us to be with those assholes?” you looked from one man to the other “What assholes? What is going on?” 

Bucky’s hand moved to your chin, tilting your head to look at him “Ava said your boyfriends were getting you to leave the team” John moved in, breath hot on your neck where Bucky had exposed the skin “Yelena said you were so in love but yet your heart is pounding like you’re about to bolt”

“Even if I was, why would you two be here?” you asked quietly, happy when your voice came out solid. “To give you a better option” John breathed into your flesh, lips finally meeting skin and you would have buckled then and there but Bucky chose that moment for his lips to find yours, tongue slipping into your mouth.

One of your hands slipped down to grasp John’s while the other went to Bucky’s hip. You didn’t know if you should pull them closer or push them away or what. What the fuck did Ava and Yelena do?

As if they’d planned it, Bucky broke from your lips to move down to your neck while John tilted your head to claim your lips. You gasped into his mouth when Bucky’s teeth grazed your skin and he used that opening to slip his tongue into your mouth.  You felt dizzy and hot like everything was moving too fast yet too slow at the same time. 

You got enough sense about you to snatch away from them both, chest heaving as you stared down the two blue eyed super soldiers who’d just been clinging to you like a life vest. “What the hell is going on?” “You want us, we want you” Bucky answered and John nodded “Give in one time honey. I promise when we’re through you ain't gonna want no one else”

You gasped, looking from one of them to the other. Both were dressed similarly, sweatpants and those damn tight shirts they wore around that look like they were burst at the seams.  The damn sweatpants gave evidence to the fact that both of them wanted you. The slick pooling down your thighs gave proof to how much you wanted them. “And me be branded a whore for fucking both of you? Ms cant pick?” you threw at them. 

“We ain’t trying to make you pick. We’ll tell the damn press we begged you to have both of us” John told you and Bucky nodded “Want us to call the press conference in the damn morning?” you laughed “You’re getting ahead of yourselves. Super soldiers or not, the dick can’t be that good” they both laughed and that was alarming. The men who’d been at each other’s throats was suddenly getting along on the fact of fucking you. “Oh honey, I don’t know about Bucky but I know what I’m doing” John challenged. 

Bucky cut his eyes at him “There’s a reason quite a few women in Wakanda missed me asshole” you felt your thighs clench at them arguing and both of their attention lurched back to you. “What do you say?” John asked and you swallowed “I don’t know..” 

Bucky slipped his shirt over his head, tossing it so John did the same and fuck it all you down right whimpered. Here you were being offered the two sexiest men you’d ever seen on a fucking silver platter. “I don’t know if I can please you both” you whispered and John reached to pull you between them, your hands against his chest while Bucky’s chest was against your back “Baby, I seriously doubt anything you do would disappoint us”

You looked up at John then back at Bucky. “Ok” “Ok?” Bucky asked and you nodded “Ok” 

John’s lips found yours, hungry and devouring as Bucky’s lips descended on your neck, teeth marking his presence. “Leave room for me to mark her Barnes” John growled between kisses. You laughed “Easy boys, my body isn’t a battlefield. You’ll hurt me” 

“Never” “Never” they both promised. You turned to press a kiss to Bucky’s lips before going down on your knees in front of both men. You looked up at them and they were both looking at you like you were a goddess incarnate. You rubbed both of their hardened cocks through the front of their pants “Take these off for me?”

They quickly complied, no shame in being nude in front of the other one. You licked your licks at the sight of their cocks. Both were fucking beautiful, thick and long. You cut your eyes up at them, wrapping your hand around John’s as you kissed the tips of Bucky’s. They both let out a low groan. You slid your mouth down Bucky’s length and he moaned low, just loud enough the three of you could hear. You started to move your hand on John’s in rhythm with your tongue on Bucky’s.

After a moment you switched, moving your hand to Bucky’s cock as sliding your mouth down around John’s. When his cock hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag slightly he groaned “Fuck honey, you’re perfect” and Bucky grunted out “Yeah she is” in agreement. 

You found a pace that had both of them praising you, light curses falling from their lips. You knew they were close but you kept at it, you felt both of them tense right before John came, his cum shooting down your throat in hot spurts as Bucky’s cum covered your hand.

They were both nothing short of beautiful, completely nude, cheeks and chest a light pink, their chests heaving slightly as you stared up at them. You licked Bucky’s cum off your hand and they both groaned. “Do we really get to keep her?” John asked Bucky who laughed “Fuck, I hope so”

Their hands came down to pull you to your feet, lips finding yours as they both pressed kisses to your lips and neck. “You’re wearing too much” John muttered and Bucky nodded in agreement “Way too much”

You didn’t have time to take your clothes off. One of John’s hands fisted in your top while one of Bucky’s fisted in your boxers. One flex from the soldiers and your clothing was rags on the floor. “I liked those” you pouted and Bucky laughed “We’ll buy you more” 

The next thing you knew your back was on the bed as their mouths devoured your body. You’d never even seen them work as well together in the field as they were working together to take you apart. They started at your neck, mouths teasing with tongue and teeth then working down. When each of them rolled a nipple into their mouths, your back arched off the bed, a loud moan that was somewhere between John and James leaving your lips.

They continued their path downwards and you knew your body would be littered with their marks for days after this encounter. When they got to your waist they eyed each other and Bucky nodded to John. John grinned, face lowering to your core. You felt the first flick of his tongue and your head fell back against the pillows, fingers tangling in his hair “Fuck John, that feels good” 

Bucky, not one to be left out, nudged John slightly and John shifted enough that two of Bucky’s fingers could find their way into you along with John’s tongue. It was a maddening rush to be completely at the mercy of those men that could crush you if they wanted and yet they were controlling even their most basic instincts to fight each other so they could please you.

It wasn’t long and you could feel that fire growing in the pit of your stomach. Bucky caught your eye and nodded “Let it go doll, we got ya” you moaned, long and broken as your orgasm slammed into you. You felt your release soak Bucky’s hand, John’s face and the bed underneath the three of you.

Bucky slowly pulled his fingers out of you, slipping them into his mouth to suck them clean and he groaned “Fuck she tastes good” John left a last lingering kiss against your clit before pulling back, a low laugh leaving him “I know” 

You whined lightly “Can I fuck one of you now?” they both laughed, pressing kisses to your thigh “Yeah baby” John nudged Bucky “I got to feel her mouth and taste her first. You can fuck her first” you eyed John “Don’t go anywhere, I’m fucking you too before we’re done” he grinned “Didn’t plan on it”

He moved up the bed and turned you so you were cradled against his chest, legs spread wide for Bucky “Gotta make sure he don’t hurt you when he pushes you into the positions he wants you in” he breathed into your ear, pressing kisses to your neck.

Bucky crawled up the bed, nudging his hips between yours “Fuck, Walker! Condoms!” you laughed “I have an IUD boys. I’m covered” Bucky grinned “Even better” you could feel the head of his cock teasing at your entrance but he still looked to you for the ok. You nodded and he caught your lips in a soft kiss as he pushed in, a moan leaving you both at the feeling of him stretching you.

“How she feel Barnes?” John asked and Bucky grunted “Fucking amazing” you gasped when Bucky shifted his hips. “You can fuck me Bucky, I can take it” He used one hand to push the hair back from your face “Oh I know you can beautiful”

John moved to be leaning against the headboard, you back against his chest and your legs hooked over his. Giving Bucky the perfect position without putting too much pressure on your hips. 

“Damn you two can work well in a team after all” you teased and felt John’s fingers dig into your hips “Don’t tease us gorgeous” “We can tear you apart” Bucky reminded. You laughed “But you won’t” Bucky’s lips crashed onto yours as he found a pace that had you gasping, nails digging into his shoulders as he worked you closer and closer to that edge. 

You could feel your orgasm building and when Bucky slipped a hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, you came hard, clenching around him. He bit down on your shoulder as his hips snapped into yours a few more times before you felt him find his release, hot cum filling you. He damn near collapsed on you, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach before rolling off the side.

You were trying to get your breathing back to normal as you looked back at John “Want me to clean up first or..” you didn’t get the chance before he was spinning you around to straddle him. “Or this” you laughed, letting him lift you up to drag your pussy down onto his cock. The stretch still burnt even after Bucky. John’s head fell over onto your chest for just a second once he was buried in you “Damn you feel amazing” “Told you” Bucky laughed.

You shook your head, catching John’s lips in a kiss that was messy and hungry as he started to lift your hips. He would drag you up his length then slam you back down. You were a moaning mess on top of him and he wasn’t much better under you. One of your hands fisted in his hair, “So damn pretty, fuck John. Fuck” you babbled and he slipped one hand between you, teasing at your clit. You shook around him as you came, body going limp. He kept thrusting up into you until he brought you back down flush with his hips and you felt when he found his release, cum spurting deep inside of you.

You fell over against his chest, feeling his hands and Bucky’s on your back. “So, that was fun” you laughed. 

The three of you had cleaned up and you were laying half on Bucky and half on John as you talked. “So, are you gonna break up with them for us?” John asked and you laughed lightly “Can I confess something?” Bucky groaned “You’re married?” you made a fake gagging sound “Ew no, I never had boyfriends. I’m fairly certain that was Yelena and Ava pushing whatever this is” 

John and Bucky both raised up to look at each other “Those little..” you started laughing “Are you two mad?” they looked back down at you then back at each other “Not too much, you Walker?” “Not really” 

[beegomess]

You Haven’t Seen My Man || Kendall Roy

Summary: Being Kendall Roy's wife involves giving up some things. However, working with you involves understanding that sometimes you may end up drawing more attention than he would like. But this is not really a problem for someone who loves to prove to be powerful all the time. Warnings: Cute, spicy with hints of implicit control - Word count: 8.3k

You were married now, but the story that united you was far from conventional or romantic. His brother and Kendall met in a rehabilitation clinic, sharing not only the fight against addiction, but also the weight of being heirs always pressured to prove their worth. The friendship between them was natural, and you, as a frequent visitor, became part of that bond. At the time, she hid that she worked as a legal advisor at Waystar, aware that the connection with the Roys could complicate things.

When both were discharged, you organized a celebration. It was that night that you and Kendall began to get closer. What seemed like an unpretentious friendship evolved into something more. You have become colleagues, friends and, finally, boyfriends. They were difficult years, marked by relapses of both and by Kendall's constant effort to get back up. Despite this, you remained together, supporting each other.

But the night Kendall asked you to marry him brought a devastating turn. You left dinner overflowing with joy to tell your brother the news, but you found him unconscious in your apartment. The overdose was fatal. What should be a new beginning also became the end of an important part of his life.

The devastating loss increased the pressure of your father, who wanted you to take on the role of CEO of the family business, something you always avoided. He also showed support for his marriage to Kendall, but his real intentions involved uniting families to strengthen his power, which filled her with revolt. Since then, you have kept your distance from your family, although his pressure has never ceased.

Kendall remained by your side, putting her own pain aside to help you get through the grief. Although the loss has never been completely overcome, it has become more bearable in the company of someone who understood the weight of carrying difficult memories.

When they got married, the lives of both fit in a surprisingly quiet way, considering the chaos that surrounded them. You chose to stay out of the power dispute at Waystar, which helped maintain the balance between work and marriage. Still, working under the same roof, with Kendall technically as his boss, brought challenges. Some tensions inevitably overflowed to domestic life, but you learned how to deal with it.

That morning was a perfect example of the controlled chaos that you and Kendall had learned to master. Since Logan's death, Waystar had become an arena of constantly burning egos, with Kendall, Shiv and Roman competing to make decisions while sewing the deal with Lukas Matsson. For you, the frenetic pace was nothing new. But that day, it seemed that everything was amplified.

Kendall had left early, leaving you with some precious minutes in bed that, although comforting, ended up devoured by the avalanche of messages and notifications on her cell phone. When he arrived at the office, he was already one step behind, and this did not go unnoticed. He didn't even have time to spend in Roman's room, where he and Lukas were gathered. Not that you wanted to get more involved than necessary - your role there was more strategic, and you knew exactly when to withdraw and when to act.

While packing the pile of papers I would need to discuss with Kendall, the phone on his desk vibrated. It was a message from him with a typical urgency. You sighed, already gathering what you needed, while answering a call from an external lawyer who seemed unable to understand something simple.

The heels of your shoes hit rhythmically against the carpet as you crossed the corridor. The sound echoed in the open spaces of the floor, a clear sign of his haste. In that environment, everyone seemed to be always watching each other, like animals in a corporate zoo.

When passing through Roman's room, he noticed Lukas gesturing at a glance, but did not pay attention. It was no news that he was there. Inside, Lukas interrupted the sentence itself when you passed, his eyes fixed on you long enough for Roman to notice.

- When I buy all this shit, will I have assistants like her? - Lukas shot, a cheeky smile curling his lips as his gaze lingered in the direction where you had just disappeared. The malicious insinuation was clear in every word.

Roman swallowed dryly, the discomfort evident in his expression. I knew Lukas well enough to know that giving any information would only increase his interest. But I couldn't just ignore it either. He needed to stop talking.

- Man, trust me, you wouldn't handle her. - Roman said, launching his typical mixture of humor and sarcasm. - She sees beyond the walls. You probably already know what you think before you open your mouth. It's fucking scary.

Lukas let out a short laugh, but Roman's comment didn't totally disarm him. His thoughts were still stuck in the image of you crossing the office, his hips moving with a grace that seemed almost calculated.

He knew he shouldn't be distracted, not at that moment, but something in you bothered him. It wasn't just the appearance - it was the aura of control, of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

As Lukas turned his attention to the meeting, the malicious smile did not completely disappear. Maybe it was an exaggeration, maybe he was just bored. Or maybe there was something in you that challenged you, without you even knowing it.

You, on the other hand, were completely oblivious to any look that could be cast in your direction. Your mind was too busy with professional issues, and on the personal side, Kendall, although consumed by the obsession with being a CEO, found ways to devote to you all the attention she needed - and sometimes even a little more. He knew how to balance the two worlds when necessary, a trait that you secretly admired in him.

That same day, something not so unusual was about to happen. At work, you always maintained an impeccable posture. Seriousness and professionalism were practically their business cards. You knew the dangers of giving room to gossip or distractions in the corporate environment. But no matter how much I tried to keep things strictly professional, sometimes it was impossible to ignore the magnetic tension between the two of you. He had a unique talent for making you lower your guard, especially when Waystar's building was almost empty.

The day was exhausting and long, a whirlwind of words and numbers that seemed to dance in front of you from the moment you passed by Waystar's concierge. Now, with the floor almost empty and the sky outside dipped in darkness, you and Kendall were sitting side by side on the couch in your living room, trying to decipher the last barrier of a problematic contract.

Kendall's suit had already been abandoned hours ago, and the sleeves of his dress shirt were folded up to the forearms. He was more comfortable. You had also abandoned any formality: the heels were dropped near the sofa, the blazer had disappeared at some point in the day, and you now settled with your legs bent under you, in an almost intimate position, reflecting the tiredness and comfort you felt next to him.

The silence in the room was broken only by the sound of fingers occasionally typing on the notebook keyboard and exhausted sighs. It was Kendall who broke the cycle, rubbing her face with her hands and leaning back on the couch with a heavy sigh, the frustration evident.

You observed the movement, the way he seemed more vulnerable at that moment, and made the decision to end the torture that you yourselves were imposing. With a decisive gesture, you closed the two notebooks in front of you and organized the papers in an improvised pile.

- I think we've done enough for today. - His voice was low, but he had a quiet determination that he didn't dispute.

When you leaned over to reach the table, your skirt went up a few centimeters more, exposing parts of your skin. Despite the evident tiredness, Kendall's gaze automatically slid to you, a spark of interest lighting up in your eyes. He didn't say anything, but the smile that began to play on his lips delivered him.

You leaned back on the couch again, but this time, instinctively, closer to him. His hand went up to the back of Kendall's neck, his fingers tracing small circles on the tense skin, an affectionate and intimate gesture that always made him relax.

- Do we really have to go to his country house this week? - You asked, your voice low and almost resigned, as if you expected him to change something. - Can't Matsson be normal and just do a video conference?

Kendall opened her eyes, turning her face slightly in your direction.

- Do you need a vacation? Because that would be a bad moment. - The provocation came with a tired but sincere smile.

- Well, you couldn't stop me anyway. - You answered in the same tone, a playful smile illuminating your face.

Kendall tilted her head, the expression slightly challenging as she rested her hands on her legs, gently pulling them to be on top of his.

- You know I'm still your boss, don't you? - His provocation was accompanied by a light touch on his knees, his fingers slowly rising up the curve of his thighs, like someone testing the limits.

- Nothing like a good judicial process to put things in perspective. - You replied with a defiant smile.

He let out a low and incredulous laugh, his eyes shining with amusement.

- Are you threatening me? Because, just for the record, my legal group is the best in the country.

You couldn't contain the loud laugh that escaped, the sound echoing through the silent room. Kendall leaned over, his smile growing when he saw his fun.

- What? Do you think I'm kidding? - He continued, still smiling, but now his hands were firmly anchored to your waist, pulling you closer. You didn't notice the exact moment when you ended up completely on his lap, but there was, sitting on your legs, the heat of the bodies of you two filling the small space between you.

- You definitely wouldn't want to face me in a court, Ken. - You murmured, the lowest voice now, but still provocative, while your arms wrapped around his neck.

His hands tightened slightly on his waist, as if they wanted to record the moment in his memory. He tilted his head, his eyes sliding from his lips to the neckline of his blouse, which was now slightly more open because of the position.

You didn't have time to say anything else before he tilted his face and his lips finally met. The kiss started slowly, almost exploratory, but quickly became more intense. His hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, feeling his breathing accelerated as he deepened the kiss.

Some fingers slowly rose under your skirt, dragging the fabric with them, while Kendall pulled you even closer, gluing her hips to his. The movement was deliberate, provocative, and when he pressed you against you, you felt exactly what he wanted you to feel.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, your fingers sliding down the open collar until you met the heat of the exposed skin, at the same time, his hands went up more, exploring his thighs without any hurry, but with a firmness that made it clear that he knew exactly what he wanted. When the lips parted, it was only for him to go down his jaw and reach his neck, where he began to distribute hot and possessive kisses.

You let out a trembling sigh when he found a sensitive spot near your collarbone. He noticed and lightly bit the area, a satisfied smile forming against his skin when he heard the sound that escaped from his lips.

- You have no idea how much I have to hold back when you wear this fucking skirt. - He whispered against her neck, his warm breath making his skin shiver.

You arched your body, tilting your head to give him more access, while he continued the path over your shoulders, his lips alternating between kisses and soft bites that made you lose control. Unhurriedly, Kendall slid her fingers through the fabric of her blouse, moving it away just enough to expose more of her skin.

- Much better this way. - He murmured against his collarbone, the hot breath making his skin even more sensitive. His hands returned to your waist, pulling you again against him while your lips explored the new piece of exposed skin.

You tried to answer, but your mind was a blur. His every touch seemed to set you on fire, and when he pressed his lips lower, near the beginning of your bra, you couldn't hold a louder sigh.

That's when a noise in the distance interrupted the moment. A low sound, maybe the creaking of a door or quick steps, made you freeze for an instant. Kendall, however, seemed to ignore it completely.

- Ken... - you call, between sighs, your eyes opening more attentively while trying to regain focus. He ignored it, thinking it was just one more of those delicious moans you let out when muttering his name. But your voice became more serious when you pushed his face away, still panting. - Ken, I think there's someone here.

He frowned, reluctantly, his lips still close to his neck while grumbling:

- So what?

You moved away a little, already restless, standing, your eyes trying to cross the darkness of the office beyond the glass walls. Kendall sighed, clearly upset, and accompanied you. He stopped right behind you, his hands automatically returning to your waist as he glued his body to yours, as if the situation were a mere detail that did not require any attention.

- There's no one here, dear. - He murmured in her ear, pressing his lips back on the curve of his neck, ignoring any sound or shadow that might exist.

You closed your eyes for a moment, almost giving in again to the warmth of his hands on your waist and brushing your lips that seemed to want to erase any remnant of your concern. But then the sound came back: something soft, like a hurried movement or the creak of a door in the distance.

- Ken, seriously. - You turned around, putting your hands on his chest, trying to stay firm. - Shall we go home?

He furrowed his eyebrows quickly, his lips curved in a carefree smile that only made it clear how much he thought you were exaggerating.

- Are you really getting me out of here? - he asked, tilting his head while looking at you as if it were a crime to leave things incomplete.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head, but before you could answer, he pulled you by the neck for a kiss, one of those that disarmed any argument. The plan of a quick kiss to convince him was completely lost when he deepened the movement, his hands firm on his waist as he pressed you against his body, with an accuracy that made you forget why they were still there.

Finally, he walked away, the satisfied smile still stamped on his face, and murmured:

- Let's go soon. - He took the suit thrown on the couch with the same energy as someone who wanted to shorten the waiting time, wearing it anyway.

You took the opportunity to take your bag, put on your shoes and turn off the lights. While the door closed behind you and you walked to the elevator, Kendall didn't waste time: a hand slid firmly to his ass, squeezing lightly while he commented something provocative with a cheeky smile.

The way back home seemed longer than usual, every second an agony. His fingers slowly went up his thigh, deliberate, squeezing and sliding, as if he wanted to test his limits.

As soon as the elevator of the building where you lived arrived, the silence between you seemed electric, the air loaded with tension. As soon as the door opened directly to the apartment, Kendall was already pulling you by the waist, closing the space between you as if there was no more time to waste. He pressed you against the wall next to the entrance, his hungry lips on yours, and you responded with equal intensity, your hands grabbing his hair, pulling him closer.

The corridor became a blur as he guided you inside, the two bumping into furniture as if every second mattered. When they got to the kitchen, Kendall didn't hesitate.

- Is this good for you? - He murmured, his voice loaded with sarcasm and desire, his chest pressed against his back, while sliding his hands down his thighs, raising his skirt without ceremony.

You couldn't answer, already completely surrendered to the firm and urgent touches. The kitchen, with its cold tones and the soft street lighting that entered through the windows, became the perfect setting for the outcome of the desire that began in the office.

__________________________

The days before the trip were intense and so full of commitments that time seemed to escape through your fingers. Kendall, you, Roman and Shiv were at a frantic pace, adjusting the last details of the proposal for Matsson during the flight. The atmosphere between you was focused, but Roman's constant interruptions with his jokes did not let the environment become completely wise.

The flight was long and silent. While most of you were immersed in papers or napping, there was a feeling of shared restlessness. You noticed this in Kendall, who drummed her fingers on the arm of the armchair.

When they landed at the small airport, the atmosphere of the destination welcomed them with a humid and cloudy cold. The surrounding mountains seemed to be covered by a thin fog, and the icy wind carried raindrops. Roman, when putting his feet on the ground, looked at the cars waiting for you and, as expected, made a comment:

- Oh, perfect. Who needs a helicopter when you can take an endless trip by car.

During the journey through the winding roads that crossed the mountainous region, the silence in the car was interrupted only by the sound of the windshield wiper fighting against the persistent drops.

When they finally arrived at the place, an imposing and modernist construction emerged in the melancholic landscape. It was isolated, surrounded by tall trees and surrounded by low clouds. Despite the discomfort caused by the cold and rain, the minimalist architecture seemed even more impactful in the scenery.

You and Kendall went out side by side, the body expression of both was neutral, maintaining professionalism. The tense atmosphere of the negotiation seemed combined with the gloomy atmosphere of the place.

Lukas was waiting under the entrance cover. Dressed casually, he seemed completely at ease, as if the hostile weather was just another characteristic of his nature. His eyes soon fell on you, analyzing every detail in a long and not at all subtle way. A brief smile appeared on the corner of his lips, something between interest and curiosity.

He approached to greet the group, extending his hand to Kendall first. Then, his eyes turned to you, and he tilted his head slightly, as if trying to evaluate who you were.

Kendall returned the greeting impassively, and you just kept the same professional countenance, corresponding to the handshake that Lukas offered. Despite not showing any visible reaction, you noticed his insistent gaze on you, as if you were trying to decipher your presence there.

His first impressions of that place ranging from something almost picturesque, ideal for relaxing, to a slasher movie setting. Dense trees surrounded the complex, its branches writhing as if whispering secrets. And the accommodations... Well, these brought a new meaning to "forced intimacy".

The rooms were small, surrounded by glass walls that led to the treetops - and to the rooms of others. There were no curtains, just a dubious concept of "integration with nature". Privacy seemed like a joke.

- What the fuck is this? - you let go, dropping your suitcase in a corner with a slack of disdain. - They put us in a matchbox with transparent walls.

Kendall, already taking off her coat, laughed low and shook her head.

- This guy is too weird to choose this damn place. - But the irritation on his face was obvious. He hated places that escaped the standard of impeccable luxury.

While you were removing your heavy coat, Kendall answered a call from Roman. He left his cell phone on the speakerphone on the table, and his brother's debauched voice took over the environment.

- Damn, are these rooms a social experiment? - Roman began, already with that tone loaded with sarcasm. - Who was the genius who decided: 'Hey, do you know what's going to be great? Glass walls among dysfunctional adults!'.

You suppressed a laugh while Roman continued:

- By the way, you can see you here. Yes, literally. So, please, do me a fucking favor and save the couple's little show for later. Seriously, whatever you do in that bed - I don't know, bite, moan, scream - I don't need a VIP window to watch. My trauma quota is already broken.

- Why don't you just look away? - Kendall replied, frowning, but unable to hide a smile.

- Oh, great plan, Ken! I'll just turn my head and ignore the erotic theater that you two may or may not decide to stage. Like, of course, super simple. It's like asking not to look at a car disaster.

Kendall just hung up with a sigh.

- He never shuts up, does he?

- It's a talent. - You laughed, dropping your coat on the couch and going towards the bathroom.

The bathroom was even tighter. You sighed when you entered, since it wasn't exactly the standard of comfort you were used to. His apartment in New York was practically a sanctuary, where not even a drone would be able to snoop.

The hot water ran down his skin, but there was no way to relax completely. Everything in that place seemed... exposed, at the same time as tiny. When you left the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, you found Kendall sitting on the bed, fiddling with your cell phone with a restained expression of frustration.

- What's wrong? - you asked as you went to your suitcase, taking the clothes you would wear during dinner.

Kendall dropped her cell phone on the bed and rubbed her eyes with her hands, the gesture of someone on the verge of exploding with their own thoughts.

- Nothing, just rereading some things. - He replied, looking up at you. The smile that emerged was subtle, but carried a malicious trace.

- What kind of "things"? - you asked, pulling a black wool blouse out of the suitcase.

He tilted his head, his eyes walking through you while you chose a heavy coat to complete the look.

- The kind that makes me think that we could pretend we got lost in this shitty place and skip this dinner.

You laughed, shaking your head while wearing your underwear, still feeling the remnant of lightness of the moment they shared. However, as soon as you and Kendall left the room and reached the main corridor, the atmosphere changed. Near the entrance of the hall, they found Shiv and Roman, and the air already seemed loaded with tension. As expected, Roman did not miss the opportunity to break the atmosphere with one of his jokes, full of irony.

- Look, the couple of the moment. - He said, with a crooked smile. - I bet dinner will be the preliminaries for what comes next.

You didn't stop, you just kept walking, your cutting tone escaping naturally.

- Roman, you're talking so much about it that I'm starting to think you're waiting for us to make love in front of you or something like that.

Roman went from surprised to angry, and you could hear the frustration in his voice.

- Fuck you.

You launched a victorious smile, without even looking back. You positioned yourself next to Shiv, following next to her to the table where they would sit while you listened to her tell you about the discoveries about Matsson.

The rhythmic sound of your heels and those of Shiv echoed through the hall as you walked towards the designated table. To the corner of your eye, you noticed Gerri and Carl sitting further down, engaged in a conversation that seemed casual. Gerri threw a polite smile in your direction, and you reciprocated, without thinking too much, before continuing to walk next to Shiv.

However, as soon as you passed, Carl leaned slightly towards Gerri, the unmistakable provocative tone.

- Still trying to make friends, huh?

Gerri kept the smile on his face, but the sarcasm in his voice was cutting.

- I still can't believe this bitch got so much power just by fucking one of Logan's children.

Carl gave a muffled laugh, his gaze dancing between Gerri and his figure, now on his way to the table.

- Well, it's not like you haven't tried something similar either, right?

Gerri sighed deeply, as if the conversation was more exhausting than necessary.

- Fuck you, Carl.

You, oblivious to the poison exchanged behind you, went to the table with Shiv, focused only on the dinner you were about to start.

Dinner was a mixture of forced formality and disguised tensions. The expensive dishes were served in silence interrupted only by the strategic conversations between the sides of Waystar and GoJo. You were calm, oblivious to any subtext that surrounded the table. He answered Matsson's questions succinctly when he tried to involve you in discussions about his area of expertise, remaining strictly professional. His clear and objective answers left little room for any other interpretation.

On the other side of the table, Roman watched everything with the usual restless attention. It didn't take long for him to realize that Matsson's eyes wandered to you more often than necessary. It was subtle, but it was there - the look that lasted a little longer when you spoke, the pause before he returned to paying attention to what Kendall or Shiv were saying.

He spent dinner rolling his eyes at himself. "Really, Lukas? Do you want to fuck her now? At a dinner? With Kendall right there?" He thought, trying to decide whether to intervene with some comment or just let the show roll. In the end, he remained silent, but the tension did not go unnoticed.

Dinner was over, and conversations flowed in small groups scattered around the hall. You ended up cornered by Greg, who, with his innate ability to turn any topic into an endless monologue, was talking about something that involved compliance systems and a documentary that no one else seemed to have heard of. You nodded from time to time, let out a "Is it really?", while thinking about how to get out of there.

Finally, you asked for permission, a polite smile on your lips, but in a hurry enough not to give him room to insist. The cold air outside was an immediate relief, and you pulled your coat closer, taking the silver cigarette wallet out of your pocket. The sound of the lighter breaking the silence was almost comforting as the smoke spread around him.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn't hear the steps approaching until a low voice full of irony sounded behind you.

- Do you mind offering me one of these?

You turned around slightly, finding Lukas Matsson standing there, the smile half crooked on his face, the expression too casual to be innocent.

- Of course. - You answered, handing him the wallet and the lighter. He took a cigarette, lit it calmly, and the flame of the lighter briefly lit up his face before he released the first long puff.

For a few seconds, silence reigned, only the sound of the embers burning filling the space. So, he broke the moment:

- So, what's your story? Did they throw you into this last-minute deal or was it just a strategic move that no one noticed?

You let out a low laugh, bringing it again while answering:

- I don't think your team did homework as well as you think. - There was an ironic tone in his voice, but nothing exaggerated. - I've always been involved. I only prefer to avoid the spotlight when I can.

Matsson gave a short laugh, leaning more relaxed against the wall, but his eyes never left you.

- You know, that's funny. - he said, releasing another drag. - It seems that the more time I spend with you, from Waystar, the more I wonder how Logan kept this shit all together.

You kept a polite smile, but you didn't get more involved than necessary.

- He knew exactly how to deal with each piece on the board.

He arched an eyebrow, interested.

- And you? Is it just another piece... or is it the one who moves the others?

His words came loaded with a subtext that you preferred to ignore. Your smile didn't falter while you put out the cigarette on the stone guardrail in front of you.

- I'm more for someone who guarantees that the board remains whole.

Matsson laughed softly, shaking his head.

- Between us, if Kendall had introduced me to you before, I would have signed any contract he asked for.

You stopped in the middle of the gesture of putting out the cigarette, crossing your arms instinctively. The short laugh that escaped was dry, almost sharp.

- This is somewhat inappropriate, considering the context.

Matsson tilted his head, a smile that was half fun, half provocation forming on his lips.

- Don't worry, it just makes everything more... interesting.

The comment made something turn in your stomach. His disconnection from the seriousness of the situation was as absurd as it was annoying. For him, it seemed like a game, a casual provocation, but you felt the weight of the inadequacy. Taking a step back, you adjusted your coat with calculated calm before answering firmly:

- Well, I think I've spent too much time outside.

He didn't move, he just kept smiling in that almost defiant way, as if he was testing his limits. You turned around and started walking back, but the discomfort persisted. Even without looking, it was impossible to ignore the weight of his gaze burning on his back.

When he got close to the salon, he saw Kendall, and the relief was immediate. Approaching, you lightly touched his arm and murmured something quick. He nodded, casting a discreet look at you before continuing his conversation.

As you left the room, you could feel Matsson watching everything from afar, his eyes fixed on every movement. What did he think he was doing? The confusion hung over you as you went up to the room, trying to remove the discomfort of that interaction.

After dinner, when most people were already starting to disperse, Matsson called Shiv, Roman and Kendall to his office. The room was minimalist, with dark wooden furniture and soft lighting that seemed to cast more shadows than clarity.

Roman, as usual, did not miss the chance to make one or two comments that made him laugh, while Shiv kept a clinical look at Lukas' roles and words. Kendall was attentive, but calm, following each point with a meticulous focus.

When the subject of the agreement finally sold out, Roman was the first to get up, with

Shiv going right behind. Kendall, in turn, mentioned accompanying them, but Matsson's voice interrupted him, casual, but firm.

- Kendall, stay a little longer. I want to exchange an idea with you.

Kendall stopped halfway, looking at the brothers. Shiv hesitated for a moment, narrowing his eyes, but ended up leaving without saying anything. The door closed with a soft click, leaving the two alone.

Lukas went to the bar in the corner of the room, the steps deliberately slow. He took a bottle of whiskey and poured two glasses, handing one to Kendall before casually leaning back on the counter. His smile had that ambiguous quality - friendly, but provocative.

- You know, you have an interesting team. - He started, turning the glass in his hand. - A little... predictable, maybe, but interesting.

Kendall laughed low, almost automatically, while taking a sip.

- Yeah, they do what they need to do.

Lukas tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening.

- Someone from your team caught my attention.

Kendall raised an eyebrow, curious, but still relaxed.

- Really?

- Yes. - Lukas took another sip, savoring the moment. - An assistant of yours, I imagine. She tried to stay professional, but... fuck, what a woman.

Kendall laughed lightly, shaking her head as if the situation were an internal joke.

- I didn't know she was your type.

Matsson arched his eyebrows, as if he were facing something too obvious to be discussed.

- Are you slutty? Damn, the woman is fucking hot. I tried to start a conversation, but she didn't make it easy.

Kendall let out a more genuine laugh now, completely certain that Matsson was talking about Jess. He imagined the assistant, who always seemed shy and out of place, trying to avoid the company's buyer.

- Well, that probably blew her mind. This kind of situation is not exactly her strong point.

Matsson shrugged, the smile loaded with subtext.

- Maybe. But nothing that a little... persistence can't solve.

Kendall still laughed, not realizing the true focus of the comments.

- Okay, good luck with that.

Matsson raised the glass, as if toasting to the "challenge", but the malicious glow in his eyes suggested much more. Finally, he changed the subject, but the tension in the air persisted, hovering between the two as something that would not be easily dissipated.

__________________________

The next morning, as soon as Kendall appeared, Roman intercepted him right on his arrival for breakfast, looking more curious than worried.

- So, Ken, what did Matsson want with you yesterday?

Kendall sighed, already anticipating Roman's insistence. In addition to having been briefly frightened by the abrupt arrival of his brother.

- Relax, man. I won't sell the company without you. - Kendall answers with a light smile with a humorous tone.

Roman, however, rolled his eyes, impatient.

- What did he want?

Kendall hesitated for a moment, but ended up letting out a short laugh while lowering her tone of voice.

- No big deal. He just wanted to talk about an assistant of mine.

- Assistant? - Roman narrowed his eyes, his expression confused.

- Yeah, I don't know, Jess. He said he thought she was hot or something like that. - Kendall gave a light laugh. - Surprising, right? Like, who would have thought?

Roman blinked, the plug suddenly falling, and his expression became incredulous. He grabbed Kendall's arm, pulling him away from curious ears.

- Ken, are you serious? - Kendall frowned in confusion, with no answer to what her brother meant by that. After all, why would he lie about that?

Roman rubbed his face, as if he needed a moment to reorganize his thoughts.

- Man, I hate being the bearer of the bad news, but... he wasn't talking about Jess.

Kendall kept not understanding, already getting impatient.

- What the fuck do you mean by that?

Roman lowered his voice even more, but the tone carried all the drama that only he knew how to apply.

- He was talking about your wife, Ken.

Kendall's face hardened, the laughter disappeared immediately.

- What?

- Do you remember that day at Waystar? He saw her passing by and, fuck, I swear, the guy almost drooled on the glass of my living room. It was so uncomfortable that I had to invent something on the spot.

- And what did you say, Roman? - Kendall asked slowly, her eyes narrowed.

Roman raised his hands, half defensive, half cynical.

- I said she was your assistant, okay? I thought you were helping. The guy was literally looking at her as if it were dessert.

Kendall ran her hand over her face, taking a deep breath, as if she wanted to punch a wall.

- Did you say she was my assistant?

- Yes, because Lukas was one step away from asking for her number. You know how he is. I thought I was playing fair for you. I thought that, because I was an assistant, he would lose interest, I don't know.

Kendall closed her eyes for a moment, as if she was counting to ten.

- And now he thinks he can talk to me about it as if it were a trophy he wants to conquer?

Roman shrugged, casting an almost apologetic look.

- Welcome to the world of Lukas Matsson. He's a cretin with an ego the size of fucking Norway.

Roman patted Kendall's shoulder before walking away, but Kendall stood still for a moment, looking at the floor, clearly trying to decide what her next step would be.

The worst was not only Matsson's behavior, but what it meant. It was a constant reminder that he was, of his own free will, about to deliver everything: Waystar, ATN, the legacy that his family carried, no matter how sick it was.

Kendall tried to focus on work for the rest of the day, but it was impossible to ignore. Whenever Matsson made a comment that seemed on the verge of something inappropriate, Roman exchanged tense glances with Kendall, as if he was expecting an explosion at any moment.

And, of course, there was the ATN.

Kendall knew that selling Waystar was already a complicated decision, but including ATN in the package? That was simply handing over all the weapons to the enemy. With the presidential elections coming, the ATN was more than a tool; it was a weapon of influence on a large scale. Leaving that in Matsson's hands was giving him a power that not even Logan would have dared to deliver.

___________________________

That same night, Kendall finally consolidated his decision. He knew that Shiv would never support him in this plan, so he went straight to what really mattered: convincing Roman. Manipulating her brother, twisting the arguments until they made sense to both of them, was something Kendall did with the skill of someone who had spent his whole life watching Logan. And, like Logan, he felt no remorse for leaving Shiv out. She was brilliant, but also mercilessly practical, and at this moment, Kendall needed something more emotional, something that only Roman could offer.

The next day, the morning was tense, but Kendall barely seemed to notice. He maintained his professional posture, and when the right time came, he set up the scene. During the meeting on a mountain trail, he pressured Matsson with insinuations about the fragility of GoJo's numbers and the potential increase in Waystar's value. It was a dangerous dance, but Kendall knew exactly where to step to make Matsson hesitate. The plan was moving slowly, but accurately.

At night, after dinner, Kendall was visibly closer to you. Throughout the day, he had left small gestures of proximity: his hand resting on the lower part of your back while you moved through the hall, one arm on the back of your chair. It was atypical for him, and you were surprised, but you didn't complain.

Already in the room, the dim light of the lamp next to the bed barely illuminated the room, but it was enough to highlight Kendall's tense expression as he closed the door behind him. He walked up to you slowly, his fingers running through his hair in an automatic gesture of frustration, before letting the weight of his body fall on the edge of the bed.

- Roman is with me - he said, without preamble, his gaze fixed on the floor. He tilted his head to you, his eyes softer, but still full of concern. - That's already something.

You frowned, closing the book you had in your hands and putting it aside.

- Okay, but what exactly are we talking about here?

He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands before turning completely to you. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost conspiratorial:

- I'm going to screw this deal. Make Matsson give up even before he gets to the council.

Your stomach jumped a little with the confidence in his voice, but you kept the expression neutral.

- And how do you intend to do that? - he asked, hesitantly.

- Force the bar. Inflate the numbers. Throwing enough shit on the table until he thinks it's not worth it.

You were silent for a moment, processing everything he had just said. It was risky, of course, but the part of you who knew the game well knew it wasn't impossible. Still, there was something in his tone, in his gestures, that suggested that he wanted more than just his approval.

- Ken... - you started, but he cut you off.

- And you? Do you have another idea? Because, honestly, I'm open to suggestions.

He hesitated. Of course there was something - the letter that no one else seemed to be thinking about. But it was risky. Not only for Kendall, but for you too.

- It's not exactly conventional - you started, carefully choosing the words. - But we've done things like this before.

He raised an eyebrow, a small smile thrown on his face.

- Okay, before your father passed away he kind of chose the next president, didn't he? Maybe... If you ensure that one of the candidates wins, but on the condition that the agreement is barred...

- Politics? - He laughed softly, more out of disbelief than humor. - Are you suggesting that I use ATN to create a political advantage and bar Matsson?

- And why not? The ATN takes care of him being elected, and everything is very simple: an election for favors to Waystar.

He didn't answer immediately. He was just looking at you, his eyes loaded with something difficult to decipher, as if he was evaluating not only the weight of your words, but you whole. Then, suddenly, a slow smile formed, that typical Kendall expression when an idea consumed him completely. Without warning, he leaned over and pressed his lips against yours almost desperately, as if you had just delivered the solution to all his problems.

- Damn, I fucking love you. - He murmured, his forehead touching yours while a small smile still hovered on his lips.

You couldn't avoid a laugh, half surprised, half enchanted, but full of the lightness that he seemed so desperate to feel.

At the same time, in Matsson's office, Shiv entered with a confidence almost identical to Kendall's, carrying on his shoulders the posture of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

Shiv entered Lukas Matsson's office with calculated steps, like someone who knew the weight of his own presence. He was at the bar, absently fiddling with a bottle of whiskey, but turned around when he saw it. A provocative smile appeared almost immediately.

- Oh, Roy who really knows what he's doing. What an honor.

She ignored the sarcasm, approaching with the usual posture: absolute confidence. Shiv knew he loved a power game and wanted to make him confused about what piece she represented on that board.

- We need to talk, Lukas. Of course, my brother is... complicating things.

He poured himself a glass and offered her another one, which Shiv accepted without taking his eyes off him.

- Complicating? - He arched an eyebrow, leaning casually. - It's a polite way of saying that he's trying to fuck with the agreement.

- Well, considering the circumstances, it doesn't surprise me.

Matsson tilted his head, interested.

- Circumstances?

Shiv turned the liquid in the glass, taking his time to choose the words. She knew that the next move would be crucial.

- Before we go for this, I want something from you.

He laughed briefly, surprised by the audacity.

- Like what?

- A guarantee that, if I help you, my place in all this will be solid. No unexpected turnaround, no last-minute change of plans.

Lukas blinked, clearly intrigued.

- Are you serious?

- Always. - She took a sip of the whiskey. - You need someone who knows how to deal with things... and I need to know that, at the end of this, I won't be just a pawn.

Shiv observed his reaction with a subtle smile, as if he knew exactly the direction the conversation would take. She leaned back in the chair, keeping her eyes fixed on Lukas, while he still seemed to process her proposal. She had the feeling that he was beginning to realize the weight of his words, but still not enough to accept the offer without question.

- And what are you going to give me in return, then? - Lukas asked, more genuine now, as if the negotiation had begun.

She didn't hesitate.

- Kendall. - The word fell like a silent command, and she watched him, seeing the surprise twinkle in her eyes.

- Kendall? - He repeated, the disbelief evident in his voice.

- I want you to keep him in control. I'll help you deal with it, keep it more... tied to the agreement. But what I need is to know that my role in your structure will be clear and definitive. I'm not someone who submits to uncertainties.

Lukas was silent for a moment, watching her more intensely now. He realized that the conversation was not only about business, but about power and control. Shiv wasn't there to ask for favors, she was negotiating something much more valuable.

- And what do you think I need to know exactly? - Lukas asked, leaning forward. He seemed to want to better understand what was at stake, but something in the way he looked at her said that he was also considering the impact of this for himself.

- Something about Kendall, of course. But also about who he has next to him. You know, his wife is not just another woman in the equation. She's... strategic. Before being Kendall's wife, she already had influence, an influence that is not seen in the media, but that is very real. Politics, maybe. Real power, not this spotlight show you love. And, of course, she was always his right-hand man, helping him get where he got.

Matsson was silent, his expression changing as he assimilated Shiv's words. He tried to connect the pieces, and the surprise soon turned into a smile of recognition.

- I'll make sure Kendall doesn't destroy the agreement. I'll help you keep him on the right track. And in the end, you'll need someone like me to make sure everything goes as planned.

Lukas was silent for a moment, evaluating her, before giving a low laugh, full of understanding.

Lukas let out a short and incredulous laugh, his smile widening.

- Damn, you Roy really hate your own family, don't you? - He said, the sharp sarcasm, but his eyes shining with something darker, almost fascinated.

Shiv tilted his head slightly, an ironic smile touching his lips.

Without saying anything else, she deposited the empty glass on the table with a slight click, keeping her gaze fixed on him for a moment that seemed to last longer than necessary. So, he got up with the calculated grace of those who always know the next move and walked out of the room, leaving Lukas with the trail of his presence and the sound of his jumps echoing in the silent space.

After Shiv's departure, Lukas Matsson remained motionless for a few moments, his gaze fixed on the door she had closed behind him. A slow smile formed on his lips, but it wasn't just satisfaction - it was something deeper, almost voracious. You.

Kendall's wife.

Lukas got up from the couch and walked to the window, the whiskey glass turning in his hand. He stared at his reflection in the glass for a moment, his breathing a little heavier. There was something electric, a mixture of irritation, fascination and a barely disguised excitement.

With a quick movement, he took his cell phone in his pocket and typed his name. In seconds, the information appeared: the first photo showed you next to Kendall at an event, the haugty look, a perfect smile, but distant. He narrowed his eyes, analyzing every detail of the image.

He moved on to the next photo. You alone, greeting some big guy at a formal event. Impeccable posture, wearing power as if it were a second skin. The almost non-existent smile was just enough to comply with the protocol.

A wave of irritation passed through Lukas. How had your team let something so grotesque pass? They had done a thorough research on Kendall and all his surroundings, but they hadn't realized that the person next to him was more than a wife.

Another article caught his attention, and he clicked. Your maiden's last name. Political connections. Zero direct involvement with the media, but an evident reach in other circles of power. Lukas laughed dryly, almost incredulous. You didn't need Waystar to be relevant.

He found another photo. You in a tight dress, walking alone to an event. Every line of his body seemed designed to exude control and elegance. Lukas pressed his lips, his jaw contracting. How did Kendall get someone like that? The thought hit him hard, a mixture of mockery and indignation.

He rested his hand on the bar, the smile on his face now a mixture of contempt and challenge. Kendall, with all her flaws and insecurities, had conquered something that seemed so out of reach. Maybe that was luck. Or maybe it was you.

The heat of the whiskey burned his throat, but it was not enough to relieve the tension that grew in his body. Every detail about you was like a piece of a puzzle that he wanted to assemble. How could someone so strategic, so imposing, be next to someone as pathetic as Kendall?

Leaving his cell phone aside, Lukas leaned back at the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon. You weren't just a challenge.

_______________________________

A/N: Okay, I know we ran over some things here, but I just couldn't contain my obsession, sorry!! 🫠

masterlist

xoxo, bebe🫶🏼💕

[ghostlyfleur]

okay but steve harrington + shy! innocent! crybaby-ish reader where he is like play fighting with her and tickling her to the point where he’s pinned her down and she’s laughing so cute! but secretly, the weight of her boy on top of her and his hands all over her thighs and stomach, is making her rlly rlly wet 🥹

she’s like “steveee stop tickling me!” bc she can’t take it anymore and he does! but he also fully takes his weight off of her which makes her start huffing and whining for him to come back, grabby hands shooting out at him. steve is confused, ofc, like “honey i thought you wanted me to stop?” and she’s so embarrassed covering her face, squeezing her thighs and almost, if not, crying in frustration.

steve pulls her hands off her face to see her eyes, laying back down on her body when her legs spread open again, looking at her to explain further, but all she can do is whine that “it hurts s’bad stevie”.

he’s confused for a moment but then he glances down and her ridden-up oversized t-shirt reveals the wet spot forming on her panties. he presses a big kiss on his angel’s lips before cooing on her mouth, lightly touching her clothed cunt, “aw honey you wanted me to stop bc your lil pussy got all wet f’me, huh? is that what you were trying to say?”

to which she responds something like “wanted y’to stop ticklin’ me, not to stop touching me :,(“! steve finds his lovely girl so adorable, he makes sure to take good care of her afterwards, like always! maybe even mocking her just a bit from getting so turned on from a little tickling 🫠

holy shiiiiit — normal sized font below the cut

this is definitely soft dom!daddy!steve…

like he’s so doting and caring and careful and affectionate, always spoiling and praising his angel, being all playful and funny and silly like he always is— and the two are best friends, don’t get it twisted! they’re dating, but they’re still the best of friends… they banter and play fight and mock each other, share secrets and personal thoughts and feelings and they gossip together, play pranks on each other… all the good best friend things…

so they’re very close. very. loyal and devoted and completely obsessed with each other. as much as steve’s sweet girl loves to dote on him and take care of him, it’s more so her stevie’s self-assigned job to care for his baby.

and so steve buys her flowers, takes her on cute dates, is always looking out for her and can’t help his casual dominance, tying her shoes and carrying her places sometimes and brushing her hair and treating her like a little doll, his little doll. slowly acclimates her to what being in a relationship is like, he’s so so patient.

but he’s so hungry for her, it drives him insane how oblivious she is to the affect she has on him, how fucking adorable and clueless she is but also so very eager to please— because that’s all she wants, to be stevie’s good girl, to make him feel safe and loved and cared for, to make him feel good. but she gets greedy easily now… now that steve has ingrained in her mind that he truly wants her and loves her, that he’s all hers, that he wants to spoil her, marry her and make her his little wife, and spend his entire life with her!!!!!! her! his best friend! his person! they’re soulmates after all!!!!!!

her shyness stays, it’s just who she is (and steve finds it so fucking cute he has to constantly hold himself back from cooing at her all the time), but she’s just so horny for her stevie and doesn’t know how to say it ‘cause she’s so embarrassed and flustered and unsure and finds it hard to voice her needs and wants, so it manifests into tears. whenever she wants something from her stevie she gets all soft and small and pouty, grabbing at him and whining and holding his fingers to get his attention, and steve coos at her, can’t help it, his sweet angel girl so needy, and he always wants to give her the world, right? that’s his baby! she deserves to be spoiled! but her stevie is very clear in his rules— you have to speak up, tell him what you want, communicate. that’s very important to him.

and yeah, in theory his angel thinks it’s perfect, the communication and attention and how safe it makes her feel, but she physically can’t speak up when her stevie is making her feel all these sweet, intense, pretty feelings that she’s never felt before, even though she knows her stevie, her daddy, will always give her whatever she wants 😖 she just gets so pouty and teary-eyed and huffs and puffs, crossing her arms or stomping her foot like a spoiled brat until she’s so desperate bc her stevie is adamant she has to tell him what she wants before he does anything, that he’ll give her whatever she wants if she asks for it, that she whines and mumbles and asks him “pretty please, daddy” and steve is gone.

when her perfect, incredible, dreamy stevie is playing around with her, after she teases him or mocks him or they pretend-fight, or when they’re joking around, he’ll tickle her ‘cause she has the cutest little giggles, even though her laugh is kind of weird— sometimes loud, sometimes silent, sometimes she’ll fall down from laughing so hard. still, he loves it. it’s his favorite sound in the world, along with her little needy noises. it’s always different and funny and steve loves finding out what kind of laugh he’ll get out of his sweet girl that day, so he tickles. and if there’s one thing about his angel is that she loves using him as a weighted blanket, loves his weight on her, pressing her down and molding their bodies together, so that coupled with how his hands are all over her body, fingers gripping her and poking at her, his bulge rubbing against her, she gets needy. wet. very greedy. but if her stevie gets up or pulls away or sits back????? away from her????? she’ll turn into such a crybaby, like it’s the most insulting thing he could ever do, to pull away.

and steve knows. he knows how much she’s taken to steve being all over her, making her feel good, letting her explore and learn what they both like, being the only one to touch her and her him, but she still carries this air of innocence and softness and inexperience that drives him up the wall. the little looks she gives him and the shy smiles and the eagerness. she’ll be the horniest little minx, crawling up his lap and rubbing her cunt against his thigh, but will also hide her face and whimper and get all shy even if steve is balls deep inside her.

the duality of her never fails to disarm him completely. steve definitely tickles his angel sometimes when he wants to rile her up and get her needy for him— he thinks she’s clueless about it, but soon it turns into this thing where steve has pretty much conditioned her to turn into a needy little mess whenever he starts tickling her— she gets wet instantly now.

[callme-holly]

OKAY OKAY, HEAR ME OUT....

Darry x wife reader where they have a son, and he really really wants to be just like his dad and play football and is low-key a terror to his mom...

𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐧]

𝐚/𝐧 : y'all wanted more dad!darry and im delivering. i was hoping to get a bunch posted but i feel like shit and ive been crazy busy

The second your son was born, you knew he’d be just like Darry, and he’d be an absolute nightmare.

Darry is so incredibly proud of his boy and with each passing day, you could spot more and more similarities between them 

As soon as he can walk, your son is toddling around after Darry everywhere he goes. This kiddo is obsessed. 

When he’s old enough, Darry would start teaching your son about football, and soon it becomes a routine for them to sit on the couch together after Darry comes home from work and watch the games together

Your son looks up to Darry like he’s some type of idol. He always says that when he grows up, he wants to be just kike his dad, and you can’t even be upset about it bc its so damn cute

The gang teases you all the time for it because having to deal with one Curtis boy is enough, but two? Chaos.

These boys are always playing football in the yard together. I’m talking 24/7. Whether its raining, windy, or sunny. They don’t care. It becomes a problem for you, however, when you’re the one who has to wash muddy clothes and makes sure they stay off the couches and go take showers. 

Your son copies everything Darry does, from the way he drinks his coffee and reads the paper in the morning (except he swaps it out for milk and a comic), right down to the way he walks around the house with his hands on his hips. 

Both Darry and your son are fiercely protective of you, and when he’s older, your boy will fight for your honour if it’s the last thing he does. If anyone makes even the smallest comment about you, he’ll glare at them, puffing out his chest whilst delivering the sassiest comment a kid can come out with.

Sometimes when Darry is working late, your son will help you “cook” dinner the same way his dad taught him. It more often than not ends with him covered in ingredients, and you do most of the work, but he gets 50% of the credit regardless.

At bedtime, Darry will sit and read to your son until he falls asleep. Sometimes he tells stories from high school or about the gang, and your son hangs onto every single word, thinking they’re the coolest stories ever. 

The teen years are when things get crazy

Your baby boy has a growth spurt out of nowhere and it isn’t long before he’s the spitting image of his dad: broad shoulders, serious expression, and slowly growing taller than you 

Arguments happen a little more often. Their personalities are so similar that they tend to clash and butt heads, leading to you having to bring everyone back down to earth. They end up making up eventually, whether thats through talking it out or soft teasing until the other laughs.

[storiesofsvu]

Addicted

Addison Montgomery x fem!reader Warnings: language, cheating, smut, fingering, oral, bottom!Addison, praise kink, semi-public sex. (yes, Addi is a bottom and we can totally fight over this) 2.7k

Addison knew it was wrong; she was more than well aware of that from the first time she had strayed from her marriage with Mark, but she simply couldn’t help it, every second her mind had a minute of peace she found it instantly aching for a moment like this, where she was pinned to the wall with someone’s lips dragging across her skin, someone who definitely wasn’t her husband. 

Showing up in Seattle was supposed to be her power move, her sauntering through the lobby of Seattle Grace to confront Derek with the intern he was sleeping with. It was supposed to rip the rug out from under them, blowing up their relationship so she could get back with her husband, whisk him away to New York where the two of them belonged. She’d been annoyed at first when Derek hadn’t immediately fallen to his knees and apologized for leaving, that the two of them were meant to be, when he’d chosen Meredith over her, but things were only temporary. It had only taken a short amount of time for the intern to get frustrated, unable to work around her so-called boyfriend and his wife, they were finally allowed to work on their marriage.

The only problem being that while she settled into her role as the head of OB-GYN she was immediately taken by the lead scrub nurse of the department. You presented with confidence, a near cocky smile almost always on your face, you reminded Addison of herself, so self-sure and ready to take on any risk no matter the consequences. She never thought that she would be the biggest risk of them all.

To anyone on the outside, her and Derek were back together, the perfect fixed marriage, happy couple who showed up to work together, kissing each other before they went their separate ways and left together hand in hand at the end of the day. To a very few people, people privy to the deeper side of things, knew that they came in together in a silent car, the coffee Derek bought for her was never right, hot on the days it should have been iced, the flavour shot always wrong and the type of milk always the one that would hurt her stomach. It always ended up in the trash the second she was out of his view, the coffee that sat on her desk however? Perfection. When the so-called happy couple left work, things rarely got better though they tried, Addison especially, small talk while they cooked or waited for takeout. No matter what happened, she was sure she would always love Derek and she was determined. 

It appeared no matter how desperate she was to fix her marriage; she was ten times more desperate for you.

A makeshift prom night for Richard’s niece, she’d shown up in a deep green cocktail dress on Derek’s arm, intent on staying there until her eyes caught you across the room. Your hair was up off your neck, your dress clinging to you exactly where she hoped it would and the only thing she wanted was to run her hands over your body, kiss your exposed skin and her mouth ran dry at the thought. 

She wasn’t entirely sure how the two of you had ended up in the on-call room, or how she ended up pinned to the door, hands roaming over and under dresses, caressing skin she knew shouldn’t be touched but she didn’t care. You tongue snuck into her mouth as your hands caressed up her back, fingers finding the zipper of her dress, slowly pulling it down, nudging the straps off her shoulders. Addi managed to break free of the kiss with a gasp, her eyes filled with lust as she looked across at you,

“This is a one-time thing.” She insisted and you chuckled; your hands pinched at her waist through her dress.

“You keep saying that.” Your lips flicked up into a smirk, “but I’m pretty sure you don’t mean it.”

“No one can know.” She groaned as your hands cupped her chest, fingers pinching at her nipples.

“No one will.” You assured her before ducking your head, your mouth wrapping around one of her nipples and her fingers immediately sunk into your hair.

“Fuck...” Her head dropped against the door with a soft clunk and she whimpered, feeling herself pulse between her legs, “Okay.” Your teeth sunk into her skin and she bit back a sigh, “don’t be so rough! There can’t be any marks.”

“Sorry.” You pulled your head off her body with a smirk as your hand danced up her leg, “forgot someone else gets to see you naked.”

Your mouth ducked to her stomach, kissing a lazily trail up her torso, slowly sucking one nipple into your mouth and then the other as Addsion gasped, her breath picking up until her chest was heaving. You waited until she let out a small whine before sliding your fingers along the side of her panties, shifting back to your feet so your mouth could nip at the crook of her neck.

“What’d you say, baby?” You husked into her ear, “you want me to touch you?”

She whimpered, her hips jumping up to the touch as you pulled at her panties, letting them snap back against her skin.

“Fuck.”

“That’s not an answer.” You murmured, pressing a kiss into her skin as you palmed her pussy and she gasped. “Well pretty girl?” You softly nipped at her neck, sure you wouldn’t leave a mark as your fingers gently tapped between her legs one by one, “it’s up to you. I can touch you, can make you come on my fingers, or you can go home to that pathetic excuse of a man.”

“No!” Her reply came in a sharp whisper as her eyes shot open and you pulled your face away from her neck with a grin. “Please… please make me come.”

“That’s what I thought.” Your free hand came up, smoothing back a few pieces of mussed up hair, “God you’re so gorgeous. You know that baby?” Your lips returned to her body as the hand between her legs finally slipped underneath her underwear.

“Shit.” Addison’s head hit the door again as her body shivered. 

It didn’t matter how many times you touched her each time felt like the first. Like she could combust with a single stroke of your fingers, like you had been tormenting her for ages, teasing her, edging her bit by bit until she was begging for you. But that would mean the reality of you plunging into her with your strap had been a pure figment of her imagination and she knew it wasn’t. She could still feel every single inch of you thrusting into her, bringing her to her peak over and over again like never before. Her entire being shook at the thought, her pussy pulsing over your fingers when you finally sunk them into her and she let out a moan you swallowed with a kiss. 

“That’s it baby.” Your lips brushed over hers, “squeeze my fingers just like that.” Your wrist flicked, fingers curling and Addi moaned louder, pulling a chuckle from you, “is that the spot?” You asked, thrusting back into her, curling so your fingertips dragged longer and harder against the spongey spot and she trembled in your arms.

“You know it is.” She managed, a gasp escaping her while her hips jumped off the door when you repeated the motion, her pussy clenching down around your fingers.  “Shit, don’t stop… please don’t stop.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her pleading, the way Addison begged was a whole different level, something so intoxicating it made you understand why you were indulging yourself with such a morally wrong situation. She was so goddamn pretty, hooded eyes, lips parted while your fingers plunged into her drenched pussy, a wetness you were sure her husband never got to experience. This needy version of Addison was something just for you, something hidden away behind closed doors and dark on-call rooms. To everyone else she was a double board-certified surgeon with a huge trust fund and impeccable reputation. To you she was the woman you craved to have at your mercy no matter what the risk, the woman who enjoyed it and would rather keep her hands on you than anyone else. 

Your free hand shoved her dress up around her hips as you sunk to your knees in front of her, your fingers still eagerly fucking her. Addison felt the chill envelope her body, eyes widening at the sight of you below her but before she could even get out a thought your tongue lapped at her cunt, dragging from where your fingers disappeared into her to her clit and she gasped. You kept eye contact with her the entire time until she clamped a hand over her mouth, her hips undulating against your mouth and you let your eyes fall shut as you worked her clit.

Addison bit into her palm in a feeble attempt to silence the noises she craved to make, the ones that made you more than well aware of just how good you were making her feel. If she could, your name would’ve been a chant on her lips, a prayer cried out into the dark night over and over again as she thanked you for the insane amount of pleasure you made her feel. It never mattered how much time you had, an entire night in a hotel room while Derek worked an overnight shift or five minutes tucked away in a secluded corner of the hospital, you always made Addi feel incredible when she came. Her orgasms washing over her in a way she’d never experienced before, you made her entire body burst into flames rather than just an ember moving through her veins. You managed to explore her entire body, not leaving an inch of skin unexplored, fingertips tracing patterns that left her body burning for days afterwards. 

It was what made her absolutely crave you. 

She’d catch herself watching your hands in the OR, rather than thinking about what a skilled professional you were, she’d be daydreaming about how good your hands felt on her body. The way your nails would scratch her –featherlight— just enough to make her shiver but never leave a mark. How your hands fit perfectly around her chest, thumbs rubbing back and forth over her nipples, bringing them the hardened peaks. The moments you’d glance up at her, a sly grin on your cheeks as your thumb traced along her lower lip, how she would immediately succumb, sucking the digit into her mouth, aching for your to call her your good girl.

She absolutely hated that the scrub masks covered your mouth, that her lips were hidden from her half the time she was around you. They were the lips that were always incredibly soft, with a lingering taste of blackberries, ones painted in a new lipstick shade each week, a shade she wished was stained across her skin, smudged against the collar of her lab coat. Lips that curved up into a coy grin whenever you caught her staring, a pulse of passion bursting through her body knowing that you knew, that now you were probably thinking of all the dirty things you’d do to her once you got her alone. 

Similar to the hands she couldn’t stop staring at, your mouth had mapped her body, tongue trailing over her collarbone, licking a line between her breasts, sucking them one at a time in between your lips. She knew you ached to sink your teeth into her skin and she longed for it too, to be left with your mark, a purpling bruise for only her to see and think back to what she was doing when she got it. If she could have it her way, her entire body would be covered in marks left by your mouth. Hickes around her neck from when you sucked on her supple skin with your fingers buried in her pussy, bruises littered across her chest because you couldn’t help but play with her tits and she adored every second of it. Dark love bites on her inner thighs from when your face was buried between her legs, her thighs sore for days afterwards because you’d held them apart for so long, savouring every last drop of wetness from her cunt. She wanted to be fully and totally marked by you, wanted you to be able to claim her, have everyone know that she was yours and only yours. 

“Shit!” The swear left her lips as a hiss, her pussy clenching down around your fingers as your tongue danced over her clit, faster and faster, fingers pressing harder into her sensitive spot. She felt the fire bursting free through her body, her knees buckling as her body went limp.

Your free hand splayed across her stomach, pinning her to the door as you pressed a soft kiss to her clit, “that’s my good girl.” You cooed, fingers fucking her through her orgasm, “always so pretty when you come for me.”

You raised to your feet, fingers slipping from her pussy and she couldn’t help but whine. You chuckled softly, sucking your fingers into your mouth to clean them of her juices and she watched with hungry eyes, lips parted as she caught her breath. You smoothed the fabric of her skirt, moving the straps of her dress back up her shoulders as she drooped against the door. Leaning in you kissed her softly and she could taste herself on your lips, her tongue eagerly slipping into your mouth for more. She was drunk on the thought of tasting you, of happily sinking to her knees in front of you and licking you until you were as much of a mess as she felt in that moment. Instead, she felt your fingers deftly zipping up the back of her dress, your lips brushing against her shoulder, slowly trailing up her neck until you left one on her cheek.

“Don’t forget to fix your lipstick.” You murmured, your breath warm on her slowly cooling skin. She felt herself step away from the door, but by the time she’d turned to face it, you had disappeared through it, making your way back through the hospital hallways to the prom. 

The prom where you would pick up a flute of champagne and slip your way into a social circle as if you’d been there the entire night. You’d make casual conversation with Derek as if you hadn’t just had your fingers buried inside his wife, as if you didn’t know what her cum tasted like and as if you had no clue that you could make her come ten times better than he could even dream of. 

Addison would appear a few long minutes later, feigning some excuse about a patient before she slipped her arm into Derek’s. She would accept the glass of wine, letting herself be circled around the room so she could fluff up her husband’s ego while he bragged on and on about expansive and experimental surgeries. As if she hadn’t done just as many of her own.

And when the time came, she would bid you goodnight, accept the compliment you gave her on her dress, as if it was the first time you were noticing it that night. She would wrap her hand tighter into Dereks, reminding herself that she was a married woman and no matter how much her body started to quiver when she laid eyes on you, she shouldn’t give in to her desires. It was meant to be only once, it just so happened that it spiraled into multiple, stand-alone situations. It wouldn’t happen again, it couldn’t. Derek never needed to know and she would continue to play the role of obedient housewife. It was what her marriage needed.

The moment would only last so long after getting home. Digging through her purse to find her phone Addison instead found your panties. The silky fabric shifted between her fingers and she traced the lace patterns with her fingertips, wishing she could have done so when you were still wearing them. She took a breath, but it didn’t matter how hard she tried to forget, the desire was already pooling within her again. There was no way this was going to be a one-time thing.

Addison Montgomery was addicted to you.

_______________

@svulife-rl @ssa-sapphic @mickey-gomez @clarawatson @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @somethingimaginative17 @red1culous @imlike-so-gaydude @disneyfan624 @littlegaybabe @mysticfalls01 @bumblebear30 @solemnnova @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @narvaldetierra @dxtery @kellykidd @poisonedcrowns @alexxavicry @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @dextur @m00nkn1ghts @augustvandyne @msvenablesbitch @peanutbutterprincess @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @riveramorylunar @ara-a-bird @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @noahrex @slay @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @ralla-ralla @dowsedwithbleach @necronazarick @natromilf @fictionalized-lesbian

[bullet-prooflove]

One Night Stand - Richie Jerimovich x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @rita-lean @yousigned-upforthis @factualfic @ayeeeee-ayeeeeeeeeeeee

Companion piece to: All The Good Ones Are

Richie isn’t looking to meet someone.

He’s in the midst of a horrible divorce, his wife doesn’t love him anymore, his daughter is in pieces and he’s just trying to get through the fucking day without murdering one of the shitheads he works with when the woman next to him outside The Buzzard asks him for a light.

It’s as he leans in close, using the end of his cigarette to ignite yours that he realises just how beautiful you are.

“Let me buy you a drink in return for the light.” You say as he’s finishing up his smoke and Richie, he can’t help but oblige.

You spend the evening propping up the bar, he tells you his Bill Murray story and you spend the next couple of hours listening and then relistening to his voicemail trying to decipher if it is Bill Murray of if Richie is just a really good impressionist.

The jury is still out when you take him home that night. The two of you step outside the bar after last call and he’s just about to light another cigarette when you rise up on tiptoes and kiss him. He doesn’t expect it because he’s just spent the past couple of hours explaining how much of a mess he is.

“Who isn’t?” You respond, your fingertips ghosting along the collar of his jacket. “You think I’ve got all my shit together?”

No, he knows you don’t because he’s not the only one going through a divorce, he’s not the only one that feels unwanted.

It’s meant to be a quick fuck, something to provide a little relief against that horrible crushing feeling in his chest but it turns into something more because you, you just have this way about you.

For Richie, there’s always been a desperation in the act. He craves intimacy, a sense of connection but he never gets it, especially not  in the final days of his marriage. It was always raw, always angry, Tiffany would get up as soon as she was done, retreat to the bathroom, leaving him spent in the sheets wondering what the fuck he’d done wrong now.

It isn’t like that with you. It’s light-hearted, filled with smiles and laugher as the two of undress each other. Instead of wham, bam, thank you Richie, it becomes an exploration. Gentle lingering touches that chase over every part of his body, and heated lips that have him gripping the sheets in his fists.

“You’re not used to being taken care of.” You murmur as you straddle his lap. His skin’s flushed, his dick leaking and already he’s looking at you like he’s just seen God.

“No I’m not.” He admits, burying his face into the hollow of your throat as you sink down onto him inch by inch.

There is nothing in this world that rivals the sensation of being inside of you. It’s not just how fucking good your cunt feels wrapped around him, it’s everything. The eye contact as you fuck him, the way you cling to him when he hits that sweet spot, the one that drives you absolutely crazy. He wants to stay like this forever, locked in this perfect moment but then you start to tighten around him and Richie, he’s fighting a losing battle because you can’t stop the rising tide.

You come together, his release spilling into you as you cry out his name and it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.  

“I’ll go in a minute.” He promises you as he collapses back into your sheets, still tangled up in you. “I just need to catch my breath.”

“There’s no rush.” You tell him, your lips brushing over the space where his heart resides.

He doesn’t intend to stay the night, he just feels so relaxed and you feel so perfect tucked against him, your face buried into the curve of his neck. He falls asleep, feeling wanted, feeling safe.

He’s late to work the next morning. You’d had him again in the shower before you left for work and Richie’s still riding the high when he steps through the door of The Beef wearing a smile and yesterday’s clothes.

“You’ve met someone.” Tina says as she chops potatoes at her station and he can’t keep the blush from creeping up his cheeks. “It looks good on you.”

“Maybe.” He says, his palm rubbing over the back of his neck. “It’s early days.”

He texts you when he gets off shift that night. He’s spend the whole day trying to come up with the perfect message and he keeps fucking it up so he goes for the direct approach.

What are you doing tonight? He asks, lingering outside The Beef as he awaits your reply.

You hopefully. You respond and he laughs because this thing between the two of you, he already knows it’s going to go the distance.

Love Richie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[newkatzkafe2023]

Have ya ever play Cookie Run Kingdom????

If so...

Can ya please make a post about The Monkey Kings meeting a Y/N who's like Shadow Milk Cookie???? Little blue blob of a jester is so chaotic I love him

I will always remember cookie run kingdom they were all so cute😉

(Lmk Wukong) Wow you are just so tricky and can be obnoxious, as well as cruel however something tells him that's a front. Wukong eventually gets you to open up to him in your courting period and he learns about imprisonment and how it broke you that dispite your vast knowledge people still lied to themselves. Wukong hated how you were taken for granted and decided to ask you for another story making you fly into performer mode, acting eccentric and imaginative. Not to mention your constant story telling reminds him of macaque but somehow way more sinister.

(NR Wukong) Oh Wukong adores you more then anything in the world, you were always Quirky and imaginative so it's fun spending time with you. Your loud, silly, and full of chaos your his dream gal getting into all sorts of trouble and mayhem together. Dispite You both would share depressive days together because of you remembering your imprisonment in the silver tree and Wukong's disappointment in the world around him. So you cheer him and yourself up with some fun story telling about your handsome husband and his beautiful wife you.

(HIB Wukong) Oh jeez, Wukong thinks you're a whole ass clown literally, with your tricks and dramatic ass storytelling. It gets worse when you involve Luier and Silly Girl, often inviting the two to cause a bit of mischief with you. You can be a bit of a nuisance to Wukong but he learned about your backstory once, and well help you find some kind of peace and help you stay calm. He really loves you and your stories just has a hard time showing it. You can be a bit childish and cartoonish you can get serious and scary at the drop of your hat, your the only one who can trick and deceive your hubby but if anyone else dare to do that, well may God have mercy on there souls.

(MKR Wukong) You would drive him insain with your tricks and riddles, it pisses him off sometimes. Not to mention if Wukong were to make you angry well that's doomsday for him, you both would fight constantly but with this you both began to open up to each other. Sharing all the bad things that happened to you both especially the fact that you were both trapped by people stronger then you. Granted you both still taunt each other but over time you both grow closer and you get kinda kinder to him. Wukong deep down loves you even with your dramatic and eccentricity and besides what's wrong with a bit of chaos.

(Netflix Wukong) He always loves hearing your stories like a small child listening to your narration. Your both causing chaos and be a force to be reckon with especially on the battlefield, as we taunt and mess with your enemies and love to manipulate anyone who mess with you and your husband. You are smart enough to keep your cruelty hidden from Wukong especially when it's triggered by your wrath. You love to lovingly annoy Wukong with Riddles and Tricks but nothing horrible, just inconvenient. Your Wukong's partner in crime no matter what.

(BMW Wukong) Wow, he understands you better than anybody, especially with the whole being trapped it's a touchy subject, and you would get angry because of it. However, your husband is endlessly patient with you and loves to join you and causing chaos, not to mention your both story tellers. In fact you would always add flare and pizzazz to all his stories making your husband sound greater then ever, your husband loves your intelligence and imagination and he wouldn't change you for anything.

(Destined one) Yeah...the Destined one is the last demon to ever fall for your Deceit and Riddles. The Destined one very much loves your intelligence and all knowing knowledge but it's the fact that you, constantly Lie to him and try to deceive him. The Destined one is the only one who can come you down when you suddenly fly into a fit of rage, but the Destined one makes for a good listening ears for you and your stories. He also sympathies with you and tells you how his older brother Wukong was trapped under a mountain, and he becomes supporting system for you.

(Lotmk Wukong) Oh boi he honestly feels bad for you especially learning how you were trapped in a tree for a whole millennia. You can pretend to not be bothered by the whole thing but he's also someone who you can't easily lie too you know, Wukong would actively sit and listen to you tell your side of the stories. Dispite that he's sometimes easy for you to manipulate and you drag him to participate on in your storytelling, and eccentric behavior that would make Wukong's head spin at times but at least it's never a dull moment.

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[scuderiasundays]

chili’s angels

summary: carlos can’t say no to his little girls, leaving him with some explaining to do on media day + a little insta au at the end 🌶️

words: 806

a/n: this one was in my drafts for a while but i brought it out for @thatsdemko and all the dad! carlos girlies out there. i know there are a lot of you! tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, and @diorleclerc just because. feedback is much appreciated as always. hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

When Y/N found out she was pregnant with twin girls, Carlos was over the moon. He had been raised by a vivacious mother and alongside two sisters, who despite driving him mad as a child, had become his closest confidantes. Carlos stopped wearing the Tom Ford cologne you once loved when it started to trigger your nausea. He rushed to a nearby drive-through at midnight solely to satisfy your craving for fries and a milkshake. And when your shoelaces needed tying, he was always there to help.

“I feel like I’m asking way too much of you,” you spoke. He smiled and gently caressed your growing belly. "Never, mi amor. Taking care of you and our girls is my purpose now," he said tenderly. "You're an amazing mom already, and I can't wait to see our daughters grow up with the same strength and love that you have."

You had held off on naming the twins because you strongly felt you owed it to your daughters to meet them and get an actual feel for their energies. Together, you spent an evening brainstorming a list of potential names, Carlos voicing a particular preference for their names starting with the same letter. Labor proved to be more challenging than anyone had ever prepared you for, leaving you drained once it was over. Carlos cradled the newborns in his arms, softly uttering their names, "Melina" and "Mila," while his gaze shifted from one little face to the other.

Flash forward, and your twin daughters thought the world of their dad. You loved getting to see Carlos in a new light, your love for him only growing as you watched him interact with your girls. "Can we go outside and play? Please!" Melina and Mila were like the Energizer Bunny times two on the rare weekends when Carlos was home. Although he rarely said no to them, they were both feeling under the weather, so he shook his head. "How about we stay inside and do some drawing?" he suggested.

"Can we paint your nails? Mamá always lets us," the girls asked, their eyes widening as they edged closer to him. Carlos paused for a moment, thinking, what harm could it do? Eventually, he nodded in agreement. The girls knew exactly where their mother kept her nail polish kit and eagerly fetched the equipment. "We have Barbie pink and Ferrari red, just like our cars," Melina said, holding up the bottles with her pudgy fingers. "Mama wears the red one when we watch you drive on TV," Mila chimed in. He assumed Melina was referring to the little toy LaFerraris he had bought the girls on their birthday. He loved watching the girls as they raced in their garden, a tangible sign they had inherited his passion for cars.

"What's that thing you always say, Papá? For the Ferrari?" Mila looked up at her dad with chocolate brown eyes. "Forza Ferrari, mija," Carlos replied. Before he could even pick a color, Melina grabbed his hand and started painting his thumbnail bright red. The girls both had a hard time staying within the lines, so Carlos took it upon himself to clean up the edges. After they were done, he was instructed to place each hand under the UV lamp. He couldn’t help but wonder if the nail polish would come off easily later, but he soon noticed the excitement of being nail artists had worn the twins out. He picked them up and gently laid them down for a nap.

As Carlos boarded his flight to Hungary, he realized that his red manicure was not coming off without a fight. He absentmindedly picked at his nails, silently wishing his wife had been there to offer him the mini nail file she always carried. With media day approaching, he knew that people would definitely pick up on his vibrant nails.

"Nice nails, Carlos. Whose handiwork is this?" Natalie, a familiar face, pointed at his hands with a smile. Carlos chuckled and replied, "Oh, this masterpiece? My twin daughters painted them. I just don’t know how to say no to those two." He shrugged, shaking his head.

"Well, here they are to say hello.” The TV presenter had organized a surprise Zoom call with Y/N and Carlos' daughters, who had been nicknamed "Chili’s Angels" by his fans.

"Buenos días, mis hijas. I hope you're feeling better," he greeted them, waving at the camera. Melina proudly held up her mom's hand, showcasing her red nails. "Look! You and Mamá match now!" she exclaimed. Carlos winked at his wife, grateful for the little moment of connection despite the distance.

"Forza Ferrari, Papá!" Mila squealed, waving goodbye. “They really are my angels, all three of them,” he thought, setting off a mental countdown of days until he was back in their arms again.

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liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 57,575 others

carlossainz55: life is sweeter with my angels. hope i’m making you proud 🫶🏼

yourusername: we’re so lucky to have you! you just had to choose THAT photo of mila scarfing down her pizza? clearly my genes 🍕🤤

fan1: chili’s angels merch when? i swear i will buy it ALL

landonorris: ask melly and milly who their favorite uncle is and i’ll let you by at the start on sunday!

carlossainz55: “come over, uncle lando! we can paint your nails orange.” - melina & mila sainz

anasainzvdec: the most adorable nieces an aunt could wish for ❤️

scuderiaferrari: when mila said “forza ferrari” in an interview this morning! who’s cutting the damn onions?

fan2: carlos and @yourusername are starting them off young 🥹